I have always loved monsters. As a child, I filled sketchbook after sketchbook with crude horrific figures, to the disturbance of adults around me. As an adult, I wonder what sacral foundation within me entwines me with the bizarre and monstrous. Perhaps it’s because, as a lifelong reader/writer, I’ve come to understand that the kinds of monsters humans choose to portray reveal more of what’s integral to our being moreso than what we fear. Take the Xenomorph Queen from Aliens (my favorite monster of all time), or H.R. Giger’s body of work: the monstrousness of childbirth, the macabre of man-and-machine abominations, the inability to accept the hostility of a perfect life form, a creature that transcends gender. Admittedly, I see both myself and my own fears in these characters. My devotion to sculpting monsters is also a protest against the normalized horrors of the transgender experience. With the fabricated “monstrousness” of our existence being more lethal now than it’s been for decades, I dream of making waves in the current conversation of how to fight for our rights. Maybe, just maybe, I can erase the barriers between man and monster along the way.