Personal Life

On Loving My Partner

It’s a really bizarre contrast to see conservatives repeatedly attacking trans people as my partner transitions. If you don’t know, my partner and I have been together for twenty years, and together, we have grown as people while growing closer. She was very accepting and encouraging when I came out as nonbinary, and when she started exploring her gender a year or two ago, I wondered if she might also be trans. Over the course of many months, she started wearing leggings and non-masculine clothing, and near the end of 2024, she came to the realization that she was a trans woman and her transition journey began in earnest.

I have always suspected my partner was queer. She gave off major queer-coded Disney villain energy, and while she agreed she was probably demisexual, that’s where the queerness ended in her mind. She gravitated toward queer and trans people and never embodied the typical cis dude attitude or aversion to color or feminine clothing. Selfishly, I had assumed this was my f gender attitude running off on her. The more we talked about gender stuff, the more I side-eyed things she said because they were very egg-like (an egg is a trans person who doesn’t yet realize they’re trans).

“I wish I had been born a girl.”

“I don’t think I actually liked [girl from middle school]. I think I just wanted to be here.”

“I make all my characters girls, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

If you know anything about eggs, you need to let them come out of the shell on their own or with very gentle help. I waited, I listened, I suggested things she might like, and when she came out as a trans woman, it felt more like a natural progression rather than some mind-blowing revelation.

My partner has started her transition against the background of the second Trump administration. Conservatives (and some dems) have thrown transgender people under the bus, and England has done its damnedest to make trans peoples’ lives miserable. Meanwhile, I’ve watched my partner become a happier person with every passing day, and I’m more convinced than ever that hormone replacement therapy is a miracle drug. Within a week of starting estrogen and a testosterone blocker, her skin started getting softer. Other changes came rapidly, and with each one, there was a new spark of joy.

She got bras, she got a purse, she got a new coat and boots, we used a laser to remove her facial hair (a work in progress), and slowly, she started presenting even more femme before she came out to my mom and family. She was understandably nervous to tell other people, but when she did, my mom immediately started using her new name and pronouns. My partner came out to the rest of my family right before Thanksgiving, and it went well. Ever since she came out, a weight has been lifted from her. The new hormones had already bolstered her mood and chipped away at the self-loathing, but coming out freed her.

Every day I watch someone I have known for the majority of my life change and grow in ways I never thought possible. She has somehow become more herself while becoming someone new, and I am honored that I’m able to be a part of it.

I often think of the spouses or parents who treated their trans loved ones as if they died or betrayed them, and I can’t imagine that. The sheer joy rolling off my partner as she tries new things and feels more herself makes it more than clear that this is the best decision she could have made. Doing something new is scary, and more than anything, I’m proud of her for making the leap and choosing to love herself and embrace the person she was always meant to be.

I used to joke that I’m a wife guy, and now, I truly am.

Personal Life

To My Partner

This Friday will be my twentieth anniversary with my partner. Yes, you heard that right, 20 years. My partner and I have been together since we were fourteen. We went to high school and college together and have gone through our own respective gender journeys together. I finally figured out the words for my gender back around 2017 or so. I have always felt like being a woman didn’t fit me, and once I heard the term “nonbinary,” I realized that I had been feeling dysphoria for years and started to do things to make myself happier and more in line with my feelings regarding my gender. None of these were huge changes because I’m incredibly stubborn and refused to dress femme for years before that. Now, I am just more aware my dysphoria and less willing to please others while making it worse.

My partner, on the other hand, ignored the fact that she was dealing with dysphoria for years. She tried to double down on dressing masculine while in college, but it didn’t make her feel better. Last year, she thought she might be nonbinary because our discussions of gender made her more comfortable to explore her feminine side. And this year, she realized she was actually a trans woman, and we figured out how to get her gender affirming care. She is close to the three month mark on hormone-replacement therapy, and she is the happiest she has ever been. More than anything this year, I am so glad to have my partner feel more like herself and be on her way to being the person she truly is. Twenty years and two gender discoveries later, we’re still together.

