Punk fashion has always felt unattainable to me. Whenever I saw it in media it was skinny and male and there were no mobility aids in sight. It wasn’t until my late teens that I became interested in the 70s British Punk movement and other variations of punk culture. Realising that my disability stopping me from working didn’t stop me from having worth was the real kicker; I had the power to be what I wanted. I experimented with cutting off my sleeves, showering things in safety pins, and wearing my boots everywhere. I eventually allowed myself to make my fashion accessible for myself; it was revolutionary to afford myself comfort. Shaving my head was the biggest step I made, freeing myself from the sensory hell of long hair that had plagued me my entire life.
Kansas (a white person with a short blonde mullet) is sitting on a pink couch in front of a brick wall which has cork boards covered in posters. They are sitting with one leg crossed over the other and are looking up and to the right, the shaved side of their head is visible. They are wearing a mesh short-sleeved jellyfish printed shirt with a velvet blue crop top, and a necklace with the aromantic flag. They are also wearing a long black mesh skirt which is draped over their knees, revealing black jeans underneath and red boots (one boot has yellow laces). They are smiling and holding their hands in fists close to their body as they smile and stim.
Kansas (a white person with a short blonde mullet) is standing in front of a mural of a woman’s torso clad in purple. They are wearing a mesh short-sleeved jellyfish printed shirt with a velvet blue crop top, and a necklace with the aromantic flag as well as black leather fingerless gloves. They are also wearing a long black mesh skirt which they are lifting to flow in the breeze, and red boots (one with yellow laces). They are looking down at the skirt, their face is obscured by a shadow. They are leaning on a single forearm crutch and have a chain of safety pins hanging from their waist.
Kansas (a white person with a short blonde mullet) is standing in front of a mural of a woman’s torso clad in purple. They are wearing a mesh short-sleeved jellyfish printed shirt with a velvet blue crop top, and a necklace with the aromantic flag as well as black leather fingerless gloves. They are also wearing a long black mesh skirt and red boots (one with yellow laces). They are leaning on a single forearm crutch and have a chain of safety pins hanging from their waist. They are looking to the right, off camera, and have their free hand lifted in a gesture of confusion. They are also wearing an earring with a jar filled with teeth on one ear and the other ear has a chain connected to a septum piercing hanging across their face.
Engaging in punk fashion and culture was what helped me realise that I didn’t owe anything to anyone. As a trans person, I didn’t owe femininity, masculinity, or androgyny to anyone. As a disabled person, I didn’t owe anyone an explanation or an excuse for why I needed support. Wearing more and more outlandish outfits gave me the confidence that I’d lost during puberty. I could stim freely without caring what people thought, I could speak my mind loudly, I could disagree with people, and I was allowed to be angry at the injustice I saw in the world.
Kansas (a white person with a short blonde mullet) is sitting on the ground in front of a painted mural of a large purple and pink flower with a yellow centre. They are sat with one leg crossed over the other and are grinning at the camera with their head tilted down, slightly menacingly. They are wearing a mesh short-sleeved jellyfish printed shirt with a velvet blue crop top, and a necklace with the aromantic flag as well as black leather fingerless gloves. They are also wearing a long black mesh skirt which is draped over their knees, revealing black jeans underneath and red boots. They are wearing an earring with a jar filled with teeth on one ear and the other ear has a chain connected to a septum piercing hanging across their face.
Kansas (a white person with a short blonde mullet) is sitting on top of a table in a small room. The walls are covered in various posters, and there are strings of rainbow LED lights behind them. They are reading a book titled “OnOurBacks Guide to Lesbian Sex” and have a neutral expression on their face. They are wearing a mesh short-sleeved jellyfish printed shirt with a velvet blue crop top and a long black mesh skirt. They are also wearing an earring with a chain connected to a septum piercing hanging across their face.
I find that the modern image of punk that people think of is very sanitised. They’re angry at something (probably their mums), they dress poorly, and they live off of government benefits instead of getting a job. There is little to no discussion (at least in Australia) of why punk is even a thing. The discontentment of the middle classes, tearing up physical norms of how we’re expected to behave or appear when the ideal is impossible to reach, the frustration of life and society boiling inside you until you just want to scream. Saying fuck you to anyone or anything is the simplest rebellion, and if you can do that with the music you listen to or the way you dress, then I’m a fan. Enjoying my life as a disabled person and living it to the fullest as a trans person is the biggest fuck you I can think of to a world that thinks I’d be better off dead.
