Trigger Warning for mentions of suicide attempts
Some Boys Bleed is a zine written by Samb about his experience with dysphoria and how he eventually overcame it. The zine seeks to help other trans people who may be experiencing similar feelings of distress that he once did.
The first two pages of text give a striking description of the dysphoria that Samb had been feeling while performing for classical music, feeling that these performances were something that was inseparable from his identity. He described how his gender identity and singing countered each other, being forced to carry the burden of dysphoria while acting out gender roles that no longer fit him.
What was once something he felt he could walk away from was now rearing its ugly head towards him. Suddenly, he feels stiff and his voice falters as he walks into the studio. It gets to a point where he has to leave it because he was using his performance to hide from his problems. As he writes:
“I have used having a singing voice as an excuse to not explore what transitioning might look like for me”
Leaving with the full support of his teacher, he had time to reflect. Soon, he realized that the reason heād been stricken with years of mental health issues and suicide attempts was because of his dysphoria. By going out and acting as someone he knew he never was had hurt him. He found immediate support from his mom, noting that sometimes itās the people who know the least that offer the most comforting support. He finishes off by asserting that he will go through with his transition for himself. The silent recognition that comes with it is all he needs.
The zine included several block print illustrations, all drawn by Samb.
The first shows a trans man binding his chest, all in red and engulfed in scratch-like flames. The illustration feels like a visual representation of the physical pain that can come with binding oneās chest, and the mental anguish that comes with dysphoria.
The next features several pairs of underwear, likely a way for Samb to parse his identity. The one following features two trans people passionately making out, with not a care for anything else but each other. After that is a much simpler illustration featuring a person in front of a gender-neutral bathroom as onlookers appear to judge them for their decision.
The final illustration is the most striking one to me. It depicts a trans man, like the one form the first illustration. Here he is posing in underwear with top surgery scars on his chest. The illustration oozes with confidence, as if itās screaming āThis is me, and I love myself for that.ā
The zine also includes a section titled Some Ways to be an Ally, a list of ways the reader can help their trans peers out. It includes topics such as practicing names and pronouns, not commenting on if someone passes or not, reading books or websites that focus on trans topics and talking about them with cis people, but one of them stood out to me in particular:
āMedical information is none of your business. Some trans folks take hormones, get surgery, (change names), some don’t – and it’s not a hierarchy of being “more trans”
To me, this may be the single most important part of the entire section, let alone the entire zine. If cis people get break conventional gender norms without being questioned, then trans people should also get this freedom. Hormone therapy and surgery is not the āgoalā that trans people should be expected to reach, but rather an option for those who know it will help them feel fulfilled. No amount of ātransnessā is owed to anyone at all.
I think back to my time in middle school. In the wake of gay marriage being legalized and queer topics being discussed on a wider scale, I felt like I was caught in the middle of crossfire. Iāve had thoughts like these pass through my mind before. Romance by logic shouldn’t always be between a man and woman, and things being tied to gender was weird. But for all the positive conversation that was going on around these things, there was also a load of negative content being shared online. Much of it was towards trans people, and I was being exposed to both at the same time. I had no idea how I was supposed to feel about it.
And then one day one, during a group counseling session, one of my friends would approach me, and come out as trans. In that moment I realized that trans people were real, and not just something that existed on my phone. Since he was too young at the time to get any form of hormone therapy, I naĆÆvely told him that exercise could produce extra testosterone, (although true, it is not a replacement for HRT) as, in my mind, it would help him on his journey through transitioning. Even then, I never questioned his mannerisms or looks, since to me all I needed to know is that he was what he asserted himself to be ā a trans guy.
He even supported me as much as I did to him when I came out as bisexual, supplementing the support I didnāt get from my mother at the time (though thankfully she would turn this around). He made me a lacquer-coated wooden charm with the colors of the pride flag. It has become one of my most cherished possessions.
Time passed, and eventually we saw each other less until he and his family moved down to Florida. Since then, I have learned more about myself, like how my gender and sexuality feel mold-able, like putty. I havenāt heard or seen him since, but Iāll always remember the mutual support we shared for each other.
Erica (she/they) is a QZAP intern working virtually for the blog. She is in her fourth year of school and second year at SUNY Purchase, studying New Media. They are queer in gender and sexuality. She enjoys photography, playing video games and working on her website.
