This, by Darcey Steinke, is fascinating.
Without hormones my femininity is fraying. Twice Iâ€™ve been called â€œsir.â€ Once by a parking lot attendant and a second time by the young man who bagged my groceries. I did not correct them. Instead I tried to sit with the idea Iâ€™d been misgendered. I donâ€™t possess the strong female signifiers I once did. My hair is not long and shiny, my skin is no longer smooth. Plus I do less to support my gender artificially. I wear more androgynous clothing and rarely put on makeup. Iâ€™ve lost interest in doing my female gender, propping it up. When I do dress up for a wedding or a bat mitzvah, I feel like a drag queen, performing a gender out of sync with my physicality; but unlike a drag queen, I donâ€™t feel that gender is natural or correct.