When did you decide that you would go for it and enter higher education for writing/publishing?

I was a self-taught writer, just making it up as I went, and for several years I had this vague desire to go back to school and get a Masters degree. But like a lot of things in my life prior to transition, I had a hard time making concrete decisions and figuring out how to make it happen. From 2007 to 2010 I worked primarily as program coordinator for a state-wide queer/ straight ally youth leadership program through an experiential education/outdoor learning center, and I was mentoring young people to be empowered in their lives, families, and schools. Sometimes I wondered what the hell I had to offer young people, because I certainly didn’t feel like I had it all figured out for myself. But there’s sometimes this weird magic in helping other people, you often inadvertently help yourself. My time at that job really helped me evolve, and was in fact a very healing experience. Whether I was working with the LGBTQ youth, or juvenile offenders in lock-up, or addicted adults, I was constantly in the presence of people confronting their shit and trying to overcome it. It was the least I could do to try to overcome my fear of being successful in my writing and art. I was writing letters of recommendation for my friends to go to grad school, writing letters for the youth that I worked with for college, jobs, scholarships. I realized it was time for me to step up to the proverbial plate. 

I was accepted into the Portland State University Master’s in Writing/ Book Publishing program in 2010, and I am almost done with the program. I saw school as a container, taking on a financial burden that signified that I was spending this time focusing on my writing. And it has paid off. I didn’t know how I would carve out the space in my life to focus in this way without school. The book publishing program has been amazing. I highly recommend it to anyone interested in working in any aspect of publishing, or in becoming a more published writer. I have made some really amazing friends and connections through the program, and feel pretty solid in understanding publishing as an industry. Also, the program is very much up to speed with all of the rapidly emerging changes in publishing. I will begin the MFA in Creative Writing – Nonfiction, also at PSU, in Fall 2012. Being in school as an older person is a hoot. It is so much easier than crawling around on my hands and knees welding structures for ten hours a day.

 A lot of your writing comes from your history and much of it has nothing to do with being trans. Where do you find yourself writing from lately? What point of view?

Currently I am working on a book about my early twenties, It primarily takes place in Provincetown, but there’s a bit of Boston and San Francisco in there, too. It is really about another world. This is in the late 1980s - early 1990s. Back then I was critiqued by young Smith College lesbians for being “too butch,” or even “such a man” once when I was carrying a 50lb box of potatoes into a restaurant kitchen where I worked as a chef. People in my community were dying left and right of AIDS. I was newly out as queer and there was still an outlaw status attached to that, which I actually loved. I was working my way through art school in Boston, figuring out my sexuality, and dealing with the death of my younger brother, who was murdered. And the parts of the book about San Francisco, though minimal, are about a city that doesn’t exist anymore. It was pre-dot com, pre-AIDS drug cocktails that kept people from dropping like flies.  It isn’t specifically about my trans identity, because it was before I even had words for it, or real awareness of transitioning as an option for myself, but of course those threads are there. All I knew was that I felt like I should have been male, but I tried to reconcile myself back then to the idea that this was the hand I’d been dealt. I had no idea in 1990 that there was anything I could have done about my gender distress.

It’s interesting to write about that time, trying to stay true to that innocence about gender and life. Especially when we workshopped one of my chapters in class this term, which talks about my life “before.” I recently had to add a little disclaimer, coming out to my classmates, so they wouldn’t be totally confused. They probably were confused anyway, but very gracious about it all. It would be easy to rewrite my past to some extent as if I had a solid awareness of being trans back then, but that would be a gross over-simplification. I would rather hang with the uncomfortable truths of my experiences around gender back then and I hope that it will resonate with other people. Despite trans issues being so widely visible in recent years, it still feels like the hugest A-Ha! moment to anyone who realizes that about themselves, and it is each persons’ individual, unique experience.

I also write a lot about work. I have worked tons of different jobs, mostly blue-collar, physical labor jobs, and as someone who is always observing and studying gender, in particular masculinity, my jobs have always been a rich microcosm in which to explore these dynamics. Also, since I’ve always felt it was my true work to make art and write, I’ve had a certain detachment to most of my jobs, deep down I knew I was just there, passing through for a paycheck, and the adventure. The exception to this is of course the job I mentioned above, working with queer youth and other disenfranchised folks. Most of my jobs have been an adventure. We spend an enormous amount of our lives at work, and yet so few people explore that. I love exploring work in my writing. Naturally, being trans comes up in my writing about work, but it is not always the most significant dynamic I am writing about.

