Having affirmed that I am trans, so much has shifted – in relation to not only my body, and to food, but to travel, too.

But is Singaporean culture not also other trans Singaporeans? The transfemmes I’ve spoken to, gotten advice from online?

It’s Phone-a-Dyke, Archer’s queer advice column. Today’s reader: I’m transmasc, am I welcome at the dyke events?

From sissification to trans mythology, impostor syndrome to werewolves, cruising, and much more, these are the online editors’ top picks of 2025.

Chosen names offer a synthesis of literary and psychoanalytic analysis. When you choose a name, it is imbued with references, history and storytelling.

Since coming out as trans, I find myself suddenly scared of traversing the sorts of barriers I was crossing solo at 14, 15, 16 years old.

Once I started taking testosterone, I made an album that documented the way my voice changed.

My family only really knows the old me, holding onto a dead man’s name – and I use the word “dead” as a trans woman. But I have been able to heal and grow as a woman.

“Nature depends on transness – we see it in mycology, fungi, plant life, fish and hyenas.” Zoe Terakes chats to Alex Creece.

This is an alternative to sissification or forced feminisation: the sub is feminised as part of the session, but not mocked for it.

“The work to build a collectively liberated world is always going to be easier than living in this current – really oppressive – fascistic world.” Mx Yaffa chats to Anna Hu.

If I must be a werewolf, I choose to be a wulver instead of a luchthonn. No amount of family history or testosterone will dictate who I can be.

Living through coercive treatment, the AIDS crisis and homelessness, this author continues to survive the trauma of the psychiatric system.

Two trans women share a lively discussion around culture, sex work, the AIDS crisis, gender and intersex identity.

Almost immediately, improv had become the most powerful tool I had for exploring and affirming my gender expression.

“Our strength as queer, disabled people is our rage.” We chat to the team behind Oh, How We Laughed*, an anthology by queer, disabled writers.

Zinaida Gippius lived a rather queer life – between their affairs with women, highly publicised threesomes, cross-dressing, and more.

Throughout the years, I have learned to love the parts of myself I was taught to hate. In my queer, trans and disabled body, I have found joy.

I think a lot of people who are put in the margins are naturals at storytelling. I guess we have to be in a way, otherwise who else would tell our history or our truths in a way that honours where we come from?

“Those small acts of support – say, a parent affirming their child’s self-expression – create a profound ripple effect.” Rae White chats to Alex Creece.

“Who is the future already happening to?” Cavar, a transMad author, chats to Keene Short.

“There’s nothing more pathetic than being at a party, somebody asking what you do, and saying, ‘I’m a poet.'” Eileen Myles chats with Alex Creece.