Author Note: Helen Robertson

Helen Robertson’s poem “Aposematism” appeared in The Puritan: Issue 46, Summer 2019. As part of our Author Notes series, they share some of the background behind creating the poem.

After finding out that I loved Little Fish but was unaware that Casey Plett had a short story collection—A Safe Girl to Love—my friend Kae insisted I borrow her copy. She repeatedly told me “I like it more than Nevada.” This was supposed to be high praise. She continued referencing Nevada, particularly its main character Maria, and I had to admit that I hadn’t heard of it, either. Aghast at my dearth of knowledge about trans girl lit she lent it to me, having just completed her annual re-read.

I had seen myself reflected in ways that I didn’t enjoy in Casey Plett’s books. It may have been wonderfully written, but identifying with the hard-drinking, casually anxious protagonists did not make me feel great about aspects of my life I had come to passively accept. Imogen Binnie’s Maria was an even ruder mirror.

I related so hard to Maria in ways I liked even less. Her cycles of self-sabotage and self-destruction were clearly recognizable in my history. (Although perhaps I don’t execute them with the same level of willful glee.) Seeing yet another disaster of a trans woman so strongly embody aspects of my past and personality made me seriously examine my behaviours.

There were, however, also small strangely benign aspects of her I connected with. She was an avid cyclist (a habit I wish to get back into), she loved books, she loved silly monster movies, and, most affecting, she had a confrontational, in your face, patched up punk jacket that she loved. That she was proud of.

I found myself once again thinking, “Why am I this bitch?”

One aspect of her personality which I feel many trans folk relate to is her perpetual worry that she will be clocked and her belief that it will be “a whole thing.” Those feelings being present even when there is no reason to expect it. This, I realized, was why I wore my jacket. Why I made it so aggressively queer; so aggressively feminist.

I was fully aware that one of the many flavours of terrible men on the internet had turned aposematism into a meme. “Beware women with dyed hair, bright coloured animals are poisonous and toxic haha.”In my case, however, it was entirely true. It was a warning signal.

Might you read me as cis then get weird or violent when you realize I am trans? How did my jacket not tip you off? You want to chat with me despite my obvious disinterest because I seem nice? Do you still think I seem nice dressed like this? Would you be surprised if I got in your face when you didn’t leave me alone?

I would be, because I’m bluffing. I fold under confrontation. I desperately want to be that woman who can stand up for herself; not just for others (though even that usually takes a bit of the aforementioned hard drinking). However, as much as I desire to be her, I’m simply not.

ButI’ve always loved the punk aesthetic and, having drifted politically left in my mid to late 20s, had come to appreciate the ethics. Why shouldn’t I just go for it hoping that eventually I could internalize that confidence?

And why shouldn’t I, as always, process these feelings via a poem?

Helen Robertson is a genderqueer trans woman moving through the lifelong process of accepting how lucky they’ve been, using poetry to excise their ire and sorrow—hopefully turning it into something worthwhile. They have been published in BywordsCV2, and have work forthcoming in TheNew Quarterly.They are the secretary for TreeReading Series.

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