ASPEN MCCALLUM

Aspen McCallum is currently a student at Oregon State University pursuing a Bachelor's of Fine Arts with a focus in studio painting, drawing, and printmaking. When not working on projects for class, McCallum pursues other art mediums, some of which include stained and fused glass, pottery, crochet, and their favorite: alcohol inks. McCallum has been extremely interested and involved in art from a very early age, no doubt due to their parent’s artistic careers: mother, a graphic designer and father, a jeweler. On their own work, McCallum says, “Art is my passion. From a very young age I’ve been practicing art and

There you are, enjoying your day out in the world. Out of food at the house so you find yourself at the local Safeway deli waiting in line. It’s “Shanghai Monday” today so you’re grabbing some orange chicken and chow mein on your way out after buying ingredients for more rice dishes and salads cause you’re poor and trying to eat healthier. Laughing with your roommate and contemplating what you’re going to cook together tomorrow, the man in front of you grabs his fried chicken that has probably been sitting under the counter for too long and you’re next in line. “What can I get you Sir?” There it goes, under your mask your smile from seconds earlier drains off your face like a waterfall of despair washing over your body and cleansing you from experiencing any joy.

Why do they always call you Sir? Why for one time in your life can they not just ask “What can I get you?” without adding pointless gendering to it. Pull your long hair back from out in front of your face and place your perfect nails you painted black on the counter and say what you’d like in the best sounding voice you can muster.

What did I do wrong? It’s racing through your mind, it’s all you can think about. The voice? No, I didn’t talk yet. Maybe he heard me talking to my roommate. The hair maybe, or the nails aren’t long enough, the in front of you, you’re being treated like the boy that was in front of her.

They don’t understand how hard you’re trying. The hair, the clothes, the makeup, the voice! No one understands the voice! You have the saddest superpower in the world. You can turn anyone on the planet into a new person just by speaking. Them hearing the most peculiar voice they’ve heard in months come out of the most peculiar looking person they’ve seen in months is enough to leave them visibly puzzled. The questions they

DA life of no dolls because “dolls are for girls.” No dresses, no pretty makeup, no Cinderella story or pretty name. Your parents ask what you want to be when you grow up and you say, “princess,” it’s your dream, you’re just like all the girls on the Disney channel that you watch probably too much. You want the prince charming and the kiss and the library with everything in it. “You’re a boy, you can’t be a princess.”

You may not understand the extent to which I loathe the word “boy.” A lifetime of always being “the boys” when you are with a friend or walk into a room, of always being asked “What can I get you guys?” Of being called “Son” or “Baby Boy” every single chance they get by your parents which you cannot correct them on because of the havoc that would ensue by telling them about who

Sometimes perfectly nice people can ruin your day without even meaning to and it's sad. The dentist assistant refers to you as a “normal boy” even though you have a preferred name and pronouns marked down. The teacher or sales assistant calls you “buddy” like you’re a fourteen-year-old boy.

People think nothing of the subtle body language or the slips like saying “bro, buddy, dude or guy.” I do, though. I can’t blame them entirely; you may have never had an anxiety attack over what bathroom you should use or if you look good enough today to tell the barista at Starbucks your preferred name without having her question you three times just to make sure she heard you right before shrugging and writing it on the cup as if she was humoring you. But for many of us that’s daily life. I still remember the first time I was called “Miss” without