The flag is in the project :3 Well, about that. The gender I am… it doesn’t actually exist. So. I’m coining it. My gender feels feminine, I’ll just start there. It’s not masculine in any way, though my gender presentation is neutral on the masculine side. But also, my gender feels completely separate from the term ‘female’. It feels sort of non binary, because I fit into a space that the binary system doesn’t have room for. It feels also like I don’t have a gender, sort of. Imagine this. You’re in a deep black room of nothingness. The only things you can see are wisps of colours that are somewhere between pink and yellow, purple and white, faint hints of blue. Some seem orange, some close to pink though are tinted lavender. Some are pale white with a purple tip, and none is ever one pure colour. That’s what my gender looks like. My gender looks like someone mixed multicoloured paint into black. You can convince yourself that it’s colourful, or that it’s black, but neither are really true. It’s too dark to be pink, too light to be black, too yellow to be pink and too pink to be yellow. Really, I can’t describe it with normal words, only with colours. But if I had to try… well, there will be a few metaphors. It feels partially agender, while also sort of non binary and female. I know exactly what my gender is, but it’s something only I can comprehend. No other living being, unless they feel the same way as I do, can understand how it feels to be this gender. It feels non-conforming, fluctuating, changing, while always staying the exact same as it’s always been. It feels wild and untamed and impossible to explain in human words. It’s the realization that something categorized as ‘rock’ can be blue or red or orange. It’s the delight when you find what you were looking for, for all these years you’ve been alive. It’s the heart stopping moment when you lock eyes with the wild animal before you and realize that it understands you better than you understand yourself. It’s intangible, impossible to describe. The beauty and diversity of rocks; the way you felt complete when you found what you sought. You can’t speak it in words without a thousand metaphors, without the hope that maybe someone watching or listening or reading will have felt this somewhere in their life, this moment of clarity and knowing. My gender feels like that moment. And yet it also feels like the certainty that nothing will ever be okay again. Like the word that slipped from your friend’s mouth and broke your trust in them forever. It feels like that last phone call with a friend when you’re telling them it’s over, and you know you won’t cry for them yet. My gender is like ‘mixed feelings’. There are so many emotions at once, each one impossible to pick out. It’s frustrating, because you can’t describe what they are and yet you know exactly how it feels. My gender is the highs and adrenaline pumping through your veins as you reach the mountain’s peak, the lows and long nights spent wondering the answers to questions you may never ask. So, what is it? Fracturic! The reason? My gender is characterized by fractured swirls and pieces of gender. Broken shards of stained glass that reflect a mess of colours but still somehow look better than before they broke. That’s what my gender is. Side note, the word ‘fracture’ here is used to talk about how it’s a jumbled bunch of different parts, not in any way about ‘my gender is broken’. The problem is, though, it could be seen as either the word fracturic or as referring to literal fractures. Also, if there happen to be any other fracturic people here…
