It’s been about, let’s just say around a year, since I took on the name Tess. I had already explored my identity of femininity and gender with Mindy. But Mindy was a name that was too cute, too playful. Tess, however, was short and grounded, that ee’ sound never floated out off the name. And, it was also a great way to rename my fursona. ‘Tess’ didn’t have as many raised eyebrows as ‘Tetsuo’ did; a name from a time where otaku was what a teen wore on their sleeve.
After that, Tess became the staple of both my social media presence and circle of close friends, a name that I could wear on my sleeve and have everyone recognize the femme that I was.
Or at least, in theory.
Tess is something I write down on a piece of paper and pass it on. It’s a name that still lingers even after it slips between my teeth. But on a card in my pocket, on a booklet that holds the world, on a paper over seven hundred miles away, I’m still Patrick. I’m still a man in eyes of the law. Therefore, it’s morally right for me to be one.
There’s not a lot of stuff that talk about it. There’s not a moment when, try as you might to pass or fit in with your trans self, society or legality steers its ugly head over and tell you “Sorry pal.”
And most of that could be accredited to the fact that, there’s not a lot of trans characters, or more specifically, games that deal with trans issues. However, one night, hot springs is the closest I’ve seen to tackle such a discourse. However, this moral grey that society put us, is treated as an inconvenience in the game.
When given her registration card for the hot springs, they don’t ask her for an ID, they don’t look at her funny when the registration card doesn’t match her credit card. She thinks of it for a moment, and decides putting the legal name and gender would be better, because, you know less bothersome to the patrons for some reason.
Even when dealing with topic like these, as mundane as they can be, they are given little forethought. In the game, they confine your identity. However, they are confines of thought rather than legalities that are most often out of one’s control. And, later on, it turns out that, it doesn’t matter at all, cause the staff is sympathetic to your worries.
For something that really plays an important anxious part of a trans person life, it’s strange that it tosses it aside for a conflict that doesn’t resolve anything.
In reality, Patrick is a name that I’m bounded to, either when working or needing a house, or even wanting to order some clothes online. And, in a way, it hints that Haru too is bounded by their dead name. But it’s just a game. And, as a game, it, as well as many other trans anxieties about real issues, can just be looked over as ‘just in my head.’ Like the neat bow games must provide.
Digitized Flamboyancy 