Lino Arruda

CW: Body Horror, Bodily Fluids, Dysphoria, Queerphobia

I first became aware of Lino Arruda's work through his spectacular and perfectly suited art for my friend Wendi Yu's phenomenal tabletop roleplaying game, Here, There, Be Monsters!, which has players take the role of monsters and/ or their friends -- a group of misfits who are trying to live and have adventures in a city filled with fascists, bigots, religious extremists, etc. with incredibly punchable faces. It's all about the beauty in the monstrous and celebrating Queer, trans, and all outsider identities, finding community, joy, and catharsis. It's a bloody brilliant collaboration of two powerful Brazilian trans creators and you should absolutely check it out! (https://wendiy.itch.io/here-there-be-monsters). There is a bunch of Arruda's incredible art throughout the book, but the one that has been my home screen for forever and the one that everyone always talks about is the transmasc lesbian werewolf biker driving their premedical transition self with labrys tattoo and braces of dildos (https://linoarruda.com/produto/poster-lobis-moto/). It's perfection.

When I discovered that he had a graphic novel and there was an English language version I was beyond excited and ordered as quickly as I could...and then didn't read it for a really long time because of my mental health, dysphoria, and the horrifying transphobia around the world and very much at home (The Tories are being blatant about their fascism and their excitement in the participation of trans genocide). But I finally cracked this disgusting, beautiful book open and I am so happy I did!

Monstrans is an autobiographical reflection of three episodes of Arruda's life that caused him discomfort, pain, distress, and confusion through heartbreaking frankness and true dysphoric body horror in his inimitable style that makes The Thing look like Barney the Dinosaur (which is also horrifying). There is a rare, raw, honesty and openness (on many levels) that conveys the strength of these emotions and the, indescribable and unique to each of us, feeling of gender and body dysphoria in such a visceral the likes of which I have never seen before. Arruda tears out his heart, rips off his vulva, and lances the puss of a lifetime of the agony of being transgender in a world that doesn't see us for who we are. The personal horrors of our relationship to put gender, bodies, and identities are rendered in exquisite agony, accented by the bloody smears of shame and disgust others force on Queer and trans folx.

It's definitely not for the faint hearted. Viewers discretion is advised. But there is something truly unique and beautiful in the nightmare of horrors contained in this book. The simple fact that this book exists is wonderful in itself, but it is also a reminder that, while that fact should be celebrated, it is nowhere near enough and we have so much more to do for trans people to be able to live and grow and thrive without external stresses, hatred and shame and fear.

This is disgusting and it is gorgeous.… (más)