On Transness

Once again, I am mindlessly scrolling Instagram. Once upon a time, I believed that my loyalty to this app lay in a desire to keep in touch with others, but I admit these days that this is a lie. When you are too worn out to concentrate on anything else, you, too, will understand the appeal of that instant flash of dopamine. I don’t know when the algorithm, the obedient robot that people treat like flesh, pinpointed me as someone easily hypnotised by make-up. It is a quick and satisfying fix. The artists in these videos draw a perfect line from A to B, and they are much better at it than me. They are prettier than me; they are wealthier than me. They always undergo a fairy-tale transformation from beautiful to more beautiful; their bare skin was covered with foundation and concealer before the camera even started to roll. They decorate their faces with the shapes favoured by modern fashion – sharp cheekbones, sharp eyeliner, full lips, thick lashes. They are usually women, and when they are not, they are homophobically harassed for their perfectionistic adherence to a female beauty standard in the comments.

Despite being published in 1977 and in retrospect fairly predictable, The Passion of New Eve took me by surprise many times, and the following review will contain spoilers. New Eve also contains some quite brutal transmisogyny, misgendering and degendering, and sexual violence, which this review will discuss.

‘… but his deviant flesh also undeniably creates new life.’