Sometimes being queer is about all those things; they are at the heart of our history and the root of our oppression. Sometimes being queer is about being cast out; sometimes it’s about casting ourselves out, walking or running away while we still can. Sometimes being queer is about being the monster, the one who corrupts, the one who devours.

I’m inclined to say that it’s not our gender identities or our bodies that bind trans folks; it’s the tendrils of transphobia. Or maybe we’re connected by our ongoing existence despite our perceived impossibleness — our shared we’re-still-fucking-here[i] platypusian impossibleness — like the underground mycorrhizal networks that “link nearly every

While we still seem to be caught in the treacherous segue between stories, those cast as victims in old master narratives are writing themselves anew.