I love my partner more than anything or anyone. She is my best friend, my biggest supporter, the best pet co-parent, the one I turn to when times are tough, and the one I want to see flourish more than anything. If you’ve never seen someone you love transition, it is a beautiful thing. Every day I see my partner become more herself. She is so much happier, even after a few months. She has new pronouns and a new name, but she’s still the person I have loved for twenty years. I look around at everything that’s going on with trans rights being under attack in the US and UK, and I cannot understand how people can see others transition and not think it is something beautiful. It is a righting of a biological wrong, and the mental health results speak for themselves. My partner has battled depression for as long as I have known her. She still has depression, but it is night and day since she started on estrogen and t-blockers. Her mood is better, she’s more emotionally even, and when she is sad, it isn’t the same level as past depressive sadness.

As if to spite the transphobes (and because I love her deeply), I have thrown myself into being as supportive as possible. What’s funny is so much of what I’m doing to affirm her has been dysphoria-inducing to me. I have sat here racking my brain about what she could need or what people tried to give me that I hated when I was hitting puberty. My partner has been collecting more feminine clothes for a while now, many of which came from my wardrobe because they were too feminine for me, but I have added to the pile. She now has a purse or two, bras, and my favorite surprise for her was a Kaboodle with some starter make-up. My partner will probably never come out to her family because she doesn’t think they’ll accept her, and I want her to feel as loved and accepted as possible.

When I first realized I was nonbinary, I was afraid my partner would be upset or confused that I wasn’t a woman. She was fine with it, unconcerned, and she has supported me in my weird little guy-ness ever since. That sort of acceptance paved the way for her own journey of self-discovery, and I am honored that I get to be on that journey with her to smooth the way and support her in every way I can. Being a t4t couple has only made us closer and stronger, and I will do anything to make sure my partner has the best life she can possibly have no matter the political climate and no matter what people who don’t know her say.

To my partner, may you have the best life and the life you have always wanted. Here’s to twenty years, and many, many more!

Personal Life

Gender on my Terms

If you’ve been following me for any length of time, you know I’m nonbinary. Gender makes little sense to me as a social construct because, to me, people are people, but the moment I’m perceived as a woman (along with all the assumptions that come with that), I understand how heavily others rely on gender and how much I don’t like it. I would feel like I was in drag against my will when I was forced to dress femininely growing up. Dysphoria hits me hard the moment I have to wear a dress or skirt or put my hair a certain way.

The problem is that my gender is like Goldilocks. Feminine things set off my dysphoria hard, but if I go too far into masculinity, my brain rebels as well. I don’t want facial or body hair beyond what I already have or a deeper masculine voice. I tend to just say I’m agender because I would like to put gender as a social construct in the trash like moldy leftovers. Still, I find myself on the masc side but lightly. Can fop be a gender? I want to wear saturated colors, wear my hair long but pulled back, and occasionally indulge in frothy lace. Wearing a frock coat and breeches like Anne Hathaway in Twelfth Night is gender goals, even now.

As someone who struggles with changes, I have sort of eased into being a little more masc. This has mostly been because gender is complicated, and as I mentioned earlier, I get dysphoria in either direction. I also don’t want to take hormones or have surgery at this point. Instead, I’ve been stepping back and started thinking, what do you already have or do that’s a little masc that you want to make more obvious?

I have always thought my very square, straight shoulders look masculine, so I decided that I would work out my arms and shoulders to make them a little more sturdy. I do not want to be swole as the kids say, but I would like to be stronger and have more defined arms. For the past few weeks, I’ve been working out my arms, back, and shoulders nearly every day, and I’ve been enjoying it. In the past, I’ve struggled to exercise due to my asthma reacting very poorly to cardio despite being on stronger meds, but weight lifting doesn’t bother my asthma or inflammatory issues at all. I’m already seeing a little progress, which has been gratifying. The workouts should also help to strengthen my muscles and help control the hypermobility in my shoulders. In the past, I’ve shied away from other exercise because it’s mostly about weight loss or looking more feminine, which I’m not interested in.

For a while, I had been toying with buying a compression bra or binder to squash down my chest a bit. I put it off because a “real” binder might compress my ribs too much, and sometimes, due to hypermobility, they slide out of place, which is very painful. I ended up buying a compression bra from a trans-affirming company, and it has been really nice. I’ve never really liked my chest because it’s oversized, and when people register its presence, they see it as feminine, which I don’t really want. Squashing them down but not completely removing them has been enough to make me happy. It also makes working out my arms, back, and shoulders much easier. While these changes might seem small, they have made me very happy.

