Jay the Ent-Larch 💛🤍💜🖤

@entlarchjay.bsky.social

671 Followers 742 Following

(They/Them) nonbinary mystical forest cryptid & merwrangler with Orange Cat Energy and a Crow Brain blogging at runninginmyhead.com header commission: https://catawampuspress.com

plot points describing the poster’s posting habits.

CADENCE 95th very metronomic
CHORUS 44th middling
VIGIL 44th middling
DRIFT 73th unchanging
LEXICON 76th narrow
POLISH 79th immaculate

95 CYBORG

The Tide - You arrive on schedule, and the schedule has a night in it.

View from an office desk. Two computer monitors can be seen, with a Halloween themed pushing desktop. Two large windows have the shades pulled up. A window mounted hummingbird feeder can be seen on the right hand side. Outside it is a sunny day. Grass, trees, and a statue are between the window and the parking lot.

a nonbinary person wearing a tank top that says “awake and unafraid” and “asleep or dead” in curved text around a bandleader silhouette. In front of it all is a red heartbeat with “we’ll carry on” worked into the text.

Two marinated and spiraled grilled hotdogs on buns with ketchup and mustard with a can of Hornets Nest Heffeweizen from Olde Mecklenburg Brewery

a grey silhouette of a bandleader superimposed by a red heartbeat with the words “we’ll carry on” incorporated into it. Above and below is curved text “awake and unafraid / asleep or dead” giving the overall appearance of an eye.

a hooded red tailed hawk sits tethered on a perch.

a bowl of spaghetti with a thick meat sauce

U.S. Education Secretary Linda McMahon is returning to her hometown of New Bern next week as part of the "Great American Comeback Tour."
The event is scheduled for Tuesday, July 14th, and organizers said it will focus heavily on advancing education, expanding workforce opportunities, and the future of American students. Organized alongside the America First Policy Institute, the tour aligns with the administration's broader push to return education decisions back to individual states.
Event organizers note that seating for the New Bern stop is limited, and the exact location of the event will only be shared with attendees after they register and RSVP online.

a husky looms excitedly into the phone camera

Two people in a theater; one of them holds a stuffed shark

My gender is not fake or made up or a mental illness or criminal/illegal (though the courts are trying hard to make it that way) or sexual perversion intent on grooming kids (bigots' opinions are meritless).

My gender is authentic and honest and real (and scientifically accurate) and is worthy of being celebrated and normalized just as much as anyone else's.

A group of people at a pride prom: a feminine presenting nonbinary person with a blue lace top and cream pants. A female presenting person in another-themed dress, a person in masc Clown Drag, and another nonbinary person in black pants and a green blazer with handmade accents

It's not letting other people's discomfort define my existence. It's continuing to be myself in a world where some people want me to disappear, and creating a life worth living by focusing on the things that make me happy.
It is gathering up the little shiny things: the people I love, the clothes that feel like me, the things that make me feel like myself, and the moments that make me laugh. It is building a life where I can exist exactly as l am: a little strange, a little unconventional, and very much still here.

a bird of unknown type on an aluminum awning, silhouetted in the morning light

A person wears a green sweatshirt, black ski mask, sunglasses, and an orange hat. They stand out of doors

For me, belonging looks like being accepted without having to jump through hoops for it.
It's knowing I do not have to shrink myself, translate myself, or make myself easier to understand before I am welcome (there's a difference between accepting a label and accepting a person, by the way).
It looks like people who don't ask, "Why are you here?" but instead say, "Oh, there you are!" and make room by the fire.
It looks like being allowed to be exactly who I am: a strange, occasionally cryptid-like person who would very much like to be part of the group.

So, believe it or not, I actually had to look up what things are considered a nonbinary stereotype.

Apparently, according to the internet, the stereotypical nonbinary person is assigned female at birth, has short dyed hair (usually blue), and a septum piercing - the same stereotype many associate with liberalism, from what I've seen online.

This stereotype does not really fit me. I have long hair (with no intention of dying it blue; other colors may be considered) and piercings are just not my thing.

Tattoos, on the other hand, are very much up my alley ...

I'm not sure what younger me would think is cool about me now. Younger me might look at present me and say, "Wait... we're still here?
And we're like this now?" - like they've spotted something in the forest they recognize, but aren't quite entirely sure is friendly just yet.
And while I don't think they would know what to make of me, I'm glad I made it here, because what I can say is that I'm growing into the kind of person past me would have needed in their life, whether they knew it then or not.

