thinking about this essay as it relates to my transition and I Saw the TV Glow (and my first love of course). i’ve spent too long trying to give my gender a narrative, trying to track when i transitioned and where did i begin pass and when is the moment that i feel i am a woman, or a man, or just a human being trying enjoy fashion and makeup and frolicking through meadows and experiencing carnal pleasures. I’m nonbinary because i refuse to give my story a teleology. I’m nonbinary because at last I finally feel free. thank you so much for this essay, it was absolutely phenomenal !
I feel this. As another nb person, I watched that movie a few months ago; shortly after I would go on a date w a newly trans girl, who would try and categorize my gender presentation immediately. I understand why she did it, but it made me massively uncomfortable and I didn’t understand why until I talked it out with another trans friend of mine. I said to the first girl later on that I believed there are no rules, which seemed to baffle her completely, and she apologized but it seemed beyond her understanding. We agreed to be friends, and I stood by what I said. There are no rules; there is only me. I have been so comfortable and right with that for so long that it felt jarring to be attempted to be labeled and stickered so simply by a stranger with desire.
Anyway!!! Sorry if that was hijacking your comment in any way, but I wanted to share and say I really appreciate what you said.
I needed this right now in this exact moment. I was searching for comfort and didn't understand what I needed and then Allah sent me this. Your words are so important. I feel less lonely and will be able to sleep tonight. The weight seems lifted from my chest even though the situation for me hasn't changed. Thank you so much. ❤︎
I have just embarked upon my first real relationship and find myself obsessed with the story of it. This has reminded me to let it happen, enjoy it, don’t just anticipate the reminiscence.
such an incredible, beautifully written piece. I have been so frustrated lately with media criticism that essentially boils down to "this book/movie/show" didn't teach me anything, especially when the texts in question are centred around (often racialized, queer, or disabled) pain or yearning. I resent the idea that my own pain needs to serve some pedagogical purpose or offer some set of grand insights to those yet to experience it. Sometimes I do want to theorize, but sometimes all I can say – to myself, to an audience, to anyone – is that my head or heart or body hurts. I hate that that point might be viewed as insufficiently "rigorous."
I loved reading this. I’ve been thinking a lot about the immense pressure to have a narrative, a story, to establish a clear beginning/middle/end (and an end with a moral, preferably, some lesson on how to live correctly)…and how that pressure forces us to coerce the reality we live in, with unexplainable grief and tragedies that can’t be triumphed over, into something easier to assimilate. It’s a kind of denial of reality when we over-narrativize it; we want our lives to be packaged up and made totally legible.
It’s true of love and it’s true of politics, too, I think—we are desperate for the happy ending to arrive and to occupy our lives forever! The Mary Gaitskill quote you included feels especially appropriate: “Whatever the suffering is, it's not to be endured, for God's sake, not felt and never, ever accepted. It's to be triumphed over.” If we can’t triumph over it, what can we do? Either construct a new narrative to cling onto…or accept that life is bigger than the stories we try to tell about it
another amazing essay as always rayne :,) i’ve been searching these past couple of months, somewhat aimlessly, for a piece of writing to connect with me the way this has. i can not thank you enough for writing the words that have been missing in my own mind, especially following my own breakup, your honesty and vulnerability never fails to resonate with me, i will be thinking about this for a long time to come i think
i hate that a part of me desires this story for myself, because you've transmuted pain into a raw but beautiful narrative (which is all we can do as sense-makers). you do make me think and feel and desire, and to me that's what good art does.
i do believe that the mistake isn't searching for a personal narrative, it's forgetting that it's a constructed microcosm that is part of everything everywhere all at once, it's forgetting its limits. like a decaying tree, our atoms that were once stardust will become part of another living creature, and the end of our stories become the beginning of others. we will be the parents that make our child anxious avoidant, or the owner of someone's favourite diner. we'll never be able to understand all of that, just like we can only imagine the depth of the ocean beneath our feet.
The bit about Nelson’s letter really stopped me in my tracks. I feel like I’m constantly trying to make something beautiful out of the things that happen to me. And that’s because they are beautiful. But the more I interrogate that intrinsic need to poeticize the poetic, I see how it’s not an inherent act of love, maybe one of vanity. It’s hard to put it into brash terms because it makes what once felt so meaningful and profound sound selfish, and of course not everything is selfish in the same way everything is a little selfish, but I wish having something to say felt like enough. It’s the most important thing really.
