“The whole binary-gender thing is all bullshit.”
by Kera Armendariz
Fiction. Based on a True Path.
by Mi Zi
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
Trigger Warning: our program often motivates people to discuss their trauma. If you find yourself feeling overwhelmed, please, take a step back to address emotional flashbacks and trauma before continuing to push yourself. If you are experiencing a medical emergency, call 911 or the National Suicide Hotline at (1-800) 273-8255.
The sunglasses. Exuding confidence, or perhaps a concealment of pain? Personally, sunglasses have been an aid for invisibility for me. During the many times I have been exposed, dripping in vulnerability- and the world looked away. As for the ones that hadn’t looked away, they’d stare with disapproving and judging glares, rather than with eyes that revealed a loving heart. I believe most people fear the unknown. They’re content with their boxes, labels, and the robotic, monotony of society’s oppression. I resembled the rebel, the anarchist that pushed the confines of the box “they” packaged me in, until the whole thing tore open. My existence makes the conformist uncomfortable. The tattoos on my body translated as markings of a delinquent. I don’t care anymore. Though, there was a time that I had very much. Gluing synthetic bullshit, horse hair, to my head. Wearing make-up each waking day of my high school experience. Yearning for my peers’ approval. Of course, none of it made a bit of difference. They didn’t magically accept me. My self-loathing and self-worthlessness, made my confused and adolescent self, exceptionally easy pray; for users and abusers. It took a whole lot of loosing myself, to become who I am today. Who is simply not. I am not a female, just because I was born with a vagina. Nor am I religious, just because I was raised Catholic. I am not a meat-eater, despite growing up with strong Italian traditions. I am not “more beautiful with long hair.” Nor am I “giving people the wrong idea.” I’m not a “bitch, cunt, or a slut.” I am not “ignorant, or a fuck up.” I am a walking piece of art that encompasses love, and compassion. An other-worldly energy, encapsulated into physical form. I am a strong person. A mother, and an artist. I am a free spirit, grateful for each new day that the sun shines onto my skin. Writing, and rewriting the script of my life everyday. I am I. And I don’t give a damn what you think.