What does it take for you to sit down and write? What are some of your tricks to get yourself to write with intention? 

I have been working really hard at creating a consistent writing practice. It is so easy to get distracted by everything else. I have an office space now, where I can go work. My housemates understand that when I am in there, I am in the fortress of solitude and quiet. I feel lucky to have a dedicated work space. Sometimes I work in a cafe, to get out of the house and away from distractions. Mostly, I schedule office hours and try to stick to them as closely as possible. I have to not be on-line, unless I am doing some research, and I have to leave my phone elsewhere in the house. I spend part of my office hours each week applying to things and submitting work. Like anything, it is a habit that one can develop, and if you mess up, you just need to get back on it the next week. It’s like working out. If I miss a regular workout, I just have to get back on track next week, not sit around and mope and throw everything I’ve worked for out the window. I saw the amazing photographer, Cathie Opie, give a talk at the Portland Art Museum last year. She talked about “persistent practice” when it came to making art and it seems so simple but it hit me like a lightning bolt. I knew then that it was what had been missing for me, and I committed to figure it out for myself. Two days after her talk I got the words tattooed on my wrists as a constant reminder. I also wrote it down on a piece of paper and put it on my altar. 

Deadlines are a big motivator for me. There’s that saying that diamonds are created under pressure. Not everyone works that way, but I find that deadlines give me someone else to answer to, I am not just writing to hide it in a box under my bed. It engages me in a dialogue, and challenges me to push myself on a topic, a word limit, a time-frame, and encourages me to keep trying to get my work out there. I keep a list of things I want to submit to, and projects I want to work on. There was a saying I heard while working as a union stagehand that work will expand to fit the time allowed. It is so true. If I have what feels like tons of time, I am like Moses meandering through the desert. If I have a firm deadline, I can hone in and focus. I am pretty ADD, and it takes a ton of energy for me to focus sometimes. I just keep working at it. When I was a Lambda Literary Foundation Fellow last summer, one of our instructors, Ellery Washington, spoke about how you can train your brain. He started to get up very early every morning at the same time and write. He insists that you can train your brain to work like this. I am a total bear in the early morning hours, a grumbling, confused bear, so writing at five in the morning is probably an unachievable goal. But writing at least five times a week around my school schedule is an achievable goal. You have to set yourself up for success. I think it’s all about creating a habit. A good habit.

Is it hard to write about your life experiences and put trans somewhere in there? 

I write about human experiences from the perspective of someone who happens to be trans. My life experiences and my trans experiences are kind of inextricable, but I really try to avoid being “educational”. I think if you just write about your own truths and experiences, people will learn a lot more than if you try to insert Trans 101 into every story you write. That being said, I do think education and Trans 101 are very important, and I have given tons of those trainings and workshops to non-trans people. I just don’t think my creative work needs to be a Powerpoint presentation. In a class last Fall, I wrote a piece about working a construction site and my co-worker asking me about my trans identity. Suddenly, I stopped being “in” my story, and started worrying that nobody in my workshop would have a clue what the hell was going on. Nobody in the class except one friend knew I was trans. So, my writing shifted gears with them as my audience, and I suddenly lapsed into Trans 101, like I was clicking through the Powerpoint. When we workshopped my piece, the response was amazing. The instructor and the fifteen other people in the class really disliked the “educational” stuff, which I had really written for them. Nobody cared or was confused or upset that I was trans, they cared about how I fucked up a perfectly compelling story by inserting a public service announcement in the middle of it. My instructor, Tom Bissell, marked that section of my piece: “Don’t educate us. Surprise and delight us.” It was a huge gift to have that experience. 

It is only hard to write about my trans experience when I feel like there is a requirement to announce blatantly “Hey look at me, I am trans!” somewhere in there. Sometimes that is necessary, but whenever I am writing about my life, I am writing from a trans experience, so I dislike a requirement to have to make it hammer-you-over-the-head obvious. Sometimes I want that to be the loudest instrument in the band, other times it is more about all of my experiences and identities playing seamlessly together like an orchestra.

Have you found grad school to be fulfilling in the way you thought it would be?

Yes. Grad school was a container for me, as I said already, to take my writing seriously. I have had amazing instructors and feedback from my fellow students. As a self-taught writer, I felt totally intimidated, but I feel like my writing has improved so much due to the whole package: time to work on it consistently, feedback, instruction, understanding what makes great stories work. I have developed an incredible network here. School has helped me become much more disciplined about my work. And like most things in life, it is all about the people, the people I have met through school are from all walks of life and experience, and it feeds my writing to stand in the warm breeze of their brilliance.

