A dirty little crawler that burrows into your love. A harmless little creature.

Don’t crush me, don’t stomp me out. Throw me into your garden.

Show me your beautiful flowers, I’ll bask in your beautiful memories.

I’ll pollinate so you can grow, I’ll watch you thrive. I’ll love the ecosystem that surrounds you.

Let me adore your natural presence.

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Growing up, I loved bugs. I used to play with worms on the playground. I think a lot about how much I loved little creatures. I think as I’ve aged and masked as an autistic person, I’ve lost sight of my love for the unloved. The small creepy things I use to strongly identify with. I am so connected with the weird nature; it calls to me. I want to embrace the weird, whimsical world around me. I want to engage with the world the way I use to. I think as neurodivergent folks that is our divine right; to unveil our true selves in a world that has demanded we hide. If you’re seeing this I beg you, to get stranger, be yourself! The world needs more unique beauty!

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I see the sun in his smile.

Your happiness shines brighter than all the stars in the sky.

Oh, my love, you make my world brighter.

I would do anything to see your joy.

This current world may not always be kind, but your sweetness doesn’t waiver.

Your gentle hands hold me close.

Your gaze radiates a tenderness that I adore.

I will worship our love as long as you let me.

You are my sunlight, forever and always.

“The femme is a queer body in feminine drag”

—Info found from The Queer Collective Podcast

I sometimes feel vain talking about this, but I love my beauty routine. I sometimes neglect it when I’m feeling out of touch with myself. This happened to me recently—I had a depressive episode and I was unbearably anxious. Life hit me in a way that struck me to my core. But as the mental fog clears, I start caring about myself again. I start seeing my calling that’s deep into my soul. Being femme isn’t just about makeup and beauty care, but for me, that’s one of the ways I connect to that part of my identity. Nothing brings me more joy than doing my purple and pink eyeshadow (the femme flag colors— how iconic) and my glitter I adorn my eyelids and cheeks with. I tend to send the pictures where I feel especially good to my masc. He always hypes me up and tells me how beautiful I look. Even if it wasn’t for that, I feel beautiful. I feel a connection to myself that sometimes I lose when life gets too hard.

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Being a femme is so deeply spiritual to me. It’s in my rituals that I do daily, it’s in the way I love, it’s in the way I carry myself. I think about the femme dykes that came before me. I think about the community surrounding the butch-femme dynamic, it’s truly divine. The beauty that this type of queerness has is magical. What being a femme means to me is more complex than the way I chose to express myself. It’s in the community I hold, I feel as femmes we are in community, not just with each other but butches as well. We should be holding space and protecting each other, especially our transmasc and transfemme butch-femmes. Especially POC femmes, butches and studs. Especially our disabled butchfemmes.. I could go on and on. I think sometimes we forget that our spaces were built in intersectionality and it’s something I refuse to ignore.

“For me it’s about doing it for the queers, I’m here for the liberation and support”

— credit to my lovely instagram mutual !!

I can’t distress enough that being femme, for me personally, is a lifestyle and a crucial part of my identity. It is a core part of everything I stand for. I decenter straight, cis men actively in the way I express. My femme presentation is a way for me to reclaim myself expression that has nothing to do with the heterosexual gaze. I want to be so feminine in a way that repels straight men from me. I do what I do for the dykes and queers around me in my community.

Being femme is a divine.

Femmes are magical because we take the femininity that has been pushed on us from this heteronormative society and take it to the extreme.

We turn it into something beautiful for the queer gaze and ourselves.

Learning to love is also about letting go of the things that are not benefiting you. Personally, I am still growing this skill. Letting go of the trauma others have left me and allowing myself to enjoy the people I have. I fear people leaving but darling, sometimes people need to leave. Sometimes the rot needs to rot so you can experience growth and life. The world isn’t perfect, but we can’t deny change. The life cycle will always continue on. This is something I want to remind myself. I want to build that strength of knowledge. Because to except this will help me heal, it will allow me to enjoy the beauty that true valuable connections have. We must prioritize others that truly fill our cup and release the ties that spoils us to our core.

