spray paint and oil stick on glass and wood
113.5 x 108.6 cm
sometimes I wonder whether I am real enough to fit my identity. my body feels like a mask that communicates endless stereotypes and assumptions of the masculine and anima. will I win the ball of life and live a day without the triggering misgendering of being in a male body, or do I just suffice with knowing who I am internally? maybe realness exists on the inverse of our exterior. whether a femme queen or transmale, your understanding of who you are lies in no subjectivity; no panel of judges who represent society's visual dichotomy.