When I think of what my gender means to me or what it feels like, it’s masculine softness. I tend to think of characters like Stede Bonnet from Our Flag Means Death or Lestat from Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles or even Zorro’s brother from Zorro the Gay Blade. I often joke that my gender is “weird little guy” like Gomez Addams or basically any character Nathan Lane has ever played, which amounts to queer and slightly silly. My gender is tender and loving with an edge of morbidity and strangeness (and probably a few startled yelp-screams as they are the cry of the weird little guy).

My partner is also embarking on a gender journey that will probably look different from mine, and I’m very grateful to be along for the ride to support them along the way. As we get closer to the new administration taking over, I want everyone to remember that bodily autonomy extended to gender expression. We should all be allowed to be the people we want to be or feel we are without government interference, and that includes children. I had dysphoria as a tween, even if I didn’t have the words for it, and if I had been able, I would have loved to have gotten hormone blockers to avoid the dysphoria that came with early puberty. I guess I’ll just end this by saying trans rights are human rights, and children deserve the same right to live as themselves as I and my partner do. Please bug your reps and senators to not throw trans people under the bus.

Personal Life

On Gender

The other day I was listening to the audiobook of Threads of Life by Clare Hunter, and there were several instances in her book where she discusses the synergy of cis women working together and relating to each other in a space all their own. Listening to it, I was puzzled that people experience that kind of synergy or easy relation. I often chocked up my discomfort to being autistic. By nature, I’m not particularly good at “blending” with neurotypical people. As Hannah Gadsby talks about in their comedy shows, being autistic is like being the one sober person in a room of drunks; you constantly feel like you stick out.

But it runs deeper than the autism. I’ve never felt like a woman. People would talk about womanhood or what women want or feel, and I would feel my eyes glaze over. Cannot relate. At an abstract level, I get it. I can see and understand what other people in the same way I can say people can be the same gender and be very different people. The problem is woman has always fit like an outfit two sizes two big. It just sort of hung around me with no shape, and the shape people tried to give it didn’t make me feel good about myself or make sense in terms of how I see myself.

That has always been the bigger issue for me: how people perceive me. The lack of control over other people’s assumptions is a burden I constantly struggle to deal with. Any time I get hit with “ma’am” or “miss,” I can feel my soul curl like a shrimp. I’m lucky in that I’m an adjunct college professor, so most of the time, I get called “professor,” which is blessedly neutral. There are assumptions that come with being a woman or man, none of which I want or live up to. If I tried to ascribe to either, I would always be failing, falling short of someone’s idea of what I should be.

The best way I can describe my gender is neither or none or femininely masculine. One of the reasons I gravitated toward Stede Bonnet in Our Flag Means Death is because he hits the right gender buttons for me. He is a queer, autistic man, but he’s quite feminine and fussy compared to the other male characters. He wears bright colors, loves a luxury fabric, and isn’t clinging to traditional masculinity. I look at him and see gender inspiration. Same with Lestat de Lioncourt in Interview with the Vampire, though I’m far too silly to embody that fully.

I joke with my partner that “weird little guy” is my gender. Can a gender be queer? Not genderqueer, per se, but slightly masculine in a queer way, not a cis het guy way. Mostly, I use agender or nonbinary as the closest labels I can get. I add lightly masc because if I wear anything too feminine, I get dysphoric. Truthfully, I’d rather toss gender out the window as an unnecessary nuisance. The people I tend to vibe with most tend to be neurodivergent nonbinary people because I think we look at gender differently than neurotypicals. Autistic people are more likely than the general population to be trans or nonbinary, and that’s probably because gender is made up. We hate when people make arbitrary rules or try to create hierarchy, so why would we let made up gender rules get in the way of living our best lives?

While in the past it may have bothered me that I didn’t vibe fully with cis men or cis women, I’m more than happy to vibe in the agender autistic/ADHD club with the rest of my friends. I may never feel the synergy people talk about, but I feel at peace and at home where I can talk about my special interests, not be chastised for a verbal fumble, and not be judged for the parts I came with. For those people, I am eternally grateful.

Personal Life

Reintroducing Myself

Since a lot of people read my blog and followed along after my two part blogs on how social media/capitalism are decimating the arts, I thought I would reintroduce myself (and because I deeply needed a palate cleanser blog that wasn’t me yelling about capitalism).

