Alpha & Beta
By Jonathan Mourant aka Nora Vision
I am moving on from looking at myself with sadness.
It’s always been easy to see what’s missing. The pieces of myself I neglected, I squirreled away to protect after they were derided, mocked, sometimes even a quizzical look, a question that seeks to silence instead of inquire can be enough to never open oneself up to interrogation.
But when I block others from interrogation, I’m left to do it on my own.
I won’t commit to not judging myself.
I’m a critic of media and thought, and what am I but a fleshy combination of the two?
There will never be a day where I don’t look myself in the mirror and judge who I see.
(I’m just too damn good at it to quit)
But I’m shifting the lens. Changing the perspective. Recalibrating the expected results.
I am seeing what I am, what I hold. The abundance of self I have to offer.
The world of integrity and genuine nonsense that exudes from my pores.
Flowing through my blood is oxygen and contradiction.
White blood cells trained to combat the flu, the plague, and opinion.
My skin is not armor but it is a uniform
Conformity never to another, but pledged to the multiplicity in my being. I am hundreds. I am one in a million. I am a million to one.
I am mercury and venus
I am Lady gaga and Alexander the Great Elon Musk Candy Darling God The alpha the Beta
I am nothing
I am an empty vessel to be inserted with love + wonder + awe
(and cock)
+ Beauty + choice + judgement
There is no freedom without expectation
In contrast, humanity flourishes
In truth, subjectivity is obvious
In me, there is light
I can finally see it now
Digital Drag Bingo
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Digital Gender
Gender in the time of quarantine…
Mamma mia, the kids, they’re all trans
If you’ve picked up TikTok since march 2020, and you’re some flavour of queer, you may have noticed what appears to be an uptick in gender non conformity and exploration. There’s much of the same expression we’ve seen in some form or another, finding new symbols and trends and attaching them as signifiers to identity, journeys from the closet to out, and increasingly less and less comprehensible reasons for defining something as “gay” both as a joke and as a serious reclamation of the ability to define what that word means.
However, the pandemic and social isolation is a new variable being thrown into an old formula. Gender is complex, and many faceted, but it can be said that a large part of it is performance and observation. Thanks to quarantine, many of us have had our primary audience for gender performance removed. We see people in neck up video conferences and masked selfies, we work from home or from 6 feet away behind plexiglass and PPE. For many of us, the sole audience to our day to day performance of identity and gender is ourselves and our housemates.
So how do we perform gender without an audience? Some are using this time to experiment, others to reject the performance all together. People are removing bras and shaving from their daily routine, shaving their heads because “no ones gonna see anyway”, and impulse purchases driven by isolation are adding new accessories and wardrobe items to our daily rotations. A reclamation of the Bimbo identity as a leftist expression of self identification has led to the creation of new terms, such as “himbo” and “thembo” .
Social media also allows people who care to look to see the inherent performativity of gender. Gender can be something that you apply, or put on, for the short zoom meeting, or to take a fun tiktok, and then remove afterwards. It's more comfortable to wear the baggy sweats and take off the makeup and the jewellery, or the clothes, or even the wigs. And sometimes the gender application process can take hours to perfect, to meet a certains standard, before being wiped off and thrown in the trash. Many a thinkpieces has been written about how the culture of beauty gurus, makeup artists and influencers has changed how youth are interacting with makeup, and increased expectations for the skill and time people are meant to devote to their appearance. It’s a powerful thing to reckon with, when you can throw your gender into the trash on the back of a wet wipe, after spending 2 hours getting your fake freckles, overdrawn lip and nose blush just right.
Of course, this could be a reflection of more socially accepting times on an app mostly popularized by youth. While the southern united states bans trans youth from participating in team sports, the olympics singles out black women with “abnormal testosterone levels”, and canada argues over whether it should ban conversion therapy, cis men on tiktok are praised for donning skirts and maid outfits, and women openly speak about their desire o be “feminine in the way that boys are”. And we must take into account that apps like Tiktok use algorithms to curate a feed of content that will appeal specifically based on your personal likes and dislikes, browsing history, and what movies your roommate mentioned yesterday. All of these observations, like any observation on the nature of gender, could be more of an insight into my personal views on gender than any greater trend. Perhaps in another few years, when the dust has settled and we are (hopefully) all vaccinated, we can look back with more clarity at this time and the effect of isolation on gender outside of a children's social media app.
