Julia Serano, Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity (“Putting the Feminine Back into Feminism,” pg 329)
i have romanticized you into a foggy moment of oblivion. When i find myself crying in the shower I wonder if I am really crying over you, or over the you i’ve created in my head. demonic simplicity is an aesthetic i’ve been drawn to recently, mostly because I know you’d hate it. I get a sort of illicit rush every time i paint my lips and eyes black, because then i am not the girl you loved. I am not the sun dress in the grass sipping silently on gin and tonics. I am fully embracing my brokenness, the brokenness you always begged me to ignore. the fullness of existence was hard for you to digest. you’ve called me evil enough times that I think i am finally starting to believe it. I’ve stopped feeling bad for my mistakes, instead i applaud them. I slept with the boy with a girlfriend for a month, because i know its what you expected from me. I am a tornado. I am a bonfire. I will wreck your mind and then retreat. Burn your face and then burn out. I will begin and end alone and I will destroy whatever I can in between.