I prefer these pronouns in order of preference, they/them, Jacci (yes, I am calling my name a pronoun) or she/her (so if you stuff up, don’t stress, we’ll work on getting to they and Jacci together).

I may be voicing an unpopular opinion for some here, so hold onto your flaps and prepare for lift-off.

I really do mean hold onto your labia (if you have labia and if you don’t flap a piece of anatomy as you see fit). (A)FAB.  (Assigned). Female. At. Birth.  This is my biological sex as ascribed to me by the medical profession when they held me in mid air and declared “it’s a girl”.

And then the shite began.

Because for me, girl was not me. During my childhood people called girl seemed to do the opposite to me for completely illogical reasons.  I remember being specifically bullied for doing technical drawing, woodwork and metal work at high school as a “girl”.

I am not sure how having a vagina changes my ability to hold and use an angle grinder (spoiler alert…IT DOESN’T).

No decision I have ever made for myself (as opposed to decisions I’ve made to please others) has had anything to do with ideas of boy/girl binaries.

Once I was told I couldn’t lift as much as people with penises.  Yet I was a powerlifter and men the same height as me who didn’t powerlift couldn’t lift as much as me.  People bigger than me could and some couldn’t.  It was everything to do with training and dedication and nothing to do with dangly bits or love tunnels*.

The societal concept of gender – AFAB or AMAB has nothing to do with what we can or cannot do, some just firmly believe it does.  For some, this has benefits and both the power relationships and sometimes choice (I would argue to a much lesser degree) reinforce them.

In this traditional binary sense, woman, I could barely identify with.  I only do in a lesser sense because of my life experiences of being told what to do and how to do it based solely on the fact I happen to be an adult who owns and therefore has been called woman.

I. did. not. get. it.  I liked all non-traditionally “girl” things (whatever that means because I like cooking cupcakes and can sew as well as wield and fire a rifle) and I did not conform to gendered ideas of how I should look or behave.  That was something I sometimes identified with – but not a traditional way. I related to the politics and the issues I experienced as someone AFAB and seen as a woman by society as I aged. So I fought for women’s rights and continue to fight for women’s rights. But that means trans women too and trans exclusionary politics disgust me.

When I tried to be “traditionally feminine” because a lover said I should – I literally became depressed and suffered huge mental health problems.

Why? Because, to me, this binary stuff is utter bullshit.  I cannot see any logic in the argument that what genitalia you have should define your life in terms of behaviour, occupation, reproductive rights…and the list goes on.  Yet some people seem determined to fight to continue to oppress each other with rigid boundaries about supposed genitalia dependent difference.

And then some of us started to embrace new language I was delighted to find a name that, for me personally, was better than woman and didn’t necessarily exclude me from the politics of woman either.

Non-binary.  My primary identity is non-binary.  I don’t identify with how the world classifies me into binaries.

I prefer they/them pronouns, but I am okay if you use she/her and will work with you on mutual understanding. But I would prefer you use Jacci to be honest.  I don’t get too worried when people use she/her, because that might be about how they see me at a given point in time.  There have been times when I have been confused for a man and got called he.  That didn’t bother me either, because I don’t think the distinctions HAVE to exist.

I think if we suddenly decided to make people without attached ear lobes (as opposed to attached ear lobes) take less pay there would be world-wide riots.  I don’t see genitalia as any different to different ear lobes.  Okay, this is an extreme example.

But just imagine how the earing and jewellery world could monopolise on this! Ear piercing rates for would be like haircut rates are now – arbitrarily more expensive depending on if you have a penis or a vagina.  It is in no way logical.

I do occupy this space of “in-between” that nonbinary affords me quite comfortably and I feel safe here.  Even that notion of “in-between” is not accurate.  I think we can be a range of qualities in how we express our identities.  Identity is not fixed, that is a capitalist myth sent to profit from us and create profitable insecurities that drive sales revenue.

Here’s some (not all) aspects of my intersectional identity.

Feminist.  Because I genuinely believe intersectional feminism is dedicated to relieving the world of sexism and it’s ridiculous binaries (no matter how people identify).  I may not believe in the notion that binary defines me – but if you do, I will also say “okay, that’s who you are, you identify as <insert here>”.  I don’t care how you identify, as long as you don’t tell me it’s the right way for me or force systems of oppression on me or others because of a belief in a binary.  You can have your binary, but I’m not forcing on you anything by simply existing so don’t insist I adopt your methods of existence.   It’s not sexist to like make up or pink – it’s sexist to assign that notion to what genitalia someone was born with and treat them accordingly.