Autumn is one season to which I actively anticipate.
It's autumn in my soul 24/7/365.25
Yes, I am absolutely a pumpkin spice latte person.
Yes, I will happily walk through golden-hour leaves like I'm in a film where the soundtrack punches above its weight.
But my autumn is not just the aesthetic autumn, it's also the slightly unsettling version where the air grows sharp and the world shifts in a way that feels both familiar and completely different.
I am an Autumn Person (but not the World of Darkness way) in that my gender feels like a dichotomy of cozy sweater and "something's watching me from the woods" energies.
Autumn feels like me because it's soft and a little strange, warm and a little watchful; it's layers and changing light and stepping outside and realizing you are, in fact, a different version of yourself than you were before... and somehow that feels exactly right.
I have always been nonbinary, just like I have always been a fall person - some things are just part of you before you have the words for them.

I didn't wear fragrance that much until 2020, so my signature scent would be a few specific choices (all from Mad Labs Studios): Krampus, My Chemical Romance, and Gertrude Robinson.
To put this in perspective: Krampus and My Chemical
Romance are the first scents of any kind I have completely used up and immediately repurchased.
Krampus smells like biting winter air, birch branches, coal, and the very heart of Germanic folklore.
My Chemical Romance is especially meaningful because it was custom-made specifically for me.
With notes of honey, whiskey, roses, fire, and gunsmoke, it's affirming in a "this was artisanally crafted just for me" kind of way - and of course, I'm looking forward to wearing it at the MCR concert in August!
Then there's Gertrude Robinson, with cedar and old books giving off a sense of patience and the steady clarity of someone who does not need to be defined by other people to know herself.
Taken together, they feel less like different versions of me and more like different pieces of the same picture.
I can be the winter creature, the archivist, the dramatic theatre-turned-concert kid all at once and without needing to choose which one is "real" enough.

Creativity gave me a safe place to figure things out.
When I started playing D&D in 2020, my DM asked me what my pronouns were. When I said they/them, it was the first time I had ever said that out loud.
It was scary.
The funny thing is, there is a common joke that playing D&D "turns" people LGBTQIA+ - but creativity doesn't create an identity that wasn't already there. Rather, it gives people a low-risk place to ask questions, try things out, and thanks to player characters) explore parts of themselves they might not have felt comfortable exploring otherwise.
And technically, I wasn't even playing D&D yet: I hadn't taken a turn or rolled a single die - but I found myself in a space where I was allowed to imagine a different version of myself and put a name to something that had been there all along.

It might sound simple, but it's wearing what makes me feel good.
For a long time, clothing felt like just another set of rules I was supposed to follow, with everyone very invested in making sure the right people wore the right things.
But clothes are just fabric; they do not actually know my (or anyone else's) gender, and so there is a kind of euphoria in getting dressed and asking, "Do I like this?" instead of "Am I allowed to wear this?"
Some days are more masculine, others are more feminine, and once in a while it means looking like a forest cryptid wandered into a thrift store and decided on everything.
Put another way, the biggest joy is that I get to exist in a way that feels like me: to take up space, to be seen, to look in the mirror and for once recognize the person looking back.
There were times when I could not imagine a future where I felt comfortable being myself. Now I put on clothes that make me happy and go out and live that future.
Lest cosplay compiled by Krystal, Ciarán, and Alex and gifted to me in February 2025.

Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett was the first time I read a book where I saw characters that felt like I felt (and allowed myself to actually connect with those characters, too
Terry Pratchett's wrote stories about ordinary people (witches, wizards, vampires, dwarfs, golems, and goblins) trying to navigate a world constantly trying to define them - the same the place where so many queer readers see themselves - and his novels ask powerful questions:
- Who gets to decide who someone is?
- Why are we so determined to force people into categories?
- What happens when someone finally says, "This is who l am"?
Monstrous Regiment follows Polly Perks, a young woman who joins the army disguised as a boy to find her missing brother. It becomes a story about identity, expectations, and the difference between what the world sees and who someone truly is - and Pratchett does it all without treating identity as a trick, a punchline, or a twist. He understood that identity is not a debate, and he made room for us.
As Sergeant Angua once said: "This is Ankh-Morpork. We have extra pronouns here."

