hankycode magazine is a print and digital publication dedicated to sharing queer stories.

Austen (she/her)

Anthony: Can you introduce yourself?

Austen: My name is Austen Meredith. I was raised in Snowville, Virginia, and born in Radford, Virginia.

Anthony: How'd you get to South Carolina?

Austen: I got here actually through work. I was finishing up my engineering degree at Virginia Tech and got recruited by Michelin. That brought me to Greenville, and then I ended up in Columbia, South Carolina, also for Michelin. Then when I changed jobs, I ended up coming back to Greenville.

Anthony: How was your experience with queer expression growing up?

Austen: I didn't even know trans people existed until probably my 20s. I didn't really know any gay people growing up. I only transitioned in the past couple of years, so I didn't really grow up expressing myself as trans in the South. Then once I actually watched RuPaul's Drag Race, that's when things started clicking and it opened the doors.

Anthony: When did you first begin to understand your gender identity?

Austen: It was a very slow process for me. Of course, it's easy to look back and see thoughts and feelings that I repressed. But I didn't start expressing or exploring my gender identity until I was in my late twenties.

Anthony: How has your family responded to your identity?

Austen: They've been cool. I've been pretty lucky in that aspect. I kind of joked for a while and said I would just transition and not tell anybody—and that's kind of how I did it. They've been good and very accepting. I think initially they were a bit shocked, especially as I was exploring my gender identity, but they've been great.

Anthony: What stories about trans people are you tired of hearing? And what stories aren't being told enough?

Austen: I'm tired of all the sad stories about trans people. I want to hear happy stories. It's a little cliché to say, but I think the media often casts people as just "trans person." It would be cool to see trans people represented simply as people with their own dimensions, interests, and qualities.

Anthony: What advice would you give to a young trans person growing up in the South?

Austen: Find your community. I don't think I would have gotten to where I am without finding community, wherever that may be. As a young trans person in the South, that would be one of the first things I'd advise. It's hard to do it on your own, especially when your whole family might be against you. I think finding a community is really important. The queer trans community is probably one of the strongest communities in America—it's very tight-knit.

Anthony: What does being trans mean to you personally?

Austen: Just being able to be myself. I feel so much more comfortable and confident now in who I am.

Bailey Wilson

Easley, South Carolina | 28 | She/Her

Anthony: If you'd like to introduce yourself, Bailey.

Bailey: My name is Bailey Wilson. I was born in Greenville, South Carolina. I was raised in Easley with pretty politically neutral parents. I'm 28.

Anthony: What is your experience of being trans in the South?

Bailey: I have a pretty simple answer for that. People are either really mean or really nice, because people either hate you or know that everyone else hates you.

Anthony: When did you first begin to understand your gender identity?

Bailey: I first thought about it when I had a conception of gender itself, probably when I was three or four years old. And then I just knew there was nothing I could really do about it.

Anthony: What does being trans mean to you personally?

Bailey: Just being yourself. Pretty simple.

Anthony: Are there parts of Southern culture in South Carolina you feel connected to and appreciate?

Bailey: Absolutely. I'm very connected to the Upstate, especially.

Anthony: What are the misconceptions people have about being trans in the South?

Bailey: That we're alone. There's a lot of us, and we all find each other. We all have each other.

Anthony: What stories about trans people are you tired of? What stories aren't being told enough?

Bailey: I guess the ones that aren't being told enough are just that most of us are normal people. A lot of people see trans people, maybe even every day, and don't even know it. A lot of trans people pass. Most people have probably seen a trans person without realizing it. There are so many of us just living our day-to-day lives, being like anyone else. That's all we want, at least for most of us. And the stories that are being told too much…it's hard for me to even say, because I've been trying to unplug from that discourse. I don't get on Twitter or any of that.

Anthony: How is the romantic world in the trans community?

Bailey: It seems, at least from the people I've met, that a lot of people are polyamorous. Just because maintaining a relationship while being trans can be more difficult, I guess. I'm monogamous, and I know many other trans people who are monogamous. I also know many married trans people. But the general crowd seems to include a lot of polyamorous folks, which is cool with me. It's not my lifestyle, so I can't relate that much, but I respect it.

Anthony: I ask this question because almost every single person, even just growing up with friends in the community, it's very…I'm trying not to say anything that comes off offensive, but very sexual.

