ISSUE 06 | FALL 2023

I MOLD MY BODY TO FIT MY NEEDS

BY SALEM PAIGE | @CORPSEOFAPOET

~ Content warning: suicidal thoughts ~

I strongly believe that becoming comfortable in our own skin requires reclaiming our bodies from a society that acts as though it owns them. I believe that twice over when it comes to trans folks like myself.

Photographed by Kaya Comeau @k.a.y.a.p.h.o.t.o 

being trans can often mean feeling as though you’re born into a body that doesn’t feel comfortable for you, sometimes to the point of debilitating discomfort. it can feel as though we were given a form that doesn’t meet our needs, or provide us comfort and safety — sometimes the body we were given just doesn’t fit quite right. it is not uncommon for trans people to feel unsafe in their own bodies, to feel discontent with their physical form to the point of depression, self-harm, and even thoughts of suicide. existing in a body that does not feel like your own is more than just difficult: it truly feels impossible.

I am very lucky to be a trans person in Canada. I have medical coverage for my hormone replacement therapy and medical professionals who will put me in touch with surgeons and refer to me using my correct pronouns. while medical transition is one of the most popular and well-known ways for a trans person to reclaim their body, not everyone has access to it. legislation is being pushed around the world, including in Canada, to make gender-affirming care even more difficult to obtain. on top of that, there are still some places in the world where trans people have no legal protection whatsoever, let alone access to trans-centric healthcare. all this to say: medical transition is not accessible to all (or even most) trans people. but this does not mean we cannot reclaim our bodies in other ways.

n e e d l e s   a n d   i n k

a good friend of mine and talented artist Madeleine Merritt recently started doing stick-and-poke tattoos for her friends and loved ones. She said something to me that really stuck:

“only after I got tattoos did I feel confidence for the first time, not because I looked different but because I realized that I actually have full control over my body.”

Photographed by Kaya Comeau @k.a.y.a.p.h.o.t.o 

I think tattoos and piercings are such an incredible way to assert our bodily autonomy. they leave us with a beautiful reminder that our bodies belong to us and us alone. changing our appearance permanently can enhance feelings of control and autonomy over our bodies. when we’ve lived for so long in a body that feels like it does not belong to us, adorning it with art we choose, that resonates with us, feels like a radical act. the first time I got a tattoo I was terrified — now I’m up to a solid 18 with no plans of stopping. people say tattoos are an addiction, but I don’t think it’s the tattoo itself that’s so addictive. it’s the ability to take art with you, to decorate the flesh vessel we’re stuck with in a way that can’t be taken from us.

for trans people, tattoos are absolutely a form of gender-affirming care. a lot of the trans folks I know are avid tattoo receivers who love their body art in a deeply personal way. like Madeleine said, tattoos can enhance your confidence in how you look — suddenly you want people to see your legs, your arms, your stomach because you’ve put so much time and thought and care into the art that decorates them. you’ve chosen imagery that represents who you are or who you want to be (and as time passes, who you used to be), and you want to share those visuals with the world around you.

I also love tattoos for their simultaneous permanence and temporality. a tattoo is a piece of art that stays on your body forever, but in a way, represents the time that you got it — while you may not be enthralled with the imagery forever, there was a point in your life when you loved the image so much you wanted to keep it with you permanently. as such, a tattoo can represent a stage of your life, or the person you once were. I like to think of my tattoos sort of like ancient cave paintings — they capture pieces of the versions of myself that have existed before and tell the story of who I was and where I came from. and I think there’s something really beautiful in that.

c u t   m e   o p e n , t a k e   o u t   w h a t   i s n ’ t   m i n e

I very recently underwent surgery to have my chest “masculinized” (although technically it’s just a double mastectomy). while I do want my chest to look more masculine, not everyone who gets this procedure is after that look. some people just want to not have breasts, without wanting to look more “masculine”; I could go on about the way our bodies are not always traditionally representative of our genders, but I digress. the surgery has made me feel more at home in my body than I ever have before.

to get a tiny bit personal: I went through a lot of struggles with my mental illness as a teenager and into young adulthood for many reasons. removing a part of my body that made me uncomfortable, that weighed down my confidence and my ability to feel good in my body, has absolutely changed my life. as someone who has wanted to kill themself before, who hated their body and their mind and the constant uncomfortable confusion of existing in a way that felt wrong — I finally feel right. when they say gender-affirming care is lifesaving, they mean it. we mean it. there is nothing more empowering than taking back control of your body and your comfort within it all at once.

it’s not just trans people who undergo procedures to feel more comfortable; cisgender people have been on the receiving end of cosmetic procedures and body modifications for centuries.

cisgender women get breast augmentations or BBLs to make themselves look more like what society deems to be the conventionally attractive “female” image (which varies based on time period and trend but rarely sways far from idolizing eurocentric features, light skin, and a slim figure). more cisgender men take testosterone than trans men, often for erectile dysfunction or other ~bedroom~ problems. these men are feeling inadequate, and can feel like less of a “man” because of their inability to perform. the solution? gender-affirming care: taking a hormone that makes them feel more “masculine”.

y o u r    b o d y    i s   y o u r s

Photographed by Kaya Comeau @k.a.y.a.p.h.o.t.o 

I was talking to my mother after my double mastectomy, and said I was so grateful to get rid of a part of my body that made me uncomfortable. she joked that she wishes everyone could do that. I looked her dead in the eye and said, “why not? it’s your body.” 

she was quiet for a minute. my mother is a very selfless person, and also very hard on herself, so I think I kind of stunned her when I pointed out her own autonomy. she wouldn’t be getting any kind of life-saving procedure, but if it makes her feel happier in her body, I say why the fuck not?

why not shape your body how you want? why not make your body into the body you want to live in? within reason, of course — in a healthy way. in a grateful way. in a way that we only get once, in this one life. 

her body is hers to build. all our bodies are ours to build. our bodies are ours to shape. why shouldn’t we mould them in whatever way we desire?