Trans Awareness Week 2023

What happens when you raise awareness of your existance? [236]

The Barbican in London. A man stands at the bottom of a brutalist outdoor concrete staircase.

Greetings

Hello Computer. A newsletter about being different. I’m Pete Carr (they/them) an autistic writer and photographer identifying as non-binary with ADHD and sprinkles on top.

Viewscreen

The photos in this post are from a wander around London back in 2015. I haven’t been for a wander around London in nearly 4 years. I miss it.

Barbican in London, 2015. A man walks along a corridor inside the Barbican. There are plants hanging all around the corridor.

Captain’s Log

My silly foot sprain is making me miss sunrises. Blergh.

Trans Awareness Week

Are you aware that I’m non-binary, and that identifying as non-binary means you fall under the umbrella of being transgender? Awareness raised! I imagine a lot of people aren’t aware. It wasn’t until a few years ago when my ADHD brain had a thought, which led my autistic brain to want to read everything, which left me going “Huh. It me?”

Having access to information made me more aware of who I am. It was useful. Did I spend my days hanging around with queer folk only to dress like them to win their approval? Nope. Had I seen #TransBucketHatChallenge trending on Ten, the social network formally known as Twitter, and wanted to join in? Nope. I was simply curious and the information was out there to read. I came to a conclusion and embraced what it meant to me.

What it meant was that I now go out, every day, in a skirt and makeup. Most days are fine. Everyone stares. Every time. I find it oddly empowering. I love it when someone sees me, then whispers to their partner and they both look back to take a look. I’m aware of these moments and I meet their gaze every time. “You’re not gawping for free. I see you.” Sometimes a gang of men, who are still primary school lads because the patriarchy is their friend and lets them be dicks, will be a bit much for me to brush off. Once, only once so far, has someone actually said something hateful to me. They were very aware of me and they made me very aware of their hatred towards me. One simple word said so casually.

It hasn’t put me off wearing skirts. like to think that the way I present to the world is a queer act of rebellion, a colourful fun way of raising awareness. Some people ask why I’m dressed like I am and that opens up a nice conversation. At least once a week someone says something nice to me. It’s hard to process because I spent 90% of my life being bland and never getting compliments. “Nice use of black everything. Really goes with your liquorice.” Now, strangers are surprisingly nice people.

In an unexpected way, my new rebellious punk look in an attempt to raise awareness of non-binary folk has led me to be aware of the power of a simple act of kindness from a stranger.

Barbican in London, 2015. From an elevated corridor the view opens out over the inside of Barbican. There are many floors with plants hanging down from them.