Sometimes I envision my life through the lens of an already-written memoir. When things happen I’m predicting the way I’ll neatly tie off the chapter, how smart and whole I’ll look to my future readers. But life is relentless and ugly and maybe it would do me good to not dwell on immortalizing my life with ink that hasn’t even touched the paper yet.
In a really lame human way I cried the most when you revealed David’s involvement in the essay. How normal and mundane but it felt the most guy-wrenching of all. Love will rise every day like the Sun no matter what we choose to worry about down on Earth. I’m happy for your continued relationship and for your newfound love. I hope happiness is always in all of your corners. Thank you for everything, as always.
Beautiful work, Rayne. I'm about to share with all my friends who need it. So glad you've found Rothfeld's work, she's one of my favorites working today :)
This found me at a shockingly pertinent time. Thank you for identifying the challenge of letting love change you. Being loved/in love is a horrible lucky thing. I have specifically been trying to avoid creating narratives about my love and sadness recently and in attempting that project I have learned so much about the value of uncertainty and the freedom of finding myself confusing and strange. It is sometimes overwhelming to realize how much sadness there is in the most beautiful things we experience, let alone the most terrible. I imagine embracing that will be a quiet, lifelong pursuit.
also, thanks for reminding me that sometimes it takes a long time to work on something because it is so important and dense with meaning. I'm so glad you were able to finish it.
For all the narratives that we create, “does any of this ever feel off to you?” Is probably all we need in most cases.
5 years ago the woman I love asked me this question, and I had that same answer. “No, I can’t imagine what I’d do without you” Trying to explain it is like trying to fight it, you have to surrender to the feeling. A week later she came back. Sometimes I get that pit in my stomach if I try to explain it. What felt off? Why did she come back? If I had answers then our love would be captured by narrative and stop living. I’m so grateful to not have a story
thank you and also what the hell
thinking about this essay as it relates to my transition and I Saw the TV Glow (and my first love of course). i’ve spent too long trying to give my gender a narrative, trying to track when i transitioned and where did i begin pass and when is the moment that i feel i am a woman, or a man, or just a human being trying enjoy fashion and makeup and frolicking through meadows and experiencing carnal pleasures. I’m nonbinary because i refuse to give my story a teleology. I’m nonbinary because at last I finally feel free. thank you so much for this essay, it was absolutely phenomenal !
I feel this. As another nb person, I watched that movie a few months ago; shortly after I would go on a date w a newly trans girl, who would try and categorize my gender presentation immediately. I understand why she did it, but it made me massively uncomfortable and I didn’t understand why until I talked it out with another trans friend of mine. I said to the first girl later on that I believed there are no rules, which seemed to baffle her completely, and she apologized but it seemed beyond her understanding. We agreed to be friends, and I stood by what I said. There are no rules; there is only me. I have been so comfortable and right with that for so long that it felt jarring to be attempted to be labeled and stickered so simply by a stranger with desire.
Anyway!!! Sorry if that was hijacking your comment in any way, but I wanted to share and say I really appreciate what you said.
I needed this right now in this exact moment. I was searching for comfort and didn't understand what I needed and then Allah sent me this. Your words are so important. I feel less lonely and will be able to sleep tonight. The weight seems lifted from my chest even though the situation for me hasn't changed. Thank you so much. ❤︎
❤️❤️❤️
“Some people spend their whole lives looking for a good story.” ohhhhh oh oh no nooo no no
me realizing she wrote this sentence about me!!!
😪🤝
I have just embarked upon my first real relationship and find myself obsessed with the story of it. This has reminded me to let it happen, enjoy it, don’t just anticipate the reminiscence.
Literally same here
Welcome home <3
such an incredible, beautifully written piece. I have been so frustrated lately with media criticism that essentially boils down to "this book/movie/show" didn't teach me anything, especially when the texts in question are centred around (often racialized, queer, or disabled) pain or yearning. I resent the idea that my own pain needs to serve some pedagogical purpose or offer some set of grand insights to those yet to experience it. Sometimes I do want to theorize, but sometimes all I can say – to myself, to an audience, to anyone – is that my head or heart or body hurts. I hate that that point might be viewed as insufficiently "rigorous."
