Releasing Attachment | In the Silence
Felix Ever After by Kacen Callender
What a book! Absolutely beautiful and captivating. I really appreciate reading stories that highlight the experiences I have not had myself so that I could widen my own perspective and understanding of the others’ lives. I also understand that this book wasn’t necessarily made for me and it’s not my own story, but Kacen Callender does an absolutely wonderful job of giving an intimate look at Felix — a Black, queer, transgender teen — going through a journey of identity, love, friendships, high school, and so much more. One of the things I kept thinking about throughout the book was attachment — particularly releasing attachment from who or how we think we should be.
A part of the book that really struck me was when Felix was figuring out if he truly feels and identifies as a trans man. Then having the counselor share that some people are always questioning and that you’ll know when it feels right. It made me think about what does it mean to release attachment to an identity you may have worked so hard to establish? How do you break through the scariness and risk of showing up in a way that is different than how you thought you should be? How do we keep pushing ourselves to break our own biases of what we think a particular identity should look or be like?
I hope that readers took away a lot after reading Felix Ever After: laughs and tears; a roller coaster ride of a romance, empowerment, and validation; and a story they thoroughly enjoyed. But above all else, I hope Felix can do for even just one reader what Adam did for me: that a reader picks up Felix Ever After and learns more about themselves and their identity, and that becoming who they truly are is a possibility.
(Author’s Note)
I also reflected on the aspects of identity that are manifested in roles such as being a mother. I have always imagined that I would be a mother one day, but over the years, I have started to shift what that actually looks like to go beyond the traditional get pregnant → give birth pathway. To be honest, I’m not quite convinced yet that the childbirth process is worth it anyways (cause ouch!) so I have always thought about adopting — even as a kid when my mom was starting the process to adopt a child. And I also think about the ways that I have been able to mother other children and be in their village. I have seen in my own family that mothering happens in so many different ways — both logistically and in meaning. What does “mother” actually mean? What about the identity of a mother am I actually attached to? What about the identity and my understanding of a mother do I have to release attachment to?
Maybe, just maybe, when we release our attachments to what we think a particular identity should be like, we may open the door for something even more meaningful and more authentic. Maybe we open ourselves up to some of the most beautiful things in life — such as to love and be loved. Maybe we find what fits us best and maybe along the way, we find a particular kind of freedom. A freedom that gives us the space to continually learn and define who we are. A freedom that reminds us it’s okay if what you closely identified with yesterday does not fit so well today. A freedom that we can share with others so that they may find their freedom too.
|Renée|
More favorite quotes:
What is it about me that no one likes, that no one wants? It’s like it’s too much for other people — me having brown skin, and being queer, and being trans on top of that…or, maybe that’s just what I tell myself because I’m too afraid to put myself out there again, too afraid of being rejected and getting hurt. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.
To know that there are people out there who hate me, want to hurt me, want to erase my identity, without ever even seeing me or knowing me, just like there are people out there who hate me for the color of my skin — it’s enraging, infuriating, but it also hurts.
“I probably always will love her,” he’d said. “But it was a tough lesson to learn, realizing that I couldn’t wait for her to decide she would love me again. It wasn’t healthy. If I fall in love again, it’ll be with a woman who loves me also — not someone who I have to convince to love me. It’s easier, I think, to love someone you know won’t love you — to chase them, knowing they won’t feel the same way — than to love someone who might love you back. To risk loving each other and losing it all.
“What should I be spending my energy on instead?” “Yourself,” he suggests. “Loving and accepting and celebrating yourself, and loving and celebrating and supporting the young women like you who will come next. Changing this world, yes — we need people who will fight for our rights, fight for justice in the courts so that it will be better for the next generation. But creating our own world, not just for ourselves in our bubble, but one that can spread to those who need it most — one filled with our stories, our history, our love and pride — that’s just as beautiful. That’s just as necessary. Without that, we forget ourselves. Crumple under the pain of feeling isolated, unaccepted by others, without realizing that, above all else, we need to love and accept ourselves first.”
It can be easier, sometimes, to choose to love someone you know won’t return your feelings. At least you know how that will end. It’s easier to accept hurt and pain, sometimes, than love and acceptance. It’s the real, loving relationships that can be the scariest.
But, just because we loved each other, doesn’t mean we were meant to be together.
He’s nodding, “You know, it’s so completely messed up,” he tells me, “but I also feel a little grateful. I never thought I’d fall in love like that. Now I know it’s possible. Even if it’s not with you — not with Lucky — I know I’ll fall in love again.”
The sort of love I have for Ez — it’s the kind of love that fills me so much that I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s the sort of love that makes me wish that I could touch him, hug him, kiss him again. It’s the kind of love where it almost feels like I’m not just Felix, and he’s not just Ezra, but we’re connected in a way that I’ve never been connected with anyone else before, like our spirits have somehow mingled together to create one, and…shit, that kind of love is downright terrifying.
It’s almost like I was looking for the pain and the hurt, because it was easier to live with the idea that, even though I want love, I’m not the kind of person who deserves to be loved.
“It fits you. It really does. I love you. I don’t want you to ever think that I don’t. I’ll admit, at first, I had a difficult time figuring all of this out. But you know what? I’ve never seen you happier. I know you’re struggling with Ezra and everything, but I’ve never seen you with this light inside of you. You weren’t happy, and now you are, and that’s all I could ever want for you. That’s all I could ever ask. You’re happy. And brave. You’ve been so courageous, just by being yourself, even knowing that the world won’t always accept you for who you are. You refuse to be anything but yourself, no matter what. I look up to that. I admire that.”
Amazement, that I could’ve been with Ezra like this the entire time, if I hadn’t been so oblivious — to both his feelings, and my own. If I hadn’t been so afraid of letting myself feel a real love like this.
He sits up, resting his forehead against mine. “You deserve to be loved,” he tells me, then kisses me. “You deserve all of my love.”
What’s so wrong with loving someone, right?
“…Being trans brings me love. It brings me happiness. It gives me power.” Ezra’s biting his lip as he grins at me. I shrug a little. “It makes me feel like I’m a god. I wouldn’t change myself for anything.”
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