There is actually a female ziegevolk in a webisode apart from the series, and as far as i know she was a friend of Juliette
Now, based on her appeareance, i'm guessing their wesen form wouldn't really change that much compared to the human form? Idk, wanna hear what you think.
So, that's heckin' cool! I had assumed, because the only minisode/webisode I've seen or know about is the Bad Hair Day one, that Ziegevolk must be a primarily male species.
I've just read the synopsis of the story and now can only figure there aren't any main differences between male gender or female gendered Ziegevolk except for, perhaps, secondary sexual characteristics like the growth of or lack of a beard, the having of differently presenting genitalia, and mammary gland tissue growth, which is the same for people who aren't wesen.
So I assume that transitioning via hormones would act similarly to them in their human form as in their wesen form. Before reading this episode summary I also thought perhaps born male gendered Ziegevolk would be the only ones who could control others and that HRT might affect those abilities, but it seems moot with the new knowledge.
What is interesting is that their hormones work equally on male gendered and female gendered individuals (and presumably nonbinary and intersex folks). Additionally, it doesn't matter what gender they identify as or their presumed sexuality, their hormones work on everyone with the potential to be romantic.
And, really, if we're basing them on the satyr myth that tracks pretty well.
2 notes
·
View notes
When I was small, a family friend gave me a copy of The Little Bookroom by Eleanor Farjeon, and it became one of those companion-books, comfort books, that I returned to and re-read over and over. Some stories stood out to me more than others and some I never really got; that’s the way sometimes, and sometimes those stories wait in the back of our minds until we’ve ‘lived our way into the answers’, or at least into a different perspective; until we’re ready for them.
So that’s how I came back to the memory of this story last night, processing the after effects of christmas dinner with family who love me but seem unable or unwilling to grapple with my gender identity; half asleep, like the ground dropping out beneath me; they destroyed it because it didn’t have a name...
I read half of On The Way To Language for my BFA thesis, so I know that Language is the House of Being, and I know what that means when I say it (and yes, I also know that Heidegger was an antisemite, a coward at best and a full-on nazi at worst, I know all of that and his work has still had value for me; you can re-read your harry potter books, you just can’t buy new copies, y’know? anywho). I had to take the long, painstaking way around to understanding that it’s almost impossible to recognise, realise, conceptualise a Thing without a Word.
Which is how come I couldn’t know, until I was in my early thirties, that I’m nonbinary, genderqueer, demisexual, &c. I didn’t know it was a thing. I didn’t know the words. And I think about that a lot.
We destroy the possibilities of those things that we cannot name. The Wise Men say it cannot be.
I’m not here tryna say that E.F. wrote this story as a trans/nonbinary allegory. I very much doubt it. But it’s there all the same.
More things in heaven and earth than dreamt in your philosophy, you arbiters of possibility, you deciders of lot. We are emergent, not fixed. We’ll name ourselves if we have to. We’ll find the people who will speak those names with love. And your power will fade. And it won’t matter that you couldn’t believe.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
THE FLOWER WITHOUT A NAME
One day a Cottager's child, whose name was Christie, went into the
meadows beyond her Mother's garden and picked a flower. This happened
long ago, yet not so long ago as all that; that is to say, it did not
happen today, nor did it happen on the first day of all, but on some
day in between.
Christie was delighted with her flower, for it was very beautiful, and
she came running to find her Mother, who was watering the pinks in the
round bed.
'Mother,' cried Christie, 'look at my pretty flower I've found!'
Her Mother was never too busy to look when Christie asked her to, so
she put down her jug of water and took the flower in her hand.
'There's a pretty flower now!' she said.
'Yes, Mother, isn't it?' said Christie. 'What is its name?'
'Why,' said her Mother, 'it is a--it is a---- Dear me, to think I
don't know its name! You must ask Father.'
Christie ran to the Cottager, who was mending the fence, and she held
up her flower. 'What is its name, Father?' she asked.
'Let me see now,' said the Cottager, laying down his hammer. He looked
at the flower for a minute or two, and then he scratched his head.
'Well, well!' said he. 'I've forgotten its name, if ever I knew it.
But give it to me, for I'm to see my Lord's Keeper about some
mole-traps, and maybe he'll know, being woodwise.'
When Christie's Father had had his talk with the Keeper, he showed him
the flower. 'What's the name of this here?' asked the Cottager.
The Keeper looked at it, and sniffed at it, and thought a bit. But at
the end of his thinking he said, 'I never saw its like before, in wood
or field or marsh or hedge. I don't know its name. However, I'm just
about going up to the Manor, so I'll take it along and ask my Lord's
Clerk, for he's a clever young man, and has to wear spectacles along of
reading so many books.'
Now my Lord's Clerk had studied most things, and flowers not the least
of them. He had indeed in his Lord's library all the books about
flowers that ever were written. So when the Keeper sought him out and
said, 'I've a flower here I'd like to know the name of,' the Clerk
answered, 'Show it to me, and I'll tell you its name.'
But when he set eyes on it he knew he had spoken too soon.
'That's a queer thing!' said my Lord's Clerk. 'For I know the names of
all the flowers in the world, by both their court and country names,
yet I don't know the name of this one. Leave it with me, and I'll see
if I can find out.'
The Keeper left the flower with the Clerk, and the Clerk pressed it and
dried it, and spent a whole year trying to find out something about it.
He put the question to the wisest scholars in the kingdom, and the
matter spread abroad till wise men in lands over the sea were all
puzzling their wits about the name of the flower. But in the end they
could not find one for it.
So after a twelvemonth the Clerk came to the Keeper and said, 'That
flower you brought me has no name at all.'
'What flower's that?' asked the Keeper, who had forgotten all about it.
The Clerk reminded him of it, and said:
'The wisest men in the world have but one opinion, and it is this. We
know that Adam gave names to all the flowers created, and as this
flower has remained unnamed since the days of Eden, it is doubtless one
which was forgotten at the Creation, and the Lord has only just
remembered to make it. But as it was never named by Adam, it has no
name now; therefore, the wise men have destroyed it--for how can
anything be without a name?'
'I'm sure I couldn't say,' said the Keeper. 'I expect you're right.'
And the next time he met the Cottager he said, 'That there flower of
yours hadn't any name at all.'
'What flower?' said the Cottager, who had a short memory. The Keeper
reminded him of the flower, adding that the wise men had destroyed it.
'Well, no harm's done,' said the Cottager; and that night at supper he
said to his little daughter:
'Seemingly your flower had no name of its own after all.'
'But where _is_ my flower?' asked Christie.
'The wise men destroyed it,' said the Cottager. No more was said, and
from that day no one except Christie remembered that such a flower had
ever been.
But all her life, and when she was quite an old woman, Christie would
sometimes say to herself and others:
'When I was a child I found such a pretty flower.'
And when they asked her what flower it was, she smiled and answered,
'Only our Lord could tell you; it hadn't got a name.'
20 notes
·
View notes
AFAB non-binary poetry(?) By me
I look into my mind, asking whats my gender
"you're a female" it said thoughtful
but that is my sex, gender is a completely
different thing, separate from sex
I look into my soul, asking if am i really a girl
the answer i got was no
even though I've always worn
pink clothes, skirts and dresses.
I ask my heart if I'm a boy, unsure of all i knew
the answer is also no
even though I've always wanted
toy cars and plastic dinosaurs.
So if im not a girl, nor a boy, what am I?
My soul cannot explain it
it looks confusing and almost nonexistent
but its there, simple and complicated.
But the best answer to the question was:
I'm just myself
"girl" and "boy" are binary terms, so if
im not either one of them, I'm non-binary
2 notes
·
View notes