Inga M. Beck

One of the joys of being me is that I tend to give people that lovely nose twisting look when I get the chance to show a little bit of the piece of art that is me (yes I do think very highly of myself, sue me). When I tell people I’m a writer, when I get a weird haircut, when I attack my nails with my teeth and tear them apart, when I wear weird clothes, when I sit alone in a dark corner at a bar with a glass of beer but look extremely happy scribbling energetically away in a little notebook or just simply grinning into thin air because I’m thinking of something brilliant (or listening on some hilarious drunken conversation around me), when I dance while waiting for the bus, when I go to the local swimming pool without having shaved my legs or any other body hair people supposedly find so icky, when I go out partying in drag, or do whatever it is that I like to do that doesn’t fit into some socially formed box, there is always someone who will give a disapproving look, someone who will wonder why on earth I would do that, and best of all, there is always someone who thinks I am awesome for what I do.

So yeah, when I try to look feminine  99% of the time I feel just plain weird, so to make myself feel better I for instance get a boyish haircut, or wear something in a really bright colour or put on strange earrings, anything that doesn’t make me feel as if I’ve been put in a box in which I am just another girl, because I don’t feel like just another girl, I don’t want to be just another girl. I want to be me. I bite my nails mostly when I am nervous, but also because I HATE it when my nails get so long that they hit the keyboard before my fingertips do (luckily, that rarely happens). I love sitting at a crowded place and writing, I like being around people without them expecting anything from me. I like seeing how other people behave, walk and talk. Sometimes I do dance while waiting for the bus, it’s a way of staying warm and passing the time. Sometimes I don’t shave my legs or armpits or anything for weeks, honestly, I like my body better that way but sometimes if I want to wear a nice dress or something, I do take the trouble to trim this. But seriously, you should see how women stare in the dressing rooms. I don’t mind, if any of them are like me, they’re staring because they are wishing they had the bravery to fire the gardener. I used to be like that. I didn’t fire mine though, I just cut him back to part time. I do go out sometimes in drag. It’s fun, people treat you differently, it’s like an experiment. Plus I have wonderful friends who like doing that too.

We’re all mad here…

I do hope I will always be able to do something or be someone that people will look at simply because they don’t know what to think about what they are seeing. Because if everyone was a weirdo, then there would be no more weirdos, and I would be sad.

I think I’d look pretty good with a beard…don’t you?