Breasts, Eggs, and Other Things That Make Me Dysphoric

The content of the below post may be disturbing to some. It involves gender dysphoria, body dysmorphia, dissociative identity disorder, body horror, gore, contemplations of suicide/death, and I think mentions of eugenics, technically. Please only continue if these topics will not prove too upsetting to you personally; only you can make this judgement for yourself. Consider yourself forewarned. 

Kawakami’s “Breasts and Eggs” dragged this idea out of the recesses of my brain. It made me uncomfortable to read, and I wanted to explore that discomfort. Once you tear apart your discomfort, find out what makes it tick, and run your fingers across its sinews, you can usually quiet your feelings – but I managed to stumble upon some of my worst internal problems attempting this trick, and fell into these poems with the vigor of someone who desperately needs to give voice to something they should probably take to therapy.

To be frank, I hate making poetry. I tried to like it, I did my best, but my pieces always got horrible reception. Turns out, I was handing them to neurotypicals and framing them as the only people whose opinions existed. Yeah, this was years ago, but it really set in motion a deep distrust of poetry that lingers to this day. But the way people are connecting to the self-hatred and body dysphoria I tapped into is actually really helping me to understand that maybe I just hate structure and boundaries. I need to be able to set my own boundaries to flourish. That being said, I didn’t want to make poetry when I started this project, but I did it anyway because I wanted to suffer? I can only assume.

The best part about this project is, “I” didn’t technically write a lot of this, one of my other personalities did. One of the only functionally helpful parts of being a plurality I’ve found is when it comes to creating art in all its forms. To start, we made a list of body parts that made all of us feel something (mainly dysphoria, but some were empowering things, which was a refreshing change), then spent some time all together just using a blended “stream of consciousness” to type out how each part made each of us feel. This was the basis of every poem I created in that session. I think “eyes” and “lips” were probably the most fruitful, and really expanded on some weird thoughts I’ve been putting off dealing with for a while. 

After there was a page and a half or so of just solid text, I sliced it into pieces and divided the topics up by theme and started breaking them up into that comforting, familiar shape we think of as a “poem”. The editing process was a struggle. In part, because I could only really get three people to read it (though those three people did a Wonderful job!), but also in part because poetry is such a different beast to edit than prose (part of why I still abhor it, like the background radiation of my distaste for it). They aren’t much different than how they started, and I wish that weren’t true, but I guess if you start with a strong foundation the house you build atop will be strong. I hope this lives up to the Unessays of others; I know I have a lot to live up to.

Why Does Literature Matter?

Literature was, is, and will continue to be a living, breathing entity. It shapes, and is shaped by, culture, and so it should matter to those in that culture. It can give readers a glimpse into the past while also providing cautionary themes to be mindful of in the present. But in the way that I care about it most, literature can give hope for a brighter future. If it shapes culture, that is what it must be coaxed to do, and it must constantly be moving forward. Literature matters because representation matters. Literature matters because people matter, and how they feel is relevant. Text, subtext, language – it can all work to make the world safer through bringing understanding and representation through literature.