Building a Monster

Trans people are monsters. I, as a transfemme, am a monster. This is a fact which is agreed upon by trans scholars and transphobes throughout the world. The question posed to me every day as a person in transition is “what type of monster are you?” When I place a milligram of Estradiol under my tongue, which type of creature am I birthing into society?

Perhaps I, like Susan Stryker before me, am being built by the Modern Prometheus of the medical industry, spat out into a fearful world. I could be, as Joanne Rowling is fond of spewing, the siren luring straight men to the shoals of queerness and women to brutal rocks of non-binary madness? Am I Yeats’ beast, my hour come round at last, slouching toward Bethlehem to be born?

The truth is that we are all these things and more. The great beauty and horror of trans bodies is that we are the living embodiment of change. We are proof that people can break free of society’s most entrenched structures and our own body chemistry to discover joy. Despite all of the ink spilled to the contrary, we are eternal and we are desired. We may be vilified, but it’s our choice which monsters we become.

Less than six months into transition, I’m struggling with this choice, but I’m an engineer, a problem solver by trade. I can build anything. I can build a monster. I just need to decide what monster I want to become.