On:
In: Personal essays

This isn’t the blog post about the privilege I have as a white, skinny, middle-class, afab trans person. That blog post is coming, but this is another one where I need to acknowledge upfront how much privilege I have because I am thin. The only straight thing about me is my size, and I know I have a lot of work to do to unlearn my internalised fatphobia. Maybe this means I shouldn’t talk about my weight, but every time I sit down to blog all I can think about is that the body I see when I look in the mirror isn’t mine.Read More →

On:
In: Personal essays
Short-haired afab person wearing dark-blue jeans dances in celebration. Photo.

This post is inspired by Hannah Witton’s #DearJune challenge, which I fully intended to take part in on Instagram but ended up abandoning after just one day. This was partly because of my mental health, and partly because of the Black Live Matter protests – as a white person I needed to shut up and use my platform to raise up the voices of Black folks rather than promoting my own shit. I don’t feel guilty about abandoning Dear June, but it’s still something I’ve been thinking about. Here is a love letter, of sorts, to the month that reminded me that I am enough.Read More →

On:
In: Gender things, Personal essays
A black afab person in dungarees, a stripy top and glasses grins at the camera with their eyes closed. Photo.

Last week I wrote about how exhausting it is to be a trans person right now. I wrote about fear and anger and sadness and burn out and feeling numb. I’m really glad I wrote that post, but writing it – and some of the conversations that writing it sparked – reminded me that I can’t explain my gender in one word, or even in a simple sentence. My gender identity is changing all the time as I explore it, and I love that.Read More →

On:
In: Personal essays, Talking about sex
Black couple in bed together, laughing and being intimate. Photo.

We talk about aftercare after kink scenes – like safe words, hard limits and safer sex practices, aftercare is fundamental part of our pre-scene elevator pitch. What I hear less people talk about is aftercare after sex, which I definitely need as well. Even if I’ve just given you a quick blow job, I need aftercare – specifically your assurances that I wasn’t terrible at sucking your dick.Read More →

On:
In: Feminism (ish), Personal essays
Four afab people of different ethnicities stand together, their arms round each other's waists in solidarity. Photo.

Recently a friend tweeted that they couldn’t believe that people still say clichéd sexist things like ‘come on, smile’. I laughed. I know their point was to express amazement at seeing this blatant sexism play out in front of them, but their tweet made me remember that not everyone has to face this kind of misogyny every single day. I think that sometimes cis men can forget what it’s like to be a cis woman or a trans or non-binary person who is subject to misogyny – their privilege makes them oblivious to the everyday misogyny that is my reality.Read More →

On:
In: Personal essays, Talking about sex
A queer couple lying on the floor next to each other, looking at each other and smiling. Photo.

Have you ever had sex when you aren’t fully enthusiastic about fucking? I expect most of us have – it’s not that you mind having sex at that moment, but you’d probably rather listen to a podcast or go for a run or eat buttered hot cross buns in your pyjamas. I want to talk about sex that we absolutely consent to, but that we’re having more out of obligation and awkwardness than because we really want to fuck.Read More →