Vivian, Venus Pirate 🏳️‍⚧️🧋

Mom, Early 40s. Home Cook. Queer baddie, anarcho-feminist writer, asexual dancer. I do hot girl shit (cry a lot, process my feelings, hold space for others) and I take needle drugs (#FeminizingHRT and #PrEP).

I do Data Engineering in exchange for money, but find me over at [@willow_datawitch](https://hachyderm.io/@willow_datawitch ) if that’s your jam.

Please interact with words, not just boosts and favorites, if you would like to follow me. I appreciate your button clicks! But I need words for vibe checks.

I think joy is way more important than I was taught in school.

I categorize some toots thusly:
#EstrogenLog, #EstrogenLogLabs, #WillowsFacialDysphoria, #WillowsTransDiscoveries, #InSqueeNews

My Essays: #ThingsYouCantUnsay

#NoBridge #NoIndex #NoBot #NoSearch

Pronouns: She/Her
HRT Day: 2023-07-14
Nouns: Woman, mom, girl
Adjectives: Trans, lesbian, asexual, polyamorous, vanilla

Public Key

npub1kghf2h99kmkzdq8k6ykujyhm4p2nx7vwd26yqpdqpvm37xrgtwrsfhyzv8

NIP-05 Address

[email protected]

Profile Code

nprofile1qqstyt54tjjmdmpxsrmdztwfzta6s4fn0x8x4dzqqksqkdclrp59hpcpz3mhxue69uhhyetvv9ujuerpd46hxtnfduqs6amnwvaz7tmwdaejumr0dswjp3sc

Publishing to

relay.damus.io

nos.lol

Author Public Key

npub1kghf2h99kmkzdq8k6ykujyhm4p2nx7vwd26yqpdqpvm37xrgtwrsfhyzv8

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Published at

2026-07-26T09:45:03Z

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Event JSON

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Last Notes

2026-05-18 23:57:24 UTC

Requiring that content have a special rating for being non-binary or trans is a way of designating trans and non-binary content as inherently not appropriate for children. This is part of pushing trans and non-binary people out of public life.
https://mastodon.social/@tillybridges/116598165756989443

2026-03-03 17:30:54 UTC

Call to action to cis people: be assholes anytime you get asked for your sex assigned at birth. Write letters, complain to staff, refuse to answer. Make it impossible to collect sex assigned at birth. Be really offended that anyone would ask you. Make enough noise that if trans people want to quietly not answer or give whatever answer feels correct to them, no one will notice.
#Boost #CallToAction

2026-02-24 22:04:55 UTC

PSA: if I appreciate your work enough to read it on known Nazi bar Substack, I promise you I’d happily follow you to another platform, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d migrate.

2026-02-10 23:24:46 UTC

My lovelies, I want to hear the wonderful stories of how your name came to you. True or fanciful, poetic or prosaic, how did you meet your name?
#Trans #TransJoy

2026-02-07 06:09:37 UTC

I wonder if I can crowd source a story!?
Premise: Lesbian Jane Bond uses a mixture of expert weapons skills and kitchen table polyamory conflict resolution skills to save the world. All named characters are lesbians.

2026-01-04 08:42:04 UTC

TFW you microwave something, then come back and open the microwave and it’s gone - plate, everything. Vanished. You nuked it until nothing was left.
Then you see it sitting on the counter.

2025-10-24 14:50:49 UTC

PSA to cis folks: We know you fuck up other cis people’s pronouns all the time. There are a massive amount of you, accidental misgendering happens, it’s just a numbers game. When it does, you correct yourselves and move on.
We know you can do this successfully.
So when you fuck it up for #trans people, we notice. We’re not mad because you fucked up our pronouns.
We’re mad because we know you know how to fix it and make it not a big deal and get pronouns correct in the future, and you do it for each other, but not for us.

2025-10-06 14:45:59 UTC

Aaaahhhhhhh did my shot 🥰

2025-10-01 00:48:54 UTC

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Okay the dad bunny in that book is SUCH A DICK. Like, way to insist on one-upping everything your kid does and always having the last word.

2025-09-29 15:14:23 UTC

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and those three things are the spawn of economic inequality, and people with fucktons of money get Smaug’s Disease, and then are like, ride forth, my Nazgul, and spread fear amongst the populace so I get richer.

2025-09-29 15:10:55 UTC

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Cause it’s a tool of patriarchy, capitalism (or $CurrentModeOfProduction), and racism.

2025-09-22 16:45:48 UTC

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Coming to see you and meet your spouse was such a joy! 🥰✨💖

2025-09-22 06:28:19 UTC

TFW you are about to say the whitest thing ever and then you sit back are like, huh. Maybe rethink that. And then you don’t say that thing.
It’s not much, but hey. I’m a work in progress.

2025-09-22 03:15:00 UTC

My #OutreachToTheCis today was chatting with a grandmother about my life for a few minutes, wearing trans pride colors and describing the joy, but also the pain of losing touch with part of the extended family after I transitioned. She was traveling with her daughters and granddaughters, and she briefly introduced me all around.

2025-09-21 23:02:58 UTC

Get yourself a girl who demonstrates consistent, sustained, and unresentful respect for your boundaries.

2025-09-18 00:33:19 UTC

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Memo: To Caroline
From: Willow
Please be advised, 😍🤩😍🤩😍🤩😍🤩

2025-09-17 14:45:34 UTC

If you are new around here, remember: you can just try a new name. New pronouns. No one checks IDs at the door.

2025-09-14 15:49:42 UTC

Hey remember how in Mistborn the big bad could change words written anywhere except your memory and carved in a couple materials?
That feels weirdly prescient.