They should stop asking whatever version of "What's in your pants?" pops into their mind.
The question is rude on the face of it, skipping over the actual person and jumping straight to a piece of information that, frankly, most people are not entitled to know.
My gender is not a mystery box; there are no prizes inside.
As I said earlier this month, the question I wish people would ask instead is: "What should I know about your experience?"
Because l am a person before l am a category - so if you want to understand me, start there.

hotel vanilla Greek yogurt with berries and granola

race results showing the winning driver as Jay E

I learned that sharing an identity does not automatically mean sharing the same values, experiences, or kindness - a lesson learned the hard way from someone trying to convince me there was only one right way to be queer (theirs) and that I wasn't doing it correctly.
The LGBTQIA+ community is made up of people - beautiful, complicated, messy, wonderful people - and so being LGBTQIA+ does not automatically make someone compassionate or incapable of being hurtful.
One beauty of our community is not that we all agree on everything or experience things the same way; is that there is room for all of our different stories.

I'd say something like: "What should I know about your experience specifically?"
It seems to me that many people, even well-meaning people, are often looking for a simple answer to what it means to be nonbinary, but that really depends on the person.
There is no single nonbinary experience: no universal nonbinary story; no checklist; no one correct way to look, dress, or feel. You might change your name, or you might not. You might use different pronouns, or you might not (or use none at all). You might feel connected to masculinity or femininity or both or neither.
The best way to understand someone is not to start with assumptions about what their identity should look like - after all, you know what they say about
"assume"!
A label can help tell you something about someone, but it can't tell you everything - it's the person that does that.

Two people enjoying drinks at an indoor putt putt course

I was working an event when, completely casually, a colleague said, "I'm so glad there are no men at this table."

Almost without thinking, I responded, "I love that about you" (meaning the way she included me in the way she saw the world).

Her response was "I love that about you."

99.9% of the time, affirmation isn't a grand gesture. It's just someone naturally making space for you.

This is also the same person who has given me two of my favorite affirmations:

"You remind me of a mystical forest cryptid."

and

"You're like a toadstool: nonbinary and cool."

Being seen can be one of the most magical things in the world.

a nonbinary cyberpunk rockerboy with colored hair

A nonbinary person wearing an off-the-shoulder blue lacy top with cream pants and a cream belt. Their hair is partly braided into a flower crown and partly down in long curls.

Pride is a reminder that I am still here.

There were times when the inner conflict of trying to understand how I fit into the world felt so overwhelming that I struggled to imagine a future where I could truly be myself. And if there wasn't place for me, why stay?

But I am still here, and more myself and at peace than I have ever been.

I love seeing other people find that same joy and freedom in celebrating their identity and their community and the fact that we are here, we are complicated, we are wonderfully weird, and we get to bring our whole, sometimes cryptid selves into the world.

For me, labels have been a way to understand myself.

For a long time, I didn't have the words to describe how I saw myself. Although I knew the way people talked about "men" and "women" didn't quite fit me, I didn't have language for what did fit - and when I found the word "nonbinary" it didn't suddenly change who I was: rather, it finally gave me a name for something that had been true all along.

Labels can be complicated. Sometimes it feels like labels add just another attempt at sorting people into boxes. But labels are also tools, and used the right way, tools are useful: they help us build things, fix things, and occasionally poke around in the mysterious corners of ourselves where we keep all the weird little treasures.

But labels should not be cages.

There are several of them.

I work in tech.
I have a nature-based nickname.
A significant portion of my personality can be explained through music.

And I have visible tattoos: one is a rat skeleton posed like the bandleader from The Black Parade, and another is a cat churning butter. I feel like this information should probably count as several stereotypes all by itself, and the fact that I looked at both of these concepts and thought "yes, permanently" tells you most of what you need to know about me.

Then there's also the whole goblin/cottagecore/ woodland cryptid situation, which I have thus far failed to avoid.

Have I tried?
Not on your life!

At a certain point I just have to accept that while stereotypes are not requirements, I may have accidentally started collecting them.

In my defense, I never set out to become a mysterious woodland creature with a smart phone and strong opinions about music.

It just sort of happened.

My advice is this:

Be curious.

You don't have to have all the answers or even justify your questions.
You don't have to prove anything to anyone.

For a long time, I treated gender like a test - and I love tests. Give me a #2 pencil and a chance to fill in little bubbles... and approached gender the same way, assuming that if I just tried hard enough I could fill in either A or B and everything would make sense.

The problem was that I was treating a journey of self-discovery like a multiple-choice exam, when in reality it's a blue book essay.

Sometimes the most useful thing you can do is give yourself permission to explore.

Try a different name or pronouns or even change nothing at all and just sit with the questions for a while. Read and listen and talk to people while paying attention to the things that make you feel more like yourself.

