My studio has undergone quite a change since September 2015, when I decided that I wanted to transition. I gradually stripped away things (I recently heard about a trend called “uncluttering”, but I have always loved this practice). What remains is pictures of planes, model planes, plants, the musical instruments I never use and that Barber of Fleet Street action figure, watching over the place quietly.
There´s also been quite a lot of clothes I quit cold-turkey. Most of them clothes that I bought to look feminine, albeit in a tomboyish way. In high school, I usually wore oversized clothes. There were no other chicks at the time doing this – you were supposed to flaunt your pubescent body, now that it was starting to grow into things. When I came back after the summer I was turning heads like anyone else.
My first earring is from that time, too. My dad hated it. After my cool aunt had taken me to get my lobe pierced, he murmured something about automutilation. But to me it was this awesome rite of passage, sort of. After that, I got another piercing. And another. And another. You see where this is going. At twenty-six I had seven earrings and a helix, and it was the awesomest thing, a part of my personality and how I expressed myself.
Last year, when I got my hair cut (it was related to the gender issue, but I had very short hair from time to time), I took them out. The holes have probably grown shut since. While it pained me to lose them, they didn´t match who I was anymore – they did not agree with the message I wanted to convey to the world. The earrings are gone, now. I mailed them to someone who´ll wear them, hopefully with the same pride I did.
Maybe they´ll even be able to aggravate their dad like I did (ah, the romance of rebellion). My old clothes are in sale, too. Now I am finally able to wear the cool jackets and shirts I had always been ogling in the men´s section of the alternative catalogue. I´d always been mad at them for not making something equally cool for women, and maybe they still should.