This is Queer: Emery
Emery loves being queer in Richmond. In fact, he considers the queer folk of this city to be “the raddest, coolest, most creative people” he’s ever met. But making his way into community required, first, that he embrace and embody his own identity.
“I spent most of my childhood living under an umbrella of shame,” shares Emery. “I basically grew up thinking I was a sexual pervert. It took me a long time to step out from under that. Ultimately I feel lucky that I get to be queer. I feel like I’ve taken the hate I was handed and morphed it into beauty and compassion and playfulness. The subversion there is really beautiful to me.”
He began questioning his gender identity as a student in college — a women’s college in Roanoke. While Emery found support there, an undeniable opposition also existed, including a policy that would make coming out also require changing schools. This kept him experiencing doubt and an inability to fully embrace his identity as a trans guy.
In the years following, Emery embraced himself fully, grappled with medically transitioning and ultimately choosing to move forward with changes to his body that allowed him to adopt his identity in physical ways as well.
“I had a couple years where I swore I would never medically transition. I think I just wanted to feel valid in my identity without feeling like I had to ‘earn it’ by changing physically. It turned out to be the right move for me, but the process was confusing,” he said. “I felt especially conflicted about top surgery. How could I that reconcile that I love and celebrate my queer body while also seeking to remove a part of it? I still don’t have a perfect answer for that, but I am happy with my body and the choices I’ve made.”
Today, Emery shares that his gender feels resolved, his transition complete. However, he also places a great deal of importance in acknowledging both his path to his present life and his history. He doesn’t love being referred to as a “man.” In some sense, it feels like it negates his experience prior to transitioning and also bestows a history upon him that is not his own.
“When I’m out in public I’m perceived as a guy almost all of the time. I find other queer people can read me as trans, but cis[gender] people often think I’m one of them,” Emery shares, reflecting on life today. “I think what’s in front of me now is learning what it means to live with male privilege while also worrying about my visibility as a queer person. What will it look like for me to occupy space as someone with a legitimately queer experience but who may appear cis[gender] and het[erosexual]?”
Emery considers Richmond the undeniable setting of his queer identity. He grew up here and has lived here most of his life, aside from a short time in Boston and his college years. At 29 years old, he credits this area heavy with shaping his identity.
“My experience and identity can’t be taken out of the context of living in Richmond. From being a closeted queer child in an all-girls private school to living in the former capitol of the Confederacy now as a queer white adult, Richmond has made me who I am.”
When he considers the imagery of Richmond, its profound effect on his notions of self, he thinks of both the beauty and the culture of the town, and also of the horrific racial history. He thinks of city streets and grade school friends. But there is one landmark that stands out significantly.
“And then there’s the river. I was raised in the church and still align myself as culturally Episcopalian, but spiritually there’s something powerful about the James. Growing up, the boys I most wanted to be like were the ones who knew about the parks and the river. Part of coming into myself as a trans person is paying attention to when I feel right in my body. I feel most like myself when I’m jumping in the water. If I wasn’t a queer person I’d want to be a big fat catfish, slurping on the mud at the bottom of some eddy. Submerged in the flow.”
