9pm last night, I reconnected with my 5th grade teacher Ms. Gregg for the first time in 39 years. I was the kid pulling out toenails and hair, picking at scabs, desperate for a prick of pleasure amidst the pain. I thanked her for holding space for me. I came out as queer and trans and held my breath, awaiting her response. A few hours later, she wrote, “What saddens me is that I had no idea you were hurting so much! To me, you were delightful! Phoenix, I would have loved to have a kid like you. I am so sorry that your mom could not see and accept you as you are. Sending all kinds of love and acceptance!”
4am. Jolted upright to humming body, vibratory crackle, nervous system powered on at full throttle. I peer down and see my 10 year old, crushed with new growths on their chest. I release them to the earth, to be held by the bosom of mother’s love. I feed them milk. I rock them in my arms. I hold space as they cry. I whisper, “You won’t always feel broken. You will make a beautiful mosaic of the parts, cracks sealed with gold. You will shapeshift and get top surgery in 38 years. I know it feels like an eternity, but it’s just long enough for you to experience the transformation that suffering and love both bring. It’s worth the wait. You will experience euphoria in every cell of your body. You will fly free, a bird, your scars wings spread across your chest.”
The warrior shaman releases Amber Sue Field back to the soy and corn fields and my adoptive mother Elaine Mildred Field to the wind and welcomes Phoenix Song. I am the mother who abandoned and exiled her children who is going back to reclaim them. I am the orphan mothering myself. I am a butterfly turning into a man, a man turning into a butterfly. I am shame revealing itself only to be released. I am the pleasure body holding an erotic charge.
I create new narratives, stories that inspire, stories that help us heal our divides, both inner and outer. I tell tall tales and short stories with a trickster wink, a tear in my eye.
Today, I await another email from Ms. Gregg, my beloved teacher and mentor and friend. I look forward to a deepening reconnection with her and my 10 year old as I release them like waves moving across the waters.