CT Moon

Remember how seventh grade was pretty much the worst? I don’t think that age is kind to any human. Decades later (several decades), anytime I hear someone is in the seventh grade, I shudder.

My particular episode featured being that kid whom the entire middle school, sixth graders included, bullied on-the-daily (sage advice of the time, “They’re just jealous of you, don’t pay them any attention.”). In case that wasn’t enough, I went through the whole year thinking my teacher, Ms. Eldridge, hated me. My handwritten papers (1987) on the English Literature we read consistently came back to me bleeding her red ink.

She saved her singular praise for the very last day of class: “CT, “ (not my name then) she said to me, “You’re a good writer. And you’ll always be a writer. “ There was a pause before she shook her head to complete her thought, “But you’re going to have to find another way to pay the bills.”

I’ve thought about this a lot. I thought about it while I filled notebook after notebook while dating writers and encountering quintessential early trans questions like, “do I LIKE them or do I want to BE them?” I thought about it while I worked myriad jobs and launched a successful entrepreneurial career. I thought about it when I said “no” to all that and sat down to write my book. I thought about it while I shephered my own child through the seventh grade and beyond (NEVER ONCE telling him to ignore bullying). And I’m still thinking about it.

I’m a non-binary trans* writer living in Seattle’s vibrant Capitol Hill neighborhood. In addition to being turned on by words, I also get off on comfort, and the material joys of being an animal on the planet.

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