Walking Practice

by Dolki Min

I discovered that there are many of you who, when meeting someone new, first take their gender into account. I also get the impression that it is only after a gender has been assigned that you are seen as human. This process is completed so naturally, and with such alacrity, that you aren’t even aware of automatically assigning gender to others.

You grow anxious when, wherever you may be, you encounter someone who you cannot immediately classify as male or female—or, to put it another way, when the “evidence” for your gender judgment is conflicted. This is because, according to your narrow system of understanding, it is difficult to decide how to interact—for example, what honorific should you use—with someone whose body you simply cannot decipher.

What does it mean to be a woman? Among other things, it means that you have to decorate yourself and act like a woman.

check the map as I start to penetrate the atmosphere blocking my path, the air as thick as my body. It seems that even the air gets tired of pretending to be empty now and then.

Please continue to be so inattentive. Please only give me attention when I want it.

My body is a filthy jerk that is constantly keeping its eyes peeled for any chance to betray me.

Thankfully, the insoles of my sneakers have dried nicely. I wish I could reward them with a treat.

My body is t i r e d from d o i n g i t s b e s t today. We have a l o v e - h a t e —no, a love-h a t e - h a t e - h a t e —relationship, but if I am going to coax and cajole it i n t o p e g g i n g away again tomorrow, I m u s t t r e a t i t with the u t m o s t devotion. It’s hard to g e t i t t o w o r k if it starts to sulk.

Although, i t w o u l d b e s o n i c e if someone would c o m e t o m y s i d e and hold me tight. I f t h e y s t a y at least until I fall asleep, I w o n ’ t m i n d if they leave.

My orgasm briefly w a s h e s a w a y s u f f e r i n g . Everyone, please masturbate! A l t h o u g h , there are times when self-p l e a s u r e o n l y l e a d s t o m o r e p a i

Happiness is an incredibly rare and dangerous emotion. I’m someone who can’t bear the fall from happiness to despair. I need a safety net to prepare for it since the higher I climb, the greater my injuries will be when I fall.

My gait has quickly become the object of ridicule and horror. Am I wrong? It would be great if I was. I understand their hearts, a hundred, a thousand times over. For them, life is so boring that if someone doesn’t walk with ease, taking steady steps on two healthy legs of the same length, they violently overreact as if they were waiting for it. I think their bar for reactions is pretty low. They can’t wait to ogle a monster. Without monsters, how would they withstand the unrelenting futility of their days?

I’m in pain, I tell you. My body is slowly approaching the point where it’s difficult to pretend that I am okay.

You say that good things come to those who wait? Nothing good comes, but I keep waiting.

conscience, never fear! For conscience quickly crumbles with repeated evil deeds.

In the subway, in the street, in restaurants, in shopping malls, in parks . . . their expressions and words that question my humanity irrespective of where I am made me tear myself apart and rebuild myself piece by piece.

When you want to be a woman, follow my advice. Speak in a thin, pretty voice. It has to be high-pitched. Try pushing it up into your nose. Cover your mouth when you laugh. Press down firmly and neatly when writing. Grow your hair to your shoulders. Curls are discouraged. Flap your wrists often. Show enthusiasm about grocery shopping and cooking. Beef up your cooking skills. Be unfailingly kind to others—especially men. Use your charm to get out of danger. Fall in love with a man. Eat very little. Even if you really want to finish it, leave some on your plate. Make sure you attain a slim figure and maintain it for your whole life. Play dumb, with no regard for your actual intelligence. Disparage your driving. Be chatty. Try your best to sincerely enjoy cleaning and doing laundry. Think of weakness as a virtue, and let your strength rot away. Wear makeup even in your dreams. Wear bright clothing. Conceal your sexual appetite, and take it to your grave. Become shyness incarnate. . . . There’s a fuckton more where that all comes from.

Please forgive me, my body.

He’s a real fucking dog. Ah, forgive me. I’ve accidentally lumped dogs in with the likes of him. I would like to give a sincere apology to all the dogs of Earth.