Turn and Face the Strange

I don't usually do this, mostly because I don't usually give a fuck, but this week I feel it necessary to warn the few dearest motherfuckers who haunt this blog that some of the things that I am about to say are a bit shocking even for me. Like I said, I usually don't give a fuck, but seeing as I have family who read this site, I thought I owed them a fair warning. Don't worry, I'm not a serial killer or a Trump supporter or anything heinous like that. I just thought you deserved a warning because shit is about to get unprecedentedly weird. Anyway, you've been warned, so no bellyaching in the Christmas letters.

OK, with that being said, lets rip the fucking band-aid off this bitch....

Sometimes....     I wish I had a vagina. There, I fucking said it and I'm not talking about other peoples pussy, because I'm always down with that (Yeah!youknowme!) I'm talking me, myself and I, minus a pole and plus a hole. The professionals call this phenomena gender dysphoria but I prefer to call it pussy envy, a kind of aching, overarching feeling of disconnection with my own genitalia. But, and with me there's always a but, I'm not trans. OK now your more confused than I am. Maybe I should start over.

In a past post, one of my personal favorite posts, I came out as a queer heterosexual. While not a lie this wasn't quite the whole truth either. But I needed to be openly queer before I could be 100% honest about my gender identity, not just with the few people in my life but with myself as well. I know this is such a fucking queer cliche but I really did need to feel safe. You see, dearest motherfuckers, your old frenemy Comrade Hermit is genderqueer, gender fluid to be exact which basically means that my gender identity exists and shifts and changes somewhere between the male/female binary. Not quite male. Not quite female.

It took me years to figure this out. I spent a good portion of my life assuming I was male, the gender assigned to me at birth, but I never felt quite normal. I spent most of my teens and twenties going through intermittent identity crises, wondering to myself if I could be transgender and then ultimately coming to the same conclusion over and over again. That in spite of these alien feelings, I definitely wasn't a woman so I must just be some kind of weird, mixed-up male. That is until I discovered that there was more than two options. When I first read about the phenomena of gender fluidity I knew that that must be where I fit in. The only problem was I didn't quite fit in.

The description fit the way I feel like a glove but as I searched the net, I couldn't find anyone quite like me. All the other gender fluid people that I came across were flamboyantly androgynous, bold and beautiful people that expressed elements of both traditional genders and everything in between. I found there fierce, visual androgyny refreshing but it wasn't quite me. While a part of me is very much female, I've never felt a great need to express my femininity in any of the traditional ways. I like to dress simple and casual and I love my beard. I just think it might go better with a cunt than a cock. It's little wonder I've long felt a deep kinship with bearded ladies, trans-men and bull dykes. I always felt more like a manly bitch than a girly man and this left me feeling out of place even within my own new found community. It made me feel guilty, like I was some kind of traitor or phony or something.

But why the fuck should I? Why should any of us feel guilty for who we really are just because we don't fit into some kind of fucking stereotype. Isn't that the whole point of being queer, not having to follow these stupid fucking rules? But somehow that's what a broad cross section of the LGBTQ community has become, a nasty, cliquish sect of stuck-up, assimilationist snobs protecting their newfound privilege as a politically correct minority by enforcing there own slightly tweaked version of the same damn set of stupid fucking rules. Telling bisexuals to pick a hole to fuck. Telling genderqueer people to pick a gender to conform to. And telling us all to fucking tone it down so we can earn favor with the straight world that we use to reject. Well let me go on the fucking record by saying fuck that shit! this isn't what those fierce queens at Stonewall bloodied there fists for. Queer liberation doesn't come with a government stamp of approval and it doesn't play by anyone's fucking rules, not even it's own. I didn't wait 28 goddamn years to come out of the closet just so I could step into a new one draped in rainbows.

I made a promise to myself this year after we lost one of my heroes, David Bowie, that I would take his advice to courageously turn and face the strange no matter where that strange takes me.

So I'll say it again, loud and clear, bold and queer, I Comrade Hermit, sloppy, bearded, commie anarchist, sometimes wish I had a vagina. And I'm not a queer heterosexual. I'm a genderqueer bull dyke and don't you fucking forget it. Don't get me wrong I'm not about to go full castrato. Bottom surgery costs out the ass and hurts like a fucking bitch. Not mention that most girls who dig beards also dig dick. But if we're talking about magic genie scenarios here, my second wish is probably going to be a cooch, right between world peace and a three-way scissor fight with Mila Kunis and Natalie Portman. What? just because I want a cunt doesn't mean I'm still not half guy. Drown me.

Turn and face the strange, dearest motherfuckers, turn and face the strange.


Peace, Love, Empathy and Anarchy- CH