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update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2023-03-31 08:45:13 -07:00
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writing/3/unknown-things/iyov/reverse/younes.html
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<p>That wasn&rsquo;t the only bit of identity I was feeling acutely either, after all, was it? I&rsquo;d felt that before, back when I first came out as &mdash; at the time &mdash; gay. I felt it with work and how it was grating at me. I&rsquo;d felt the way it ground up against me, skinning my elbows and knees, a sort of road rash of the self.</p>
<p>But now I was feeling it in some new, far stranger way, though I couldn&rsquo;t put my finger on just how, exactly. I was feeling <em>something</em>, but heaven knows what. Something deeper, far more integral.</p>
<p>There must be some way of debriding that scuffed and stripped self-stuff, I thought, so that what you&rsquo;re left with is some purer version of yourself, something all the more whole for what was there now being gone. There must be some way to pare that cruft away. There had to be, right? If one was to live happily, there had to be.</p>
<p>An aside: Years later, one job and one house and one more dog and one more self later, I called him to ask if he would be willing to write a WPATH letter for me so that I could start HRT, and he said, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I can. I don&rsquo;t know enough about it, and you don&rsquo;t want to know how I feel about it.&rdquo;<sup id="fnref:younes-interpolation2"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:younes-interpolation2">5</a></sup></p>
<p>Years later, one job and one house and one more dog and one more self later, I called him to ask if he would be willing to write a WPATH letter for me so that I could start HRT, and he said, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I can. I don&rsquo;t know enough about it, and you don&rsquo;t want to know how I feel about it.&rdquo;<sup id="fnref:younes-interpolation2"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:younes-interpolation2">5</a></sup></p>
<p>I never talked to him again.</p>
<p>All the same, I was young, I was dumb, and I was flaking away at the edges of that more fundamental identity. I was making use of the space I had to explore in clumsy, gangly ways. I was building up new versions of myself, one after another, to search for the smallest bit of relief[^youness-unknown] from that friction.</p>
<p>An aside: furry is a notably queer space. It&rsquo;s a subculture in which you present to others a new version of yourself; not always better, but almost always more earnest. You provide an avatar, a front-stage persona, that everyone simply takes at face value. There is no unwinding, no translation<sup id="fnref:younes-translation"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:younes-translation">9</a></sup> of the front- to the backstage version of you. We commission art and ignore the names on the PayPal invoices. We meet each other at conventions, share rooms with each other, and still never learn each other&rsquo;s real names. We refer to each other by species, a cute way to reinforce the idea the ostensibly human being in front of us is not what we&rsquo;re seeing.</p>
@ -101,7 +101,7 @@ to make humankind swerve from its acts</p>
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