Looking for a Place of My Own Making
Today is the board meeting for a group that’s never known me by anything I’ve chosen. Gender? Set. Name? Given. In times of multiple and myriad transitions, holding fast to things that Should Still Be can be a comfort.
Until they’re not.
I got fired last week. In a one-line email sent over a phone, I went from two jobs to one. No time to more time than I knew how to handle anymore. It sucked ass and made no sense but after a few days I realized what a chance this was. While I still operate under The Name Better Known in a lot of leftover ways, what better time could I have to really become Myself?
So, I had my foot-long hair cut off and shaved down, tossed the last of the godawful box wine I had bought in a pique of self-destructive fancy and went for the first round of Couch-to-5k. Felt like I was dying but isn’t that the point?
She is gone. She didn’t have a place in this body anymore. Didn’t really care about it.
Long Live Alex. They do. They do.
Not that anyone in the board meeting will know. To them, She’s still around. To them, nonbinary people are some figment of millennial imagination created to frustrate marketers. Which, granted, makes this even funnier.
Fear me, for I have come for your demographic divides.