2025-09-05 12:29:41 UTC

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I have greatly enjoyed this journey. 💜

2025-09-01 19:15:49 UTC

Please, everyone, go enjoy this absolutely beautiful romp through the joys of breaking imperialist grammar rules by @npub1psr…ufr4 :
https://chaosfem.tw/@revoluciana/115130576644758012

2025-09-01 18:31:33 UTC

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I actually have been intentionally allowing myself to ignore grammar in my recent essays to let the feelings through.

2025-09-01 18:29:04 UTC

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It’s always time for bangs

2025-08-30 00:32:24 UTC

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I mean, Angela Chen’s Ace is an excellent way to help, I think. As I assume you know, there are chapters on the particular experience of being a cishet ace man, if that’s relevant, as well as the way consent and asexuality interact in long-term relationships.
I can speak to how being in the closet as ace and presenting as a cishet man felt like I had to perform sex correctly and with sufficient interest and frequency, and how much that was in marked contrast to how I actually am now that I’m out of all of those closets. But that may be a wildly different experience than a cis person would have had.

2025-08-29 23:40:18 UTC

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Oo I have many thoughts. I’ll be back after kid bedtime!

2025-08-29 05:38:10 UTC

TFW your allo partner reminds you that she wants to come see you even if there’s no sex.
I’m crying #asexual tears - being seen and accepted is kind of a lot, emotionally.

2025-08-28 18:48:17 UTC

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“Deciding to live meant discovering what I want and what I need, and learning this meant understanding that what I want and need are, in essence, more or less the same.”
THIS.

2025-08-26 11:07:01 UTC

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like ten minutes earlier?

2025-08-26 06:22:46 UTC

Does anyone remember the banger of a post I came up with by myself and didn’t tell anyone about and then forgot to post?

2025-08-22 15:14:10 UTC

Trans girls are hot, pass it on!

2025-08-21 13:52:31 UTC

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That sounds really draining. :QueerCatHeart_Trans: 🫂❤️

2025-08-09 19:34:07 UTC

Confession time: do you mix up your toothbrush and razor? I do.

2025-08-07 02:39:15 UTC

This is what I get for trying a new brand of chai. They put *stevia* in. Uuuuuugh.

2025-07-26 16:29:27 UTC

Being queer and uncomfortable in cis het spaces
#ThingsYouCantUnsay #AddressingCisFolks
I wore my trans pride colors on my necklace, one hoop earring, and scrunchy. I wore my ace pride colors on my other hoop. I want those who know to see me, to know trans and ace people are out there, that it can be safe enough to move through the world.
Safe enough.
I was safe enough.
I wore clothes that show off my body, especially my legs. Late at night, I danced alone with my hula hoop. I danced for myself, and I admired my own legs reflected in windows.
I danced away from the decor. The hagiographic sculptures of cowboys welcomed a specific clientele. Men. I danced away from men.
Dancing away from men doesn’t stop them from asking me if I want to join them for a cigarette.
The buildings were named for states with overtly horrifying reputations for queer people and for people who aren’t white. I stayed in buildings named for places I would not be safe enough.
There were a few people around with colorfully dyed hair. Children, mostly. And staff. The staff sometimes had colorful hair.
Under black head wraps and scarves.
Clearly, being visibly nonconforming was considered unsafe for staff. Hiding themselves made them safe enough.
I stood out. Glitter and joyful outfits will do that. Two different bartenders with subtle queer coding complimented me; one of them was adorably flustered about it. But beyond my intentional queer coding, I stealth reasonably well. I was safe enough.
1/2

2025-07-26 01:44:23 UTC

Okay, #LesbianRomance Fedi! Have any of you actually in real life fake dated someone you had feelings for, and did it involve fake-dating-sex?

2025-07-18 02:01:10 UTC

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I discur - French fries are never the right choice.
Hummus, though, is always the right choice.
So I guess maybe I’ll allow it under the chaotic lawful banner.
This time. /j

2025-07-18 01:57:19 UTC

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I mean I’ll always @ you, Caroline.

2025-07-11 01:21:40 UTC

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I felt like I had to smooth things over in the early days of my transition. Apologize for not coming out sooner. Apologize for surprising people. Apologize for asking them to support my transition.
I felt like the changes that I needed were disruptive to who they had experienced me as being.
Which, yes. Yes, those changes were disruptive. So many years of believing they knew me, up in smoke.
So I lied some more. I said it was okay that they didn’t know. I said that it wasn’t so bad. I said they shouldn’t mourn the years I lived in the closet. I told them I didn’t know, it was a different time, to focus on the future.
Sorry, folks.
I’m sorry, now, too.
I’m sorry that I love myself, now, enough to not give a fuck about your feelings when I tell you even the tiniest things hurt, when there was nothing left to cover the raw wounds in my gender.
I’m sorry that learning true things hurts.
I’m not sorry, actually.
I mourn that the world is such a shitty place that I have to be the messenger delivering such truths, such pain.
I’ll leave you to manage the truths and the pain they bring you, though. I already have my own share.
2/2

