“So, Mis—er, it’s miss, today, right?”

You give a playful scoff. “Any is fine today!”

The interviewer nods, then scans his notes on the table between them with his pointer finger, every slight brush sending tremors through the table, felt through your resting hands. “Right then, Miss Crawly—actually, can we talk about your name? Miss Creepy Crawly, was it?” He glances to his left, prompting the audience to produce a plasticine laughter.

Creepy Crawly reciprocates with a light giggle. “Uh, yes, yes, that is my name,” They take a short, steady breath. “Um, it’s a weird name, yeah! I definitely had this moment, when—“

They survey the audience, meeting its leer. Warm, like the inside of a lion’s jaw.

“When I was picking a new name—which is a fun pass time even if you’re not looking to transition,” Pause for a light chuckle, breathe. “I was thinking of something normal–like, Alice or something–but I realized, hey, I really can just pick whatever I want, huh?”

The interviewer nods. “Mm-hm, so that’s why you picked the most off-putting name possible?” The audience roars with laughter. I do not let this deter me, nodding and smiling with equal fervor.

“Yeah, that kind of was my thought process!” I agree. “I just picked two words that sounded funny. I wasn’t thinking about it too hard, honestly.”

The interviewer cocks his head, emitting a familiar aura of genuine confusion. “You weren’t thinking too hard about your name?” He asks.

You nod. “Yeah, yeah it, ah, wasn’t really that important of a decision to me.”

The interviewer makes a big show of blinking and leaning back, pulling his hands up. The audience murmurs amongst itself. “Wow, uh—psh, okay, that is, uh, wow.” He waffles about.

I spread my hands across the table. They never understand when I tell them this. “Yeah, it’s just, it’s always been my approach to identity, you know? Like, okay,” I lace my fingers through each other, stretching over the interviewer’s notes. “You know how you learn about caterpillars and stuff in kindergarten, and you learn about, like, their lifecycle and turning into butterflies and all that music?”

The interviewer nods, cautiously. “... Yes, yes I do remember!” He straightens his back. “Always found it kinda gross!”

The audience howls.

Crawley continues. “Well, everyone I’ve talked to thinks that the butterfly is their favorite stage of metamorphosis,”

“Ah, yes, I do think th—“

“But, see, I was always more attached to an insect’s cocoon, actually!”

Murmuring amongst the pack.

“So, when a caterpillar is in the middle of its chrysalis, it actually turns into goop! Like, completely, it just melts down. It’s weird and, allegedly, really painful! But,” You take a moment to crack your neck a little. “A few weeks later, it emerges as something else. And, you know, I think that middle stage captivates me because—because of the potential, right? The potential to change, to be something different. Never settling into one kind of person or creature, just change change change.” You spread your palms far out from your middle as the audience hunts you with its gaze. “Becoming something new, it might be painful for you, young caterpillar—but you’ll be stronger afterward. I like that idea a lot!”

Crawley pushes further. “Sometimes I shave my beard off, smooth as a button. Other times I let it grow, grow past my chin, grow across my stomach," Your eyes meet the audience. There’s someone glaring at you, like they’re about to snap you up and chew you to clippings. "Sometimes I roll myself up in makeup, other times I just go out, warts and all. Sometimes I bind my chest. Other times I kind of just, let ‘em hang out, ya know?"

That earns a chuckle.