Black Sheep | Sheer Swag | Just a Boy

Written by St. Steven - 3.6.12

1. Black Sheep

Wearing: Black blazer, black button-up, black skinny jeans, black motorcycle boots, black Alexander McQueen scarf with abstract bone print.

I wear a lot of black. I wear black on my body, I dye my hair black, I wear black eyeliner, I wear black nail polish. I love the color black. Last year I traveled to Eastern Washington with my family for my grandmother’s funeral. While deciding what to wear, my mother laughed at my insistence on wearing head-to-toe black. There’s something beautiful about the severity that tradition can have. Mourning is no exception. After service, I walked in circled and hoarded homemade cookies, avoiding all the people who remember me when I was “this big.” My cousins’ grandmother and I hugged and said hello. Seconds later, she asked in genuine curiosity, “Are you a goth?” I can’t help but to laugh. Frankly, I’m not sure what that means. I state the seemingly obvious. “No, I’m mourning!”

2. Sheer Swag

Wearing: Marilyn Monroe screen printed tank top, cutoff denim vest, sheer black harem pants over black briefs, a black bandana around a beehive, cat eye sunglasses, black wedge ankle boots with silver zippers down the side.

The sun is shining in Seattle and I feel hot. It’s only February. I change and walk to campus to enjoy the beautiful day. As expected, a number of stares greet me on the Ave. Now on campus, I walk past a group of boys skateboarding and one exclaims, “So much swag!” When they see my partially exposed lower body, more audible surprise is generated. I take it as a compliment and keep walking.

3. Just a boy

Wearing: Black velvet dress with gold zebra-print sleeves, torn black nylons, black high-heeled Chelsea boots.

The party has gotten dull, so I go outside and sit on the porch. A guy I met earlier sits next to me and casually asks, “So…transvestite or transgendered?” In my mind, it’s a reasonable question, though a bit brusque. Makeup and high heels are typical part of my day to day appearance, but I’m perfectly content with the anatomy I’ve been given. I also find labels a constant frustration. I shrug and say something like, “Neither..? I just like wearing dresses sometimes.”