Tell me my love, what are you struggling to let go of? What do you need to let decay within you to allow yourself to grow?

This started out as a journal entry I wrote earlier today and I decided to turn it into a written piece. I cope by writing all the time and my hope by sharing this publically is to maybe show someone out there that they aren’t alone.

Small content warning for a very brief mention of mental illness (borderline personality disorder)

I have to keep going…

I have to trust that life is going to better. Maybe that is privileged on my part, with everything going on in the world. I am fortunate to have what I do— a roof over my head, wonderful friends, an amazing partner that supports me in everything I do… I’m able to stay strong in ways many can’t right now in our political climate, but the truth is, I’m scared, and it doesn’t feel right to write about anything else. It’s selfish really, I’m horrified of losing what I have. In a space where my fellow queer community (especially trans people) is in danger under our current administration, the rise of “thin being in” with the push by influencers promoting glp1s/weight loss drugs and the cost-of-living sky rocketing: I am grateful to be where I am, but I’m under so much stress, and I feel like the things I am trying to desperately hold on to is slipping away. The idea of looking for a new job before I lose my current one makes me sick. I am trying to leave my family home within a year, and the uncertainty of my future is enough to induce panic. I’m scared of failing.

I have to stay strong.

If I allow myself to have my wounds on display, will the people I hold close still stay? Logically I know the answer, but damn having borderline makes that hard to believe. I thought remission was a lot closer than it seems to be now, but I guess that’s the cruel reality of recovery huh? Healing is never straight forward; there will always be ups and downs. And who am I to try and control the outcome of rather people stay or leave? Isn’t losing people and things apart of life? Isn’t life supposed to be uncertain? Isn’t that how we grow and move forward? The horror of loss keeps me feeling ill, it keeps me in this loop that has damaged so much for me. I don’t want to feel more absence; I don’t want to have to feel like I have to fight to keep the people and things I love in my life. I don’t want to collapse in the feeling that all the good in my life and the world is temporary. I need to persevere for my younger self who thought life would always be bad. Deep down, despite the impending doom that I feel now, I know that these thoughts are just that… Thoughts. Not reality, not truth that everything will crumble. It has to get better right? This negative narrative my mind has painted is not the truth. I suppose my point of turning this journal entry into a written piece is because during the times I felt alone, writing always brought me comfort. Writing saved me when no one else was there to do so.

I have to keep pushing..

With all this darkness, light will shine through. I just hope that as I continue forward that the world will always continue forward in a positive direction. To anyone else who is struggling, I love you. I mean it, I truly do. My reasons of pushing myself to stay positive most of the time go beyond just for this past version of myself and my loved ones… It’s also for you. The community I hold so close. The people who I may not even actually know. I see your power and ability to fight. I admire it and cherish it. With all the bad things in the world, there are genuine souls out there that want society to be better. Not all hope is lost. We can keep going together.

(Side note for younger Hexx: baggy band shirts are still cool as hell!)

The body I was given was always beautiful and the child version of me couldn’t see that. We were always pretty as we were. Fat femineity isn’t this gross curse that I am buried with, it is the most powerful thing about me. Fat bodies are not ugly or undesirable. Glamour isn’t defined by our shape. It isn’t defined by these, frankly, unrealistic beauty standard that are constantly pushed on us as soon as we are old enough to discover ourselves. What I find the most glamorous is authenticity. It’s accepting that you are given this one life on earth and you can (and should) express yourself in a way that makes you feel alive. In a way that you actually resonate with.

Why should we feel this disgust toward stretch marks and stomachs that our vessels have? Why should we dilute our magic for these rules of beauty that society just made up to tear down anyone who doesn’t fit a fascist and cruel standard? The moment I started experimenting with my style without masking the body I have, I felt freedom. A type of liberation that, years ago, I thought I could only achieve by conforming my body that others would deem pretty. What this sometimes-cruel word doesn’t want us to know, is that showing our raw, passionate and truest self is the strongest power we possess.