Inching my piece of writing about being sexually assaulted at Vibecamp over the finish line, but I want to publish something I’ve been thinking about for a while.
I was in the closet, pretending to be a male for most of my life. March of 2025 will mark my 5 year anniversary of coming out.
I did so publicly, owing to my position at the time as a very public figure in the cannabis industry. After I posted my blog on Twitter, when you could still do such a thing, I was relieved. I felt really free in a way I never had before.
Since then I have violently opposed being shoved into any other closet, not particularly giving a fuck about what that closet was or the advantages of willingly walking into it.
It didn’t matter whether it was the code of behaviour in elite-ish circles, or the code of silence around sexual harassment and assault, or codes of positivity. People have told me my presence is raw and I think that means I am unwilling to exist behind any closet door ever again.
I have come to the unfortunate conclusion that I need to find a way to look like I am. People that roughly live the kind of life I want do that, and wipe their closet-coloured face paint off at Burning Man, and at private parties.
Scott Hall said once that people don’t enter the wrestling business to work their way to the middle. I certainly did not go through the endless bullshit that results from being a trans woman on the wrong side of the trans wall to hit the equivalent middle.
One of the most perceptive people I know once said I reminded them of Courtney Love, showing up in ripped fishnets and smeared lipstick and generally not giving a fuck about what other people think. I’ve treasured that era of my life greatly.
I’ve recently run head first into the upper limits of living that way. I’m conceding without (I hope) surrendering. Sometimes you do have to kiss the ring.
In a year or two, I might find out that my model is all wrong. The closet isn’t a closet, and the inside of it is sunshine and rainbows.
Or I might just say that, because that’ll be my form of closet-coloured face paint.
