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“My body is a political battlefield. It is a place of war, of death and suffering, of triumph and victory, of damage and repair, of blood and tears and sweat. It is a place where memories go to find purpose for their existence. It is a place where humans cast all inhibitions aside to discover what exists at their very core. It is a place of growth wearing a mask of destruction. It is a challenge, not for the faint of heart, beckoning us to face it with eyes wide open. The only war is within. When you are ready to fight it, the field awaits.”

“I trust that the publication of my life story will contribute to a correct estimate of androgvnism on the part of scientists, the molders of public opinion, and the lawmakers, and to a more kindly treatment by society of those born with this curse. It is only expressing half the truth to say that they are more to be pitied than scorned. They are wholly to be pitied.”

“In the spread of gender-identity ideology, developments in academia played a crucial role. This is not the place for an extended critique of the thinking that evolved on American campuses out of the 1960s French philosophy and literary criticism into gender studies, queer theory, critical race theory and the like. I will merely focus on what some have dubbed 'applied postmodernism' and the form of activism, known as 'social justice', that seeks to remake humanity along ideological lines. And I will lay out the key elements that have enable transsexuality, once understood as a rare anomaly, to be converted into an all-encompassing theory of sex and gender, and body and mind. Within applied postmodernism, objectivity is essentially impossible. Logic and reason are not ideals to be striven for, but attempts to shore up privilege. Language is taken to shape reality, not describe it. Oppression is brought into existence by discourse. Equality is no longer achieved by replacing unjust laws and practices with new ones that give everyone the chance to thrive, but by individuals defining their own identities, and 'troubling' or 'queering' the definitions of oppressed groups. A dualistic ideology can easily be accommodated within such a framework. Being a man or woman – or indeed non-binary or gender-fluid - becomes a matter of finding your own gender identity and revealing it to the world by the medium of preferred pronouns. It is a feeble form of dualism to be sure: the grandeur of Descartes' 'I think, therefore I am' replaced by 'they/them' on a pronoun badge.”

“My experience as a parent whose young adult daughter needed time, exploration of treatment options, and healing of multiple issues but instead clambered aboard the medicalized trans train has led me to feel like I’m in a tortured dream state.”

“This mastectomy craze of removing healthy breasts that is happening to our young girls and women today will probably be the era that we look back on in the future and ask ourselves how and why we ever allowed and glorified self-harm.”

“The stories I used to read where men transformed into women suggested a kind of instantaneous loss—a sudden vacuum where their manhood had once been, both literally and figuratively. But what has happened to me has actually been a slow blossoming, a colonization of myself with myself. The estrogen dissolving under my tongue will enter my bloodstream and slowly disseminate throughout my body, just as the other pills I am taking will shut down production of testosterone in other parts of my body. Sooner or later, my cells will realize that estrogen is now my dominant hormone and begin to soften my skin, to grow my breasts, to thicken my hair. We are, none of us, a single set of destinies set by the accident of our birth. We can change and be changed. Our bodies know the language they must speak to make us the people we must become.”

“Mientras espero en la cola del cine para ver King Kong con V. D., me divierto tomando cada una de las figuras humanas que están en mi campo visual, aumentando o disminuyendo de forma mental su nivel de testosterona. Los bio-hombres parecen simplemente mujeres más o menos testosteronadas a las que se les ha añadido una plusvalía política, a las que se les ha dicho desde pequeñas: «Tú vales más que ellas, el mundo es tuyo, ellas son tuyas, tu polla es dueña de todo». Las bio-mujeres resultan hombres quirúrgica y endocrinológicamente tratados; más o menos sofisticados entramados de colágeno sintético, silicona implantada, estrógeno activo y falta de reconocimiento político.”