Do you ever call yourself a “trans writer”?

Yes, on occasion I do. It just depends, I guess it is mostly intuitive. It is important to me to be visible as a transman. I always came out to the queer and straight ally kids that I worked with, and I told them, it’s not because that information is so amazing. It is because when I was in high school I had no idea that people like me even existed. I just wanted them to know we exist, in case any of them ever felt like I did. What is most important to me in my work is that I speak to a human experience that people, trans or not, will find literary worth, creativity, and meaning in. I want to become a writer whose writing is read because it is good, and who also happens to be trans.

Bio: Cooper Lee Bombardier is a visual artist, writer, illustrator, and performer from the South Shore of Boston. He was a Lambda Literary Foundation Fiction Fellow in 2011. He has been a construction worker, a cook, a carpenter, a stagehand, a welder, a dishwasher, a truckdriver, and a housepainter, among other things; now he is busy being a grad student. His visual art has most recently appeared in group shows like Meow Wolf in Santa Fe, NM; the 2011 National Queer Arts Festival in San Francisco, and Helltown Workshop in Provincetown, MA. Cooper’s writing has appeared in many periodicals, most recently Cavalcade Literary Journal, Unshod Quills, Faggot Dinosaur, Pathos Literary Journal, andOriginal Plumbing; and the anthologies The Lowdown Highway; From the Inside Out, and Trans/Love. A veteran of the original Sister Spit tours, he has performed his writing all over the country. He currently lives in Portland, Oregon.

Brook is stiletto-less in Splash

threw them at the drag queen she is      loose asshole!   and

                fuck you!             she is sobbing my stairwell 3 AM

box of goldfish crumbs on a Chanel dress for gay

rights and                               all y’all want is your rights        rolling and sexing she is

the breakbeat                  Jesus Christ!       …I need gum…          orange juice

                                                turns up my bass feeling something she

                                can’t see, God, just to know it   is

possible, her dub-step God, touches her

                                moves her, in gentle ways the priest

                                                never did, but

Brook needs popping-cracking-molars,

5HTP, either sweat pants or Gucci

pearls or candy glow sticks and body paint like

the doctor’s sharpie lines hash - -

 - - marks she is breast-less and she is

mastectomy, 19 now

Double D-less    one in three

-million                

I was the I.V. the hairnet

safety-net wig brothermotherfather

but she is therenothere

and she is gay rights and goldfish and gone

Bio: Robert Hudson graduated from Louisiana State University May 2011 with a degree in Creative Writing. He was born in Austin and raised in Dallas; the Texan culture and landscape maintain a central focus in many of his works. He is the son of a lawyer and an English major, and will be attending law school in the fall with a focus in human and LGBTQ rights. He is currently the Editor-in-Chief of the LSU Honors College literary organization Fusion and assistant poetry editor of the undergraduate publication Delta. 

Morty: When did you start your career as a writer and what got you interested in writing? 

Jody: I was never interested in writing until my senior year in college.  I was a Political Science/Women’s Studies major and I saved all of my electives for my last semester. I was taking two creative writing classes and something just clicked.  Before I knew it, I had made up my mind to apply to graduate schools in English.  Seven years later, I had my MA in English and my MFA in Creative Writing and I’ve been teaching writing and English classes ever since.  

Morty: Do you consider yourself a “trans writer” or does that feel too limiting? Does it bother you when people discuss your work and call you a “trans writer”?

Jody: I don’t really care about labels. Sure, we need them, and sure they make us feel safe and in control, but what really matters is how the work affects the reader. What does it make the reader think about?  What does it make the reader feel?  What does it make the reader see about herself/himself?  I really try not to get caught up in labels, because they’re constructs.  

Morty: What is your idea of success when it comes to your writing?