My name is Kara Jorgensen (they/them), and I am a queer, nonbinary author of nine books. As a little background, I have a BA in English and biology and a MFA in Creative and Professional Writing, and besides writing, I’m also an adjunct professor teaching freshman writing classes and creative writing. I’m an eternal student who loves learning new things and deep-diving into research for my books or whatever interesting thing crosses my path. If I could continually go back to get degrees/study new disciplines, I would. Some of my favorite things to research are the 1890s, food history, Ancient Egypt, medical history, diseases, folklore, and the history of crafts/art/fashion. There’s definitely more that I’m missing, but those tend to be what I gravitate toward most.

Besides writing and reading, I’m also a crafter. I have been creating art in its various forms for as long as I can remember, but I’m particularly fond of crochet and plastic canvas. Soon, I’ll be getting into cross-stitch (and hopefully embroidery as well) as soon as my supplies come in. One day, I’d love to get back into painting and drawing more, but for now, that sort of creative spirit is relegated to my bullet journal spreads. Stickers and planner supplies, like washi tape, are another weakness, especially when I can support my favorite artists in the process. My aesthetic preferences tend to be on the Gothic side, so if you ever see my crafts, please know that they’re either super colorful or Goth ninety percent of the time.

If you noticed that I have a lot of special interests, it’s because I’m autistic. In my books there tend to be a lot of characters who are neurodivergent, mentally ill, and/or chronically ill because I am all of the above. Growing up, I didn’t see many autistic characters that reflected my experiences or who were queer, so my most recent books, The Reanimator Mysteries series, has a queer, autistic main character that embodies many of my experiences.

Speaking of my books, all of them have queer characters, and they are all paranormal, historical fantasies set in the 1890s. My first series, The Ingenious Mechanical Devices, is set in mostly in England while my last three newer books are set in America. If you’re interested in checking out my books, I highly recommend The Reanimator’s Heart, which is about an autistic necromancer who accidentally reanimates his murdered crush. Together, they go on to solve his murder and others, and I promise there is a happy ending. It’s in ebook, paperback, and audiobook. You can also check out The Earl of Brass, which is my first book and is free in ebook form. If you want something a little less heavy, I would suggest Kinship and Kindness, which features a trans man fox shifter who wants to unionize the shifters at the Paranormal Society and accidentally falls for a strapping werewolf who is leading a delegation in his father’s stead. All of my books are available at all major retailers and in library systems.

You can also join my monthly newsletter. If you join, you’ll get free short stories for The Reanimator Mysteries series along with a stand alone sapphic novella called Flowers and Flourishing, which features a trans woman MC, a jaguar shifter, and a gorgeous painting. In each monthly newsletter, you get writing updates, a dog pic, and a morbid research tidbit. Plus, whenever I write a short story, you get it for free.

If any of this sounds like your kind of thing, I hope you’ll stick around. On this blog, I will post more about writing as a craft, book research, author updates, monthly wrap-ups, and the occasional rant/essay on topics I’m passionate about.

Personal Life

How Being Nonbinary Helped My Dysphoria

For most of my life, I have had a complicated relationship with my body.

The first thing to keep in mind is that I had severe eczema over most of my body until about 2 years ago when I started taking a biologic and the eczema was beaten back to nearly nothing. I mention the eczema in a post about being nonbinary because I want to be clear that a lot of my covering up with hoodies and long pants was because people are weird about rashes. They will give you dirty looks, stare at open sores, and generally be rude. On top of that, eczema burns like a bitch when it’s exposed to the air or the skin touches other skin, so covering the folds of my arms and legs helped to mitigate that constant pain. Due to the eczema, I covered up most of my body, and people often took that for being uncomfortable with my body. I was but not in the way they thought.

My build is what some people would call sturdy. I have muscle on my calves and straight, strong shoulders. Neither fat nor thin, just in the middle but sturdy enough and tall enough (though still average) that I am certainly not petite or slight. My chest is disproportionately large, but I’m not really curvy either. Before I realized I was nonbinary, I didn’t always like my body. A lot of this has to do with growing up in the late 90s and early 00s when the in look for women was thin, almost prepubescent in terms of build, and wearing 85 layers of tight clothing. The alternative was big boobed bimbo. No shade to the bimbos of the world, I love Dolly and Elvira, but the thought of people seeing me that way because my genes decided to grace me with a disproportionate amount of fat on my chest was alarming to say the least.

