Neo Sol Librarian

Before and Now (2008 & Present) Life Updates: Still writing, still not fully employed.  I'm doing a self preservation project of downloading tagged photos of myself from Facebook. At first I thought it was a vain thing, but then realized it's a chronicle of my physical transition. Hell, I've never done a side by side comparison like the one above as I've seen all trans folx do who physically transition.  After 10+ years, I'd forgotten what I looked like. I'd forgotten how white Salem was. I'd forgotten the dumb shit we'd felt worthy of documenting. I looked pretty happy in that bubble.  Clicking through artifacts of formative years, I can't help but think once again why am I trans? And not only am I trans, but I've made choices towards physical transition. But why did I feel it necessary to make those choices? There are plenty of closeted trans people in the world. People that fantasize in the dark because the dark is the only place they feel...

Through this journey of reading, writing and finding my own voice in writing, an unexpected question has repeatedly entered into my thoughts.  Why are am I trans?  For many the answer is simple: because I am. And this is a valid answer. A part of being trans is allowing the world to see you in a truer form than what societal standards allow. But for me (and speaking only for me. Transpeople aren't a monolith), being trans was a way for me to always stay grounded in my butch self.  My butch self started materializing in college. I remember taking my first trip to the local Wal-Mart with my own money in my pocket. I left with a standard dyke getup: cargo shorts and a flannel zip-up. I felt like hot shit.  Going to an all-women's college did nothing but boost my ego, something I was fortunate to experience. I could swagger across campus, dripping in masculine energy, and people would respond. Ladies would respond. All kinds of ladies. A reaction I never got as I was kno...