Jam day follows picking day. With Badger's help, I put up thirteen jars of jam first thing this morning. This evening, ten more. Our jam stores are full for another year.
In between the two batches, Ex, Badger, Junebug and I headed into NYC for a show. Walking up and down the streets of the east village, I realized two things. The first was that I miss The City terribly. I love our land, but NYC feels like home in a way few places have. The second thing was that I was obviously being read as a gay man, by other gay men, from a distance. It felt like triumph, in a way. But it also made my heart ache. I hate this sometimes. Anyone who thinks that being trans is a choice should try walking through the village in my shoes. Because being read as closer to what I am, while wonderful, also serves as a reminder that I will never be what I am. All the hormone therapy and surgery in the world won't fix that. I will be seen as a fem/androgynous gay boy right up to the point that I am outed as trans, and no further. I will never be accepted as what I am by cis people, or as a gay man by other gay men. So where is there a place in the world for me?
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