Jody: I used to have a very different idea of what being a successful writer was when I was younger.  I thought I had to get published in order to be successful, so I sent my work out all the time and thought I was successful because I was getting published.  But a funny thing happened while I sent my work out.  I chose poems and stories that “fit” the publication’s message and audience, and something didn’t feel right about this. I placed in a finalist round of a very difficult contest to place in (there were over 2000 entries for this book publication contest) and didn’t win because of the subject matter of my book. The letter from the writing contest said it was between my manuscript and one other manuscript, and that mine wasn’t chosen because their readers weren’t ready for a voice like mine (meaning a trans voice). I decided right then and there to self-publish my book and 6 months later, I did.  After that, I stopped sending my work out unless I really felt the energy of the magazine.  Right now, success to me means being true to my art and being honest with myself when I write. Not fearing reactions or tailoring a piece to fit into a prestigious publication. Writing for myself and not for anyone else.

Morty: You have been published in many publications; can you give the readers some pointers on how to get published?

Jody: Well, if you choose to stay true to your art and to yourself then keep submitting and don’t ever take rejection letters personally. Usually, you have no idea why a place didn’t accept your work. It could be any number of reasons and there’s no use in trying to figure it out. Everybody has their own opinion, there are political, economic, and social agendas to contend with, too. If you get handwritten comments, that’s a good sign to continue submitting your work, although we’re moving more and more to electronic submissions now, so if you get any comments at all, keep submitting.  Also, I would highly recommend reading the publication first to get a feel for their work, for their mission, and to see if you even want to be part of their publication.  And of course, follow all the guidelines and proofread your work very carefully.  

Morty: This is a somewhat strange question, but I’m curious if being trans has affected your career as a writing instructor at all? 

Jody: You know, I don’t think about it that much.  I don’t really care.  Here’s something funny.  When I first started teaching, I was hired to teach on a marine base looking like the biggest bull dyke lesbian you’ve ever seen. And, I was hired by a nun!   Eventually, I took a leave of absence and went on hormones and got my breasts removed.  I came back to the same school as “Mr.” and nobody cared.  I even had repeat students.  I’ve never made a big deal about who I am or apologized about who I am. For me, it’s a matter of fact thing, and I’ve slipped it into sentences before, like it’s common knowledge: “Oh, and I also changed my gender…” to people who don’t know yet, but who I want to tell.  As far as teaching goes, well, I’ve been known to show Hedwig and The Angry Inch to my students, and that’s about finding yourself, and misplaced identity due to circumstances beyond your control— and, coming full circle, which is a beautiful, beautiful thing!

Morty: You utilize the technology of ebooks to sell your work. Can you tell me how this model has been successful for you? 

Jody: I write ebooks because they’re easily accessible, save paper, and can be sent worldwide.  There’s nothing to store and I send everything personally.  I’ve emailed my ebooks to many countries including Australia, France, England, Ireland, South Africa, Sweden, Poland, and all across the United States.  If someone sends me an email saying he/she can’t afford to buy it, I email it for free. For me, ebooks give me complete freedom.  I choose to give what I want away.  I can send them anywhere.  I have 100% creative control.  And there are no shipping costs. Also, they’re easy to share. I don’t mind if people share my work— I’m not attached to it.  My goal has always been to teach and share and give.  This is what I’m supposed to do— this is my life’s purpose and ebooks make this so much easier.  They were the perfect solution for my monthly money for surgery giveaways, too because of the reasons mentioned above.

Morty: I have read your book of poetry Places Male and Female, and thoroughly enjoyed it! Many, if not all, of the poems in this book are about being trans which leads me to ask how much does being trans affect your work? 

Jody: My book Places Male and Female took me over 10 years to write. I must have written over 200 possible poems for that book and chose about 60 to include in it. After finishing this book, I felt a deep sense of relief because I wrote about my transition from many different angles.  I remember this one poem I wrote about
my dick— it was terrible!  The word choice was weak, the metaphors clashed, and the poem made absolutely no sense— even to me!  But it was necessary to get out my feelings about not having a genetic dick on paper.  So, in the beginning, being trans really affected my work.  From there I moved on and wrote poems based on photos that were hidden during World War II by Jewish Freedom Fighters. I took the focus off myself, but there are still elements of what’s perceived as “alternative lifestyles” hidden in some of my poetry. One photo that is particularly haunting shows two boys standing near a pond. One has very feminine energy, so I imagined both boys swimming together, desiring each other but still talking about the girls they pretended to like.  The last lines of the poem read: “and finally, his friend’s arms around his waist,/ his lips on his ear; /then, the unbearable lightness of their bodies, /as they sink further and further down into the water.”  This poem isn’t about being trans; this is about sexuality, and the different desires we have regardless of gender. This relates to my experience as being someone who’s changed and immersed still, in the gay, lesbian, bi, trans. communities. 

