"Breathe" by Julie Epp
Rayne Alarcio | Princess-warrior transforms into bunny boy transforms into libremasc lizardgrrrl
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In the background of my phone’s lock screen, violet cherry blooms fall from bony branches reaching for the heavens like repentant witches. My femme lizardgrrl remains frozen in battle stance, battle axe raised, face frozen battle cry, legs spread like a man, pronouns they/them. I wonder, Does this feel right? My poet friend’s voice echoes in my head: Masculinity looks different on everyone. After logging into the game, I click on my first Warrior of Light, the one I call Atalina, born Agatha, still the princess-warrior. Atalina’s wearing that iconic 2B dress that drops from the Nier raids. It’s got shoulder pads, pleats, and a prerogative—the three 90s-era prerequisites for being a proper princess. Little black dresses are fashionable no matter what dimension. Why is Atalina allowed to rock black tights and a dress while I’d get a smug smirk from my aunt? She’d say, I told you. You’re a girl. But clothes are inanimate. They can’t have gender. I open my inventory, hover over the Fantasia vial. Atalina drinks. I take a sip of water. I click the buttons for female lizard girl in the character creation screen, willing the breasts to become pecs, trying on shorter and shorter hairstyles, hoping to find Erika Ishii’s androgyny in the array of voice boxes. Does this feel right? I hover over the buttons for bunny boys, male humans, cat boys, and lizard dudes. I return to the AFAB avatars. Just because I’m agender libremasc doesn’t mean I should give up feeling fabulous. Masculinity looks different on everyone. I adjust accordingly.
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Rayne Alarcio (they/he) is a Los Angeles-born, agender transmasculine Filipino American writer and media artist. Their work has been published or is forthcoming in Cimarron Review, Cartridge Lit, Fifth Wheel Press, and other outlets. Their poetry has been featured at LAX’s Terminal 7–8, and they are a 2019 Scholastic Art & Writing Awards Silver Medalist. Rayne has also opened for spoken word artist Caroline Rothstein. Find them online @raynealarcio or at raynealarcio.com.
Julie Epp is a watercolour artist based in Metro Vancouver whose intimate, dreamlike paintings explore hidden emotions and the shifting layers of identity. Through delicate, surreal imagery, she reflects on what is lost, buried, or unspoken within us. Her work invites stillness and self-examination, offering viewers a quiet space to reconnect with their inner world. http://www.julilyart.com/
