Of Two Minds

What does it mean to forgive? Describe a time you had to forgive yourself. Like every year since 2004, I have spent the past month and a half acknowledging that I need to make room for mourning and not quite doing it. I fear the quiet moments. Sober and alone with nothing to do is a scary place. It's where I need to mourn and, incidentally, it's where I need to work. It's my past and my future and staying present to it is a nightmare. What is so scary in the stillness? In the stillness lies the truth. When I was 17, the truth was that my mom was dying, clamoring for life, for me, in pain, disoriented, scared, alone, and dying. I was there to witness her death because she fought for one more day. I was absent while she was dying because I was scared and nothing can ever change that. Now, the truth that emerges from the stillness is that she will never forgive me in this life. I don't want forgiveness on her behalf -- "I forgive you," is hers and hers alone

This is a metaphor about gender and my relationship to my chest without speaking directly about my chest. I'm like a muffin with frosting. I look like a cupcake, but I'm not. I'm a muffin. And listen, there's nothing wrong with frosting. I love frosting! Frosting is boss! Whether or not frosting is super incredible is not the issue! The issue is that I do not identify with the frosting, particularly because it does not reinforce my identity as a muffin and as it does contribute to other people thinking I'm a cupcake. Really, the only reason to keep the frosting is for other people who really like cupcakes and think that I might be one. Or people who really like muffins and frosting. But the point is keeping the frosting would be to reify the idea that the space I take is only for the pleasure of others--others who like frosting. And it hides my muffin-ness from the world and, most importantly, myself. You might say, fuck pastry rolls!! What is it about frost

Photo: Sarah Deragon, The Identity Project NY This is one of my all-time favorite pictures of myself. One, because I'm wearing some of my favorite pieces. Two, because the angles make me look tall and skinny and therefore more like a member of my family. Three, because you can't see my chest. I'm wearing a full length Underworks binder. It was unseasonably hot that day. I had stayed out later than I should have at my friends house the night before. I meant to wear a sweater that really completed the outfit but the heat was sweltering. I was nervous even though Sarah and her crew were encouraging and kind and professional. I knew that the binder was making my discomfort worse but I never considered taking it off. If you are unfamiliar, binders are articles of clothing that you wear like a bra but, instead of lifting and separating they are meant to safely spread out the mass of your chest to approximate flatness. I do not become flat in binders but, combined with th