Each year, graduating editors are given 30 final column inches — “30” was historically used to signify the end of a story — to reflect on their time at The Hatchet, published in the final issues of the year.
My time on The Hatchet means a lot of things to me, but when I look back, I primarily served this platform with documentation that transgender people exist — and powerfully so. Seeing as most of my past articles deal with the grueling transphobia that plagues me on a daily basis, I’d like to talk about how beautiful it is to be trans.
I find many issues with the concept of being visibly queer, mostly because it is a subjective concept that relies on each individual’s understanding of queer culture and identity. But I can’t deny the allegations that being queer is what a lot of people notice first about me. After all, I have a shaved head, more than 20 tattoos and a girlfriend I never shut up about.
Many people perceive this queer pride as too loud, too in your face or as pushing an agenda. But I understand my effervescence as a means to cope with and find beauty in this sick world that criminalizes my existence.
My gender expression involves deliberately drawing attention to myself, not just for visibility, but because my body is consistently policed, ignored and misunderstood. It’s a way of resisting and pushing back against all the oppressive structures that contribute to the binary construction of gender like white supremacy, misogyny, patriarchy and toxic masculinity.
The way I present myself is a reflection of the trauma, depression and anxiety I’ve experienced, as well as the verbal and physical violence I’ve endured. The infinite criticisms I receive about my body and presentation are really just criticisms of my resistance. My body is a beautiful testament to the endurance of the transgender community, and I love that my body shows my strength.
I love that I am a man, woman, everything in between and everything beyond it. My gender knows no limits, and I grieve for those who aren’t able to explore outside their prescribed gender roles. The gender binary is dangerous for everyone, not just transgender people. Any person that steps outside of the traditionally defined norms of men and women are policed and punished. That’s why existing is resisting.
People often tell me that I’m very articulate, and well, I have to be. My identity’s validity relies on how well I can explain and convince others that I deserve respect. But sometimes, the words don’t even exist for me to talk about myself. While this discrepancy means I often struggle with speaking up for myself, it also means that I can conceive of worlds beyond language.
There is so much freedom in existing beyond the gender binary, especially when provided the safety to do so. Ultimately, The Hatchet and its staff gave me the incredible opportunity to take up space and explore this freedom over the past three years. And there’s no doubt that my whiteness on a predominantly white staff contributes to my privilege to do so.
I arrived at GW as a shy and questioning she/they. But the more I wrote for The Hatchet, the more I asserted my identity as a trans person. Transgender people are strong, not by choice, but because our world demands it of us. I thank The Hatchet for the chance to stand up for my community and demand respect.
And while there are not many things I’d like to thank GW for, the following people allied pretty hard:
Ethan: When I say I conceive of worlds without language, that includes the one where I have no words to explain how much you mean to me. The Hatchet is forever changed by your wit, determination and genuine passion. I can confidently say that you are the best opinions editor this paper has ever seen, and I am more than lucky to have been your companion. Between joking with me about getting assigned female outside of Whole Foods or backing up my fight for gender inclusive language, you are an incredible friend and colleague.
Paige: Thank you for always indulging in my crazy ideas or my rants about queer theory. I know I can talk to you about anything. Your perspective is unique, and I am excited to see where it takes you in the future. Don’t ever lose your brutal and refreshing honesty.
Jenna: I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as considerate as you. I mentioned once that it’s overstimulating when people approach me out of nowhere, and since then, you always flag me down before saying hi. It may seem small, but it means so much to me — as do all of our walks home. Thank you for always waiting on me and being patient. While I wish we could trade future war stories about our classrooms, I know that whatever you do next will change lives.
Zach and Nick: Thank you for always making me laugh and letting my opinions rip. I’ll never admit it, but I appreciate it a lot when you comment on my clothes. It can be gender-affirming to know that even some cisgender men appreciate my style too. I don’t really spend time with straight men, so thank you for making every second spent with y’all incredibly joyful.
Andi and Madie: I am beyond excited to see where you both take the opinions section of The Hatchet next year. The ideas and passion you bring to the table have the potential to continue changing GW’s campus. Know that Ethan and I are always in your corner and I trust that you will be more successful than we ever were.
Dr. Manuel Cuellar: GW Professor Dr. Manuel Cuellar changed my life. In his Spanish classes he managed to change my entire worldview while also inspiring some of the deepest understandings I have of myself. He talks of how privileged we are to even talk about queerness in classes, especially with states banning curriculum that involves the LGBTQ+ community. To learn from him meant that I had newfound access to gender-neutral language in Spanish and the use of my pronouns for the very first time in another language. Nothing will mean more to me than the affirmation and support that Professor Cuellar gave me over the course of my entire college career.
My parents: You are the best humans on this planet. When I visited home last month, I secretly caught mom reading the book “Raising Kids Beyond The Binary” by Jamie Bruessehoff. I laughed, but I also felt so loved. Not only do you guys love me unconditionally, but you go out of your way to understand and support me. My transgender identity has only brought me closer to you, and I wish every parent could see how special it is to have a transgender child. I don’t know what gender-neutral word I’ll come up with for my kids to call me, but I’m glad they’ll call you their grandparents.
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