At that age, I couldn’t articulate how I felt, but the fact that I couldn’t control how people perceived me terrified me. I hate that people saw me as a woman and sexualized me the moment I wore feminine clothing. I already didn’t like feminine clothing. That had been an ongoing war with my mother since I was in late elementary school. I hated dresses, hated skirts, and only wore them when my mom insisted I had to dress up. Around 10, I discovered anime tshirts and cargo shorts in the boys section of Target and let out a sigh of relief. There were other options than the booty shorts or feminine capris the girls section had to offer. T-shirts and cargo shorts hid the things that made me uncomfortable. Puberty had been a special sort of hell as a neurodivergent person and as someone who, unbeknownst to them, was experiencing dysphoria.

By the time I got to high school, the thought of putting on feminine clothing filled me with a special kind of dread. Every time I had to wear something feminine for a school event or a holiday, it felt like I was wearing an incredibly ugly costume. You know the scene in Beauty and the Beast when Beast is in the tub and they give him that ridiculous haircut and he just deadpan says that he looks stupid? That’s how I felt. This was compounded upon by the ease of my cousins’ transition into adolescence where they (seemed) to happily wear makeup, feminine clothing, played with their hair. I constantly felt like I was doing a really bad job pretending to be a woman. The label chafed and sagged, like I filled out all the wrong places. At some point, I stopped caring. I was bad at womanhood, so be it. I kept my hair pulled back, wore t-shirts, jeans, and hoodies/pullovers while giving zero shits, but the fact that people still perceived me as a woman nagged at me.

It wasn’t until I was in graduate school (so around 24-ish?), I stumbled upon the term nonbinary, and it was like everything clicked. In the past, I had debated if I was a trans man. I saw Chaz Bono on Dancing with the Stars when I was in college, and while I felt not-feminine, I didn’t think I felt that masculine. I was caught in a weird middle ground between masculine and feminine, none of which particularly appealed to me. When I finally understood what nonbinary people were and that they existed, it was like oh, so there’s a word for all these feelings I’ve had for years. All those moments of panic and revulsion made sense. They were dysphoria. It also helped explain why some things that were seen as feminine by others didn’t bother me.

I didn’t hate my body, per se. I hate how others perceived my body. That it was simultaneously seen as feminine yet not feminine enough because I wasn’t petite, because I had strong shoulders and legs, because I didn’t like to wear makeup or wear dresses. None of these things are inherently masculine or feminine, but society arbitrarily ascribes gender to them (aka don’t @ me for this, you know what I mean). Suddenly, my body felt less wrong. I was never a woman. I have always been nonbinary but didn’t have the word for the feelings. My strong body mixed with my long hair, chest, and generally, neutral clothing felt right.

This mix of hard and soft feels right to me and has settled the war between my body and mind substantially. I still panic at the thought of clothing that is too gendered in either direction (or what my brain deems gendered), but my dysphoria has subsided. The freedom to buy clothes I want and to say, “F it, I’m buying from the men’s department,” without caring about other people’s judgment feels right. The more I branch out, the happier I am, and it’s been nice to see my partner exploring more feminine options (often my cast-offs) and loving how he looks.

Personal Life

Rediscovering Your Weird

Growing up, I was always a weird kid. If you’re neurodivergent, you won’t find this nearly as odd, but for those of you without autism or ADHD rewriting the brain script, you know the kids. I loved Ancient Egypt as a tiny child. I was obsessed and would pour over the pictures in my uncle’s books and prattle back the names of gods and pharaohs. Then the obsession switched to dinosaurs, and little Kara dreamed of being an archaeologist or a paleontologist. Since then, I’ve had many obsessions/passions, some weirder than others. For a while, I was very into Sherlock Holmes (the original books and the Basil Rathbone movies from the early 40s), anatomy and diseases (with a brief foray into poisons), Phantom of the Opera, Vincent Price, and I’m sure there have been many micro-obsessions along the way. When I get into something, I get into it hard.

At some point, adults assume you will grow out of the weird shit you like or you become a closeted weirdo. I’ve never exactly been good at hiding things or being subtle, so as much as I tried to hold the weirdness inside of me, it always trickled out. When you’re a weird person, it can be hard because you know you are one bout of public weirdness away from people thinking you’re a total pariah, so there’s a constant pressure to perform normalcy. As a queer, nonbinary person, normalcy is already a very flimsy word, but there is the eventual expectation that you will put away your black hoodie with skull print and don a blouse and slacks and let your weirdness die in an unmarked beige grave.

