joelle snowe

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  • My American Backstory

    I am an American, and that comes with a certain amount of baggage these days. It has been a source of great conflict in me since my early years that I feel like a fish out of water in this culture. As a preteen, I saw my country go to war in the middle east. The people around me became bloodthirsty and vicious. Calling for violence against Muslims, distrusting our neighbors. My boss at the first real job I had was an immigrant from Guyana. She was often mistaken for having African heritage and resented it. This person became bitter and racist, calling for an end to birthright citizenship and decrying people who are “lazy” or “complainers”. I stopped talking to her when I left that place but I guarantee she voted for Trump all three times.

    My experience of living in this country has been full of negatives. From the church I grew up in to the school that judged me a problem. A small town in Northern Westchester that was full of hypocrisy, I blamed my parents for raising me there. They weren’t the problem, they were trying to be a part of the solution in their own way.

    My father grew up in the suburbs of Philadelphia. He was raised Catholic and never forgave his parents for that – becoming more agnostic as an adult. A nerd for radio and gadgets, he spent his life balancing his hobbies with his work. The man started out as a DJ before moving into non-profit work and fighting the oligarchs. Dad always said “we need to get the money out of politics”. He worked for a non-profit organization that fought big tobacco and won a number of concessions that are still in force today. No more Joe Camel type advertising or smoking in restaurants in New York. I don’t want to oversell how “Important” my dad was. But when he died, his funeral was attended by so many people. They came up to me and said, “your father was a special guy, he really cared”. After all the Hell he put me and my sister through, that was tough to hear. He had a lot of anger and psych problems that went unaddressed for his whole life. Still, he had an impact on the world around him. I can only hope to have a similar impact on those I meet and work for before my time comes. The man was flawed, but he continues to inspire me and the work I do every day.

    On the other hand, my mom had a smaller splash. She was a true small town American. Growing up in the upper peninsula of Michigan, moving to Lansing and meeting my dad. She was a career woman. Somehow she managed to balance working full time jobs in PR with raising a family and providing emotional support to all of us (especially my father). Mom lived for us, she was always helping others. The doctors she worked with relied on her to get their message to people. We relied on her to keep us (a bunch of free thinking rebellious kids) from going insane in a conservative small town. Her strength was enormous, but it had limits. She suffered from depression, had a suicide attempt in ’05. Gave up on her fight with cancer in 2020 and we lost her. It was impossible for her to keep living without my father, despite our efforts to keep her going.

    I am writing about this to provide some context for my identity as an American. Both sides of my family came her with nothing. One grandparent was a coal miner, the other a Firestone Tire factory worker. We were not a part of the founding of this country, but we were able to make a go of it here. I am the only member of my family to make it this far west, and I’ve got the sunburns to show for it. This is not the land of my heritage. I am a guest here and try to acknowledge that in my work and my life. With everything happening right now it would be easy for me to cast off my American identity and try to reclaim some sort of European identity. My partner and I even considered moving back there last year.

    However, this is my country. Like it or not, I am a warm blooded American and that comes with all the ugly baggage. But it also comes with a lot of good. People like my parents. People I consider inspirational like writers, activists, movie directors. America isn’t all bad any more than other countries. It has long been held captive by monied interests. That’s why it’s so important for people like us to stick around and keep all of that in check.

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  • These Are The Books I Am Reading

    my tbr is too damn much but I’m really enjoying getting back into reading. Starman is an old favorite and everyone should read the Robinson/Harris run from the 90s. I don’t consider myself a big marvel fan outside of the X-Men (am a DC girl who is patiently waiting for a Zatanna movie) but of course we are seeing the new Spidey this weekend.

    this list has some books I’ve been eager to get to for a while that I haven’t gotten to because of time spent playing videogames instead. let’s be honest: as a working adult, videogames are almost worthless and a waste of time. 75% of my game purchases in the past 5 years have been disappointing. About 25% of book purchases have been a let down. the better medium is books, proven by science because I gave some numbers off the top of my head.

    “Videogames were a mistake” – Jeff Gerstmann

    Books:

    Starman Compendium One by James Robinson, Tony Harris, Wade von Grawbadger

    The Art of Seduction by Robert Greene

    Farewell My Lovely by Raymond Chandler

    The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene

    Poor Things by Alasdair Gray

    Regime Change by Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan

    In A Lonely Place by Dorothy B. Hughes

    Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke

    The Fall by Albert Camus

    Clockers by Richard Price

    Catch-22 by Joseph Heller

    Never Say You Can’t Survive by Charlie Jane Anders

    Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens

    Collected Prose – Paul Auster

    Go tackle your book backlog, gamers!