Bailey: I think there's less hesitation around sex in general. And yeah, in the queer community overall, it can be more sexual, in more of a free-love kind of way.

Anthony: I've always wondered why it is that way, because from my experience, a lot of folks don't really enjoy that part of the community.

Bailey: I actually don't like it at all, that it's so sexually focused. A lot of times when you meet someone, they just want to have sex, and that's it. Sometimes I deal with that. But there are also a lot of genuine people beyond that. I do have a hard time with it here and there. Sexuality is everywhere. It's just that queer sexuality stands out more and appears oversexualized.

Eli Cate

Columbia, South Carolina | 27 | He/Him

Anthony: If you'd like to introduce yourself. 

Eli: My name is Eli Cate. I'm from Columbia, South Carolina, and I've lived in the Upstate for the past five years. I've been in Travelers Rest for about two and a half years. South Carolina through and through. I'm 27. I identify as trans or non-binary. Either one kind of fits. I use he/him pronouns, but I was assigned female at birth. I don't quite feel all the way like a man, but I'm definitely not a woman. So basically, my identity is just not a woman.

Anthony: How long have you identified this way?

Eli: It's been a journey. I started using they/them pronouns first and chose the name Eli. I've been going by Eli for about five years now. It started with they/them, and then I explored my identity more through therapy, working on myself, and getting more comfortable with who I am; community really helped. Having people around me who supported my identity allowed me to finally come to terms with the fact that I actually like he/him pronouns.

Anthony: What is your experience of being trans in South Carolina?

Eli: I live in Travelers Rest, which is a small town. I've definitely gotten some weird looks if I'm wearing a Pride T-shirt or something, but in general, people are really polite and kind. This past June, I was dressed up to go to the Pride Festival in Greenville. I had on this rainbow skirt and was all ready to go. Then I realized I was on empty and needed to get gas right there in Travelers Rest. I was like, ‘oh, I'm completely in my rainbow getup. This is going to be awkward.’ When I was checking out, the cashier said, "Oh, I like your outfit. Are you a teacher or something?" And I said, "Oh no, actually I'm going downtown for Pride." Then she said, "Oh, well, be safe. My wife and I aren't going to make it out this year, but have a good time." It was so surprising. I was nervous that it would be uncomfortable, but it gave me so much joy. It made me feel like I'm not alone out here. I really am not.

Anthony: When did you first begin to understand your gender identity?

Eli: I came into my identity later than a lot of people. I was 22 when I started going by Eli. I haven't been fully out until recently. I didn't come out to my family until this year, so I really worked up to it. I was trying very hard to be a woman my whole life. I was in a sorority in college and trying really hard to fit in. Then after graduating college and living in Greenville on my own, I finally relaxed enough to realize that the way I presented felt bad. Looking back, I recognize that I was experiencing gender dysphoria. I just didn't know what it was. I would look in the mirror and feel really unhappy with how I looked. For years, I wrote that off as internalized misogyny or struggling with wanting to be pretty. But in my early twenties, I realized I didn't want to be pretty. I wanted to be different. I just couldn't figure out what "different" meant until I moved up here and met queer people. One of my closest friends at the time was a trans woman. Spending time with her and realizing the similarities we shared changed a lot for me. Finding my people really changed my life.

Anthony: Has religion or spirituality played a role in your journey?

Eli: I guess religion and spirituality played a negative role at first. I grew up in a very conservative, very religious home. I think that caused me to repress my identity and made it take longer to figure out who I am because I was raised with very strict gender roles. Now I'm in a place where I'm trying to open myself up to spirituality in another way. I don't think it's healthy to be so anti-religious. I actually have two really close friends who are Christian, and it's made me realize that I sometimes shut down when they talk about their faith. I want to be a supportive friend. If praying helps them through something, I want to be there for them. I don't want to be physically cringing. So I'm trying to open myself up to spirituality of some kind, but I haven't found anything that really speaks to me yet.

Anthony: What stories about trans people are you tired of? What stories aren't being told enough?

Eli: I'm sick of a lot of it. I think what hurts the most is calling trans people pedophiles or groomers. My whole family is scattered throughout South Carolina, and one time I saw my cousin post something comparing trans women using the women's bathroom to rape. That hurt so bad. We're really just people. To have that level of negativity and disgust is really hard. It affects me personally and makes me worry about the future. I love living here. I love living in South Carolina, and I plan on doing so. But I don't know what to do about my identity. I know I don't feel at home in my body as it is, but I can't really imagine it getting better sometimes.