I loved reading this. I’ve been thinking a lot about the immense pressure to have a narrative, a story, to establish a clear beginning/middle/end (and an end with a moral, preferably, some lesson on how to live correctly)…and how that pressure forces us to coerce the reality we live in, with unexplainable grief and tragedies that can’t be triumphed over, into something easier to assimilate. It’s a kind of denial of reality when we over-narrativize it; we want our lives to be packaged up and made totally legible.
It’s true of love and it’s true of politics, too, I think—we are desperate for the happy ending to arrive and to occupy our lives forever! The Mary Gaitskill quote you included feels especially appropriate: “Whatever the suffering is, it's not to be endured, for God's sake, not felt and never, ever accepted. It's to be triumphed over.” If we can’t triumph over it, what can we do? Either construct a new narrative to cling onto…or accept that life is bigger than the stories we try to tell about it
another amazing essay as always rayne :,) i’ve been searching these past couple of months, somewhat aimlessly, for a piece of writing to connect with me the way this has. i can not thank you enough for writing the words that have been missing in my own mind, especially following my own breakup, your honesty and vulnerability never fails to resonate with me, i will be thinking about this for a long time to come i think
i hate that a part of me desires this story for myself, because you've transmuted pain into a raw but beautiful narrative (which is all we can do as sense-makers). you do make me think and feel and desire, and to me that's what good art does.
i do believe that the mistake isn't searching for a personal narrative, it's forgetting that it's a constructed microcosm that is part of everything everywhere all at once, it's forgetting its limits. like a decaying tree, our atoms that were once stardust will become part of another living creature, and the end of our stories become the beginning of others. we will be the parents that make our child anxious avoidant, or the owner of someone's favourite diner. we'll never be able to understand all of that, just like we can only imagine the depth of the ocean beneath our feet.
The bit about Nelson’s letter really stopped me in my tracks. I feel like I’m constantly trying to make something beautiful out of the things that happen to me. And that’s because they are beautiful. But the more I interrogate that intrinsic need to poeticize the poetic, I see how it’s not an inherent act of love, maybe one of vanity. It’s hard to put it into brash terms because it makes what once felt so meaningful and profound sound selfish, and of course not everything is selfish in the same way everything is a little selfish, but I wish having something to say felt like enough. It’s the most important thing really.
Sometimes I envision my life through the lens of an already-written memoir. When things happen I’m predicting the way I’ll neatly tie off the chapter, how smart and whole I’ll look to my future readers. But life is relentless and ugly and maybe it would do me good to not dwell on immortalizing my life with ink that hasn’t even touched the paper yet.
In a really lame human way I cried the most when you revealed David’s involvement in the essay. How normal and mundane but it felt the most guy-wrenching of all. Love will rise every day like the Sun no matter what we choose to worry about down on Earth. I’m happy for your continued relationship and for your newfound love. I hope happiness is always in all of your corners. Thank you for everything, as always.
Beautiful work, Rayne. I'm about to share with all my friends who need it. So glad you've found Rothfeld's work, she's one of my favorites working today :)
This found me at a shockingly pertinent time. Thank you for identifying the challenge of letting love change you. Being loved/in love is a horrible lucky thing. I have specifically been trying to avoid creating narratives about my love and sadness recently and in attempting that project I have learned so much about the value of uncertainty and the freedom of finding myself confusing and strange. It is sometimes overwhelming to realize how much sadness there is in the most beautiful things we experience, let alone the most terrible. I imagine embracing that will be a quiet, lifelong pursuit.
also, thanks for reminding me that sometimes it takes a long time to work on something because it is so important and dense with meaning. I'm so glad you were able to finish it.
Damn 😭
For all the narratives that we create, “does any of this ever feel off to you?” Is probably all we need in most cases.
5 years ago the woman I love asked me this question, and I had that same answer. “No, I can’t imagine what I’d do without you” Trying to explain it is like trying to fight it, you have to surrender to the feeling. A week later she came back. Sometimes I get that pit in my stomach if I try to explain it. What felt off? Why did she come back? If I had answers then our love would be captured by narrative and stop living. I’m so grateful to not have a story
you always drop an essay at the exact right time in my life. thank you, as always.