I am a monster, a hybrid, a construction, a bio-hacked assemblage, a coming-together-of-parts, a body without organs, a realization, a far-off dream. My body is a mismatch. My brain is an amalgamation of many intersecting contradictions. I am a monster – hear me bellow, listen to me pull myself apart and put myself back together again. My identity is fractured. My self-knowledge is clouded. I am a wolf-pack, a multitude, a colony. I am a refusal, an unregulated biomass, a gender terrorist. I am not a person – I am a becoming, a process, a field, a flow of atoms. I am monstrous star stuff.

My only stability is my desire for change, my desire to become someone (whoops – I mean “something“) I am not, a desire to evolve, mutate, and self-assemble. I refuse to be comforted by the soft glow of identity. I don’t want to be a subject – I want to be a force, a physical manifestation of quantum reality. My brain is continuously devouring itself, recreating itself in a new image. My brain sends feelers out into the world to touch what it is not, to gather information about the reality I crave to inhabit. These tentacles also reach back into myself, creating an infinite hallway of mirrors, a blackhole of subjectivity that keeps turning in on itself, warping itself into a field of potential.

Monster politics seeks to destroy the integrity of the human body. Technology is our saviour. Monster politics seeks to destabilize the metaphysics of gender. Gender cannot save us – we must escape from it at maximum velocity. Not everyone is a monster, not everyone wants to be a monster. But monsters feed off the fear of not wanting to be a monster. It is the fuel which drives us to be even more hideous, to cast off the shackles of evolution to become cyborgs, beings that transcend the mere human.

The hormones flowing inside my body are not produced within my body. They are products of technogender bio-hacking. These hormones are right now as I write this working to deconstruct and reconstruct my insides, turning me ever more into a monster.

The problem with monsters is that everyone thinks they are ugly. But on the contrary, monsters are beautiful creatures. Monsters inhabit the part of reality that no one else can. We inhabit the liminal spaces, the in-between-ness, the dimensions that exist outside of the comforting confines of the gender binary. My gender is a mess. It cannot be reconciled with the old transsexual narrative of being a woman trapped in a man’s body. I am a monster trapped in a non-monstrous body. I am a contradiction imprisoned inside a stable field of containment. I am taking hormones to shatter the prison cell, to escape from normalcy. I am experimenting on my body not because I am in the “wrong body” but because I aim to see just how far my body can change. I want to push my body to its extreme hormonal limits. I want to unleash the biological creativity lurking inside all my cells.

The traditional explanation of transgenderism is that I am “uncomfortable in my body”. My explanation is that my body is not enough for me. It just doesn’t cut it. Discomfort is a watered down way of saying that I want to become a monster, a hybrid, a field of intersecting biological contradictions.My body cannot be reduced to a single category. My body refuses easy definitions. My body is an act of terrorism. It strikes terror in the hearts of those who cannot see the body for what it is: a field of potential, a virtual hyper-space of biological possibility.

I am a monster. But that does not define me. Monster politics recognizes that monstrosity itself is monstrous, it cannot be contained within easy conceptual organizations. And don’t tell me I am not a monster. Don’t tell me I am pure and whole. Don’t tell me because I won’t believe you. The wolf-pack inside me will not listen – it will simply attempt to devour you.