Morty: Can you tell me about your new book But How Did They Live? 

Jody: This book is based on a book of photographs called The Last Album that my friend Ann Weiss published.  This is from the inner jacket of her book: ”These photographs were not supposed to be seen… In October of 1986 ….Ann Weiss entered a locked room at Auschwitz and came across an archive of over 2,400 photographs brought to the camp by Jewish deportees…The photos, both candid snapshots and studied portraits, had been confiscated but,
instead of being destroyed, they were hidden at great risk, and saved.  In many cases, these pictures are the only remnants left of entire families.” I found this book at Barnes and Noble and in the store as I was reading it, I was inspired to write a book of poems called But How Did They Live?, that focused on living.  This is a subject that’s very close to my heart because I’m Jewish, and many of my relatives either escaped or were murdered during this time.  I wrote some poems and then contacted Ann, who I brought to Hawaii to speak to my students. I’m still writing this book and I have no idea when it will be finished.  The photos are haunting and I’ll just stare and stare at one until I get an inspiration. And then the poem begins.

Morty: You also wrote a book called The FTM Sex Guide. What was the impetus to write this book? 

Jody: I was looking for a book about sex for FTM guys and found a bunch of nonsense written by non-FTM people.  I remember answering questions in the 90’s given to me by my psychologist about sex: “Do I like women or men?”  “What do I think about when I masturbate?”, “Will I get the bottom surgery so I can have a penis?”, “How will I use my penis?” In those days, they wanted to make sure you were straight before giving you a letter. I must have answered over 200 questions!  I still remember sitting there with my pencil, circling the answers.  Luckily, I had been corresponding with some guys in SF through letters, yes actual letters, who warned me about this!  Anyway, it was back then that I had the idea to talk about sex openly in relation to our community. Then, many, many years later I was in the shower and this voice said: “Write The FTM Sex Guide, and give money away from the proceeds to help guys with their surgery funds.” So I did it. 

Morty: I’m very interested in how you’ve begun to give money away from the sales of your work to trans folks in need. Why did you begin doing this?

Jody: Well, as I said earlier, it was an inspiration I had in the shower.  It started two years ago when I gave $500 away to a guy from the sales of The FTM Sex Guide.  That giveaway was a drawing.  I’m on a mission now to do this regularly. I’m calling surgeons to see if they want to give surgery credits, too.  I’m also calling all of the people I know in the community who are in a position to donate money to help with this cause.  If anyone reading this interview wants to help with either donating their time or donating funds, please contact me at jhrose22@hotmail.com.

Morty: What are the guidelines to get funds from you?

The guidelines change monthly.  This month you must have your surgeon chosen and be $500 away from your surgery goal. My idea here is to pay the surgeon directly.  Next month, I’m going to do a simple drawing out of a hat in front of a notary at the bank.  May’s guidelines will, more than likely, come to me either in the shower, in a dream or during a meditation.  

Morty: Do you plan on doing these giveaways for a long time or is this a limited time?

There’s no end date in site.  My website has all of the information: www.theftmsexguide.com. If you qualify, please enter.  And please spread the word, too.  I’m a one-man show right now and any help is greatly appreciated.  Thank you!

Morty: Wonderful! 

Please visit Jody’s website at: http://www.jodyrosehelfand.com

 i never worry that we don’t deliberate,

arm ourselves with gloves   thick

against our elements    i don’t think to

put up barriers   we’ve convinced

ourselves impervious

even while some of us dodging little futures:

paunch she called baby fat pressed to my back

in sleep. i hated baby fat and

when she said

we have such different bodies.

there have been dangers,

close scrapes    desperate beach nights,

      carolina men, thirty-seven and seventeen

we quicken

        when it’s over

kiss, queer again in new york.

——————————————————————————————

Bio: Rex Leonowicz is a femme transdude, intersectional feminist, and soon-to-be graduate of Warren Wilson College. He is originally from New York City.

Cover art for Sassfras Lowrey’s new book - ROVING PACK 

Morty:  Hi Sassafras!

 Sassafras:  Hey!

Morty: So, first question is about your new book. What type of book is it?

Sassafras:  My upcoming novel, Roving Pack, will be released in October.  It’s a fictional account of homeless queer teens searching for community and building families in punk houses and queer youth centers

Morty:  It’s fiction? Based on your own experiences in some way?

Sassafras:  Yes, it’s fiction very much rooted in my own experiences as a teen. I like to say that Roving Pack is my fiction, but also the memoir of the crusty punk boi I was.

