Becoming ugly is dependent on thorough self examination. Ask yourself: what do I think I get by being pretty? Can it only be acquired from my looks? Is getting this thing still enjoyable if I only earned it with my appearance?

It is the part of me that knows that building my gender—my anything—around desirability or beauty is not just an ableist notion of what’s important, but will always keep me chasing what doesn’t want me. Will always keep me hurling swords at the very core of me.

To be ugly is to be exhilarating.