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Evelyn Yaussy • Creative Director Resilience surviving in the face of everything a collection of work by (C)AMAB trans writers Edited by Amy Heart, Larissa Glasser, & Sugi Pyrrophyta Heartspark Press Olympia, WA Copyright © 2017 by Heartspark Press Heartspark Press PO Box 1659 Olympia, WA 98501-1659 ISBN (hardback): 978-0-692-95108-8 ISBN (paperback): 978-0-9996730-0-3 Library of Congress Control Number: 2017914110 The text in this volume and all graphical properties are released under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 Unported (CC BY-SA 4.0) license, the full text of which can be found at creativecommons.org/licenses/ by-sa/4.0/ In all cases, works should be attributed to the original authors, and derivative works must be released and distributed under the same license. For commercial permissions, please address written requests to: [email protected]. If you’re a TERF, don’t bother asking. We won’t say yes. In loving memory of our fallen sisters in 2017 Alloura Wells Ally Steinfeld Alphonza Watson Ava Le’Ray Barrin Brian Fitzgerald Sherrell Faulkner Brooklyn BreYanna Stevenson Candace Towns Chay Reed Chyna Doll Dupree Ciara McElveen Derricka Banner Ebony Morgan Elizabeth Stephanie Montez Gwynevere River Song Hilario López Ruiz Jamie Lee Wounded Arrow Jaquarrius Holland Jessica Rubi Mori Jojo Striker Kenne McFadden Kendra Marie Adams Kiwi Herring Misty Garcia Mesha Caldwell Pepper “Phoenix” K Sisi Thibert Sherrell Faulkner Scout Schultz Tavita Montes TeeTee Dangerfeld Tiara Lashay Richmond Yadira and to those who have never been heard Rest in Power Contents Foreword Julia Serano • 1 Black, Trans, and Still Breathing KOKUMO • 4 Puzzle Box Rahne Alexander • 8 Before They Were Flesh Magpie Leibowitz • 11 Canary Connifer Candlewood • 14 Weekend Casey Plett • 15 1 AM Ana Valens • 26 MEMORIES.seq CHRYSALISAMIDST • 27 Mosca’s Last Ride Sascha Hamilton • 28 Holy Love Talia C. Johnson • 34 May There Be Peace In Our Time AR Mannylee Rushet • 37 Wednesday Morning, 7:26 am erica, inchoate • 40 Disabled Ariel Howland • 45 Burdens Oti Onum • 47 The Most Important Trans Woman I Never Knew Lilith Dawn • 49 Her Name was Pearl Sophia Quartz • 54 A Standing Prayer Rabbi Emily Aviva Kapor-Mater • 68 L’Etoile Noir Boudicca Walsh • 70 Mother Connifer Candlewood • 72 Moments of the Forgotten while Surviving Lawrence Walker III • 73 My Father’s Stench was Stronger than His Fist Oti Onum • 74 Behind Enemy Lines Ariel Howland • 76 Girlhood, Interrupted Amy Heart • 78 Usefulness or Filthiness AR Mannylee Rushet • 80 Coastlines Sara Oliver Wight • 82 Godless Rose Lillita Lustre • 92 Read to Me Tyler Vile • 99 Night of the Dead Lesbians Bridget Liang • 106 Goldilocks Lynched Lawrence Walker III • 112 Being a Non Male/Non Female Person in the Literary World, Written in the Form of a Dream Moss Angel • 119 Broke Pieces AR Mannylee Rushet • 122 GAUNT Luna Merbruja • 124 God Empress Susanna A.K. Blue • 128 I don’t think you understand what ‘attraction’ means Tobi Hill-Meyer • 140 Failure Larissa Glasser • 142 Hormones Serafma Mintz • 146 Her Hope Tavner Castle • 169 MAMA’S HEX Luna Merbruja • 172 Lives & Lies Connifer Candlewood • 176 Elegy lina corvus • 177 Ode Joss Barton • 179 Index of Content Warnings • 185 This book is dedicated to all of the sweet gems desperately searching for a roadmap in this violent, transmisogynistic world. May the stories written here help you fnd your way back home. Foreword Julia Serano Most stories about trans women focus almost entirely on our experiences with gender: When did we frst realize that we wanted to be a girl? Did we prefer feminine clothes and toys, rather than doing things typically associated with boys? What were the various steps along our journeys of gender exploration that ultimately led us to identify as female? What physical and psychological changes did we experience during our transitions? Are we finally comfortable with our gender? What is it like now, to fnally be a woman? I, like many trans women past and present, often feel compelled to make my own personal story (or stories I create) ft into that tradi- tional, gender-focused, narrative format. Unfortunately, this formula overlooks and obscures the countless ways in which our lives are shaped by being trans that have nothing to do with either our gender or identity. So, if you will, allow me to briefly tell a different rendition of my story. At the age of eleven, I discovered something about myself. A secret. Or perhaps it was a riddle. Whatever it was, it was down- right dangerous. It had the power to devastate my family, estrange my friends, and make me the target of ridicule and abuse. So I kept it to myself. At first, holding onto that secret was painful—worse than clinging onto a pot of boiling water. It often scalded me and