Morty:  So, there is a crusty punk boi protagonist?

Sassafras:  Absolutely. Hir name is Click (which is also my former name) and ze is a XXX (straight-edge) trans kid.

Morty:  Can you tell me a little bit more about your background? You were a homeless trans teen?

Sassafras:  I was kicked out when I was 17. I couch surfed and moved around a lot building community with other homeless queer kids. While Roving Pack is fiction, it is in many ways rooted in the experiences I had and the worlds I was part of during that time in my life.

Morty: Do you currently identify with the word trans?

Sassafras:  I do identify with the word trans. I even have a big trans symbol tattoo on my wrist from back in the day! Though, at this point in my life, people don’t necessarily assume I’m trans when they see me on the street for instance.

Morty:  Yeah, I’d like to talk a little bit about that. Can you give me a short timeline on what your trans history has been?

Sassafras:  Sure. Gender for me has always been a complicated journey. Pieces of that journey have involved living and passing as a trans man. I went on and off T twice. I was on T for about two years the last time. For the last several years I have presented as femme, though I still hold a genderqueer/trans identity.

Morty:  Right, I appreciate those in the community who have a “nontraditional” trans history.

Sassafras:  Mine is definitely “nontraditional”. 

Morty:  Have you considered yourself a writer for a long time?

Sassafras:  Writing, like gender, was something I only found once I was safely on my own.  I’m not one of those writers who has written all my life. Growing up in an abusive home I knew that words were dangerous. I didn’t begin writing in earnest until I was on my own. I found writing and zine culture and the stories just started breaking through and thankfully have never stopped

Morty:  You have an anthology out as well, Kicked Out. When did you begin working on the anthology?

Sassafras:  Kicked Out was released in early 2010 and was twice honored by the American Library Association and was a Lambda Literary Finalist. It brought together the voices of current and former homeless LGBTQ youth. I first began dreaming of that book when I became homeless, but started working on it about 3 years before its release

Morty:  Was the anthology your first published book?

Sassafras:  I’ve been a contributor to numerous anthologies over the years, but Kicked Out was my first book

Morty:  Did you find it hard to get a publisher? For the anthology and for your new novel?

Sassafras:  I was very lucky with Kicked Out and found a publisher very quickly which I know especially for someone’s first book is rare. The experience with Roving Pack was a little different.  I had a tremendous amount of interest from publishers in the novel due to the success of Kicked Out in the last couple of years, but then they discovered that the content was significantly more edgy

Morty:  What do you mean by more edgy?

Sassafras:  I like to say that if Kicked Out was groundbreaking, as many have called it, (Kicked Out was the first book to really grapple with queer youth homelessness in this way) then Roving Pack is edge play. Roving Pack is in your face complicated gender and leather and sex. It’s messy and complicated just like the world I grew up in

Morty:  Do you think because Roving Pack is based on a trans character that it is a “hard sell” for mainstream publishers? Or is it more the sex / leather component?

Sassafras:  I think it’s a combination. I think it wasn’t so much the main character being trans but having a nontraditional transition that was difficult for publishers to wrap their marketing plans around. The world I’ve written about in Roving Pack is bubbling over with really intricate complicated genders and that can be scary for folks who have a binary experience with what trans means. Leather is a huge part of how the characters in this book make sense of their lives, and ultimately I wasn’t willing to remove that in order to make the book safe enough for some publishers

Morty:  Right, I’m glad to hear that! I think, personally, the work coming out now about trans experience is still very tame. Especially when it comes to sexuality and being trans.

Sassafras:  Absolutely, I agree completely.

Morty:  And I am thankful you’re willing to go there and open it up some more.

Sassafras:  Thank you. I did consider taming down the book but ultimately that wouldn’t be true to the trans punk world I came from and the last thing I think we need is another watered down version of our worlds.

Morty:  I agree. Are there queer/trans writers who have inspired you?

Sassafras:  Oh goodness! Absolutely! I wouldn’t be where I am today were it not for the queer/trans writers that inspired me and my writing. I had the chance to work with Kate Bornstein when I was a very young, very angry, trans writer and she really is responsible for a lot of shaping my work to this day. There is also Toni Amato,co-editor of ‘Pinned Down By Pronouns’, Leslie Feinberg, Dorothy Allison, Ivan Coyote, Bear Bergman, Jeanette Winterson, Susan Stinson…so many!