“I actually chafe at describing myself as masculine. For one thing, masculinity itself is such an expansive territory, encompassing boundaries of nationality, race, and class. Most importantly, individuals blaze their own trails across this landscape. And it’s hard for me to label the intricate matrix of my gender as simply masculine. To me, branding individual self-expression as simply feminine or masculine is like asking poets: Do you write in English or Spanish? The question leaves out the possibilities that the poetry is woven in Cantonese or Ladino, Swahili or Arabic. The question deals only with the system of language that the poet has been taught. It ignores the words each writer hauls up, hand over hand, from a common well. The music words make when finding themselves next to each other for the first time. The silences echoing in the space between ideas. The powerful winds of passion and belief that move the poet to write.”

“Everyone has the right to identify as they wish, use whatever names and pronouns they prefer to describe themselves, and ask others to do the same. They do not, however, have the right to foist such decisions onto anyone else.”

“The aim of therapy is not to help people transition through a sex change, and nor is it to try to persuade them against having a sex change. Neither of these aims is appropriate as they would indicate an overt or hidden agenda on the part of the therapist, who would not be in a position to help the patient, as their own political, moral or religious ideals would interfere with their ability to adopt an essentially impartial position.”

“I still believed I could will my body to become what my mind knew it should be: free and strong as a coil of brass wire. My chest and belly felt swollen and full, and every movement reminded me of how wrong I felt. I moved slower. A chasm had opened between me and my skin, as though I were fumbling around in a too-big pair of gloves. The only words I had back then were for what I knew I wasn't—a girl. But how to explain this feeling that my body was a tracing of something else, and not all the lines matched up?”

“Love is always a cybernetics of addiction. Ending up with an addiction to someone, for someone, making someone the object of the addiction, or becoming addicted to a third substance for someone. To her, to me, to testosterone. Testosterone and I. She and I. She or the testosterone. She = the testosterone. Producing or consuming testosterone. Stopping testosterone for her. Absorbing her testosterone.”

“That was the thing about restorative justice. It allowed you to hold two things in your head at the same time -- that butt-slapping was funny, and also that it wasn't. That asking permissions to touch somebody was funny, but that you really didn't want to be touched by somebody who didn't ask. That the girls wanted Jeff to dial back the ass-smacking thing, but they still like joking around with him. That the whole thing wasn't a big deal, and that it kinds of was. That was what community was. All those layers of understanding.”

“If I am in a state of becoming, it has no endpoint. I imagine replacing the memories of everyone I've ever spoken to with the impression that they have only ever seen me as a being clothed in light. In the early part of the twentieth century, homophobes and eugenicists joined forces to study what they called inversion, an early term for homosexuality, gender nonconformity, and transness. They believed they could read and police queerness on the body. Maybe this is why I don't want to make myself legible. I want to erase the meanings that have been ascribed to my breath, to my sweat, to my hair and fat and skin. I trace the green veins in my neck that branch down into my breasts as feathers. I am painting myself as the bird that, to the world outside this room, does not exist. I draw myself clothed in wings and tell myself that even the angels are sexless.”

“Sometimes I worry (and I know I worry too much, too seriously) that I will have the same self-doubts and uneasiness as a man as I have a woman. I worry that I will fail to find the happiness I think I will. But as I wash myself and prepare for this surgery, when I buy my new shirts and look at my breasts and think they are sexy (!), I know I'll come out of this a better person.”

“The only reason they tolerated the transgender community in some of these movements was because we were gung-ho, we were front liners. We didn’t take no shit from nobody. We had nothing to lose. You all had rights. We had nothing to lose. I’ll be the first one to step on any organization, any politician’s toes if I have to, to get the rights for my community.”

