I’m That Angry Queer

So, it dawned on me recently that I think I’ve been, like, subconsciously going back into the closet…

Over the past two months I have been dressing less and less femme, I’ve been very sporadically wearing bras (when I had previously been wearing them every day), I’m not shaving very often (going weeks with stubble), my blogging frequency has slipped, and my self-confidence has been at the lowest it has been in… fuck, a while.

When I pick out my own clothes recently I tend to grab basic t-shirts and sweats or shorts. Then when people still inevitably stare at me I almost always turn to my partner Falon and say things like “why are they staring? I’m not even wearing anything femme…” or “I don’t even look that queer today, do I?” and my spoons quickly deplete. Still, dressing in pretty andro clothes, not shaving, and not wearing a bra, has made walking around town MUCH easier. I’ve been blending in a bit again.

And you know what? The street harassment HAS been way, way less over the last few months too. I haven’t had anything thrown at me from a car in a while, no transphobic/homophobic slurs yelled at me from some dudes in their pick-up truck, nobody following me and recording me on their phone (like with the Walmart or Mac’s Convenience incidents), nobody cornering me outside and screaming at me to get out of town (like at my bank last summer), just not a lot of harassment at all really.

Then two days ago, while standing in the kitchen doing some dishes, Falon could tell that I was really low on energy so said that they would finish doing them for now. “Go sit down, it’s okay,” they said. “You don’t have the spoons right now, but I do, so I can finish up what’s left.”

So, off I went to dry off my hands and without any forewarning I just fucking broke down crying. Hard.

Like, I’m talking full on hyperventilating, body shaking crying for nearly half-an-hour. And ever since then all I can think about is how absolutely, completely shitty that I’ve been to myself for the last 59 days.

This is the first selfie that I’ve shared on my Facebook page with friends and peers, since March 30th.

Between then and now I have spent the vast majority of my energy berating myself, bullying myself, invalidating myself, tone policing myself, gaslighting myself. I have let every single shitty, transphobic thing I’ve read on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, news articles, etc. over the past few years get under my skin and burrow deep.

All the YouTube videos with casual transphobic and transmisogynistic jokes thrown in for a laugh at our expense. The movies making fun of us, the public figures profiting off of our abuse and oppression, the Milo Y’s of the world calling us a cancer on society and advocating for us to be socially, politically, and financially quelled. The posts after posts after posts of people, both cis and trans, demeaning and degrading non-binary folk as liars, fakers, tricksters, and general nuisances to all. The cruelty of our families degrading and disowning us. The centering of capitalism, pinkwashing, tone policing, respectability politics, ally theater, and conformity by the organizations that purport to be “for us”.

It was all in there bubbling under the surface and until today I didn’t realize how much it had just been rotting and festering away inside me… making me feel sick, and sad, and worthless, and scared.

I deserve better, Falon deserves better, and my queer and trans readers, followers, and friends deserve better too.

Our anger, our frustration at the constant transphobia that we are forced to endure every single fucking day, those are valid emotions. Marginalized people are constantly  shut down and told by others for decades to be quiet, to be nice, to calm down, to not yell, to be patient, to educate people.

Yet over and over and over and over again people say and do transphobic things. Often the same people. Over and over again TV shows, YouTube vids, movies, news broadcasters, reporters, talk show hosts, etc. say and do transphobic things. Over and over again politicians, religious leaders, public figures, celebrities, teachers, professors, say and do transphobic things. Over and over again “allies” say and do transphobic things, then get angry when you bring it up.

And we’re expected to just not burden those around us with any of it. We’re expected to take all the forms of harassment from them every single day and to deal with it ourselves, in quiet. Stop complaining, it’s not so bad, say those who just don’t fucking want to hear it.

We’re expected to not be upset by any of it. To stop being angry, to stop being so sensitive, to not take things personally, to not rock the boat, to “pick our battles” (but not actually fight them TOO loudly), and to respect and hear out the abuses from others as “opinions”. Further, we’re expected to then generally listen to our abusers and softly, calmly, patiently, and politely teach them. Don’t alienate your allies. Don’t alienate ignorant politicians. Don’t alienate the abusive police system. Be nice and be quiet.

So for the last few months I’ve internalized thing after thing after thing.

I’ve subconsciously punished myself for my anger. I’ve isolated. I’ve stopped posting publicly about most things. I’ve stopped openly sharing my self-care and empowerment selfies. My “friends” list has shrunk exponentially with each passing month. I’ve worked quite subversively to quell my emotions and NOT be that angry queer that everybody berates as an “oversensitive”, “triggered”, an “SJW”.

But you know what, I’m queer and I’m angry.

Don’t like it? Go fuck yourself. I’m bouncing back and I’mma be LOUD.

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How Non-Monogamy Looks to My Partner and I

My partner and I love fucking our friends.

