Proud?

I've been putting myself under a lot of pressure to write topical posts during pride month. Part of that is because pride brings increased visibility to the community as a whole, which really means to the parts of the community that are palatable to the mainstream. So I feel a responsibility to talk about things that aren't usually talked about. I feel a responsibility to educate cishet people.

I don't have the energy for that. And that's okay.

Pride doesn't have to be about visibility. Pride can be about survival. Pride can be about recognizing that my experience as a nonbinary person can be painful, and allowing myself to feel that pain.

Today was the first day of what is so far the best summer music festival I've ever attended. ("Music festival" here refers to institutions where musicians who are currently somewhere in student land go to learn from other musicians who are somewhere in professional land.) Yet, also, I was misgendered multiple times, and I didn't correct anyone because I've been told that if I do that, it will alienate people. I feel so much guilt about my gender. I feel like I'm faking it. I feel like pride is a lie, because I'm not proud, because I can't be even though I want to be.

I've gone back to using one name, the name my parents gave me. The only reason it feels anything like me is because I've been answering to it for 21 years. Earlier I said to some friends that I have so much gender, there isn't room in me for a name. I've written this before, but the pain is still here, so I'm going to write it again. Names have connotations. There will always be someone else with the same name as me. I can't escape the assumptions that people will make about me based on my name. I can't get rid of it, even if I start going by a different name. And what name would I use?

My thoughts are racing each other round and round my head and I have no idea how many laps they've done nor how many are left but I don't think they ever get tired. They're just. Always there. The anxiety starts coming and it doesn't stop coming and it doesn't stop coming and it doesn't stop coming and it doesn't stop coming and it doesn't stop coming and it doesn't stop coming and it doesn't stop coming and it doesn't stop coming and it doe

yeah.

I'm exhausted because of the pressure I put on myself and the social pressure put on me to explain myself because I differ from the "norm." I'm exhausted because my brain won't let me fall asleep before 2 in the morning but my day has to start before 8. I'm exhausted because everyone wants to put me in boxes so they can think they know who I am before they actually try to get to know me. I'm not a particularly complex person, by human standards, but humans are pretty complex.

I haven't hit my word count yet but I don't know if I have anything else to say right now. This isn't my best writing. Have it anyway.