ABSTRACT
When I decided to live in and with the fullness of my non-binary transmasculine personhood, I crawled back into my own womb and re-birthed myself. I mother, nurture, and tend to this body and this form from the creative energy that this corporeal geography provides. I am not alone. This is not solitude, nor singularity. This is collective and ancestral justice. When my head full of dry curls began to crown, I reached down to pull her out, but larger forces flung my hands upward, palms open. My body and my life are theirs and only through them am I my own person. I collectively negotiate the terms of my existence by remaining vigilantly in-relation with and sensing of them. I became a fugitive when I disidentified from scientific rationalizations of embodied life and all that is posed as its other. Now I am home.