“Queremos apoderarnos del género, redefinir nuestros cuerpos y crear redes libres y abiertas donde poder desarrollarnos, donde cualquiera pueda construir sus mecanismos de seguridad contra las presiones de género. No somos víctimas, nuestras heridas de guerra nos sirven como escudo... Nos presentamos no como terroristas, sino como piratas, trapecistas, guerrilleros, RESISTENTES del género… Defendemos la duda, creemos en el «volver atrás» médico como un seguir hacia delante, pensamos que ningún proceso de construcción debe tacharse de IRREVERSIBLE. Queremos visibilizar la belleza de la androginia. Creemos en el derecho a quitarse las vendas para respirar y el de no quitárselas nunca, en el derecho a operarse con buenos cirujanos y no con CARNICEROS, en el libre acceso a los tratamientos hormonales sin necesidad de certificados psiquiátricos, en el derecho a auto-hormonarse. Reivindicamos el vivir sin pedir permiso... Ponemos en duda el protocolo médico español que desde hace años establece unas pautas absurdas y tránsfobas para cualquier ciudadano que desea tomar hormonas de su «sexo» contrario. No creemos en las disforias de género, ni en los trastornos de identidad, no creemos en la locura de la gente, sino en la locura del sistema. No nos clasificamos por sexos, nosotros somos todos diferentes independientemente de nuestros genitales, nuestras hormonas, nuestros labios, ojos, manos... No creemos en los papeles, en el sexo legal, no necesitamos papeles, ni menciones de sexo en el DNI, creemos en la libre circulación de hormonas (que, de hecho, ya existe..). No queremos más psiquiatras, ni libro de psiquiatras/ psicólogos, no queremos más «Test de la Vida Real»... No queremos que nos traten como enfermos mentales..., porque no lo somos... ¡y así es cómo nos llevan tratando desde hace mucho tiempo! Creemos en el activismo, en la constancia, en la visibilidad, en la libertad, en la resistencia... GUERRILLA TRAVOLAKA”

“Cisnormativity is a set of ideas, and the practices which reflect them, that assume 'sex' is binary (male or female), that 'gender' is necessarily and always the same as 'sex', and that people live in the gender they were assigned at birth. Moreover, it assumes that genders, bodies, and personal identities match each other.”

“The emergence of trans-exclusionary radical feminism [TERF] in the 1970s, with its own version of trans panic, is only one of many trans-misogynistic echoes in recent history. TERFs... didn't invent trans misogyny, nor did they put a particularly novel spin in it...portrayal of trans femininity as violent and depressed could have been lifted from the British denunciation of hijras in the 1870s, or from Nazi propaganda about transvestites in the 1930s... Recent work by historians has cat doubt in his popular TERF beliefs ever were outside a few loud agitators... If anything, TERFs, whether in the 1970s or in their contemporary "gender-critical" guise, are better understood as conventional boosters of statist and racist political institutions... TERFs, like the right-wing evangelicals or white supremacists who agree with them politically, are not the lynchpin to trans misogyny; rather, they are at best one of its latest manifestations.”

“In a way, it didn't. They didn't start the fight. I did. That's the part only my therapist knows. I didn't mind that they spat at me and shoved into me as I walked across the football field on my way home. I'd learned to ignore that. I snapped and started the fight because they said something awful about Ever. Irrational gallantry, maybe? I never asked for this type of masculinity, but there it was.”

“My body came with borders. I've lost count of the times I wished I could share in sisterhood, could lay my head on an auntie's lap and know we bore the same weight. But I've borne a different burden, and I've borne it so long that, as I turn the barrette over in my hand, I don't yet have the heart to tell Aisha that I have tried all the ways I can think of to make myself fit in.”

“I have been taught all my life that masculinity means short hair and square-toed shoes, taking up space, raising one's voice. To be soft is to be less of a man. To be gentle, to laugh, to create art, to bleed between the legs—I have been taught all my life that these things make me a woman. I have been taught all my life that to dance is to be vulnerable, and that the world will crush the vulnerable. I was taught to equate invincibility with being worthy of love. But here in the darkness of this abandoned subway platform, I can almost imagine a world big enough for boys like Sami and me to love each other, to dance and let the pain out of our bodies, to breathe and make love and be enough and be enough and be enough.”

“There were things that Pumpkin Head—now not Pumpkin Head anymore—had to do to be a girl. He had to be careful how he dressed, and how he acted. He had to be careful how he talked, and he always had to be calm. He was very frightened of what would happen if he didn't stay calm. For his face was really just a wonderful plastic one. The real Pumpkin Head was still inside, locked in, waiting to come out.”