  • Balancing my Media Diet

    I’m just going to type out a quick update here for the sheer hell of it. There has been a lot going on in my personal and professional life at the moment, and I am deep in the process of Getting My Shit Together. Because of this, it is difficult to have the spoons for things like blog posts and writing of my own. My job is in the category of social work and social services. It is emotionally demanding and requires a lot of physical work as well. I go in at 3pm and get back home anywhere from 10 to 11 pm. Sometimes I collapse in a heap on the bed. Other times I have enough energy to play some video games.

    I really enjoy playing Final Fantasy XIV, the MMORPG one. It provides me with enough escapism to last a whole week if I can fit in a hefty play session. Lately, I have even had a few people to play with – including my beloved partner. I have also been playing a bit of Palworld and The Legend of Heroes: Trails in the Sky SC (second chapter). I believe Palworld will have enough longevity to justify the purchase (it’s a meaty game). I know I will get my money’s worth from The Legend of Heroes series as a whole. Pokemon is a series I have largely grown out of though. It is interesting to hear how so many adults around me continue to find joy in it, Gamefreak must be doing something right. But for me I would rather be playing something like FFXIV or Palworld (or the open world Zelda games) which feel like there are less barriers to having a chill time. Being a working adult has changed my gaming habits over time. It is a death by a thousand cuts situation which has killed off my interest in most video games that I used to enjoy.

    To fill the void left by Total Devotion to Gaming, I have picked up some books and magazines again. I also go to a weekly film club type thing at a local theater. I am (finally) working my way through Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace and have progressed to about the halfway point. I have also subscribed to Harper’s and invested in a membership at Barnes & Noble which gives me access to other magazines. Today I picked up the newest issue of The Atlantic and a special magazine that covers the history of Goth/post punk music and the subculture around it(surprising no one who knows me). I look forward to diving into these this weekend. This maturation into a “Magazine Adult” feels uncomfortable to me, as someone who always cast aspersions at such people when I was younger. Nonetheless I have accepted that I am a cultured and reading person who needs to keep that part of my brain fed and happy or it will become unruly and difficult to manage.

    This is my current lifestyle. My partner and I just finished watching through all of The Wire, which is still my favorite TV show of all time. After a rewatch, I have some nitpicks but it manages to balance a lot of spinning plates at once. The landing at the end of the series is rocky, but it’s fitting for a show that covers early 21st century American life. It goes hand in hand with Infinite Jest quite well too, I recommend experiencing both alongside each other.

    I am off to work but should have more to say soon. Until then, don’t neglect your media diet. Consuming blindly leads to disappointment. Just because you played the last six Resident Evil games the year they came out, doesn’t mean you have to plunk down $70 out of obligation in 2026. Question your hobbies and interests, spending the time the way you really want to.

    That’s what I tell myself these days.

  • Limiting Factors

    I would like to start approaching this blog like a weekly column, with each one having a theme. Have you ever seen Sex and the City? That show hasn’t aged well in many ways, but I always appreciated how it was structured. Every episode would feature Carrie’s column and how the events of her life informed her writing. I am a relatively young transgender professional trying to break into a new field at the age of 36. My goal is to work in the field of mental health, gaining a foothold wherever I can using the degree I already have. Afterwards, I will be able to work on getting my Master’s degree (hopefully in psychology) and work on researching various things that actually interest me.

    This week the theme is limitation. I feel limited by the circumstances of my birth, and my gender identity holding me back in various ways since the beginning of my life. I always knew from an early age that I was a premature birth. My mom told me that I was so eager to come into the world that I couldn’t wait any longer. I wanted to be born now! It was only this week that I realized this sort of thing can have implications into adulthood that cause difficulties for living in this society we have here. Various limitations around physical fitness and respiration, cardiovascular health, and other neurological conditions are linked to premature births. In many ways this has been the missing puzzle piece to what I’ve been trying to figure out for the past few years.

    Without going too much into my personal history here, it’s been a tough road. Life dealt me a tough hand in a lot of ways, even as I had a privileged upbringing in a small town. The first six years of my thirties I have been correcting a lot of things and aligning my lifestyle in a way that sets me up for success. I learned that I’m not into hairstyling, it pisses me off. Working on someone else’s hair not only brings me no joy, it feels like a punishment for not getting my master’s sooner. So that’s out and I’m working in a youth shelter. People there depend on me, but I do have limitations. I have a hard time saying no to kids, and get tired out more easily than others. My energy levels have been a consistent problem since I was a kid and I rely too much on caffeine to make up the difference. I know all of this, am painfully self aware and critical of my flaws to a fault. I know what I need to work on but my body and mind only come along kicking and screaming.

