This book is written in a different style - it is a collection of letters from Transgender and Non-Binary people. They write letters to help others and to work through their sexual assault and/or domestic violence. Sadly there is still not enough awareness for this group and sexual assault or violence towards Trans people happens too many times and gets no attention by the media. This book is a real eye opener and hard to read during some parts. All letters are written by different authors and have different writing styles.

5* Heartbreaking and also incredibly affirming.

You need to be prepared to read this book, which is a series of letters from transgender survivors of domestic abuse and sexual assault, because it hits hard in its simplicity, honesty, pain, passion and courage.

No two letters are the same, but each is addressed to various body parts - some hated, some that the survivors have learned to appreciate and love, and some that they've dealt with surgically. Each is written by a SURVIVOR. It's a humbling read, one that should be made available in schools.

ARC courtesy of NetGalley and Jessica Kingsley Publishers, for my reading pleasure.

All I can say is that this has a real world eye opener and that I feel like more of this topic has to be spoken about. 
There is trigger warnings for Sexual Assault. 
There is many different authors who wrote from their own experiences which means it is in their different writing styles. 
I give this book 5/5 stars

A collection of letters, written by trans and non-binary people to body parts, Written on the Body is a powerful exploration of gender, identity, people’s experience of sexual assault and domestic violence and the intersections between them. Hearing from people who are so often pushed to the margins of society; this isn’t an easy read, subject wise, but I’m thankful Ieshai Bailey, Lexie Bean, Sawyer DeVuyst, Nyala Moon, Dean Spade, and Alex Valdes are able to share their experiences and truths.

Trigger Warning: There are too many potential triggers in this book to name but they include sexual assault, domestic violence, mental health, bullying, suicide, eating disorders and self harm. Please be safe while reading. 💜

You know those books that leave you without words? I don’t, which is why this review has been so hard to write. I’m one of those people that has so many opinions that I’ve got opinions about my own opinions. Seriously!

I finished reading ‘Written on the Body: Letters from Trans and Non-Binary Survivors of Sexual Assault and Domestic Violence’ almost two weeks ago and the stories have been resonating within me ever since. I started this book thinking about my own experiences with sexual assault and domestic violence.

I wondered if I would have the courage to write a letter to one of my body parts. What body part would I choose? What would I want or need to say to it? Would I have the courage to write the letter anywhere but in my mind where no one could accidentally stumble across it? If I did manage to write that letter who would I trust to show it to? Regardless of your history I’d encourage you to think about those questions for yourself. It’s really quite a daunting prospect, isn’t it?

I thought about experiences shared with other sexual assault and domestic violence survivors over the years and how we’ve connected over shared thoughts and feelings, regardless of the legal terminology of what was perpetrated against us. The survivors I’ve had the opportunity to share with so far have been cis women and men, and they’re some of the bravest people I know.

I wondered if I could ever claim to understand what a trans or non-binary sexual assault or domestic violence survivor has experienced. While I’m fairly confident there’d be aspects of their story that I could relate to based on my own experiences, as a cis woman I can’t and won’t claim to understand what it’s like to be trans or non-binary. To be trans or non-binary in today’s society and then compound that with (in so many survivors) countless experiences of abuse by multiple perpetrators? I can’t even begin to imagine.

We need books like this one to open our eyes to the pain of those who’ve experienced the unthinkable and the incredible ability people have to overcome what was intended to destroy. While you can never really walk in someone else’s shoes, by reading this book you have the honour of being granted permission to truly see aspects of people that are usually hidden by façades.

You’ll likely feel practically everything in your emotional range while reading and due to the content I’d advise against reading it all at once. Different writing styles and content provide varied reading experiences throughout the book. Some letters were poetic. Others were visceral. There’s so much heartbreaking trauma content, yet there’s also so much strength and hope.

While considering the courage of the people who have contributed to this book, a quote from Brené Brown’s ‘I Thought It Was Just Me: Women Reclaiming Power and Courage in a Culture of Shame’ came to mind. Brené explains eloquently what I cannot:

“Courage is a heart word. The root of the word courage is cor - the Latin word for heart. In one of its earliest forms, the word courage meant "To speak one's mind by telling all one's heart." Over time, this definition has changed, and today, we typically associate courage with heroic and brave deeds. But in my opinion, this definition fails to recognize the inner strength and level of commitment required for us to actually speak honestly and openly about who we are and about our experiences - good and bad.”

To the survivors who have contributed to this book, there are so many things I want to say to you, amongst which are … I hear you. I believe you. Thank you so much for sharing your story. I am in awe of your courage. You are extraordinary!

If I could choose just one really powerful quote from this book: “What they didn’t know is that I’m trying to heal from what happened to me; I’m not trying to heal from who I am.” - Lexie Bean.

How do you rate a book like this? I don’t think you can rate someone’s experience so instead I’m rating the courage, the heart, of the people who have not only looked within themselves to come up with words that reflect their experience but have also had the bravery to shine a light on them. To me that deserves nothing less than ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.

Thank you so much to NetGalley and Jessica Kingsley Publishers for the opportunity to read this book. I feel honoured to have read it.

This was a very impactfull collection. Don't let my star rating fool you for that. I was just very confused by how this collection was constructed for like half of this book and that took away from all the rest.

Writing a review for an anthology like this is always going to be a challenge, not least because of the heavy subject matter. I must also mention here that I read this anthology as a queer cisgender woman, and as such, no matter how much I read around the subject and know about gender, I have not had the kinds of gendered (or non-gendered) experiences with my body as the authors in this collection have.