2025-07-11 01:21:00 UTC

Reflections on “KPop Demon Hunters” and the line “I don’t know why I didn’t trust you to be on my side”
#ThingsYouCantUnsay #trans #transition
#KPopDemonHunters’s main character, Rumi, is very trans. I want to focus on the last line of the first verse from the climactic song, “What It Sounds Like”:
“I don’t know why I didn’t trust you to be on my side.”
That line is apocalyptic fire.
It is sung in a spirit of apology and reconciliation, and Rumi, girl, they don’t deserve it. You are taking your first steps into the world as a forcibly outed trans woman, and they don’t deserve your apologies.
And you know it. You don’t want to know it. You want to forget that you know it. But on some level, you are aware of why you didn’t trust them to be on your side.
Because when you came to them for support, they didn’t turn their backs on you.
Oh no.
They saw you as too dangerous for that. They raised their weapons to ward you off, as you stood, unarmed and exposed.
They did rejoin you, in time, but they didn’t help you rise from that crushing experience. You had to pick yourself up, make your own choice to BURN DOWN the world you had been building with them and conceive of a whole new understanding of how you should be and what that should mean for the people around you, and then step out into the light and FIGHT for that world. THEN they were inspired to return to you, learn from you, fight beside you, and embrace you for who you are.
They support you. But you will always know that you had to stand on your own to win that support.
THAT is why you didn’t trust them to be on your side.
1/2

2025-06-19 15:59:11 UTC

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😂🤣 :QueerCatHeart_Trans:

2025-06-19 15:29:15 UTC

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I think we can make allowances.

2025-06-18 17:15:05 UTC

Reflections on the Courts and History on the day of SCOTUS’s Skrmetti Ruling, June 18, 2025
#ThingsYouCantUnsay #trans
The courts don’t have power on their own; they don’t have an armed group to back them up, and at the moment, none of the groups with weapons are interested in listening to them. So I don’t much care which way the courts rule, because the enforcers of my oppression don’t care, either.
We’ve been fighting the guerrilla war against oppression for millennia. It’s all one conflict - racism, capitalism, and patriarchy in favor of economic inequality and against everyone.
My weapons are my trans pride pendant, my presence, and my story.
I don’t expect to topple the patriarchy. Not in my lifetime, nor in the lifetimes of my children unto uncounted generations. If we set our goal at: “society accepts us as ourselves and ends our oppression while we are alive to see it” we are going to be disappointed.
But maybe I can create an eddy in time and space where it’s safer for my siblings to take refuge. Maybe I can hope to be a story they tell, slowly merged with my sisters into some amalgamated mythic “trans girls who left a mark on our collective hearts during one of the many dark times in our collective history.” Those kinds of people inspire me. And they beckon me to join them.
They tell me I don’t need to be a Great Man Of History to matter to people like me. They tell me those assholes are why we’re in this mess. They remind me that none of us make it out of life alive, so the most important thing I can do is figure out how to be me, and then do that in the most me way possible. Pick my battles - fight the ones that are about being myself. Let the rest go. And let others know me, in whatever way I want to be known, so my life can be one of the numberless stars that slowly disperses the darkness keeping others in the closet. So those folks can start the cycle anew.
That’s how I change the course of the bit of history that flows through my life and into the lives of those around me.

2025-06-11 01:46:57 UTC

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You are incandescent, Caroline. I’m really happy to know you. 💖 :QueerCatHeart_Trans:

2025-06-10 14:20:55 UTC

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I get like this, too.

2025-06-08 02:02:21 UTC

Anyone else STILL get a thrill correctly gendering yourself in third person?

2025-06-06 02:35:42 UTC

Hey, cis dudes. I need you to show up as allies at trans #pride events this month. Don’t make a big deal out of it. Don’t expect to win awards for it. Don’t hit on people. Don’t make it about you. Just swell our numbers.
And stand between us and the cops and transphobes, please.
#boost welcome.

2025-06-01 18:56:57 UTC

I Am Willow, Destroyer Of Closets
#ThingsYouCantUnsay
I hurt when I feel the walls of a closet. My body starts to break down. Sometimes it starts with muscle groups, sometimes it starts with the lining of my colon. My mind is occupied with coordinating the maintenance of the closet, while the pressure inside it builds. I tell you about my lived experience of this not to justify myself, but so those who have not yet destroyed their closets can recognize our shared experience.
Because the closet is killing us. It kills our bodies, another day of suffering at a time. And it steals our authentic, self-actualized lives, one day of oblivion at a time. Each day I spend in a closet, I am dead. When the total number of days I lived is tallied, these days will not be included.
The closet kills me at both ends of my life - it wears down my body, bringing a final end that much closer, and it denies me days lived now.
I am radically opposed to closets.
I believe that modeling closeted behavior for my children is the most likely way to reproduce it in their lives. Maintaining closets requires so much energy. Holding in truth is self-defeating. There’s no sense of renewal when I succeed. Doing so brings me no joy, only resentment and frustration.
I don’t want this for them.
I don’t want this for me.
I won’t ask those in closets to demolish them; only they can choose to do that for themselves.
But, if you’ve asked someone to stay in a closet, sit with what you are asking of them.
I am Willow, Destroyer of Closets.

2025-05-28 21:21:31 UTC

Riding the Avalanche
#ThingsYouCantUnsay
Every time I acted from my masks, I placed a stone. One for each mask.
Every second I breathed, I acted from my masks.
Half a statistical cis lifetime of breaths built a terrifying mountain. I don’t know how tall - the plain below has been hidden below the cloud layer for a very long time.
When I tore off the cis mask and the man mask, I felt so free.
What I didn’t understand was I had other masks, the manifestations of other closets, and that those were just as toxic to me.
I didn’t mean to build up a life that was based on erroneous assumptions about who I am, but I did, because in a society absolutely dedicated to preventing you from knowing yourself, avoiding the hermeneutical injustice of creating relationships based on mistaken assumptions is difficult.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about when I say society is dedicated to preventing you from knowing yourself, then you have either my congratulations that you got lucky and fit perfectly into who society wants you to be, or my condolences on what you may yet learn about yourself and its implications for your future.
If you know, then this essay is dedicated to you.
Because when you find out you aren’t who society told you to be, you have a choice.
It’s just one choice. You only ever get the one.
In some ways, that’s nice. The choice itself is uncomplicated. It’s extremely simple, in fact.
It is: are you going to be who you are, or not?
It is a very hard choice.
I married without the understanding that I’m a traumatized, trans, asexual, polyamorous lesbian.
After coming out as trans, I experienced the ongoing stress of being in the closet. I could feel it in my body, in my muscles, in my organs. I came to understand what I feel like when the closet is present in my life.
1/3

2025-05-28 18:49:20 UTC

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I like to think I’m photogenic!