Morty:  That is a great list!

Sassafras: I feel very blessed that so many of these authors who inspired me when I was first beginning (and to this day) are friends of mine now

Morty: So, are you self-publishing Roving Pack?

Sassafras:  I am. It will be coming out this autumn through PoMo Freakshow Productions. It was a difficult decision for me to come to because at the end of the day I do really believe in traditional publishing. I also believe that each book is an individual and what was right for Kicked Out, and what may be right for my future work wasn’t right for Roving Pack. I made the decision with the support and encouragement of many folks (authors, booksellers etc) in the queer literary world and have been thrilled and overwhelmed with the support this book and I have received so far.

Morty:  That is wonderful to hear!

Sassafras:  When I made the decision to self publish Roving Pack I created an editorial committee to ensure what goes to press is the very best version of this novel.

Morty:  Even with the support it probably feels a little daunting to self publish a book.

Sassafras:  I think, at this point, it’s more exciting than daunting. I feel like I’m in the best possible place to be embarking on a project like this. I’ve got an excellent personal and professional support system. I also handled all the promotion and marketing of Kicked Out, so fresh off that experience I feel pretty prepared

Morty:  Right on!  What do think the state of affairs with trans literature is like now? Once Chaz Bono wrote his memoir a lot of people thought well, we’ve gone mainstream. Specifically, trans fiction seems to be stuck…

Sassafras:  Well, I wasn’t such a fan of Chaz’ memoir. I can send you the review I wrote on Lambda (Link is here). I think that like queer publishing, in the broader sense, it’s complicated. Some work has more mainstream legs, and some is fringier stuff. It’s the later that Roving Pack is part of. I think both are ultimately very important, but as a trans writer I’m much more interested in the more dangerous work, which more closely resembles my world

Morty:  Do you identify as a “trans writer”?

Sassafras:  I do. And a queer writer. It’s very important to me that my identity and the work that I do be connected.

Morty:  So, in no way do you feel pigeonholed when you are discussed as a trans and/or queer writer?

Sassafras:  Not at all. I see myself primarily, and certainly with Roving Pack, as an author writing by/for a segment of the queer/trans community.

Morty:  Something publishers often say, at least to me, is: who is the audience for your book and how can we make that audience bigger? But sometimes the work doesn’t fit with a larger audience.

Sassafras:  Exactly! Roving Pack won’t be at the top of the New York Times with mainstream appeal because it isn’t designed to. I write from within and for our community. I don’t define words or identities in the way I have to when I write for straight audiences.

Morty: Well, I’m certainly looking forward to seeing this book published. Thank you for the interview!Where can the readers keep in touch with you online?

Sassafras: Folks can stay in touch with me online via twitter at www.Twitter.com/SassafrasLowrey or Facebook www.facebook.com/SassafrasLowrey and online at www.PoMoFreakshow.com. Thank you! 

About the new novel - Roving Pack

‘Roving Pack’ is set in an underground world of homeless queer teens. The stories follow the daily life of Click, a straight-edge transgender kid searching for community, identity, and connection amidst chaos. As the stories unfold, we meet a pack of newly sober gender rebels creating art, families and drama in dilapidated punk houses across Portland, Oregon. Roving Pack offers fast-paced in-your-face accounts of leather, sex, hormones, house parties, and protests. But, when gender fluidity takes an unexpected turn, the pack is sent reeling. Click is left picking up the pieces, forced to again face the possibility of losing the home and family he worked so hard to create.

By Wyatt Riot 

I thought I was going to piss my self by the time I landed in the airport. As soon as the fasten seat belt sign came on my bladder let me know how full it was. I’m not sure why my bladder couldn’t hold it just a little bit longer. It was almost as if my teeth were floating in my skull. I— was about to explode. If I could have any super power in the world it would be to have a bladder made of steel. No doubt about it.

Sitting in the middle of the plane with an isle seat, watching each person in front of me grab their belongings from the overhead bin and under their seats in anticipation of exiting the plane. Time had slowed down for everyone and I was on full speed. As people slowly left their rows I waited eagerly, standing with my legs crossed while I waited for my turn to exit; my turn to rush out of the plane and into the restroom.

Saying my thank yous to the flight attendants as I exited the plane, I could feel my heart beating faster and the sweat start to slowly drip from my temple. I’m sure I looked like I was going to puke, I was so anxious. It felt like my heart was about to beat out of my chest and onto the floor. With each little step I could feel my bladder start to expand, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could wait.  

