All my life, until very recently, I identified as a woman.
It’s wasn’t hard to notice I lived in a world in which being a woman means oppression and segregation. A bit more complicated to learn was how to see it in small everyday events.
And many of those daily occurrences become invisible to us because we watch them through the gender lens, but we rarely question the very lens we’re using to watch.
But the crystal of gender is cracked since decades ago. “Man” and “Woman” categories have been discovered as limits imposed to freedom.
The freedom to decide by ourselves what and who we are.
Once I understood the so-called lens was in fact a blindfold, my whole existence was transformed.
I took the personal decision to destroy inside of me all traces of a senseless, obsolete binary.
I don’t want to be a woman anymore. I just can’t be a woman anymore.
I can’t be a man either, because such an identity has the same problem and limits (although with some advantages) as the woman identity.
Due to this impossibility of existing within the binary and also of escaping it, I defined myself a a “mutant monstrosity” for a while. In a way, I feel it fits me.
But that’s not my identity either, nor do I want it.
I’m not a monster, not matter how much I step aside from the rules that others created for me.
I’m not a mutant, even if I prefer constant change to stand-stillness and putrefaction.
I am person.
I am a human being.
And I tell my own story.