In Rachel's mirrorlike presence, I could see myself. It seemed to have something to do with estrogen, desire, receptivity, chaos, music, breasts, fearlessness, and a quality of nurturing embrace — but I couldn’t be sure. Talking to Rachel, whether in formal dialogos or late-night gossip sessions, I got closer to understanding the depth of my own gender experience. And that makes sense, since Rachel has spelunked about as deep in the caverns of gender as anyone — aided by her boundless heart and insatiable mind. 

Rachel will be my guest for the first event in the Pierced Womb series. She recently published a beautiful piece, "The State of Queer Liminal," which has a lot of magical tidbits hiding in it. I'm going to draw Rachel out to help me understand how my/our queerness, my/our liminality, my/our sexuality is bound up with this accelerating collective effort to mutate and birth new worlds. 

Here's an excerpt from Rachel's essay: 

When you transition genders, you realize how much the electromagnetism of sex is everywhere, in crude or refined forms, powering or gumming up our interactions like neon syrup. It's unavoidable. ... You are the walkers between worlds, not belonging to either, but you can work together and facilitate diffusion between them.

I remember a phrase that came to me a year ago, The Temple of the Starving Moon. Somewhere in a desert with a starry sky, a place of beauty and death, and a dark joy. A place to worship that which is hidden, liminal, monstrous. Our culture forgets both sex and death, while shoving cheap versions of both in our faces. My transition showed me deep grief, the ability to see grief to the end until time bent into curvature around a hidden inhuman peace. There are things we could perhaps offer -- the reflection and empowerment of sociosexual electromagnetism and the stillness in the heart of grief.

I hope you can join us next Wednesday night.

Love,

Dechen