2025-05-28 02:45:36 UTC

Dance Party In The Dark, For One Or More
#ThingsYouCantUnsay
The hallway was dark. And a strange shape, clearly an afterthought. It was enclosed, ending in fire doors, spanning some twenty feet or so, running at a forty-five degree angle to connect a third floor hallway across a roof to an emergency fire staircase.
Both overhead tube lights were out, but there were two windows onto the soggy night letting in faint illumination. Students had painted a mural on the walls.
I was standing in this liminal space. It existed because the rules said it had to, but without a full sense of being. It was a place with ostensible purpose as emergency egress, a place whose practical daily existence diverged strongly from that purpose. A shortcut for those in a hurry between two very particular places.
No such people needed to get to any such places at the moment. It was quiet. It was solitary.
Out of my active focus, afterimages of a past I barely remember busied themselves in the hallway. That ground was heavy with the residue of time when I had been driven by scripts I never chose.
It was precisely the space I needed in that moment to take my next step in valuing myself. To make new meaning for and about myself.
I’d spent the evening hoping to dance, to feel myself inhabit space in this structure in a way I never had before. I was reeling from the realization that my innermost self, blossoming in transition, had no connection to the unique forms of meaning-making that had connected me to the structure and its inhabitants. I wanted to form a memory of being truly myself there.
Dancing hadn’t been the vibe in any of the large, public spaces, and I didn’t push it. I wandered into the semi-private spaces. I found myself in the liminal corridor.
I paused.
1/2

2025-05-28 02:45:36 UTC

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And my body knew what to do.
She hit play on my sapphic music collection, and the next song was Glory Days. I started to dance, and when the line “Show me your list and let's cross some shit off” filled the space, I felt myself bringing that sentiment into being. I crossed some shit off.
I danced.
I danced at my own queer dance party, of one woman, and one song, in the dark. The music was loud enough to be heard in nearby hallways; if others were to have joined me, they would have gotten to attend my dance party that I held for me.
I danced in my own fae moment, away from center stage, in a hidden place that you’d need to listen for, and seek out. I was only there for the length of a song. And then I was gone, glowing from the inside.
Because I delighted in moving my body, in feeling my feelings, in choosing my music, in shaping my experience, and in valuing myself.
2/2

2025-05-22 00:13:20 UTC

Ya know, there’s nothing like #polyamory to make me really face that only I can decide which Totoro themed duffle or weekender bag is right for me.

2025-05-22 00:13:20 UTC

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My instinct is to turn to someone and be like, “A or B?” But I don’t want my decision to be emotionally tied to one partner. So I have to actually get in touch with what ✨I✨ want.

2025-05-21 13:59:10 UTC

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Don’t fear me for my power, I have none over you.
Fear me because I assert power over myself, and I might inspire others to claim similar power over themselves.

2025-05-21 13:59:09 UTC

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Here’s the thing. I would happily destroy all organized religion.
But.
If I had the power to destroy all organized religion, it would be because the world was so radically changed for the better that, honestly, I wouldn’t need to. Assuming there was still something that answered to the term “organized religion,” I’d just let it be.
I’m a trans woman. I have no power to destroy anything but myself.

2025-05-21 13:50:56 UTC

Trans Femme: The government is trying to kill me.
The Cis: But are they really, thooooo…
Trans Femme: I’m trying to kill the government.
The Cis: TREASON!
https://chaosfemtw.files.fedi.monster/media_attachments/files/114/546/140/130/531/665/original/dadced35b88dbca4.jpeg

2025-05-20 11:37:25 UTC

I do a thing on fedi where I post:
<sits nearby for company>
It’s my way of letting someone know that I’ve been reading what they are writing, that I would be sitting and listening to them talk. That what they are saying and feeling is valid. I sometimes do this on positive posts (company is good for sharing joy, too!), but mostly when people are expressing pain or frustration or similar.
It’s a way of trying to offer presence without activating the physical metaphor of hugs, which some folks don’t want in moments of intense emotion.
But more than any of those things, it’s how I make space for them and their feelings without changing or defining the mood with my own. I’m trying to make it about them and their feelings.
I often have very strong feelings about what they’ve written. If it is about a complicated situation, the person might have a mixture of positive and negative feelings, and in the moment, they are trying to explore those feelings. If I offered my opinions of, for example, how in-the-wrong someone else was when talking to the author of the post, then the author might feel like they don’t have the emotional space to feel their own feelings. That they must react to me (either by replying or just in their own heads) by refocusing on the complexities of the situation.
I want them to be able to feel how they need to feel right now, and feel a little less alone about it.
That’s why I sit nearby for company.

2025-05-14 22:15:54 UTC

Okay help me, sapphic fedi. I need a “sapphic dance party spiting fascism” playlist - upbeat, focused on how amazing we are, with a bitter undertaste, like the bite of chocolate, to remind us of what we face.
I’ve got:
Muna “I Know A Place”
Zolita “All Girls Go To Heaven”
FLETCHER “Live Young Die Free”
Janelle Monáe “Cold War”
What should I add?

