Change Over Time
Every time, before I inject myself, I ask is it in my highest interest to become a visible man?
The answer is a resounding yes!
I am the one to grasp a sword in my hand, to slay myself—-a death of my pre-testosterone self.
I hear the whispers of my fears. I see my doubts, my thoughts, all of my emotions around me.
I sit with them as if they are guests in my home.
What will I look like? What will I sound like? How deep will my voice go?
How much hair will I have on my body? Do I need to sprout more hair?
Side-burns? Shave my face?
My throat feels tender.
The peach fuzz is coming in on my face. Strawberry blonde, thicker, coarser, unruly, there are more golden hairs on my body.
My face has grown. I need new glasses.
What am I surrendering to?
What kind of man will I become?
Will I be just another man walking down the street?
My past erased, my history invisible. What will I pass into?
Every week, I unsheathe my sword, my syringe of testosterone.
My mood is more level.
How will people treat me, will I be treated with respect?
I give birth to a change over time.
This beautiful boy is becoming a beautiful man.
It is the flow—the ebb and flow of the tide.
The waves crash against the sand.
How delightful the sand must feel when the waves caress the shore.
How delicious the waves must feel when they meet the sands.
In that dance was a change over time.
We danced together.
I met her when I was four months on “T.”
We fell in love when I was six months on “T.”
Oh, how we danced together, so deliciously.
My changing body and her body.
Discovery of different layers and levels of pleasure in my newly emerging body.
My changing body—vulnerabilities—new landscapes of discovery.
Explore—-embodied—-in my skin. Pleasure. Open, my heart open, so open and willing.
She said that she would love me in any form.
I am soaring; the red tail hawk flies high.
An integration of who I was with who I am now, and becoming.
This liminality—this in between space.
Being seen as in between.
I am changing.
I am growing.
Eight months on “T” and with great effort, I can finally cry again.
The only loss comes with change. The only loss comes from change.
The slow shift and loss of my queer visibility as I shift into visible masculinity.
This man gives birth to himself. Waves crashing on sand—It was a change over time.
What space is there for a man to fall apart emotionally and receive support?
My emotions are more neutral and level.
Hormonal shifts from moon cycles to cycles of the sun.
There isn’t one experience that I can grasp or keep for very long.
It’s not easier; it’s different.
There is no transition finish line
Ewan Duarte is a professional writer, photographer, educator, and award-winning independent filmmaker based in Oakland, CA. Ewan is currently working on a new film project titled, Queering Yoga. www.queeringyoga.com His prior films, Spiral Transition (2010) and Change Over Time (2013) have won awards and screened in more than 140 film festivals worldwide such as Frameline, BFI London LGBT Film Festival, and many more. His articles have been published in LILIPOH magazine, Original Plumbing magazine, IndieWIRE, Huffington Post, and the forthcoming anthology, Manifest: Transitional Wisdom on Male Privilege. Spiral Transition and Change Over Time are both distributed by the filmmaker and The Canadian Filmmakers Distribution Center (CFMDC). www.ewanduarteproductions.com
This issue of Chelsea Station was co-edited by
Mitch Kellaway, AJ Sass, and Noah Grabeel.