Flesh Suit Diaries
Silicone Chests, the less well known cousin to the breast plate. With advances in crafting and the expansion of availability through online commerce, chest plates are becoming a more popular option for cosplayers and drag kings, myself included.
There are a variety of options for chests, many developed quite recently, in cut and style, but the basics are the same. A very tight, stretchy, silicone garment meant to act as a second skin. Early in quarantine, I purchased one for use in drag, and have used it for a few different looks over the last year. Thanks to the wildly varying extremes of Winnipegs climate, I’d like to think I’ve garnered some useful advice based on those few times.
My chest, or at least my store bought one, is the original tshirt style chest in caucasian from Roanyer. The chest comes in small or regular. I was nervous about buying something in a size called “regular”, but found that generally these chests are VERY stretchy. As someone who usually wears between 2x-3x, regular fit me just fine.
For Fit and feel, even for someone like me, who’s been steadily growing outwards for the last 5 years, it looks good. I look like a buff, cool guy, with very pert nipples. And that’s very fun. The silicone stretches easily to get over my head and around my shape, and while I certainly don’t look slim, I do look masc. The silicone tends to suction to the skin, which isn’t unbearable in my opinion, but can make removal very difficult. As well, the shoulder and neck can occasionally feel tight, so make sure to check your circulation regularly.
Speaking of which, these garments are NOT ideal for all day wear. They get hot and sweaty very quickly because there’s nowhere for the moisture to escape to, as the silicone repels liquid. Despite the heat, I would recommend wearing a tanktop or binder underneath. The barrier between the skin and the silicone will reduce some of the sweatiness and suction that occurs after extended wear by absorbing moisture. To further prevent that suction, you’ll need a heavy coating of baby powder. If you don’t take measures to prevent the succ, you’re gonna need someone's help to get your chest off.
I personally wear a tanktop and a binder that is one size larger than what I would wear for day to day under my chest, because I feel this helps make my shape more believable. I would only recommend wearing a binder if you’ve worn the chest a few times and are comfortable with it. I also won’t recommend wearing a corset underneath it (why would you do this) but I’ve seen it done, and as long as you’re listening to your body it’s probably not that bad.
Now, unless you very badly need the shoulder musculature for whatever look you’re planning, the tank top style is much more comfortable, and easy to move in. The sleeves on the t-shirt style are fairly tight, and will limit your arm movements and may affect circulation. It is also MUCH harder to take off by yourself. It can be done, but you’re going to have to be brave with how far you’re willing to stretch the chest, and if your head gets stuck in the sweaty silicone it can be a little claustrophobic for a bit. Consider a strip spotter for the first few times.
Roanyer has a limited range of skin tones (as is unfortunately often the case with these kinds of products) and it can be easy to misjudge how closely it will match with online purchasing. The silicone will take makeup fairly well, though you may have issues with blending out. Liquid products have a tendency to look streaky, while grease paints can be spread a little easier. Powder colours take VERY well though, and can be used to enhance contouring, highlights, and do funky things with the nipples. You can trim the neckline, which is thinner than the rest of the garment, with some sharp scissors. Or simply wear a collar or necklace that hides the seam. The sleeves are thicker at the edges, and shouldn’t be cut, especially if your model has veins.
There are a few options when it comes to price as well. Because it is higher quality the Roanyer muscle shirt is quite expensive. Mine ran me about 450$, with shipping on sale. Roanyer has the highest quality and the most options (you can get it with more defined muscle, tattoos, chest hair, tshirt, full sleeve, or tank top) and now has fulfillment centers in North America, so they are my recommendation. However, you can get much cheaper versions, including tank top and T-shirt style in a variety of skin tones, on amazon. I can’t attest to their quality, though you can see online that many kings have had good experiences with them.
For storage, if you have a metal garment rack and some sturdy hangers, you can store it that way like a shirt. I personally just put mine back in the box . You may want to wash it first though, as it will get a little rank after one or 2 wears. To wash it, you just need warm water, a light scrub and pat it dry.