scarred me, but I never let go. And over time, I learned something about myself: I was strong. I could endure anything. I was capable of persevering. And this riddle that I uncovered defed common sense. It forced me to question all conventional wisdom. I started applying critical thinking, not just to this particular matter, but to everything in my purview. I carried out my own experiments, formed my own opin- ions, and relied on my own resourcefulness. I learned to listen to my own body and trust my own instincts. I cultivated open-mindedness and empathy toward other people because, for all I knew, they might be grappling with riddles and obstacles of their own. 1 Foreword For a few years, I did all of this in isolation. But eventually, after much searching, I found a community of people like me. We swapped stories and shared our ideas and theories with one another. We devel- oped our own language and culture, and offered each other support and camaraderie. While each of us was formidable in our own right, together we were even stronger. Eventually, I solved the riddle. The solution was to not keep it secret anymore. So I turned myself inside out for the entire world to see. Eleven-year-old me would have been scared to death by this prospect, but the interim years of questioning and persisting had made me confident and unashamed of who I was. Upon coming out, some people liked what they saw. Others expressed confusion, concern, or derision. There were countless barbs and insults directed at me—sometimes they’d sting briefly, but they were incapable of truly hurting me. Over the years, I had learned to love myself, believe in myself; no ignorant outsider could (or can) ever take that away from me. Sometimes, upon discovering that I am trans, well-mean- ing acquaintances will say, “Wow, you’re really courageous.” Such remarks feel like a backhanded compliment, as they seem to suggest that being a trans woman is such a horrible fate that I must be brave simply for being one. In reality, I am proud of who I am and wouldn’t trade my transgender experiences for anything. But on top of that, the notion that I must be “brave” or “courageous” rings false. It presumes that I had a choice in the matter. It implies that I was offered two possible paths, one risky and the other completely safe, and that I unflinchingly chose the former over the latter. But being trans was never a choice; it was inexplicably foisted upon me. And when you are transgender, there is no such thing as a safe path: You can be out or closeted, transition or not, but every available option is potentially perilous. So rather than calling trans women “brave” or “courageous,” I wish more people would see us for what we really are: Resilient. AMAB (assigned male at birth) trans people, including trans women like me, vary in every possible way. We each have different histories, our lives follow different trajectories, and we have a myriad 2 Julia Serano of different stories to tell. But the one thing that we all share is our resilience—our tenacity to survive and ability to thrive despite the relentless hostility, hurdles, and setbacks we face. Despite growing up in a world steeped in transphobia and misogyny, we have some- how managed to be true to ourselves and forge our own paths. We are resilient, and each and every story in this collection is a testament to that. 3 Black, Trans, and Still Breathing KOKUMO it all started in a slave-ship the belly of a beast whose appetite your ancestors could neva’ satisfy but that didn’t keep the behemoth from feeding and after the ship shit out their remains like a barn owl vomiting up the hair and bones of feld mice you not willing to let go of the mortal coil reincarnated then it all started on an auction block ten feet from soil you just saw for the frst time in your life but could only grow to resent you were sold before you even knew what day of the week it was worked from when the moon whispered until the sun screamed and when its rays baked you like a pie left out on a kitchen ledge you fell dead but refusing to go before you manifested all you could your soul remained on this realm then it all started in a war strange men told you your freedom was fnally of concern to them and gave you a gun it wasn’t the best and neither were the clothes but massa needed to be taught a lesson and you would be damned if you died a slave so bullets flew from your rifle tantamount to Aladdin rubbing the genie’s lamp only these bullets weren’t wishes but a declaration of independence or so you thought when the casualties were counted your corpse was discovered amongst the heap but your soul once again couldn’t leave when freedom had fnally come knockin’ on ya’ door so you gathered your resolve and gave life another chance 4 KOKUMO to disappoint
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