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Writings : Essays

by Laric, 10/22/02

I've been born male to a body which is not. My opinions on this have been heard in the past, so to repeat overmuch here would be tiresome. Suffice it to say, I find very little in the way of protest to it save when I encounter gender prejudice, and this is a fact of life which would hound me on either side I should have had the genetic roll of the dice to be on. I do not wail when I must sit down to piss. I just put the seat down.

The crop of hair upon my head, I feel, is blond. It gives to me a trauma factor of precisely zero when I look into the mirror which hangs above my sink and see a body I may not identify perfectly with coated with that of dark instead. If I am of such weak fiber to my being that a cosmetic color may destroy my will, then I deserve to be overpowered by brunette.

When I brush my hair behind my ears, I am always surprised when they are so short rather than bearing points upon their tips. The dice rolled one way--I was born into this universe and this time, and I was born into a human body. Dreams lure me with promises of a landscape far more verdant than the one around me, clothing that is different, a heritage which is not human but elf. Yet to look into that mirror--the details are not all correct here, now are they?

I have a confession to make.

I like being human.

This world is as delicious as anything else in my memory, recovered or dreamed or otherwise, that I can remember tasting. Five minutes down the road is a cafe which serves me dark roast coffee whenever I desire, provided it is within standard business hours. Five minutes in the other direction is a restaurant that specializes in soups. On cold days, I can buy a cup and walk with it cradled in my hands while the steam bathes my face. They change their selection every week. Each season, they have last year's favorites.

I view this world as a challenge, you see. The business is not to bemoan the ill fit of my clothing where it hangs over curves I do not feel I should have, but to best utilize what is on hand to achieve what I desire. I have an appearance which means that people may have preconceptions a certain way, and yet it is -my- choice if I wish to spend my life dwelling upon what is in my box of tools and what is not.

To define one's life solely by the lack of what they feel they must have should they be born somewhere -proper- is to define with one's arms continually outstretched for that promised grail. When it does not come, then the fault is gracefully handed over to this Earth world for being too limiting, too misunderstanding of that which is not within society's common.

At what point does one who has lost their home decide to finally make a new one? I build my house from timbers on this world and it is a satisfying endeavor in every sense.

Human body, human hands, human capacity for spirituality. You cannot make something from nothing. Despite what I have heard some otherkin saying, I fully believe that human beings hold just as much innate capacity for the magics of existence as any other being out there. If I am to have a human nature in my workings rather than an elven, so be it--but it is not any more limited than it would have been were I to have been born in a body with wings or with horns. I am learning something while I am here, and that is to be human. And I enjoy it.

Feel free to prove me wrong by tearing down the heavens to display how inherent power is in a non-human and then feel free to scream in pain at the imbalances in nature afterwards, for all that inherent non-human sensitivity must be damningly problematic when the volume is loud.

To be given special benefits to begin with simply by birth in this body but possible spiritual origin elsewhere? I refuse that. Why would I want to be given a head start on this world, when there is so much more satisfaction playing by the same rules as anyone else and still winning? Is my capacity to grow and achieve so strictly limited by my hair color, my height, or my species profile? Am I to be defined as anything, anything other than what I can actually accomplish while I am standing here and demonstrating it to those around me?

Ironic that in my experiences with people here, it has not been one's origins that matter nearly so much as if one is capable of walking down the street with them and making polite chatter.

I love this world. I would drink it in with all my soul and still want for more. No dream of what could be will get in my way of enjoyment of this one; no tale of magic and bloodline will keep me from knowing that there is still wonder to be found right here. It pleases me to be in a human body, and equipped with only the materials that come to human capacity.

Weep for me later, my other-kin, for what you perceive as the willing loss of my heritage. Define me in a box which condescends me into being unaware of what I lose to begin with. I am finding it to be of perfect clime here. Someday when all are through flapping the toilet lids up and down, we may all get on the business of actually living here in this world together.

In the meantime, I've not a fork in my hand to eat this dish, but a spoon. I do not plan to let the details get in my way.