Nevada: A Novel

by Imogen Binnie

Like, obviously transitioning is hard and being trans is hard, in ways Steph will never be able to understand. Maybe being trans just means Maria can’t get off. But the self-protectiveness around sex extends to literally every other area of her life: she won’t check the balance of her checking account unless the ATM refuses to give her money; she fixates on the possibility of having bedbugs for months before she’ll even lift the mattress and look for eggs. She’s been working at the same job she hates for more than half a decade because she’s afraid to look for another one.

It’s a problem: you grow up reading about punk and grunge and earnest dude rock in all the magazines and internalizing the idea that artifice is totally bullshit, man, and we wear these clothes because they’re comfortable, not for any kind of fashion statement, and we’re just trying to communicate, not be cool, and then you transition and realize, oh shit, there is going to have to be some intentionality in the way I present my body and my actions. I am going to have to break the patterns of clothing and voice and hair I’ve had in place all my life if I’m ever going to be read the way I want to be read.