The following piece is an evocative telling of one persons journey with "Identity" and Gender Dysphoria. I have known Verity for 10 years now and what I have always loved about her writing is a sense of Pace, Absurdity and Ungraspable Clarity. I can see all of these elements in this piece which seems to evoke the sensations she was feeling even stronger for me.
If you enjoy this writing or can relate to her experience in some way please send her some support by commenting on this blog.
Fleassy Malay- Mother Tongue
I wandered into the room, but there were figures everywhere, on every surface. & so I moved into the outside. Sat on the grass, slept a little. Fell quiet. Saw some figures approaching. Ducked down into the long grass. Moved across the gap, saw some more figures moving towards me, darted into a hollow, heard them saying things about me. Ducked up into the long grass, where I crawled around, joyous, came into the house, saw my arms and legs had been covered with burning rashes. Every winter it returns, and I see a room, and in there is a person who could help me with my skin. I am too afraid to enter. I am afraid so I drop down into the long grass and I rest my head and become less and less afraid, and I begin to sleep a little. The itching begins. First it is blissful. The skin breaks. It stings. It begins to weep. It itches again. It is scratched. Blood. Scabs. Scratch. The satisfaction of detachment. And I am terrified that when I enter the room where the kind figure will help to mend my skin or steer me around to avoid whatever it is gets into it,, I worry I’ll go into that room and come out with some kind of terrible restraint, and my numbers taken, some kind of diagnosis. I walk out into the sunlight. It is warm. I can see my breath. Everything I can feel or tell by my senses is mistaken. Figures crossing ahead of me, so that the door is the terror. So that I slip into the door where the long grass is reflected and fall into a beautiful sleep. In my dreams you sometimes speak to me. Other people who know you say the same thing. You never speak but in our dreams. This is because of a hierarchy of understanding. I found myself reciting in the long grass as I slowly woke. As I slowly woke in the long grass I found my lips were moving and I was speaking. I found myself reciting: Melancholia, Asperger's Syndrome, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Gender Dysphoria, Prader Willi's Syndrome, Dyspraxia, Slovenliness, Heyfever, Autistic Spectrum Disorder, Dyslexia & Dyscalculia, Anorexia. My eyes were very still fixed on the just moving figures in the hazy distance and my lips were moving over and over again Paranoid Schizophrenia and I was wide awake but very calm as I had learned to meditate on the wild abstractions and leaps of fear this mind does to me. I fell back down and rolled over and stared hard at the room and its window, but over the tall swaying grasses my soft mouth, I caressed my long red hair and touched my lips with my lips and a seam from the bottom of my foot to the top of my head began to gently part, releasing a gentle humming silver light, and with a pair of fingers I caught the edge of the light and gently tugged, and it came sliding out, and I held it there in my fingers, I held her there, and I saw my body lying in the grass, and I held the silver light in my hands as her mouth parted, as she lay there in the grass her mouth parted, and with a sigh she breathed in, and the silver light passed into her body, and she lay there, perfect and sated. I have Gender Dysphoria.
VErity Spot http://twotornhalves.blogspot.com.au/