I don’t really know how else to describe it other than just saying that trading nudes with, sexting, masturbating with, or inviting a friend to bed with us is as big a part of our sex life as doing those things with each other is. Not quite as frequent, maybe, but still, super important. Some people get it, most don’t, but ultimately we don’t care. We love it, we love each other, we love our friends, we’re all having fun, and we’re all keeping safe. So, winning!

One of the biggest things that my partner and I have come to realize though is that as much as our boundaries, fantasies, needs, and desires may shift and change with each other, or with our friends, from experience to experience, or even moment to moment, the one consistent is that communication has to be fucking TIGHT.

No, seriously. Like, air-fucking tight. We got this down to a science. My partner and I have verbal cues, hand signals, check-in measures, safewords, and even run a “lights system” of green means go, yellow means slow, and red means NO. We even inform and include our other sexual partners in these measures while also incorporating and adjusting to any of their communication needs as well.

My partner and I at the Taboo Convention 2016.


And even with all of that work, all that honesty and trust, it’s not always perfect. Sometimes miscommunications happen, confusing feels pop up, awkwardness ensues, discomforts arise, and boundaries suddenly shift mid-way through. But after everything, we always talk. We talk with each other. We talk with with our lovers. And then we talk some more.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that this shit ain’t easy. Sure, it’s a lot of fun, and we enjoy ourselves, but if you and your partner are thinking of exploring non-monogamy you better be talking a LOT. Non-monogamy isn’t the free love explosion of massive house party orgies, gloryhole blowjobs, beach gangbangs, and endless, consequence free orgasms that pop culture and traditionalists and excited newbies alike seem to think it is. I mean, sure, all of those things ARE options if you and your partner(s) want them to be. But what I’m really getting at here is that non-monogamous relationships take just as much listening, communication, honesty, trust, teamwork, and respect, as any monogamous relationship does. In fact, in many cases I’ve found these things to be even MORE amplified in my non-monogamous marriage with my partner than they ever were in past relationships where, admittedly, a lot felt taken for granted.

And yes, all of this is far more complex than a single post can articulate but those discussions on relationship structures, complicated feels, unpacking jealousy, and more, are all bigger conversations for another time. This is just a peek behind our curtains. One that I hope shows you the importance of boundaries and communication in all non-monogamous activity.

So, what exactly does non-monogamy look like to my partner and I? Well, honestly, it’s really hard to pinpoint…



From Sexting to Sweaty Foursomes: How Boundaries Can Change

Sometimes, non-monogamy for us is casually sexting and trading nudes with our friends [either together or separately]. Sometimes, it’s us just mutually snuggling and making out with a cutie for a couple of hours.

Sometimes, it’s us traveling 6+ hours away for a weekend of sweaty group sex with our lovers; a couple that we’ve been friends with, and sleeping with, for a few years. Let’s call them Leia and Han because I like Star Wars, and so do they, and combining nerd stuff with sexy times is hot as fuck.

Leia and Han are actually pretty important to the story of our growing relationship, evolving desires and needs, and to our overall experience thus far with non-monogamy. Not only were they the first people we had sexual experiences with as a couple, but we also learned a LOT about our boundaries, and how incredibly fluid they really can be, pending on where we are at the time.

Some couples have very hard and strict rules when it comes to the boundaries of their non-monogamy. Common hard boundaries include absolutely no sex with other people unless both partners are present, no kissing other people, no penetrative sex with others, no having regular sex with the same person[s], etc., and my partner and I actually sort of started off much in the same way. We had been flirting with Leia and Han for quite a while, particularly at our wedding, and once sex with them looked like a very real possibility we basically decided that we were not ready for penetrative sex with either of them and we had to be in the same room as each other for any sort of sexy times (including make-outs).

As time went by we eventually realized that a lot of those initial boundaries just weren’t practical all of the time. To really show this, here’s a play by play of the sexual experiences that we’ve had with Leia and Han so far:


First Time: Just Leia came to visit us. Everybody stayed mostly dressed while we all made out together, then I watched my partner masturbate under their pyjama pants while Leia straddled them and played with their nipples. Meanwhile, I took pictures to send to Han and played with my girl cock through my underwear until, eventually, Leia suggested that my partner give me a blowjob while she watched us.

Second Time: Both Han and Leia came to visit. We all made out together, this time ALL clothing came off. Han and I fooled around a bunch, rubbed our cocks together and sucked each other off (my cock was the first cock he had ever sucked and the first load he ever swallowed!). Leia and my partner went down on each other, fingered each other, and played with each other’s tits. Then my partner rode my girl cock as Han roughly fucked Leia directly beside us. Leia also wanted to fulfill her long-held fantasy of being spitroasted so she sucked my girl cock while Han fucked her from behind.

Depiction of a ‘spit roast’ on the rim of an Attic red-figure kylix, c. 510 BC.

Third Time: We completely dropped the “no penetrative sex” with Leia and Han rule. Leia and I made-out and played with each other as we watched Han fuck my partner for a little while, then Leia climbed on top of me and rode me. Finally, Leia laid between us all and toyed herself to orgasm as we kissed, licked, and caressed her body.

