When I realized I was a woman some 14 years later, I felt overcome by an immense clarity. When I came out as gay in the summer before ninth grade-I’d fantasized about waiting until I was an adult so I could come out on The Real World for some reason, though I ended up settling for some scattered AIM chats and a LiveJournal post-I felt unspeakable relief. Every major shift in identity I’d gone through before that morning had brought with it some sort of revelation or catharsis. What I mean is the afternoon after I left her place, sitting outside on my stoop processing the experience with two of my close queer women friends, I realized I didn’t feel any different. I don’t mean from the act itself-that was intensely pleasurable. The first time I had lesbian sex, I expected something more.
But in her column for W magazine, Walker traverses a new territory: the highs and lows of womanhood, through the prism of her experiences as a thirtysomething resident of New York City. The award-winning journalist Harron Walker might best be known for her expansive coverage of trans healthcare and the often comedic pop culture pieces she writes for Jezebel (which come second only to her searing takes on Twitter).