2025-05-14 16:13:25 UTC

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I think they spiced it up with Guess by Billie Eilish after midnight.

2025-05-14 15:55:59 UTC

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Straight coded lust songs from the aughts.

2025-05-14 14:38:05 UTC

Okay, when I go to Sapphic Night at the gay bar, why don’t I hear any MUNA? Where’s the FLETCHER? girli? Janelle Monáe? Zolita? Heck, where’s Chappell Roan? WHY ARE WE NOT HOT TO GO!?

2025-05-13 02:53:09 UTC

Loving Myself Is Hard The Way Grasping The Wind Is Hard
#ThingsYouCantUnsay
Sorry, cute young soft butch girl; it was really impressive the way you worked up the courage to ask for my number outside the club. I doubt you have any idea how close you came to watching calamity unfold in your bedroom.
I’m so easy to love.
I am so far from loving myself.
I love myself so much.
I don’t love myself enough to hold on to myself.
I sold to others a sealed box full of my love for myself the moment I had the chance.
I didn’t love myself enough to notice.
And each time, when I finally figured out what I’d lost and where it had gone, I hesitated to love myself enough to save myself.
But I love myself enough to save myself.
I love myself enough to leave others bleeding when I come to reclaim my self-love.
I love myself enough that gutting others causes me profound sadness.
I love myself enough to be sad.
I don’t know how to adequately express my mixture of sorrow and self-acceptance.
It’s not an apology for the bleeding.
It’s an apology for not loving myself enough in the first place.
It sounds so selfish.
I guess the selfish part was seeking others’ love to substitute for the love I wasn’t giving myself.
Sorry for the things I did when I didn’t love myself enough.
I hope one day I’ll love myself so much, I can love others without forgetting to love myself.
When I love others, it feels like the foreplay of giving myself away.
I don’t want to give myself away.
Fuck, loving myself is hard the way grasping the wind is hard.
Loving myself is glorious the way matching my body to a crowd and a moment and a rhythm is fleeting and perfect and glorious.
If I could tell you how, I would.
If I could remember how, I would.
I’ll keep dancing.
I’ll keep trying to love myself.
Maybe my body knows how.
Maybe I can ask her.

2025-04-30 23:20:03 UTC

Every time a #trans girl awakens safely from gender affirming surgery, a TERF gets hives.
#Boost this please, so I can screenshot it for my friend!

2025-04-28 14:55:53 UTC

Looking down on the electrolysis table is weird. Like, seriously, that’s not what I’m supposed to have between my legs.

2025-04-25 15:29:32 UTC

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2025-04-23 19:26:32 UTC

I wish trans people sucked
#ThingsYouCantUnsay
I wish trans people sucked.
I wish that when you thought about trans people, the default reaction was, “they’re so basic. There’s nothing interesting about them.”
I wish we generally lived boring lives, wake up, do our part for the community we live in, care for our families, maybe do a bit of work, make a really boring dinner, bed early.
I wish you knew so many trans people that when someone new came out as trans, your spouse turned to you with a bored expression and asked if they should order your usual coming-out gift for trans people. In the same way as you have a signature baby-shower gift.
I wish trans people were not, generally, some of the most interesting, vibrant, resourceful, creative, determined, self-aware, clear-eyed, insightful, caring, and kind people you know.
I wish we didn’t have to be all those things to have a chance to survive. I wish that accepting ourselves and coming out was not a gauntlet that leaves all but a random fraction of the most amazing of us to die, our truths snuffed out unacknowledged.
I wish we didn’t need to be the best of the best, just to make it far enough to see the light through a crack in the closet door.
Goddess, I wish trans people sucked.

2025-04-04 19:56:01 UTC

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B for me. All I think I know is that someone indicated Canada might be accepting USian trans asylum requests, but I’d have no idea how to confirm that, how to plan for it, what to bring (and NOT bring), and what that might mean for possible reentry into the US in future years, like, does asylum require renouncing citizenship, and would that mean I couldn’t return if the political climate changed?

2025-04-01 15:53:25 UTC

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This, everything Lucy said. This.

2025-03-31 11:17:13 UTC

Hi cis people! It’s Trans Day Of Visibility, or TDOV for short, and today, I’d like my words to be visible.
Please read these short essays:
This one is about how to be an ally: https://chaosfem.tw/@Willow/113856069628799346
This one is about the trans experience: https://chaosfem.tw/@Willow/113953311228200046
This one is about the importance of letting trans people tell our own stories in our own words: https://chaosfem.tw/@Willow/114224840479779049
Please boost them. Please write short posts linking here and to other trans people’s writings, encouraging your friends to read what we have to say. Sharing the words of trans people is how you help us be seen. It’s how you help stop the genocide against us. Please help, while we are still here to appreciate it.
Please remember, more trans people will be born. They’ll be your children and grandchildren. They’ll learn our history. And they’ll learn what you did or didn’t do, when we needed you.
Love, Willow
#Trans #TDOV #TransDayOfVisibility #Boost

2025-03-30 14:49:03 UTC

Between all the relationship growing and relationship healing and stuff, I’ve forgotten to take care of me. My intestines are flaring. My joints hurt. My muscles feel like wet noodles. I haven’t sat quietly with myself in too long.

