Updated: Jul 20, 2020

An excerpt essay from my new book

"Girl in Ties:

A Demigirl's Perspective on the Trash Nature of Gender and Other Ponderings...

I am tired of trying to be pretty. Pretty is delicate. Pretty is soft. Pretty has to courtesy and needs to not have overpowering features. I inherited my father’s West Indian nose. I got my mother’s high cheekbones and none of her grace. I got my father’s killed air guitar talents. I tuck in my shirt just like him. I have killed myself trying to be pretty. I perform pretty when I feel but it’s just that--a performance for an audience where I feel unsure if I will receive an ovation. There’s nothing wrong with pretty. Pretty people are pleasing to the eyes. But for me, the expectations of pretty are intangible. Beyonce wakes up like that. I do not.

It wasn’t until I came to the realization that pretty is not the only thing one can be. Handsomeness, on the other hand, takes into account a person’s other attractive qualities. Handsomeness does not need makeup, or heels, or white teeth, or the flashing of smiles. Handsome requires confidence. Handsome comes in time with the refinement of behavior and dress. Oh, how easy it is for me to be handsome instead. I put pretty in the closet. It hangs with the dresses, above the countless pairs of high heels that my feet are too mangled to wear. Pretty is stuck in a drawer with half-used palettes of makeup that I overspent. I drag out pretty on date nights and times where cleavage rightfully serves as a weapon of mass distraction.

I’ve been told I have a pretty pussy, but I’ve spent no investment of time to maintain my pretty pussy. I cannot verify the subjective claim that my pussy is, in fact, pretty. It grew that way on its own. It sits in its fatness, barely concealed in tight pants. It cries out to be seen, sneaking out in a camel toe. It’s pretty. But outside of my pretty pussy, I just don’t do pretty because it’s too much work. I wish my face were as pretty as my pussy. I wish my face were effortlessly pretty...but alas. I’m a genderfuck who swears and publicly praises their pussy and does not smile on command.

My face has only been called pretty with makeup. My body, outside of my pussy, has never been called pretty without a dress on it or draped fancy clothing. Pretty has a price when it is not between my legs. Pretty has a price that I can’t afford and don’t know if I want to. I wish I had known about handsome years ago, because that comes naturally to me. You can’t cuss and be pretty. You can’t scream. You can’t be angry. Pretty only affords you cheerfulness and contentment. I can’t be human that way. Pretty is a prison.

All handsome requires is a sultry look, well-tailored clothing, confidence, and a pinch of spit shine. Handsome has never done me wrong. Handsome comes naturally. Handsome doesn’t make your feet hurt. Handsome comes with pockets. Handsome makes women say hello and talk a little longer in your presence. Handsome is more comfortable. All handsome asks from me is to put a little thought into style and a hand slightly hanging out your pocket. Because again, you get pockets with handsome. #genderfuck #genderfucking #demigirl #prettiness #handsomeness #genderroles #gender

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