100 trans/genderqueer musicians
Bands
Against Me! (rock, folk punk) (x)
The Oozes (punk) (x)
The Hirs Collective (metal, grindcore) (x)
GEL (hardcore punk) (x)
Urn (hardcore punk) (x)
The Black Dresses (noise pop, hardcore hyperpop) (x)
Party Ghost (rock) (x)
Lagrimas (hardcore punk, scream punk) (x)
Doll Skin (rock) (x)
Dazey and the Scouts (rock, indie) (x)
G.L.O.S.S. (hardcore punk) (x)
Dog Park Dissidents (punk rock) (x)
She/Her/hers (rock) (x)
Deli Girls (hardcore electronic) (x)
Dream Nails (punk rock) (x)
Sarah and the Safe Word (rock, dark cabaret) (x)
Pinkie Promise (punk rock) (x)
B. Fraser (emo) (x)
Newgrounds Death Rugby (emo) (x)
Scowl (hardcore punk) (x)
Feminazgul (black metal) (x)
Sports Bra (dream pop, light rock) (x)
Club Sofa (indie pop) (x)
The Cost ov Living (grindcore, harsh noise) (x)
Kuromy (punk) (x)
The Sonder Bombs (indie, pop) (x)
Lidocaine (rock) (x)
I'm letting unseen forces take the wheel (cybergrind) (x)
Gum Disease (punk) (x)
Cam Girl (rock, trash rock) (x)
Gully Boys (grunge pop) (x)
Arcadia Grey (sparkle punk) (x)
Schmekel (folk punk) (x)
Destructo Disk (punk rock) (x)
User Unauthorized (hardcore punk) (x)
The Spook School (indie pop) (x)
Pinkshift (emo) (x)
Glass Beach (emo) (x)
Butch Baby (light rock) (x)
VIAL (indie punk) (x)
Sister Wife Sex Strike (folk punk) (x)
homewrecker. (metal, hardcore punk) (x)
Mega Mango (indie rock) (x)
Keep For Cheap (prarie rock) (x)
Steam Powered Giraffe (cabaret, steampunk) (x)
Thotcrime (grindcore, cybergrind) (x)
Whirlybird (indie pop) (x)
Kampsport (hardcore punk) (x)
Um Jennifer? (alt-rock, punk) (x)
Scarlet Demore (alt-rock) (x)
HappyHappy (folk, folk-punk) (x)
Queen Zee (punk) (x)
Grumpy Plum (slop pop) (x)
Cheap Perfume (punk) (x)
Pollyanna (power-pop, rock) (x)
Ballista (metalcore) (x)
Faetooth (fairy doom, metal) (x)
Lacerated (death metal) (x)
Fortuna Malvada (hardcore punk) (x)
Peach Rings (bedroom power-pop) (x)
Solo Artists
Laura Jane Grace (rock, folk punk) (x)
Left at London (pop) (x)
ZAND (pop, ugly pop) (x)
Ada Rook (hardcore electronic) (x)
Ms. White (pop) (x)
Rett Madison (indie, folk) (x)
Murder Person for Hire (folk) (x)
Backxwash (rap, industrial hip hop) (x)
LustSickPuppy (electronic, rap) (x)
Babylungs (electronic, rap) (x)
Human Kitten (folk punk) (x)
Harley Poe (folk punk) (x)
Ewy (emo, folk punk) (x)
Averstaskta (instrumental) (x)
Andie Schoen (indie) (x)
Elliot Lee (dark pop, electronic rock) (x)
Urias (hip hop, ballroom) (x)
Twink Obliterator* (cybergrind) (x)
Rio Romeo (cabaret punk, indie) (x)
Knife Girl (art pop, indie) (x)
Alexander James Adams (folk) (x)
Starmaxx (pop) (x)
Sofya Wang (pop, alt-R&B) (x)
Boy Jr (indie/alt pop) (x)
Medusa (revenge pop, hip-hop) (x)
Mal Blum (singer-songwriter, folk) (x)
Gina Young (riot grrrl) (x)
Petra Fiyd (indie pop) (x)
awfultune (bedroom pop) (x)
Quinn Hills (alternative pop) (x)
Femtanyl (electronic) (x)
Vivivivivi (electronic, glitchcore) (x)
Lilac Boy (glitchcore) (x)
Rosie Tucker (indie rock) (x)
Ryan Cassata (singer-songwriter) (x)
Pain Chain (noise, synth) (x)
In Love With A Ghost (electronic, lo-fi) (x)
Alice Longyu Gao (hyperpop) (x)
Prophetic Nightmares (ambient synthwave) (x)
Saint Wellesley (indie folk) (x)
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I love the idea of all the robins kinda being clones of each other with just a few differences and a concussed Bruce not being able to tell who he’s squinting at so he just says generic statements and avoids saying any names
Bruce (sitting at the breakfast table): so… how’s the weather… dick?
Jason (grinning): you do know I’m gonna hold this against you for like, the next 2 months right
Bruce: (groans into his hands)
Bruce (walking into the living room): hey have you read through the files I gave you yesterday?
Dick: (confused cause he took a day off to surprise Bruce) ?
Bruce: so?
Dick: er… no?
Bruce: Dick?? What are you doing here?
Bruce (walks into the kitchen with a fresh concussion): Jason? I thought you were on a mission with the outlaws?
Tim: (frozen through mid fridge raid, having assumed they were past Bruce calling him Jason since yk. He’s a shit brickhouse now and Tim is, well, obviously not): uh?
Bruce: *turns around and leaves*
Bruce: Oh hey Cass, when did you arrive from Babs’?
Damian: (slowly turns around in the black hoodie he’s wearing) we’re not even the same gender
Bruce: (under his breath) yeah but the same height
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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
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