I hustled my way past little shops selling over priced snacks and drinks. I saw flustered parents with their children and very serious business people doing seemingly very serious business. I had my own serious business to do. People were running into me left and right, with each tap it felt like a blow to my bladder. Just a little bit longer, that’s all I needed. With how large airports are, you’d think they would have restrooms at every corner. I’d been walking for what seemed like miles. Don’t they know how important it is to pee? 

In the not-so-far distance I saw a glowing sign. In eager anticipation I was hoping it was — yes, it was! RESTROOMS! Oh, the beautiful site of a public restroom. On the other side of that door, sweet relief would be mine.

Suddenly, panic set in. I looked at both restrooms. My eyes going back and forth between the two like the eyes on a tiger hunting their prey. I watched each person enter and exit the restrooms. How did they know where they were supposed to go? Did they use the restroom that matched the gender on their ID? How did they know where they belonged? 

I stood there watching for what seemed like hours, holding my bags which were getting heavier and heavier by the moment. I felt like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. What am I supposed to do? Where was I supposed to go pee. 

I’ve never understood gendered spaces. I know what my ID says and I know how I feel about my own gender. But that doesn’t always mean the people in the restroom agree. I’ve had my share of being yelled at. It doesn’t feel very good to have children point and stare at you as if you’re a big scary monster. It’s embarrassing to feel threatened by something so simple as the restroom, but it’s really not that simple at all. It would be so much easier if people would respect me when I’m in the restroom. I promise I’m not trying to enter the “wrong” restroom, I’m just trying to pee and not get harassed in the process.

My bladder was feeling worse. I didn’t think it could feel this full. Watching people choose one restroom or the other with what seemed like ease had me feeling envious. Why couldn’t I have traveled with a friend? It’s always easier going to the restroom with someone. Safety in numbers I always say. I’m not sure why my gender threatens people, but the last thing I want is to get yelled at, accosted or worse.  I’ve had my fill of being called slurs. I’ve been called a faggot, dyke, he-she, what the hell are you and more — what people don’t understand is I’m just a person. A person with very basic needs.

I understand my gender. It’s something I’ve thought and fretted about for years, so I know who I am — as much as any person can. For some reason the rest of the world doesn’t seem to understand my gender and they can’t let that go. I don’t really care if people understand me, I just wish others would respect me like I respect them. This doesn’t help me in this moment though. My bladder, it’s still aching.

Standing there just trying to hold on for another minute, people continued rushing past me while saying their usual “excuse me sir” or “excuse me ma’am.” What was I supposed to do? I contemplated pissing my pants, which at twenty seven years old is a little embarrassing. 

As tears started to well up in my eyes from frustration I looked over to my left. I couldn’t believe it. How did I not see this before? The most magical place on earth was only a few feet away from me. I really had won the jackpot this time. I ran as fast as I could to the giant sign that read GENDER NEUTRAL RESTROOM. After I was inside I threw my bags onto the ground and locked the door behind me. What a relief.

If only everywhere I went had these, then I could pee in peace. Is that too much to ask for? It seems like a simple request to me.  

Bio:  wyatt riot is a fat, queer, femme, trans, faggot living and  loving in portland, oregon. he is the host and co-creator of put it in your mouth with wyatt riot (www.putitinyourmouthwithwyattriot.com), a web series that documents his love of food and camp. you can find him out in the world blushing and making it happen or often at the library, sipping tea and doing his homework.

when i look at my reflection i see an ugly face

looking back at me with sad eyes

my hairline far too high, my beard shadow and adams apple

very unbecoming of a woman

i look at my hands, large and stronger than they need to be

i don’t want to fight anymore, i can’t bear anymore burdens

i shake too much to do a good job painting my nails

i see the stubble of body hair, breasts too small to be curvy

hips too narrow to be shapely, my legs are bruised

i see the vericose viens in my ankles and my oversized feet

i took so many steps in the wrong shoes it hurts to go on

i feel like i am imprisoned within a life that isn’t mine

it goes on and on like a punishment for being alive

i see all this and i know why i’m alone, why i’m afraid to go outside

i am guilty of a self inflicted hate crime

Bio: Rhenaiya Jesson is a 33 yr old male-2-female transsexual currently transitioning in Saskatoon, Sk. Canada. She is a guitarist, writer and artist in general, dabbling in whatever medium happens to inspire.