Welcome to my blog!
⟹ CARRD
i don’t bother to include tw in my tags; all nsfw/blood is tagged with #x for warning
∧ _∧
(´・ω・)
//＼￣￣旦＼
／/※＼＿＿＿＼
＼＼ ※ ※ ※ ヽ
＼ヽ-＿_＿–＿_ヽ
““Mother,” I slowly repeated in Korean. “I am not a boy. I am a girl. I am transgender.” My face reddened, and tears blurred my vision. I braced myself for her rejection and the end to a relationship that had only begun. Silence again filled the room. I searched my mother’s eyes for any signs of shock, disgust or sadness. But a serene expression lined her face as she sat with ease on the couch. I started to worry that my words had been lost in translation. Then my mother began to speak. “Mommy knew,” she said calmly through my friend, who looked just as dumbfounded as I was by her response. “I was waiting for you to tell me.” “What? How?” “Birth dream,” my mother replied. In Korea some pregnant women still believe that dreams offer a hint about the gender of their unborn child. “I had dreams for each of your siblings, but I had no dream for you. Your gender was always a mystery to me.” I wanted to reply but didn’t know where to begin. My mother instead continued to speak for both of us. “Hyun-gi,” she said, stroking my head. “You are beautiful and precious. I thought I gave birth to a son, but it is OK. I have a daughter instead.””— Andy Marra, The Beautiful Daughter: How My Korean Mother Gave Me the Courage to Transition (via a-witches-brew)
one of the things i hate about trauma is the flashbacks when you’re finally feeling like you’re healing. then the dreams start up all over again. then you’re left wanting to tear the skin off your body so they would have never touched you at all.
hui-style chinese garden, zhengzhou, henan by 拙马photograph
