I’ve spent years drawing the curves, the flickers of blue magic, the shocked eyes in the mirror. But last night, I had a conversation that changed how I’ll ever draw a “before and after” panel again. And I need to write it down—from her perspective. Her name (let’s call her “Jade” for privacy) was one of my earliest Patreon supporters. She reached out not to ask about rendering techniques or release schedules, but to thank me. And then to confess.
The transformation already started. You’re just catching up to it. I’m working on a new comic now. No working title yet. But for the first time, I’m starting the story after the transformation. No origin curse. No villain. Just a woman making coffee in an apartment she chose, wearing clothes that feel like a second skin—not because of magic, but because of time.
Jade laughed (textually, with a “haha”). “You think I’m accusing you? No. Your work gave me language. When I watched The Foxx’s Curse , I finally had a word for the feeling of waking up in a body that’s yours but doesn’t fit : dysmorphia. And when I watched the resolution, I had a word for the opposite: homecoming .” from her perspective saphirefoxx
“That’s the real transformation,” she said. “Not the body. The boundaries .”
From her perspective, the transformation wasn’t the moment her chest changed or her voice lifted. It was the ten seconds before the magic, when she decided she was tired of being a character in someone else’s story. Hearing this, I felt a cold knot in my stomach. How many of my stories have I written as spectacle ? How many transformations have I treated like fireworks—beautiful, loud, and forgettable by morning? I’ve spent years drawing the curves, the flickers
She still watches my animations. But now she watches the side characters—the best friend who doesn’t flinch, the ex who walks away, the mirror that finally reflects peace instead of panic. So here’s what I want you to know, whether you’re questioning, transitioning, or just curious:
Jade was assigned male at birth. For thirty years, she built a life of “shoulds.” Should be taller. Should be quieter. Should like sports. She played the role so well that even she believed the costume was her skin. Until one night, alone in her apartment, she caught her reflection and whispered something she’d never said aloud: “What if I just… let go?” Her name (let’s call her “Jade” for privacy)
That feeling of watching a transformation scene and feeling your chest tighten? That’s not envy. That’s recognition .