The point isn't to arrive at a predetermined destination, but rather to know yourself a little better than you did before.

The world is full of people eager to hand you a map and explain where you're supposed to go. There's value in occasionally wandering into the woods to see where you actually end up.

Just treat the cryptids you meet along the way with kindness, all right? They have a hard time of it.

While my internal conflicts shrank significantly after coming out (but did not disappear completely),! won't pretend everything magically got easier.

I lost friends, some of which I'd had for decades.

Other relationships remain complicated, despite my best efforts.

I was told some pretty hurtful things by people I once thought were in my corner: things about being "evil" or "doing the work of the devil."

I even received at least one actual, real, literal death threat, which is a surreal thing to have in your inbox history.
At least for me, anyway.

I am now routinely accused of being a groomer, a mutilator, a pervert preying on children, and often receive wishes for my demise from online strangers - and not many of them are bots.

At first it was jarring; now it's just an average Tuesday.

In fact, the happier I became, the more it seemed to bother certain people who preferred me smaller and quieter. They wanted me to be happy, or so they said, but apparently only if it met their approval.

I discovered that when you start becoming more yourself, some people take that as a personal insult.

And while some things came to a sad, perhaps even tragic, end, I also began taking up space without apologizing for how I show up in the world, and the inner peace and joy I feel (and that started to come out into the world through me, too more than outweighs any negative.

In my experience, the nonbinary community has been extraordinarily willing to let people be gloriously, authentically, delightfully weird (complimentary).

There is a shared understanding that human beings are complicated creatures that don't always fit neatly into categories. Sometimes we're contradictory, containing multitudes. Sometimes we're still figuring things out. Sometimes we're everything and nothing all at the same time.

I love that the community makes room for that, encouraging people to explore who they are instead of who they're expected to be.

And you know what? For a group of people often accused of being confused, l've met an awful lot of nonbinary folks who know exactly who they are-even if (especially when?) that means some of us are mystical woodland cryptids.

Just because someone else can't accept or understand that doesn't make us the confused ones.

It should go without saying that there isn't a monolithic nonbinary experience when it comes to names. While many nonbinary people choose a new name, l've never felt a strong need to change mine. Jay has always felt like "me".

That said, I do have an online nickname: Larch. Yes, it's from Monty Python's "How to Identify Trees from a Long Way Away" sketch.

I have to admit I find it funny that I slip into certain stereotypes, this time tangentially joining other nonbinary people with names like Moss, River, and Ash - and if I ever did choose to change my name, l already have one in mind... I'm not revealing it, though. A mysterious reputation doesn't maintain itself, after all.

A Pearl Harbor survivor at a d-day memorial in 2015x he wears a dark suit and stands while the rest of those present remain sitting

One moment was so small I don't even know if anyone else noticed it.

I think it was when I was visiting in March 2025, and my mom was introducing us kids to someone and when she got to me she said, "This is our Jay."

Not my son. Not my daughter. Just Jay.

I don't know whether it was intentional or accidental, but her words landed exactly where and when it was needed and I felt immense joy.

Being seen doesn't need fireworks or fanfare; it's as simple as an ordinary, everyday sentence that still manages to leave this mystical forest cryptid (that's me) grinning about it long afterward.

One thing I wish more people understood is that, typically, context matters.

When a stranger calls me "sir" or uses he/him pronouns, I generally don't get angry. They don't know me. They're making a guess based on the information they have, and while it can sting sometimes, I don't usually take it personally.

I am painfully aware of how I present from day-to-day.

However, if I'm wearing distinctively non-masculine clothing and/or have a large button with my pronouns on them and I still get gendered as masculine, that is, indeed, something I take personally.

I can only hang so many signs on the cryptid enclosure before I start expecting people to read them.

That's why it feels So Good when, every once in a while, someone refers to me as other than "man" without being prompted. This happens a lot on the phone and sporadically in person, and every time it happens it's a jolt of joy in my day.

That said, things are different with people who know me.

Well now, let's see... There's just so many to choose from! I suppose I'd like you to know two things, actually.

First, l've come across the idea that nonbinary people are somehow balanced between masculine and feminine, like we're at the fulcrum of the Gender Seesaw trying not to tip in either direction.

But that's not really how it works. Nonbinary can be masculine or feminine or move between the two - and some are neither masculine nor feminine. Each person's gender identity and expression is their own!

Second (and along similar lines) there's no such thing as "looking nonbinary".
People sometimes assume that nonbinary folks should look androgynous, but being nonbinary isn't a fashion style or a dress code - and no one owes anyone else androgyny.

