In May of this year (2023) I was reeling in fury and frustration at my home state becoming even more dangerous to my community and myself. DeSatan was really doing a number on the Anti-Trans bills more publicly, and people were becoming more aware of the disparities my loved ones and I were facing.
There was (and still is) an air of anxiety here, knowing that multiple institutions that directly affect our lives and well-being are tailored to support the comfort of conservatives over the survival of Trans people - children included.
I grew up in East Pasco County, where the measure of manhood was held in how much d*ck you could deliver, steak you could eat, beer you could drink, truck you could lift, and belittling you could do to any f*gg*t - types. Being alternative to the cisheteronormative expectations and norms was grounds for ostracizing, if not worse.
So I readily and excitedly adapted to all it meant to be a man in these spaces. I walked and talked all of the toxic masculinity I could muster, and read my lines well. I prided myself in being as cutting and crude as those I saw being lorded as alpha males, and joined in with anti-LGBTQ judgments, jokes, and jackassery.
I was still assuming myself to be a straight, cisgender woman, although I had repeatedly tried to defy this sex assignment since I was five. I thought I was stuck with this eternal curse of self-hatred, and had to make the best of what I had been given and labeled.
I moved to several other places and states before returning to Florida, and came back with a broadened, progressed, and open understanding of gender that I had never known.
During lockdown, like many others, I utilized the seclusion of my home to begin transitioning into my fullest, truest expression of self. I was only in contact and living with folks who loved and encouraged this progression, and was able to socially transition before taking physical measures.
Now in 2023, these physical transitions have become symbols of retaliation to an upper- handed class that demands us to return to a cisheteronormative shell of ourselves.
Many of our community members have understandably left the state of Florida for their own safety and/or the safety of their children. All have experienced a cut to health services, a scarcity of HRT, a scramble for doctors, and an overwhelming web of resource gathering and sharing. It has been exhausting, to put it mildly. And we are tired of just wanting to live in peace while being targeted, framed, violated, and purged from our homes.
Being aware of Trans lives is not enough. Protecting us is the bare minimum.
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I've always proudly worn the badge of being a Floridian.
The reputation of being chaotic, shameless, reckless, and wild never scared me. If anything, it encouraged me to be bold and unafraid and honest about my less savory personality traits. When people laughed about the Florida Man in the news I laughed with them, not caring whether the laughter was in malice or judgement or shock. Floridians dgaf about malice, judgment, or shock- and sometimes that's a downfall, when the state is a new level of fresh hell for the nation to gawk at.
Growing up in a state where you (literally and metaphorically) stand your ground (for better or worse,) formed me into the Small Town Big Mouth boi that now loudly and proudly shares his lived experiences.
I too am a Florida Man.
I am loud and mischievous, bold and fearless, blunt and unashamed. I am all that news coverage laughs at, warns about, and fear mongers. I am the monster under the beds of those who clutch their pearls at the working class. I am the swamp swimming, outdoor pissing, risk - taking, jab throwing mongrel of my dreams.
My transition is proof of this.
My scars are proof that I will take any measures necessary to make my body home. That I will do what I please regardless of what others think. That I will defend my right to be myself. And that I will take those same measures to keep my body safe in a home under political fire.
I am one of the few things that many Floridians fear, and that makes me all the more proud to be myself.
My Florida Man design is my stake in the ground of my home state. It is my declaration that we too exist in validity here, and that this is still our home. Whether we have to flee for safety, stealth for job security, fawn for the public eye, or wait out the storm. We have, do, and will exist regardless of the persecution of those in control of the systems that impact us.
We are still here- loud, fearless, and unashamed.
And judging by the number of these I have sold- we have you outnumbered.