In graduate school when I was in my early to mid-twenties, I tried to be more normal. I wanted to be taken seriously, to be seen as professional, and on some level I was. At the same time, normal people still seemed to sense the underlying not and I was growing more miserable. By the time I graduated and started teaching, I was sailing into burnout. Trying to maintain my job, my writing, and my mask of normality was exhausting and something had to give. Writing caved first, but writing is how I maintain my sanity on a more regular basis. So I needed to get that back and employment is necessary, so I let normalcy finally slip from my fingers.

After roughly three years of letting that mask slip, I can safely say that I highly recommend it. In that time, I have embraced the fact that I am nonbinary and feel better about my body, my clothes, my persona, etc. I enjoy teaching more because I don’t feel the need to project something stiff and lofty. I can just be Professor Jorgensen who is a bit strange and quirky, but that’s what makes a good creative writing professor. I feel like a warmer person, a happier person, and a person who is, generally, more fun to be around because I’m not sitting there like a shaken soda bottle ready to explode. And the people who are put off by the real me are people I don’t particularly want to be around. If you see me referring to people are “normies” on Twitter, I mean people who are enforcers of normality who give you the wtf face for deviating at all. The normies can stuff it because I’m having a grand time and creatively, mentally, and emotionally profiting from my newfound enjoyment of life.

On top of all that, I feel like my creativity has flourished, especially once I started finding more Gothic/weird artists and authors on social media. It had been drilled into me that I would grow out of my love of black and bright colors, and that skulls and anatomical hearts are icky and to be ignored. But that’s what I love. At heart, I am a little autistic science Goth who loves learning about diseases and anatomy and how that all fits into the larger picture of humanity (those degrees in English and biology still come in handy). Now that I’ve started embracing my favorite things and consuming them in larger quantities, I can see a change in my art. I’m more excited about my stories, I connect better with my characters, and I know there’s an audience for it because I have found equally strange people online.

That’s probably the best part, finding others who seem to like me even more now that I’ve stopped hiding the strangeness. People who like my pics of bejeweled skeletons from German catacombs or are eagerly anticipating The Reanimator’s Heart because Oliver sounds adorable. People who like me for me is really all I’ve ever wanted, and in the past, I thought muting who I am would do that when instead it put me in the path of people who wanted to mute that side even more or would absolutely hate the real me. By showing who I really am online and in real life, it scares off the weak and lures in those who find my eccentricities charming. My partner always has, even if he doesn’t fully understand them, but it’s nice to have people who also like those things as I do.

The point of this really is, if you’ve been hiding your strangeness or a fondness for something out of the ordinary, this is your sign to let it out and enjoy it. Holding it in will hurt you in the end, and you might be cutting yourself off from some great friends or even art that can’t happen until you embrace who you are.

Weird has a second definition besides strange. Weird’s archaic definition is destiny or fate (wyrd in Old Saxon, Old German, etc.). I like to think of it as embracing my destiny. I am destined to be a strange person who likes strange things. I am destined to be a queer, nonbinary person. Some of us are fated to be weirdos, and that’s a good thing because we appreciate and see what others don’t.

If you’re someone out there who feels out of place or that you have always been a bit different from everyone else, embrace your weird. Embrace who you are and hold tight to it. Doing that gives you that special spark, that bit of green fire that will help you attract those who will love you for you and scare away those who would seek to change you. I, for one, plan to be hella weird from now on.

The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Series · Writing

The Hadley Problem

If you’ve read The Earl of Brass or The Earl and the Artificer, you know Hadley Sorrell (formerly Hadley Fenice). If not, here’s a little biographical information: Hadley is an inventor and artisan who ends up creating a new prosthetic arm for Eilian Sorrell (her future husband). She’s described as having henna red hair, blue eyes, freckles, and prefers trousers to dresses as they are far more suitable for her purposes and overall, she just likes them more.

Nothing there sounds too out of the ordinary, but the “problem” arises when Hadley dresses as a man repeatedly in the story and seems totally fine being treated as such and enjoys it. So much so that she decides to keep her hair short in future books and wears a faux bun when in the company of people who might complain (consider the story is set in the early 1890s).