Fourth Time: Just Leia came to visit again. She joined my partner and I in bed a couple of times but no penetrative sex occurred at all. First she ate my partner out and stroked my girl cock for a while, then my partner sat on my face for me to eat them out while Leia sucked me off and swallowed. Finally, Leia got out her favorite toy and brought herself to orgasm as my partner and I played her tits.

Fifth Time: Just Leia visited again, though nothing happened at all due to my partner struggling with some stress and anxiety and expressing a need for no sexual activity; which Leia and I respected.

Sixth Time: My partner and I traveled over 6 hours to visit Leia and Han. The first night, Han came into bed with us and fingered my partner during a rainstorm while I masturbated beside them, but Leia didn’t get involved because her back was very sore. The second night all 4 of us came together for a group sex pile in Leia and Han’s bed. Leia and I made out while I teased her pussy, then I gently fucked her (sore back, remember?) while Han roughly fucked my partner a few feet away.


And that’s just a look at our relationship with Han and Leia. Don’t even get me started on how much fun we have online with our friends and strangers through sexting and sending nudes. Or masturbating with friends. Or any of the other freaky naughty things we get up to. Hell, almost all the pics in my nudes gallery here on this blog were actually taken by my partner with the intent of me sharing them with others!

In don’t really know how our sex lives will look a year from now, let alone a week from now, but I am completely confident that my partner and I will continue to explore pleasure together with consent, honesty, respect, and consideration for each other, and our lovers, in mind.

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Closets, Sex, and Closet Sex

My heart pounded in my chest as he leaned past me to close his closet door. We sat on our bent legs, facing each other, so that our eyes were level. He was excited, and so was I.

“You be the girl, okay?” he said.

I felt his hands slide around my waist, pulling both himself and me forward so that we were sitting upright on our knees.

“Okay.” I said, just as our bodies touched and his lips pressed against mine.

I closed my eyes. His grip tightened around my waist. My arms moved on their own, instinctively draping over his shoulders. Both of us shuddered. A mix of nervousness and excitement washed over me as I melted against him.


Looking back on it, I think that it is hilarious that one of the most defining queer moments of my life literally happened IN a closet.

*Ben [name has been changed to protect identity] was my childhood friend. We spent a lot of time together and though I can never quite remember the exact timeline of our experimentation with each other, the details of that closet kiss have really stuck with me to this day.

I recently wrote a piece for the Crash Pad Series blog called “How Learning About Queer Sex Taught Me Self-Love“, which allowed me the opportunity to think back to my friendship with Ben and reflect a little bit on the significance of my experiences with him. How I felt when he kissed me, when he held me, when he touched me, shattered my little, uninformed universe.

And the years that followed were pretty intense.

There were the years of secretly dressing in femme clothes, terrified of somebody finding out and confused about why I felt so amazing when I put them on. The years of frustration and overwhelming anxiety while crushing on classmates of all genders. The years of sneaking out of my house to suck a stranger’s cock in their car, completely ignorant to the dangers of those random hook-ups. The years of deeply destructive self-hatred and shame, that nearly destroyed me completely. And, most recently, the year’s of healing, acceptance, understanding, and devoting myself to practicing self-love.

Today, I am out as a mega-queer, non-monogamous, andro-babe who is looking at starting hormone replacement therapy in the very near future and is currently on track to begin a career in the field of sex education and blogging.

Did Ben identify as queer? Did he ever come out? Were his experiences with me as transformative as my experiences with him were? Did he experiment with more people with penises after me? Was I his first in a long string of queer sex encounters and love affairs? Did he ever talk about me to new romantic or sexual partners?

Did he struggle with his gender too?

Who is he today?

I was curious. So, a couple of days ago I looked him up on Facebook; which was a little difficult because he has one of those names that a lot of people have with ever so slightly different spelling variations. But I knew I had the right person as soon as I saw his face.

It was his eyes; and that grin. Both were exactly as I had remembered.

It didn’t take me long scrolling through his wall though to see just how different our experiences were. In fact, aside form a mutual interest in comic books we really didn’t have anything in common. But he looked fulfilled, and that was pretty awesome to see.

So, that’s it really. Sometimes you don’t get the answers you’re looking for because in the end they’re just not necessary. I didn’t need to know what I meant to him, or the details of his life’s journey. What happened between us happened, but he’s not obligated to feel the same way about it that I do. Maybe I was just an experience for him. A distant and hazy memory of radical self-exploration.

Whatever he remembers, or doesn’t, it’s all good. He looks happy.


Ben, you’ll probably never see this (especially since you never knew me as Nillin), but thank you for the memorable sleepovers and make-out practice. Glad to see that you’re still a lifetime Ninja Turtles fan. I am too.

Love, Nillin

NOTE: Thursday updates will be re-posts from mxnillin.wordpress.com, which was permanently suspended by WordPress for due to their anti-porn and anti-sex work policies. This post was originally published on August 30, 2016. Please read the announcement post to learn more.

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