2025-03-30 02:22:10 UTC

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Ghosts of Fedi Past! Love the haircut, girl! 😍

2025-03-28 02:27:04 UTC

I Treat My Brain More And More Like An Unreliable Adjutant
Once, I thought I needed a logical, rational answer for everything. I often couldn’t find one, so I went along with what I was being pressed to agree with.
Once, I thought I remembered things. I could remember story plots, so I figured I remembered most important moments in my life.
Once, I thought I was a brain, riding in a body that I controlled. The body was there to move me around; sometimes it needed maintenance, and indicator lights turned on. Advil made most of them turn off. Others I used as reading lights.
I was wrong.
I’m a body full of feelings.
My body offers mercy. Forgiveness. Reconciliation. She remembers my traumas, and holds them for me.
She tells me when I need to fear. She knows I’ve forgotten much, and she tells me when it’s time to act and when it’s time to rest. She doesn’t have all the answers, but she knows when I find questions that will lead me there.
She knows my brain is not to be trusted. But it’s part of her. It’s part of me. I’ve learned to listen to what it has recorded, but feel for the ragged edges where things are missing. I’ve learned to listen with detachment to its opinions.
My body exists. When I am quiet inside, she can feel the way.

2025-03-26 17:04:47 UTC

Some days, I like being a writer for the resistance, some days I just wanna be a pretty girl with empty head, no thoughts.

2025-03-25 19:59:06 UTC

Why I Write
I write because I’m #trans, and every trans voice matters. I doubt that I have novel things to say; I nod to the socialists, I repeat my trans siblings, I retread the ground feminists have walked, I find markers left by people of color, and I know I’m not alone. I do not seek to break new ground. I seek to hold ground, ground that was taken from us. To hold space and memory. To leave behind a record of who I was, of what I knew, of why I fought, of how I loved, and of the lies I was told, so that those who come after me will know they are not alone.
I won’t bore you by making the point that not all voices matter, that cis voices who babble
platitudes offer nothing to liberation and allies who push us aside to speak for us do so without regard for the cliffs they shove us over. I’ll trust you learned from Black voices. I know I’m still trying to learn from them.
But fascists know trans voices matter. The patriarchy knows; capitalists and racists know. They know what a threat self-actualization is.
It’s how I’ve come to understand the importance of valuing any trans voice that speaks, and why it’s important to add my voice. Our stories are brilliant spotlights shined into the darkness of the lies used to keep our siblings from knowing themselves. Each time we speak, it is a spell of curse-breaking. Our lives are resistance. Our stories are beacons lit by crystallized memories of our lives.
I write because let’s face it, even better than ruining a transphobe’s day with my joy is ruining many of their days with records of my joy.
And I write so that when I’m dead, trans people will know what I had to do to be myself. I cannot tell them how to be themselves. But perhaps I can show them what I did, and why.

2025-03-25 13:52:44 UTC

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This, everyone.
“We're not going to accomplish a damned thing if y'all can't get up on your feet and at least acknowledge the torture machine that the curtain has been concealing the entire time.
And at some point, you're going to have to make a decision to stick your wooden shoes into the damned gears.”
- @npub1psr…ufr4

2025-03-23 16:26:50 UTC

Has anyone else spent the past twenty years wanting to be spun by a swing dance partner while holding onto jangly Kegels balls with your pussy?

2025-03-19 16:54:54 UTC

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I might enjoy it sometimes, and I might use it to engage with some of the topics I otherwise don’t have the spoons to absorb in written form, but I might be less likely to boost it simply because I wouldn’t be in a Fedi app at the time of listening.

2025-03-17 20:51:21 UTC

I Grew My Feelings and Desires in Bottles
Before I accepted that I had to be the most me, I grew my feelings and desires in bottles. (I kept them contained, never to grow so large as to change anything.)
They were in a hidden cupboard, in the space behind the drywall in my closet, between two wall studs, covered with a makeshift door and hidden by a hamper. (I concealed them, often even from myself, in illicit places inside myself, often in traumas felt in my body.)
I kept them in the dark, clustered around flickering grow lights, powered by batteries, when I could manage to replace them. (Sometimes, I didn’t have the hope to nourish them.)
I rigged them with incendiary charges, reasoning it was better to immolate my hopes than let anyone find them. (I gave up on them, rather than let people know about them.)
It was a horrible way to live.
I don’t want you to live like that. It brings tears to my eyes remembering it.
I want you to grow your feelings and desires and hopes in a garden. Tend them. Let them feel the sun. Share them with your friends. Know that not all of them will flourish, but some will, and with your love, more will than you might expect.

2025-03-17 15:30:37 UTC

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I love everything about this for you!

2025-03-13 04:59:45 UTC

Being Not-Me Is Traumatic; Being Pushed Towards Being Not-Me Is Triggering
I’m trans. I tore my way through the supposedly unshatterable bonds on me and found myself in a body. A body full of the history of trauma.
I sifted through the memories in the brain I met, and at first they seemed complete. Where had I come from? Why was I suddenly in this body, at THIS point in its life? There was no reason I shouldn’t have been able to be myself earlier.
But in time I found places where the fabric of the narrative had been overlapped to hide the holes. Where the traumas had rejected the memories. I studied the body’s reflexes. The way it lied casually and without a second thought to appear untraumatized. I lined up its personal history and its medical history and found causation. I tried trusting my feelings, and the body reacted. It unclenched, a little. I returned to the stated truths I’d been given when I introduced myself to the brain, and I experimented with inverting them. Not, “I am well adjusted,” but “I am traumatized.” Not “I was happy,” but “I was choosing to kill myself with alcohol and neglect.” Things that never made sense started to coalesce.
I was hidden deep. The body I was sequestered within was compelled to reject and suppress me for decades. It built lies in my brain, it trashed my joints, it refused to move like I move.
And it positioned itself in relationships in ways that are hostile to me. It was industrious and inventive in this task. To carry out the directive of making sure I was never able to take ownership of my own body and life, it reinforced patterns in how I behaved in romantic relationships that were antithetical to me.
I survived, and I claimed myself.
But the body I claimed is filled with these memories of BEING in ways that are not who I am or how I am. Filled with reflexes, reactions, and relationship patterns that are antithetical to me. And when those are active, it’s traumatic.
The tragedy I struggle with now is important people in my life express themselves in ways that constitute trauma triggers for me, activating the impulse to fall into those patterns that will further suppress me. Holding on to myself during that is extremely costly.

