Shame & Shadow Work
CW: drug use, transphobia, fatphobia
One year ago, I finally wrote the words: “I am a girl.”, and came out to myself as trans. I’d considered I might be transfem as early as a decade earlier, but I’d spent most of that time trauma-blocking out the obvious.
So it’s February 2023 and I was on a “guys camping trip” with my dad, uncle, brother and his friends. Every year since childhood, we would rent a scout cabin in a state park and go hang out around the campfire in February with the men and boys in my family. As an adult, my brother kept the tradition alive, but it’s mostly him and his friends now.
I was in a particularly bad place in my life, super depressed, and just out of a toxic relationship, but still living with and financially responsible for my ex. Since my breakup the previous October, I had started to explore gender again, not daring to allow myself to think the word “trans.” I wrote eight pages of journaling called “gender brain dump” for my therapist a few weeks earlier, again, somehow never writing the word “transgender” or its derivatives.’
These weekends are meant to be a relaxing break from the stress of life, but as I sat around the fire with a bunch of drunk men, on a cannabis edible myself, someone made an “I identify as an attack helicopter” joke (ya’ll need new material). Bothered by the obvious transphobia, but too much of a coward to call it out, I got up and went inside the cabin. One of my brother’s friends offered me some psychedelic mushrooms. I had never taken shrooms before, and given the evening, month, and year I was a having, I figured “why not?” and ate a small handful.
A little while later, while back around the fire, I pulled out my notes app and wrote the following raw-emotion-poetry-brain-dump thing below, while tripping, surrounded by camp stories and whatever music my brother had going on the portable speaker.
I titled it after the wrote it: Shame & Shadow Work. I shared it briefly when I first came out, then pulled back. I am sharing again now because it's a year later and I am a very different place in my life and I have feedback from several people that others will find value in reading it.
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Shame & Shadow Work
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Art by me, for me. And maybe you, too.
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This is a work of intention.
Also, chaos.
Magic? Maybe.
Let it go where it takes you.
This is exploration.
This is art.
You are an artist.
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A blank slate.
A canvas.
A mirror?
No, not a mirror.
Reflections have history.
Baggage.
There’s a time for reflection.
Not right now. Later.
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A blank canvas.
What do you imagine?
An opportunity.
Let’s create.
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A person. Still…blurry.
Character creation.
Infinite combinations.
What’s first?
Appearance? Emotions? Vibes?
Vibes.
We want happy.
We can settle for content.
I’m not content.
I want to be happy.
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What does happy look like?
Many things. Let’s focus, though.
We’re here for art. Expression.
Gender expression.
What is gender?
Stop intellectualizing.
We’re trying this right now.
We’re creating.
We’re expressing.
Let’s express.
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Another page.
Express.
Words.
Time.
Time to think.
Not ready to express
Not yet.
Soon. I hope.
Desperately hope.
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Ready?
Let me help.
You are you?
Who are you helping?
(Not ready, apparently)
I am me and not me.
Old me and new me?
Still me.
In between.
A transitional state.
Interesting word choice, me.
Transitional
That’s okay. The journey is valuable.
The journey is important.
New page?
New page.
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I’m so fucking funny.
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Firebrand.
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Firebrand.
Rebel.
Punk.
Different.
Other.
Outsider.
Childish?
No bitch, you’re an anarchist.
Don’t make this about politics.
Boring. Annoying.
The personal is political.
You know that. Truly know.
I know it too. Truly know.
Don’t lie to me.
But most importantly?
Don’t lie to yourself.
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Two voices.
Same you?
Same me.
I think?
Fuck.
FUCK
Fuck, this is SO FUCKING HARD.
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Are you ready yet?
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Firebrand.
That’s who you like.
Not who you are.
Yet?
Masc rage?
Scary.
Nope.
Don’t like that at all.
Femme rage.
Different.
Powerful.
Scary?
Sometimes, sure.
Comfortable.
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Rage at what?
Everything, really.
Society.
Capitalism.
Fascists.
Yourself.
Me.
You.
I hate myself.
Duh.
Why?
Body.
Fat.
Shame.
Can’t punch Nazis.
Or run from cops.
Stay home.
You’re a liability.
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We get it.
You hate yourself.
Therapy? ✅
Meds? ✅
And?
Alive. Existing.
Head above water.
Light at the end of the tunnel?
I think so?
You’re writing this right now, my friend.
I am.
It can get better
No, bitch. I WILL get better.
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Are you ready?
Let’s try again.
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What were your adjectives?
Empathetic.
Authentic.
Passionate.
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Authenticity.
Be you. The true you.
Ok.
Ok.
Ok, fuck.
I’ll try.
I will, now.
In this moment.
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You are a girl.
I am a girl.
Woman?
Hmm, no.
Girl feels better right now.
You are 33 goddamn years old.
Yeah asshole. It’s a jOuRnEy.
I’ll get there.
We’ll get there.
Together.
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Girl.
Girl?
Girl!
Girl…
Girl:
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Why you doing binaries, bro?
Yeah. I said it: BRO.
FUCK. YOU.
Sounds pretty cis, bro.
Sounds pretty patriarchal, my guy.
I hate you.
Lol. I know.
You’re such a MALE you can’t even explore gender outside of the binary, patriarchal, cishet norms.
You call yourself an anarchist?
A rAdiCaL sExUaL oUtLaW?
You call yourself a feminist?
Absolute joke.
You’re just a fat dude who hates himself.
You think you’re feminist, but I see right through you.
You’re a fake ally to women. To trans people. To us. To me.
You’re not NB. Not trans.
Just a mediocre fat slob of a man.
Can you even call yourself a man?
You aren’t a man.
Stop trying to co-opt our experience. Our oppression.
Its not yours.
You are cis. het. white. male.
You are the poster boy of privilege.
But fat.
Cry more.
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Help.
Help me.
Please. I need help.
I want this to. stop.
I want to know.
Who am I?
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WHO AM I?
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You’re actually crying, dude?
It’s just words.
What a little bitch.
What a pussy
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🚬
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Oh boy, it’s that time again.
Yeah.
You really thought I’d forget?
You’re so fucking scared.
Literally shaking.
THE SHAME.
Theydies & Gentlethems
It’s time for:
drumroll
SEX! FETISH! KINK!
You really thought I’d forget?
You cannot escape me.
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You’re not trans.
You just associate submission with femininity.
It’s ok to be a sub guy.
You know. Truly know.
No shame there.
But you still did gender roles up there, didn’t you?
Terrible feminist.
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Wow. Really?
Sure is a lot of reflection going on up there.
We said no mirrors.
Yeah but I needed that.
You really really did.
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Are we good?
No, but that was a step.
Somewhere. Don’t know where.
That’s okay.
This is the journey.
You know the journey is important.
Truly know.
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Hey you.
Yes YOU.
You reading this right now.
I wrote this for me, not you.
But I needed you. I needed to make art. I needed an audience. I wouldn’t have been able to write this without you.
Thank you, truly.
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Hey you.
Yes YOU.
You reading this right now.
I also wrote this for you.
Use the parts you need and toss the rest.