Anthony: What are your feelings about people who don't want to see you express yourself the way you do? How do you feel toward them?

Eli: I mostly feel hurt. Those are my neighbors. Those are my cousins. I feel hurt for people to see me that way. But I go back and forth. I have days where I've been doom-scrolling and the weight of everything just completely crushes me. Then I have other days where I have interactions that give me hope. It's confusing because I know people who have hateful beliefs but are still kind to me. It's honestly kind of a mindfuck. I feel confused by people who hold those beliefs but are still nice to me. Does it mean there's hope for change in some way? I'm not sure. But I can't just go out there and try to change everybody.

Kaleb

Greenville, South Carolina | He/Him

Anthony: Okay, Kaleb, if you'd like to introduce yourself.

Kaleb: My name is Kaleb. I was born in Greenville, and I grew up in Texas. When I was about 12, I moved back here.

Anthony: What is your overall experience of being trans in South Carolina?

Kaleb: I don't really remember wanting to be a boy growing up. I remember wanting to be a girl, trying to figure out why I was so different. I wanted to be a girl so badly and just fit in, you know?

Anthony: When did you first begin to understand your gender identity?

Kaleb: I was around 18. My hair had been down to my hips my whole life until then, and I cut it to my shoulders for the first time. I saw my chest differently, and I felt something I had never felt before. I always had my hair right there, so I didn't even realize that was something that bothered me. But when I looked at myself, I thought, okay, there's something to be done here.

Anthony: Has religion or spirituality played a role in your journey?

Kaleb: Definitely not. My dad was never religious. My mom and her side of the family are really religious, and I've definitely seen some judgment from that. It's always someone religious, you know what I mean? It's never really anyone else. But I didn't necessarily deal with it as a big problem within my family.

Anthony: Are there parts of Southern culture you feel connected to?

Kaleb: When I was a teenager, I missed things like the smell of kudzu. There's just a simplicity to South Carolina that I love. I can walk almost anywhere I need to go. I've got a Waffle House near me I can walk to. If I needed to, I could walk to the bar. There's actually a trail behind my house that leads there. I also love that everybody knows each other. I grew up going to a creek and playing in it. My Aunt Granny, that's what I call her, she's my grandma's sister, lived out there in a shack. She was a little crazy, but she lived out there. I was talking about it one day, and when some friends moved in nearby, they actually walked those same trails and found that shack.

Anthony: What are the misconceptions people have about being trans in the South?

Kaleb: I think a lot of people look at trans people the same way they look at drag queens. They think it's like dressing up during the day and then dressing differently at night, like it's a performance or something. But that's not how it works. It's not a performance. It's just who you are.

Anthony: Tell me something you had to teach yourself while growing up in South Carolina.

Kaleb: Little things, like if you make eye contact with somebody, you talk to them or at least nod. It's just a hospitality thing. That's another thing I love about the South.

Anthony: What stories about trans people are you tired of, and what stories aren't being told enough?

Kaleb: I guess there's this idea now that trans people hate America or something like that. I kind of live under a rock, so I don't know everything that's going on, but I hear enough. Something people don't talk about enough is access to therapy or safe places for trans people. There are gay bars, but you might have to drive an hour to get to one. It can feel less accessible. Even something like getting a binder can be difficult. If I want one, I have to order it online.

Quartz Henderson

West Pelzer, South Carolina | 26 | She/Her

Anthony: If you'd like to introduce yourself, Quartz.

Quartz: My name is Quartz Henderson, but you can just call me Quartz. I was born in Anderson, South Carolina. West Pelzer representing.

Anthony: What do you identify as?

Quartz: I identify as a trans woman, and I use she/her pronouns.

Anthony: What is your experience of being trans in the South?

Quartz: To put a long story short, it's terrible. It's not glitz and glamour. It sucks. I'm a very bubbly person, and I've had my share of meeting people, but it's just not a place where you're really wanted. On top of being Black, you're queer and you're trans. It's like a double homicide. We're in the Bible Belt, and they don't really care for our kind.

Anthony: When did you first begin to understand your gender identity?