Nonbinary.  I don’t relate to you or the world through the lens of my biological sex organs and societal conventions about them.  I don’t make decisions based upon whether or not my vagina would approve (on no matter in my life – not even sex).   I have a complicated relationship with my breasts, partly from an abuse history, but also because I have never really felt they were an important part of my body.  I am looking at top surgery and frankly, can’t wait to be rid of them.  However, I’ve had a lot of surgeries and the thought of another in the next couple of years has made me delay.

Woman Politick.  This is a lesser identity but none the less really important part of my identity. I don’t say woman front and centre.  I don’t run around singing “I am woman, hear me roar”.  I did once and I did a disservice to people who really strongly identify as women.  I don’t particularly like the word…to me it centres our identity around “man” and dare I say it…the W. O. bit could be “without”. Without manly bits.  To me, while most of my life I have stood in the heart of the woman’s movement, it’s not how I would like to see all of us with certain genitalia lumped together – but to me it represents the social aspect of the binary and is not a negative or positive term in the way I use it.  How others use the word woman, in particular those prone to misogyny, is their issue, not mine.  I don’t have any rigid rules applied to it because those rules are not logical and are socially constrained (things I don’t relate to).

Grey a-sexual/pan-sexual attracted.  I have a long history of finding myself in coercive sexual relationships where I found myself performing a stereotype of “female desire” I had been taught by pornography.  I had a “married young” relationship with a very straight, psychologically abusive AMAB who insisted on strong “feminine” roles for me, even in the bedroom and who insisted we watch hetero-normative pornography*.  At one point in this relationships I took testosterone therapy to improve my sex drive (as seen on Oprah in the 1990’s).  I’m also autistic and in the bedroom I did what movies and films taught me too until I accepted just how unimportant to me sex acts are to me.  I didn’t have a strong sense of what I liked and that was where I looked for inspiration and their was nothing I identified with.  I just did what I was told to keep the peace knowing if I didn’t the put downs and slurs aimed at me would continue.  I learned to force myself to like heterosexual ideas about sex, and even mastered some tantric and BDSM in the process.  But the fact is, it was never really a choice and I spent until my 40’s hating myself for it.

The fact is my sexual attraction is dependent on other connections other than gender, sex or physical appearance and when I genuinely feel attracted to someone – it’s slow to develop and quite rare and may or may not lead to sex acts.  And that is completely okay and completely healthier for me.

So yeah, there it is for all to see.  The gender identity politics of me.  Like it or not.

*sorry for the use of slang terms of penis and vagina.  I personally cringe at those descriptions and believe we shouldn’t use them – but when people use them it makes me laugh and when I speak I talk about how funny I find them. 

*If you think because I am autistic I should like traditional gender roles that are like “rules” – I would argue that I like logical rules, not emotive ones (and you and I need to have a discussion about autism stereotypes).  

 

 

My 18 year old self,  would never have expected me, in my 50th year of life, to be:

1. Doing my first solo show at Melbourne International Comedy Festival
2. Becoming an underwear model for ModiBodi

Both happening in 2020.

I also can’t tell you what a strange feeling it is to hear:
“I just saw you on the big screen at Sunshine shopping centre”
And
“You just went past me on the back of a bus in Wheelers Hill”

Some of you who have seen my #comedy in the velvet vulva will know it’s all about body positivity.  It was designed for a show about reproductive rights and for the Northern Territory Midwives to fundraise for them.  We discussed loving our bodies and not body shaming as part of the show.

I’m very proud to be associated with ModiBodi and it’s body positive, ethical fashion and sustainability messaging.

My show, Tardy, is the first to feature an assistance dog and probably the first about the systems that support ableism and stereotypes about autism.

The front of house staff are also #autistic and fabulous! It’s all a little exciting.

But I honestly could not have foreseen being a comedian and an underwear model in my 40’s and 50’s as a queer autistic person.

So, take that #ableism…take that #ageism!

 

Assistance isn’t a big enough word for what Pepper the wonder dog does for me.