There isn't a secret committee handing out scores based on how many gender expectations you've successfully subverted before breakfast - or if there is, they haven't contacted me about it.

Now, personally? I do aim for androgyny. If people look at me and think, "I'm not entirely sure what's going on there, but it may be some kind of woodland cryptid, then I've probably achieved my desired aesthetic.

But that's my experience, not a requirement. Plenty of nonbinary people have no interest in looking androgynous at all, and they're no less nonbinary than I am - because being nonbinary isn't a costume category: it's a helpful description explaining how one experiences gender.

I don't know that I have a simple answer for this. Like Taylor Swift singing, "I gave so many signs," it seems like I should have figured things out long before I did.

For as long as I can remember, whenever I heard "this is what boys/girls like, say, or do" and/or "this is how men/women behave, act, or think," my internal monologue said, "Well, that doesn't fit me." That led to a whole lot of inner conflict that I might talk more about later.

But if I had to point to the first memory that stands out, it was probably 1999. I was thirteen, almost fourteen, and absolutely hated most of the changes I was going through. Around the same time, I watched Scooby-Doo and the Witch's Ghost and there were the Hex Girls. I didn't have a crush on Thorn. I wanted to be Thorn.

That same year, The Mummy came out, and I wanted to be both Rick and Evie at the same time. There is a stereotype that The Mummy was the awakening for a lot of folks in the LGBTQIA community, and I suppose I'm an example of why that trope exists.

It just took me another fifteen years or so to figure out what to do with that information.

There's the joy that comes with knowing myself, accepting and embracing who l am. For a long time, I tried to fit myself into boxes that never quite defined or described me. Discovering that I didn't have to choose between those boxes freed me to be myself rather than perform as the person I thought I was supposed to be.

There's joy in recognizing myself in the mirror (and not cringing!), in using and hearing the language that feels right for me, and in building a authentic life instead of one built around expectations.

There's also joy in realizing that I didn't fail at being one thing or another. I was simply my own strange creature all along - wandering about with strong opinions on music and food (and everything, really) and perhaps an unusually large number of animal friends.

A person with long hair wears a wreath in their hair. They have on a Pusheen sweatshirt and are holding a red candle. The candle burns brightly in evening light.

Pieces of grilled chicken surrounded by small bits of pineapple and onion on a bed of yellow rice in a black bowl

Daniel Day-Lewis looms at a flame shooting into the sky - a still from the movie There Will Be Blood

a crow in front of many pages of handwritten journals is wrapped about with a banner reading “so fuck it . . . let’s go to hell”

A sidewalk leads to a circular raised landscaping bed on which stands a large statue of a rabbit or hare. The name of the statue is “Chauncey”

Orange construction cones are visible in the foreground

A determined goose

25 seconds of a bird bobbing its head in and out of a puddle

a bowl of bean and meat chili in a homemade tomato sauce

A cast iron pan guard from above is filled with a breakfast casserole. The visible cornbread topping is golden brown

a cast iron pan with a breakfast casserole on a black stovetop. The cornbread is golden brown

Close up on the face of a nonbinary person in an androgynous military-style jacket with a crow-faced masquerade mask

A small orange bowl filled with slices of a dehydrated orange

A page of text:

THE DISCOVERY OF INNER SPACE
uninterrupted succession of one thought after another.
One conscious breath (two or three would be even better), taken many times a day, is an excellent way of bringing space into your life. Even if you meditated on your breathing for two hours or more, which some people do, one breath is all you ever need to be aware of, indeed ever can be aware of. The rest is memory or anticipation, which is to say, thought. Breathing isn't really something that you do but something that you witness as it happens. Breathing happens by itself. The intelligence within the body is doing it. All you have to do is watch it happening. There is no strain or effort involved. Also, notice the brief cessation of the breath, particularly the still point at the end of the out-breath, before you start breathing in again.
Many people's breath is unnaturally shallow. The more you are aware of the breath, the more its natural depth will reestablish itself.
Because breath has no form as such, it has since ancient times been equated with spirit-the formless one Life.
"God formed man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life and the man became a living creature." The German word for breathing atmen—1s derived from the ancient Indian (Sanskrit) word Atman, meaning the indwelling divine spirit or God within.
The fact that breath has no form is one of the reasons why breath awareness is an extremely effective way of bringing space into your life, of generating consciousness.
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Swai simmered in tomato sauce served over basmati rice and with a side of steamed broccoli