    In order to keep going, I need to recognize my own limitations and work with them rather than against them. Prioritizing and time management are of utmost importance. This is true for everyone these days, we are all busy. But I think my specific challenges give me an extra incentive to get on top of this stuff. Here we get to the point. It’s easy to see these difficulties as unfair, to bemoan my situation and wish I had things easier. The fact is, though, that I can learn to transmute these disabilities and challenges and use them to achieve more. To become unstoppable. A wise person whose blog I used to read hammered the point to me that “restrictions breed creativity”. When the challenges pile up and things feel impossible, it’s time to change your thinking.

    It starts with self talk. By now, I have clearly identified the problems and challenges I face on a day to day basis. I know how my brain works and what sets me off, what causes me to become paralyzed and “waste time”. Now comes the fun part – finding solutions. This is the year where I will start down a path that leads to becoming unstoppable. It’s not the year where I crash and burn because the pressure is too much and I can’t handle it. All of that is in the past, and I was fighting myself too hard. Trying to be something I’m not. We are who we are, and fighting it is a losing battle. My limitations are my strength because they provide direction – pointing the way forward that will lead to greater happiness.

    It’s already happening. What if we just stopped fighting our own nature and learned to be nice to ourselves? To honor our own limitations and still be happy with them, loving ourselves all the more for our flaws. The world would be a softer, nicer place to live if nobody felt inadequate and everybody loved themselves.

    Maybe that was the lesson I was supposed to learn this pride month (which was Not Good at all by the way…hope yours was better).

    Love your flaws as much as you love your pets. ~Joelle

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  • Proud of Falling

    Greetings, one and all – and happy pride month. This is not a current picture. My hair was cut short back in 2024 and I feel like it’ll never grow back out. I feel like I look like a boy, and part of me doesn’t care. I have felt and increasing amount of dysphoria over the past two years and now I’m not even sure if I’m a trans woman anymore. I have no idea what I am, or who I am to people. It wasn’t always this way, and I started my transition strong. I knew what I wanted and I was determined to get it. But like a dog chasing a car I wasn’t sure what to do with it when I caught it. People accepted me easily early on. Even now I feel like it’s possible to navigate social situations that I find myself in easier than before. But what’s missing is the feeling of certainty that I am a woman.

    This pride month I want to reclaim a sense of who I am that was lost when I cut my hair and had a traumatic beauty school tenure. I don’t know exactly what that means yet. I do know that the queer community at large feels out of step with where I’m at. Right now, I’m not prideful because I don’t know what I am or where I belong. Talking to other trans people is great but it only gets you so far. A large part of this gender journey is internal, and part of me still feels like a problematic femboy who wants to say things to shock people. The need to self censor is real, especially in my line of work. I feel constrained by my surroundings and my community. I know that I am not the only trans person who feels this way, since a lot of us have become alienated from the larger “queer community”. What happens when all of the gender affirming organizations are run by cis people? I am sick of relying on cis folks I don’t respect or care for to do the right thing. When is it our turn to take control of our own lives and destiny? I believe this is what they call trans liberation.

    To me, trans liberation would mean that I don’t need to pass – don’t need to think about my pronouns, my hair, how I’m dressing (do I look femme enough today?), whether my interests are too masculine coded, or whether I will be called “sir” or “ma’am” when I answer the phone (both are shitty feeling). It would mean that I am treated the same as anyone else, without anyone calling attention to my gender identity at all (I am sick of giving out my pronouns at all). It would also mean that I would feel comfortable standing up for myself without being seen as a problem. I have stood up for myself numerous times since coming out. Every single time I am made to feel like I either overstepped, am being irrational and/or the person becomes so afraid to mess up again that they avoid me forever.

    None of this is new, but it is what I am thinking about this pride month. I am not proud of where we are or what is happening to this country. I am not proud of my own transition progress, and it’s been six years of this. I am not proud to be a part of the queer community because it is filled with people that nauseate me.

    What I am proud of are my failures. My scars. My battle wounds and dented ego. I have faced down layers of degradation that most cisgender people have never had to consider, and come out the other side. I’m proud of falling flat on my face and refusing to stay down. Being tripped by others who are part of this community and still finding a way forward. It’s not like transition and coming out of the closet will save us. The closet opens directly onto a staircase that winds ever downward in a spiral. Taking that first step blindly, you fall down down down until you’re flat on your face surrounded by some kind of Lynchian shadow people. You look in the mirror and see a cackling witch who has taken possession of your body, because you had no more use for it. Being transgender is acknowledging that the most basic thing about you was a lie, and now you have to piece together a life using the raw materials provided by genetics and the wonders of modern science. You will never stop falling and being pushed over by people who had everything handed to them right from birth.

    I’m soft. Physically weak. Muscles shrunk from the estrogen. I have failed at so many things. Fallen.

    That’s what I’m proud of…because I’m still not dead – and by all rights I should be.

    joelle snowe
    joelle snowe
    @joelle.snowebell.cc@joelle.snowebell.cc

    queer icon living in Albuquerque

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