The pressure we’re under. Most people would break under the stress of injecting themselves with grey market hormones, and that’s the least of our worries. We find that part easy.
K is receiving visitors at her Glasgow apartment. They come to her for hormones procured online, and to learn how to inject them. K wants these friends of friends to embrace the danger that comes with all genuine freedom and rebellion. “The future is made of harm,” she counsels, “best learn to make with it.” But most of them are a type of “morally earnest queer” whose demands K is starting to find exhausting. In her own words: “You want to be fucked by your doctor, I think, and have settled to be mothered by me.” This playful, bitter and mysterious text puts its finger on the sore spot of gay liberation’s failure and pushes, enough to hurt, but in a good way.