Yet some people see “assistance dog” and think she is a “pet with a vest”.  I often get people approach us and say “but what does she do?”. Currently I am feeling like talking about her, so if you ask me nicely and without a sneer (this happens) I am likely to tell you.

But just keep in mind, there are a couple of issues with this:

1. Assistance dogs (even those in training) have very specific tasks that are linked to their human handlers disability, AND…
2. I don’t have to disclose my disability to you. Even if you are the restaurant owner (she is allowed to be there with me).  Would you ask someone why they wear glasses? No? Then you do not need to know my disability (even though I am public about that – not everyone is, so don’t put people in that position).  I am always happy to discuss how clever Pepper is though!

AND I’ve now written this post!  So, yes, there is a bit of educational stuff below, but then read on and you get to the interesting bit of what she does for me.  Plus I need to add, what a fantastic life she has with me.

So first, let’s clear some things up:

1. She is protected by federal legislation even when a trainee.  Assistance dogs in Australia do not get trainee status overnight, they must pass preliminary standards and testing.  And for the record, it’s a long, expensive and intense process and people with disabilities don’t just wake up one day and decide to do this, it’s not a choice like a pet is.
2. There are only two places she cannot legally be.  One is an operating theatre and the other is inside a commercial kitchen. As a trainee she cannot yet fly inside an aircraft with me, but she will be able to eventually.
3. We use “assistance dog” in Australia.  She is technically a service dog, but that language gets confused with dogs that serve in the Police or military.
4. There is no such thing as a “companion dog” in Australia.  They are not accredited and don’t have the same legal rights.  There is good reason for that, but that is another post in itself.  We do have “therapy dogs” in Australia, but a dog can’t be both an assistance dog and a therapy dog.
5. Don’t distract the dog.  Avoid patting them and eye contact and definitely don’t whistle or click or try and call them.  The reason is the bond they have with their human is primary to them they are working dogs.
6. Assistance dogs are not just one particular breed.  It’s about temperament and the bond with the human handler, not breed.  Traditionally some breeds have been favoured but this is changing.
7. Pepper does not do anything she doesn’t want to do and has a very comfortable life.  That’s a key thing about cruelty free training methods and that builds the kind of bond she and I have.  The moment she looks like she doesn’t want to do something, we don’t do it.  Usually the reason she won’t want to is because she’s tired or she thinks it will heighten my anxiety.  So she really is the boss.  Part of the assessment is how enthusiastic she is when that vest goes on.  You may have read that dogs like to work alongside humans, I believe this to be true.  She is a very content and loved doggo.

Now, to the interesting bit about her tasks:

1. Pepper helps detect dangerously high blood pressure.  She knows my scent and biorhythms so well she knows when my blood pressure is up.  She whines at me when I haven’t taken medication.  This is also why you should avoid distracting her.
2. Pepper detects changes in my heartrate.  She is better than my Fitbit heartrate monitor.  She slows me down when I am getting anxious.  She has been known to knock my mobile phone away from me when I am getting stressed over a post online. She will slow her walk to make me slow or lean into me.  This is the signal I know to change direction or change what I am doing.
3. Pepper helps me navigate crowded streets and venues.  She gives me physical space from people.  As an autistic person this is vital to my well being. Plus she comes to comedy gigs with me.  As someone who experiences sensory overload and is literally frightened of crowds but also fiercely independent, the help she gives helps me manage energy levels.  She is super relaxed and chilled out and no sounds or crowds bothers her.  Again, she is totally the boss of me.

Finally in November 2019 – she literally saved my life.  I was suicidal and she curled her body around me and touched her nose to my cheek every now and then as I grappled with trying to work through the urge to take my own life.  This is not a choice for me, it is part of my disabilities that I manage that my brain sometimes does this to me – particularly after a period of stress or, in this case, a workplace injury.

The life expectancy of autistic people is 36 – 52, I’m 50 this year.  I’ve made a promise to do my best to stay on this earth for the rest of Pepper’s life (she is 6 and greyhounds generally live until they are 13 or 14).

I’ve had an interesting life and I’ve done my best to fill it with experiences I love.  I intend on keeping doing that, with Pepper’s love and help for as long as my brain and body will let me.  I’m realistic about this and I would honestly just like to see 55.  With Pepper around I know I can do that.

Assistance isn’t a big enough word at all.  I like Pepper the Wonder Dog better.