Mick Hartley

Ooh look – an interesting person! In the Guardian, of course:

Gender euphoria is not only experienced by trans folk; it can be a community act, it can be wearing a new jumpsuit, it can be changing from the soprano to alto parts when you sing your favourite song on the freeway. My early journey towards non-binary joy involved eyeliner pencils, boxer briefs and crossing the road while holding hands with someone I loved. Many of these steps felt like dance moves; new, juicy ways I learned to move my body and twist my hips, to grind air and frolic in front of my own mirrors. Rather than changing my body, I was changing the ways I inhabited my body.

There is not a right or wrong way to be trans. My experience is not a universal narrative. Every trans person I know has a unique relationship with how their body moves through the world – as does every cisgender person I know. The labels we use are a personal choice, and the language we choose for ourselves deserves to be heard. As Nevo Zisin writes: “Pronoun use is not political correctness, it is suicide prevention.”

Considering the etymology of the word “trans” as “beyond”, to be transgender can be understood as existing “beyond gender”. Echoing this, recent books by gender-nonconforming trans authors Alok Vaid-Menon and Travis Alabanza both feature the word “beyond” in their titles. Fitting into neither of the pink-and-blue boxes offered on my birth certificate, my gender exists beyond; a box that is yet to be ticked, a colour that has no name. I do not believe I was born wrong. I love this trans body; freckled face, underarm hair, tattooed calves and the same hourglass figure as my mother. Although I was assigned female at birth, celebrating my body and my femininity doesn’t make me any less non-binary. Instead, it makes me happy.

Meanwhile the rest of us plod on with our dull lives, confined to our pink and blue boxes…