When I saw the title of this collection, what I expected was candid, straight-forward letters (written, perhaps, to the reader) about each person's experience of domestic abuse, or sexual assault. However, this collection goes far beyond that, and rather than a recounting of individual events, it's an exercise in healing, in connecting with your body and confronting your fears and violations. Reading it is a hauntingly intimate experience, as you have to embody the thoughts of each author as they address their essays and poems directly to those body parts which need confronting. These may be parts which they have tumultuous relationships with, or parts that have been a steady and comforting presence through tumultuous events, or parts that the author has eradicated, or crafted, or come to love. No matter which part is being addressed, each text is filled with a candid and disarming intimacy.

This anthology has resonated with my own experience of my body. I know what it is to have a tense and scary relationship with medicalised intimate body parts, parts which are reduced, atrophied, painful, and objectified, parts which impact our relationships, and other people's relationships and disregard for our own bodies. (Despite my feelings of shame and impulse to privacy, to do my part in creating awareness, I urge you to google Lichen Sclerosis.)

The writing in this collection, whilst crossing different forms like essays and poetry, are so different in voice and tone. There's prose, rhythmic and rhyming poetry, free verse, experiments with grammar and structure, and beyond. I believe there's something here that will resonate with any reader. In all of my reviews I try to feature some of my favourite quotes or passages, so I will do the same here. The intimacy and personal nature in these texts propels me to again acknowledge that each quote fits within the context of the whole letter and anthology, and belongs to the author's experiences and words.

'I love that you turned your body to a shelter. That resonates. I think you're very much a home, and wonder if you also see yourself that way. If we weren't reduced to our physical forms, what would your body be made of?'

'The fourth metacarpal on your right was snapped under the weight of a man's knee when you were trying desperately to be physically strong and tough in a space where they called you "the girl in the pit" and you hated it so much and all the boys wearing the same fucking hat and shorts swinging and punching the air in this shortsighted vision of masculinity.'

'You are calloused and scarred because there is something about being devoted to physical carelessness that excites you.'

'The parts that have carried me so, so far, that knew instinctively how to sway and sashay in high heels at twenty years old despite a lifetime of being forbidden. The parts that know how to run like the West Coast rain, that have saved me over and over again.'

'they call me female. i call me alien. sometime i growl instead of whimper & they laugh & call me a man they think it's an insult. i think it's a trap. [because i've been told that men with sharp cheekbones can cut more than just opinions] they think calling me an anomaly is an achievement, i think it is f r e e d o m but who cares what i think? dark-skinned, submissive, worn/ torn - i am an instruction manual for abuse a checklist for oppression a how to get lost for dummies book [complete with audio cd] but will you listen to me?'

I would recommend this collection to anyone and everyone who has the slightest interest in it, because honestly I think the writing is fantastic and the personal stories are a gift.

I'd like to end my review with an extract from the Note to Self by Sawyer DeVuyst at the end of the collection.

'When chronic uniqueness, the feeling that I am the only person experiencing a problem or hardship, has threatened to overwhelm me, hearing stories of the human condition have saved me. Hearing stories from other people about how others have treated them, how it made them feel, how they overcame it, or how they sat with those feelings, make me feel less alone. It has created a community of "I see you. I hear you."

This anthology creates a community of "I see you. You see me. I hear you. You hear me. I feel you. You feel me."'

I can relate to this personally through my own experience of community groups which discuss these intimate relationships to our politicised bodies. The act of writing a letter to our body parts, rather than about them, though, is a strikingly powerful and introspective way to deal with these complicated feelings and begin to heal. I'm certain that this anthology will create that sense of community healing for any trans or gender variant person, no matter which stage of their journey they are on.


Thank you to Jessica Kingsley Publishers and Netgalley for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

TW/CW: rape, domestic abuse, physical and sexual abuse, mental health, self-injury and suicide, dysphoria, body image/eating disorders, explicit sexual content, + others. Please express self-care and emotional support while reading this book.

This book is something else.

This is a collection of letters, addressed to their own bodies, from trans and non-binary survivors of violence and assault. Weaving together narratives of gender, identity, and abuse this book tells many stories that deserve to be heard.

I want to start with complete transparency.

I do not personally identify as trans nor non-binary. While I do have personal experience with sexual assault this is not an ownvoices review. This book is not mine to relate to and everything I say about this book is said with the utmost respect for all the contributors and anyone who claims this book as part of their story.

This collection of letters is raw and painful and truthful.

I feel wildly privileged to be allowed to read stories that are filled with such incredible wrongdoings on people who were then so courageous as to share their journey, their thoughts, and their emotions.

Sometimes it's poetic, sometimes it's angry, sometimes it's uplifting and hopeful. It contains prose and rhyme and free verse and essay-style writing. These letters are stories of trauma, but also of self-awareness and healing. Of journies so unique to the individual that despite being granted the honour to look in on the story, only those who have walked in those shoes will ever fully comprehend.

All of it is heartbreaking and raw. But this book is one full of stories that deserve to be told and listened to. It is complicated and powerful.

This is a book to be revered.

This is a tough book to read because it is very upfront with the prejudice and violence trans people will most likely face. It has the kind of stories that break your heart, but as a teacher I'm glad I read them. I will use them to foster empathy in my middle and high school students when they make insensitive comments born out of ignorance.