Now, back in 2013 when I was writing this book, I had just figured out I was queer. It should have been blatantly obvious by how much of a rainbow covered ally I was. I already knew I was asexual, but I was beginning to realize I was biromantic as well. At the time, I had never heard of being nonbinary. My only exposure to trans people was Chaz Bono on Dancing with the Stars and a vague knowledge of Christine Jorgensen, who was a famous trans woman who happened to share my last name. Every trans person I knew of was still a man or a woman. Despite not knowing there was such a thing as being nonbinary, I was still grappling with very complicated gender feelings.

I have never felt like a woman, ever. As a teen, I rejected purses, nail polish, getting my hair done, and the idea of putting on a dress and being done up for prom made me feel ill (what I recognize now as dysphoria). I ended up skipping all the fancy, “fun” stuff at the end of high school because dressing like that felt wrong. My body and brain didn’t mesh, and I constantly felt like I didn’t fit, especially when my family tried to foist it on to me. Eventually they gave up, but during college when I was writing The Earl of Brass, I poured my feelings about gender and not fitting in into Hadley.

Hadley is physically strong from years of helping her brother and working in the shop with heavy ceramics. She has a good grasp of what we’d consider mechanical engineering today, and she can create complex mechanisms and workings as well as the artistic flourishes that come with them. She cuts her hair short, adopts the name Henry, appears to be a young man (younger than her actually age and slightly effeminate), and goes on an adventure with Eilian Sorrell.

The “problem” now is that it’s blatantly obvious to me that she should be nonbinary, agender, or genderfluid. Those words didn’t exist back in the 1890s, so part of me thinks it’s a moot point to bother getting worked up over it. There were people we could consider transgender during that time period without using our modern terminology. Even in the second book Hadley’s in, we see her struggle with expectation and get anxious about not fitting in or being another. Still, there’s nothing said explicitly about it.

I once stumbled across someone on Twitter asking if Hadley was nonbinary or if the portrayal of her going in disguise was the usual transphobic, oh they automatically pass as a man, type deal, and it was hard to sit with that because she encapsulates so much of what I was feeling before I realized I was nonbinary. She was a stepping stone in me realizing there was something outside of the binary where I fit, and in her portrayal in The Earl of Brass while disguised, she is seen as a queer man by outsiders. A character outright says she’s a young gay man who is Eilian Sorrell’s boyfriend (his affection is pretty obvious), and she uses he/him pronouns in the book when acting as Henry, switching back and forth depending on who she is with. So does she pass as a cis straight man in the story? No. She’s inherently seen as queer when living as Henry, and it makes me laugh now because back in college, I used to tell people that I felt like a gay man in a woman’s body. What I really meant (now that I can parse it out better) is that I am very queer and mildly masc leaning. I will always be slightly effeminate even if outright femininity makes me squirm, so seeing men act feminine felt more akin to how I felt internally because I didn’t feel comfortably being wholly femme or masculine. I consider myself agender/genderless, but the definition above is one that I apply to myself only.

It’s complicated.

Being queer is complicated. Gender is aggravatingly complicated, and putting those feelings into words is messy because they can be interpreted a myriad of ways, some of which are nowhere near what you feel. I have been hesitant to write this post because so much of it is laying my own feelings regarding my gender on the table for others to pick over.

Hadley is my first character that explored gender expectations, norms, and ultimately found there were pieces of each side she knew that she wanted to use. By writing this, I was sort of hoping I could figure out what I wanted to do with Hadley in the future. I would like to write another book with her and Eilian, and I’ve put off doing so because I think her feelings regarding gender should be a part of that book but wasn’t sure how people would react. Just because you consider yourself cis at 24, doesn’t mean you won’t be nonbinary by 28. I didn’t adopt that label until about the same age despite those feeling brewing for years, and I think if Hadley comes out as something like agender or genderfluid, it isn’t retconning her character. The blueprint and evidence was there, it just takes years sometimes to figure out what those feelings mean and how you want to live your life going forward.

I have nothing particularly clever to end with, just that I hope people will still cheer for a character who figures out their identity a little later in life and that we will give them the same grace we give people who don’t come out as teenagers. Hadley is a huge part of how I figured out my own identity, and in the future, I’d like to see her figure out hers too.