Quartz: That's hard, because until I was 18, I was a very ignorant Southern boy, raised by my grandparents. I didn't have much knowledge of anything.

Anthony: And I want to say, that's what I believe this project could be. A lot of people growing up didn't have a reference for Southern queer people. They never knew what it could look like or even that it existed. I want to make some sort of historical record, if that makes sense. But sorry, go ahead.

Quartz: I didn't know. I was very sheltered from a lot of things. Mind you, I had a queer father who was closeted for the majority of his life, and then I had an openly queer mom my whole life. So I wasn't surprised by it, but I was also conflicted because I didn't know if I liked girls or guys. I liked both, and that's what threw me. A lot of people said you like one or the other, and I was like, well, I like girls. I didn't realize I liked guys until I was about 18, and then I thought maybe I could romantically be into this. That's when I started thinking more about my sexuality. When I was 18, I started identifying as non-binary, and I've been non-binary for years. I technically still am, because even though I identify as a trans woman, I see gender as a social construct. I don't really mess with it. I'm like, we're all human beings. Can we just exist? I think gender norms are pushed onto people and cause a lot of unnecessary stress and roles that we don't need. It'll be about four years this year that I've been on hormones. I was already transfeminine, I just wasn't ready to take that jump. I felt like once you do it, there's no going back. I had to ask myself, is this really me? I had to do a lot of soul searching and finding myself.

Anthony: Has religion or spirituality played a role in your journey?

Quartz: It definitely shunned me in some ways, but I was never really religious when it comes to Christianity, so that didn't affect me too much. I also had queer parents, so it didn't have a huge impact. Spiritually, though, I'm very into spiritual things. I do oracle readings, tarot cards, and I also identify as Buddhist. I think it's just about what feels welcoming. It's different for everyone.

Anthony: How has your family responded to your identity?

Quartz: My mom is 100% supportive and open to it. My oldest brother is very supportive. My younger brother has been a challenge. When he gets heated or angry, he shows his true colors, so it's hard to take things at face value. My dad doesn't really accept it. He knows I won't be in his life if he can't accept me or deal with it, so I take that as he's not really okay with it. I know he would want his son back. Same with my younger brother.

Anthony: Are there parts of Southern culture you feel connected to?

Quartz: Being kind. Southern hospitality. I think that's the main thing for me. Some people are really sweet, and sometimes that's just a Southern thing. Not everyone has that experience, but I've seen it.

Anthony: How much has the internet or social media played a role in your journey?

Quartz: I'm not a big social media girly, so it hasn't affected me that much. Being able to see other trans people experience things, survive, and thrive is amazing. Being able to share spaces with those people is great. But dating apps have really messed with me. That's been rough. You meet people and think, okay, you understand what I go through, and it's nice to relate. But at the end of the day, they're still human. Just because someone is trans or queer doesn't make them a good person. A lot of people think that, and I'm like, no. There are still shitty trans people and shitty queer people.

Anthony: What advice would you give to a young trans person growing up in South Carolina?

Quartz: Stay off of dating apps. They're just gonna do nothing. If you're a hopeless romantic, if you're not a hopeless romantic and you're looking to get your freak off, then girl, hit the max. But if not, stay off of them. Find you some good friends people that will support you and uplift you and I'd say, fuck it, get the hell out of here. Definitely get the hell out of here. I've always been like, I wanna get the hell out of here. And I'm telling my girlies, let's get the hell out of here. Because until this new wave, but even then, hell, half of this new wave is still getting taught the same shit. This place is dangerous. Always carry that thing on you. Whether it's a knife, gun, or a spare taser, I don't give a fuck. Always carry something with you.

Vali & Forest/Mad

Anthony: I can start with you first, Vali.

Vali: My name is Vali. My pronouns are she/her and it/its. I was born in California.

Anthony: How'd you get down here?

Vali: I moved out here for a partner, and that quickly went horribly. It was also really expensive where I was living, and I had friends down here. I still have a lot of friends here. I moved with the expectation that I'd be with that partner, and then everything went haywire. About eight or nine months after moving here, I started hormone replacement therapy.

Anthony: If you'd like to introduce yourself, Mads.

Forest: My name is Mads, or Forest, whichever is fine. My pronouns are he, they, and it. I was born in Atlanta, Georgia. I've moved back and forth a couple of times for family reasons. I ended up moving back to Greenville, South Carolina, from Atlanta when I was around 18, also for a partner, which went haywire within a week. I'm focusing a lot more on art now, and I don't really plan on going back to Atlanta.