2025-03-04 13:21:57 UTC

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Just a reminder that a paper that platforms fascist hate is a Nazi paper.
https://chaosfem.tw/@revoluciana/114103993067292131
@npub1psr…ufr4

2025-02-23 18:48:50 UTC

I Show You I Love You By Being The Most Me
Once, I was not confident in who I was. I believed toxic monogamous scripts that called for demonstrating my love through sacrifice - giving up paths I might have walked, selves I might have chosen, relationships I might have formed, loves I might have kindled, to consecrate my love for one person in the blood of my own potential.
My partner did not ask this self-butchery of me. It arose from the interplay of who I am with all the things society told me I had to be. In order to play those roles, I had to sacrifice myself. And society encouraged that sacrifice. And it encouraged isolation.
Because connection is powerful. Connection with who we are. Connection with who we can choose to be. Connection with each other, on terms we define for ourselves. These are the connections society wants us to sacrifice to profane the one connection permitted under monogamy’s aegis.
I reject these demands. I am a glorious being, ever becoming myself. I will not turn towards my partner, wiping my own blood off my hands as I fit myself into a box provided by the patriarchy in the size and shape of her desires. I share my luminosity with her, that she might know I love her not because I fit perfectly in a box eternally by her bedside, but because I do not.
Without that box, I must learn myself and my partner better than I ever thought to know anyone, deeper than I knew was possible. I cannot rely on the chains of society to support us; for my transgressions against its rules, society would sunder my connections. To accept my love is to be outcast. This may be the farthest afield I have ever asked her to walk beside me.

2025-02-07 05:34:27 UTC

My wife saw this and was like, “I found a meme of you!”
https://chaosfemtw.files.fedi.monster/media_attachments/files/113/960/964/525/036/822/original/5d6377c1dde34afb.jpeg

2025-02-06 22:30:01 UTC

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😂🤣😂🤣😂🤣🤪

2025-02-06 18:51:58 UTC

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Banger of a quote, Lucy.

2025-02-06 17:52:34 UTC

Fabulous article by @npub1psr…ufr4:
https://www.revoluciana.net/say-trans-genocide/
And her post about it:
https://chaosfem.tw/@revoluciana/113958147197776350
Here’s the bit that hit me hardest:
“Why are you more afraid of the word than what will happen to us, and what is happening already? Are you afraid you will be wrong? Why are you not afraid of what will happen if you don't say it? Why are you not more afraid of losing us than being wrong? I hope you say the word and you are wrong. With every fiber of my being, I want you to say it and be wrong. I want this to not be genocide. But I already know the truth, and so do you.
You already know this is trans genocide.
So fucking say it.
#SayTheWord genocide.”

2025-02-05 21:05:39 UTC

When I tell you I’m #trans, I’m not telling you about the history of my body - my body is as you see it, and it’s uncomfortable that you think it’s okay to imagine what you cannot see because it’s hidden by clothing, time, or both. I’m not fishing for compliments - I already know I’m stunning, and I totally do fish for compliments, just not like that. I’m not telling you about my romantic and sexual life - I have lots of other words for that, and the relevant ones are “that’s private.” I’m not even telling you about my gender - my name, pronouns, and gender presentation have already said everything I intend to say on the subject.
I’m telling you about pain. I’m telling you that I’ve been pickled in emotional agony, like a specimen in brine - it was all I knew. Emerging brought new horrors, as I uncovered and mourned the ways my body was wrong for me, suffered to remake it, dug up my emotional daemons only to have them eviscerate me, tore at the people closest to me and starred with sadness and acceptance at the wounds I made, discovered gaping holes in my memories, hugged myself in the depths of believing myself unworthy of compassion, and cried in the dark with the need for affirmation.
I’m telling you about joy. I’m telling you I thrill to be myself, and I cherish every detail of living authentically, no matter how small. With the pain for contrast, my experience of joy is soaring and unfettered. I revel in the mundane and the outrageous in equal measure. Each and every day is a treasure: another day sick at home in bed, as Myself: Rhinovirus Edition? Marvelous. A day filled with adventure, affirmation, and new friends? Superb. Being myself is inexpressibly wonderful; I wish you could know this joy.
1/2

2025-02-05 21:05:39 UTC

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I’m telling you about oppression. I’m telling you about society-scale gaslighting on history-spanning timelines, about the dissonance of speaking with people who feel safe when I feel unsafe, about the truths I have been forced to accept about society that I get punished for voicing to others. I’m telling you I know what it’s like to know I’ll never get out, I’ll never breathe free air, I’ll never be safe. I’m telling you I know the despair of seeing that all my trans siblings are oppressed alongside me.
I’m telling you about hope. I’m telling you that I can be punished for being myself, but no one can force me to be anything other than me. I’m telling you I can breathe dangerous air, I can live a life of happiness and joy, I can be myself if I can accept that I can only be responsible for my own choices, I can be a beacon to my siblings, I can be remembered as myself, I can hope for more for those who come after me.
I’m telling you that if you stand by me, I don’t know how it will end, but you can know you are standing up for the idea that everyone should get to be themselves. I don’t think I can confidently assert the chronology of my life will have a happy ending. But I plan to make it a happy story, full of memories worth living for.
When I die, tell my story.
While I live, be a part of it.
2/2

