Dead Name - Blog Posts

I’m so happy Tumblr deadnames twitter :3c /srs

Just a reminder. If you see someone’s dead name on a paper and they tell you their current name, there is a wrong way to react. Don’t ask why they changed their name. ‘Oh, your old name was so good. Why did you change it?’ Just back off and use the right name.

A Lesbian never born

So much for my love, i was cut off into

He cant be the she he wants to be

Estrogen gave him breasts, but not her

Chests full of milk and love soft soft All he wanted was to forget he was ever

Never a woman. He cries because he cant

Tell you all his male secrets. He loves

Every wave of femininity, that idea of

Sapphic love is fleeting sand he

Causes himself so much pain, he is so

Angry at what he was born to be, his

P**** envies the idea of being she, but

Eventually she might come through

Spreading the word

Finding A True Name

The woods are quiet at this time of morning, when the sun is barely peeking over the horizon and the forest be thick with mists and glittering with morning dew. At the base of an old oak I pick up an acorn and fashion its cap smooth like a bowl, carving down the stem into a base before I toss the seed high between a fork in the tree's upper branches.

I miss of course, but that's hardly the point. I have no offering for the little or hidden people, hardly believe in them besides an idle fascination with little rituals like these, a bowl of morning dew I'd carved but moments before and set aside between then twisting roots of the old tree, and a mandarin in my hand that I begin to peel as I lean against it and try to listen to the morning sounds of birds.

I hear a voice beside me ask what I am doing there, and I give a little shrug. It's a public forest, and I figured a morning walk would be nice, no need for the inquisition.

"You ever thought about climbing it?" they say, and I tilt my head. "When I was younger," I tell them, "I could climb a smooth pole if I wanted to, but no… not anymore. Maybe… maybe someday, but I'm not as sure those branches will hold me as I am,"

"This tree is special," they tell me, "It is old and it is tired, but it is a home to anyone who might seek its shade, for a price of course"

"Maybe," I tell them, "It's not like I didn't leave anything though,"

"So I see," they say, "but trees get water every time it rains, every night when the cool settles on their leaves, what could make them want some in a little bowl they can't even drink from?"

"Wasn't so much for the tree," I say, a small smile building on my lips as I pull free another piece of the mandarin and stick it in my mouth, "More for any hidden folk, should they want it," I swallow the piece of fruit down, "This oak gets plenty of what it needs, water, sunlight, nutrients from the soul, the freedom to grow, I figured all more it could want was some company, so that's what I offer it in exchange for shade,"

The other gives me an odd look, something of a little gleam in their emerald green eyes as they tilt their head a little to the side, blink twice, and ask me a question.

"Can I have your name, at least?" it asks, and I tell them of course. I give it readily enough.

The green eyed stranger frowns at me, "That's not your name," they say plainly.

"It is though," I say, "The one of my birth at least,"

"But it is not your name,"

"It is a name," I say, "they've never really seemed to stick to me, especially when I came out,"

"So what is your name?" they ask again.

"I already told you didn't I?"

They pout harder, "That's just a name, an empty name," they say, "It's not yours,"

By now I've caught on, whether fact or fiction or something in between,

"I suppose it's right to say I haven't one yet, I'm still trying to find it,"

"Was it taken?" they implore me, "No, that can't make sense if you could still give it freely,"

"I think it just died," I say, with another bite of the fruit in my hand, "It faded, with that part of me that didn't really consider anything else, or maybe it never really was mine to begin with," I swallow it down again, "I've been rotating between nicknames for now, but nothing quite feels right."

"I can feel them," it says, "Nameless, what an interesting thing you are, to be nameless and whole all at once, oh the fair folk would hate you and I would too, had I not the pleasure of your earnestness."

I give a little nod, despite the small swell of unease in my chest.

"Would you like some fruit?" I say, offering the other half, yet untouched but picked clean of skin and grit. It isn't often I can peel a mandarin without piercing it's flesh and spilling it's juices.

The Faerie smiles at me, a mouth full of needle like teeth and eyes that glimmer with gold flecked inside it's too bright eyes.

"I would like that," it says to me, and takes it readily. Popping some of the pulps in its mouth, one after another, and licking the juice from its lips as it chews. Turning over what remains in its hands and smiling a little to itself as it does so.

"What are you here for?" I ask it sweetly, pulling free a knife and idly making another bowl from a nearby acorn.

"I had wanted to steal you away," it says, and I stop a little at the declaration, "It's always fun to have better company in Faerie, with your name I might have been still able to leave something behind that would have others none the wiser,"

"And now?"

"I couldn't charge you if I wanted to," it giggles a little under its breath, "I haven't your name nor your thanks, instead I have two gifts freely given, and nothing but the utmost pleasantries from you on my and our friend's account, so I'll tell you what," they say, "I owe you a boon, and so meet with me whenever you are able, and I shall help you find your name, and it shall be all your own,"

"And yours?" I ask coyly, "May I have yours?"

They flick a finger by my ear and I laugh.

"Cheeky," they say, "but you may call me a friend,"