From deep within I heard: “not a woman.”
The desert stretched out in front of me as I drove. For months, feelings I couldn’t put my finger on simmered. I realize in the rearview mirror that my egg had been cracking, a term that refers to the process of discovering one’s transness.
I am the first out transgender and queer person in my lineage, but I would be foolish to think I am the first altogether.
Self-portraiture and family photos serve as a mirror and a portal; looking into my reflection, I am looking for those who came before. I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams.
I grew up in a high-control fundamental Christian environment. In one of my lowest points as a young person, following an unexpected pregnancy and subsequent abortion in college, I moved to Texas for the first time at 21 years old.
In San Antonio, I found the space and freedom to explore and reinvent myself. I’ve found community, connection, and dreams of possibility in the three times I’ve moved to this beautiful place with its rich history of Indigenous, Black, and brown people fighting for liberation.
I first heard John Denver’s famous song about the West Virginia mountains as a young teenager. I clasped on to the romantic song as a symbol of a special place and time of belonging, something I had yet to authentically experience. Now, as a big kid, I believe where I belong is exactly where I am: San Antonio.
Well-intentioned friends and family members in other parts of the country raise their eyebrows and in a hushed tone ask me what it’s like living in Texas. I don’t disagree; the state is increasingly transphobic—but so is our country. Trans people represent a sense of possibility and self-determination that undermines the colonial project that is America. Still, I remain hyper-aware of my surroundings when I leave the sanctuary of my home.
In these images and collages, I look back to see where I come from and orient myself toward the person I want to be. As the one so often behind the camera, I step in front of it to place myself in the story. Collaging and physically manipulating photographic prints, these images span moments of curiosity as I wander on mylifelong journey to find home within.
I am present. I am here. Not a woman and not a man: Conveying my experience of gender with words is clumsy at best. I find peace when I occupy the place in between.
Like mighty agave plants, defending themselves as they take up space, trans people are majestic, precious, and not going anywhere.
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