2025-01-28 20:22:34 UTC

Fascists treat Queer People like a Renewable Resource
Public, group-endorsed murder is an easy expression of power. Possibly the easiest. “Look, we are killing this person. If you don’t do what we tell you, we’ll kill you, too. Killing clearly doesn’t bother us.” It’s why the organized mass murder of out-groups is used by fascists to enforce in-group unity.
Queer folks occur naturally in all human populations. How many is somewhat influenced by what is considered queer or not in any given culture, but we arise consistently.
This makes us, by the very nature of human variation, a population that is NOT immediately individually identifiable as an out-group from birth, but a population that can be counted on to exist, lurking, in all general populations.
In other words, we are a perfect fit for a scapegoat population: we are subject to witch hunts - anyone MIGHT be queer, so policing activities can be justified because we are not necessarily obvious. We have inherent urges to live authentically, so there IS available evidence for identifying us. We engage in behaviors that can be portrayed as deviant or dangerous to the general population, specifically to the patriarchal order promoted by fascism. And no matter how many of us they slaughter, there will always be more of us by the time the next political crisis rolls around.
This is why fascists find us to be so politically useful. They can never wipe us out; the genocide is continuous. They use that genocide to make the general population complicit in their crime and to provide examples of their willingness to use horrifying and deadly force to coerce obedience.
Before I understood this, I hoped that I might one day live in a world that is not hostile to me as a queer person. Now, I understand that I will live my life in a world where fascists hunt me, either with the power of the state or in the goal of attaining that power. My life as a queer person is an act of resistance. Every breath I take in the knowledge of my truth is valuable. Every day I live authentically is a statement about how the world should be. Every life I shine my light into will carry that experience forward, the ripples of my radical self-acceptance and centering of love, emotion, and humanity spreading outwards.
They will never stop hunting us. Every day I do not live authentically is a day they steal from me. One day, I will be dead. I choose to live all the days between then and now authentically.

2025-01-15 03:11:11 UTC

When cis people craft jokes that are only funny if the idea of a man in a dress is funny, we hear that they are not safe for us. An especially insidious one I heard recently: a man in a position of power joked he’d only wear a dress if it was a very expensive brand - a drag queen offered him one, and he declined with a panicked expression; they were my heroine in that moment.
But the joke he made only makes sense if “a man in a cheap dress” is inherently absurd. That is what trans femmes look like when we come out as adults. We did not have friends and family help us learn to dress and style ourselves when it was safe and accepted to make mistakes - if we had that kind of safe home environment that was emotionally attuned to us as the femme people we were, we would generally have come out as children. Even if we have steady work and resources, which many trans femmes do not, buying a totally new wardrobe is a daunting task. We’re gonna look a mess, at first. And we know it.
There’s a further twist of the “comedy” knife: we, the joke’s audience, are being asked to laugh. Trans femmes who transition during adulthood often are just waking up to the layers of denial and coping mechanisms that kept them safe and alive to reach the point they can finally meet themselves and transition. They may well not have a strongly established sense of self-worth, yet. Their traumas are raw and likely still hidden from their own view, emotional triggers that have not even been identified yet, let alone confronted. And these emotionally vulnerable people are being told to laugh at themselves, to degrade and devalue the tiny flickering light of hope and happiness they have painstakingly coaxed into being.
The naked cruelty of that is hard to overstate.
I honestly don’t give a fuck that comedy is hard to write if you cannot punch down. Do better. Don’t say things we cannot unhear.

2025-01-03 19:55:06 UTC

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Can we have a team up? Mirrors + Good Lighting?

2025-01-03 19:37:07 UTC

Mirrors. The source of my power; my ultimate weakness.

2025-01-03 04:03:11 UTC

Damn, just got cozy to do my shot, opened up my kit, and I forgot a syringe. I have needles! But now must get uncozy to go refill on syringes.

2025-01-01 20:06:24 UTC

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🤭😍👾

2024-12-25 15:30:43 UTC

Dudes of the world: I have a challenge for you. This one’s real simple, but like most simple-but-important things, actually DOING it is shockingly hard.
Ready? Okay, here we go.
When women tell you a situation isn’t safe for them, just believe them. Take it at face value. No questions, no negotiating.
That’s it! Off you go. And #boost this on your way.

2024-12-22 23:34:57 UTC

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This kind of conviction is what will see us through these dark times. 😉

2024-12-18 03:29:11 UTC

#Trans USians: The state department is processing passport requests submitted with expedited processing in like two weeks. Just in case that’s a thing that is relevant to your interests.
#uspol

2024-12-12 04:42:13 UTC

I ask so happy to report that I KNOW things about Roman History, but I no longer CARE about Roman History, or even about whether I know things about it.
#TransFemme #TransJoy

2024-12-10 17:30:46 UTC

Reposted with permission from a more private friend:
hey awesome! If you have Global Entry, and you get a legal name change along with your passport updated with name and gender, you do *not* actually have to travel to an acceptance center! You can submit a support ticket here: help.cbp.gov/s/questions
They warn it takes 3-8 weeks but they got mine done in under a week...

2024-12-10 01:24:32 UTC

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By the goddess’s holy fuck, how did I make the cut for a list with nine ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE #trans femmes on it!?
<turns to audience> Yo, folks, the other great thing about these folks is they Know Things, and most (all?) of them write extensively about those things.

2024-11-26 00:13:53 UTC

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