Anthony: What is your experience of being trans in the South, Vali?

Vali: For me, being a trans woman is one of the hardest things I've ever done, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. It's kind of ironic that I started transitioning here in the South and not in California. I was questioning gender in California, but it really hit me here. I realized I was just a girl. It's been scary, but also really joyful. There have been so many cool underground spots like this, where there is queer joy and wonderful transness everywhere.

Forest: Mine was a bit unique. I was living with a family who were sometimes supportive and sometimes against it. It seemed to switch all the time. I started seriously questioning my sexuality and gender when I was around 16. I originally thought I was a trans man, but then I realized that gender fluidity was really important to me. I kind of ripped the band-aid off with my family and started dressing more masculine. I also have a condition where I naturally have higher testosterone, and that helped with dysphoria when I was younger.

Anthony: This project is going to be inherently political, even if I don't try.

Vali: Yeah, that's just what being trans is like.

Anthony: I feel like if I were to make political art, the purpose would be to convince the opposition. The people who don't support it. I think that's the purpose of political art in a way.

Vali: Yeah, absolutely.

Anthony: I don't think a lot of people in the United States realize how diverse transgender people are. Everyone's in their own bubbles. You almost can't find the same story twice. Some people imagine it like there's an army with a single leader converting everyone. I remember when I was 16 or 17 and had a close trans friend. I never thought anything of it. It never crossed my mind that it was wrong. Some people don't even encounter these ideas until adulthood, through social media, which is probably the worst way to experience it.

Vali: I didn't know it was an option for me. I thought I would just be stuck feeling weird and unhappy. HRT opened everything up for me.

Anthony: It's interesting how people accept nuance and diversity in almost any other group, but when it comes to queer identities, it becomes very polarized.

Anthony: Has religion or spirituality played a role in your journey?

Vali: For me, it played a really positive role. I didn't grow up with a very intense religious upbringing, especially growing up in California. There wasn't much Christianity in my family. My stepdad was Hindu and also practiced Buddhist traditions. A lot of the gender conceptions in Hinduism are fluid and changing. If you look at depictions of Krishna or Shiva, there's often femininity present. I think seeing that imagery helped me understand that I wasn't just a boy. Religion, at least in that sense, played a positive role.

Forest: Religion played a very strange role for me. I was surrounded by religion growing up, but it was inconsistent. One day my family would be Christian, and the next day they'd be talking about angels being aliens. I was confused about what I even believed. After meeting people and growing older, I became more comfortable with spirituality. It's always been a bizarre part of my life, but in a way, that helped me relate to my transness. It made me feel more comfortable with the universe and the idea that I was meant to exist, even though some people think we shouldn't.

Vali: I mean, we're the universe experiencing itself. If I'm made in the image of God, then I am what I am. I already exist.

Anthony: As I hear more conversations with trans folks, I can't help but relate it to existentialism, like Nietzsche and the idea of the Übermensch.

Vali: I totally get what you're talking about.

Anthony: Finding what living means to you and creating your own meaning.

Vali: And experiencing divinity through that.

Anthony: Exactly. When I read his work, it made me question whether I was living authentically. After speaking with the queer community, I see that same questioning applied to identity, body, and gender.

Vali: I actually read ‘Thus Spoke Zarathustra,’ and yes, it absolutely influenced how I think about my gender identity.

Anthony: What are the misconceptions people have about being trans in the South?

Forest: One big misconception is that it's a choice. People justify cruelty by convincing themselves we're just making a strange decision. Another misconception is that there's inherent violence in being trans, when really we just want to exist as people. There's also the misconception about trans youth, that it's unsafe or just a phase. Some people say they're fine with trans people, as long as it's not their own kids.

Anthony: What stories about trans people are you tired of? What stories aren't being told enough?

Vali: The whole trans women in bathrooms narrative is exhausting. I also don't think people understand body dysphoria. It can feel like living in a body that doesn't match who you are. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I know I'm gorgeous. I know I'm confident. But sometimes I see myself and something feels wrong, and that's really hard. People don't understand how troubling that can be.

Forest: Even people who have been on hormone therapy for decades still experience dysphoria. It can be constant, and it's really difficult.