All in all, I find the muscle shirt/silicone chest/ chest plate to be a great option for open chested looks. It is certainly more comfortable than tape binding (though I haven’t tried with trans tape yet) and looks realistic and impressive. If it’s in your budget, I’d recommend giving it a try.
A Faithful Tribute to a Man
By Jonathan Mourant
By Nora Vision aka Jonathan Mourant
The thing about masculinity is that it’s always been a performance for me.
A set of clothes, patterns of speech, types of posture, all collected over time to disguise what was already there.
To hide myself as I was under what I thought I was supposed to be.
I think I was twelve when I began to consciously observe. I would watch the boys in my class - the way they moved their hands, rigid and fixed in space, to see if I could replicate them.
I could, of course.
Movement, even when reflexive, is learned. For someone like me, desperate to address the displacement I felt, copying gestures came naturally.
Eventually, without even recognizing it, my body became a state of the art recreation.
Soon enough, it was more than the body. I studied their interests - sports, cars, shoes. I regurgitated information from one boy to another. I acted as though I understood what they meant, so they would never notice that I was not like them. I took their language and made it my own. I cheered for their teams. I modified my being, with careful adjustment, to be like them.
A faithful tribute to Man.
But it wasn’t anything more than a costume. A layer of protective clothing. A disguise that allowed me to infiltrate the boys club.
A cloak of visibility.
A mask fabricated out of the need to fit in and a feigned interest in football.
Perhaps contrary to expectation, nobody ever told me I needed to hide. I was never called a sissy, a fag, a queer (at least not to my face).
I almost wish someone had. That someone would have named the feeling for me so I could know in universal terms what I was. I think if someone had just told me I needed to be more manly, I could have had someone to say no to. Something to rebel against instead of rebelling against myself.
I don’t know if I was ever even particularly good at it - the whole closeted thing. I know that I didn’t convince anyone of anything, save for maybe a few oblivious family members.
In fact, in name and identity, I don’t know that I ever was “in the closet” - I didn’t pretend. I wasn’t hiding away, refusing to acknowledge the self-evident queerness.
By the time people felt comfortable enough just to ask me what my sexuality was, I was seventeen. I felt comfortable telling them - trusted friends that they were to ask me such a question - I was bisexual. Looking back, straightness was never an option if I was ever to feel peace.
Plus, I seemed to have no delusions that anyone might see me that way.
But a man….surely I was still a man. What else would I be?
I was twenty-two when I began using “nonbinary” as an identifier of my gender. I approached it logically, the way so many queer youth seem to in this century.
“Well, I don’t believe gender is innate in anyone, therefore why should I hold onto the gender I never chose for myself?”
Is this dysphoria? Is this aesthetic? Is this transness? I don’t fucking know!
But it was freedom - for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel trapped in a category I had never asked for. There were no standards of expressions I felt bound to, other than the handful of epic queers in the Winnipeg arts-adjacent community. Still, it was only in words that I felt the safety and confidence to express myself.
I accepted myself as “non-binary” - a title. An idea. Before I was able to accept or even look at the parts of my being that were not binary.
The way my hands move when no one is watching.
My voice when I forget I can be heard.
The aspects of being too complex to even name.
I first performed in drag when I was twenty-three. I wore a tiny dress, a leather jacket, combat boots, and a Hedwig-esque wig which I promptly lost while performing “Mr. Brightside”.
It wasn’t high femme.
But it was another first - the first time in my life I felt genuinely safe and comfortable in expressing myself as I was. Physically. Aesthetically. Honestly.
It wasn’t because I was dressed as a “woman”, but because I was dressed as me. It was a costume, but it was one I had chosen, picked out for myself to demonstrate a side of me I had not yet shown to the world. And sometimes the greatest thing about a costume is the ability to take it off when you’re done
Shape of Ü/Shape of Him
Piece by Jude Hayes
By Jude Hayes
Artist: Jude Hayes
Medium: Sharpie, neon acrylic paint, oil paint, liquid chalk
Description: My body pre-transition held scrambled emotions and textures that I’ve translated into a mix of colours and shapes that allegedly glow under black light (not unlike my actual body). It’s a portrait of a man I barely know now referenced from blurry Polaroid nudes and dysphoric memories.
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