The Alchemy of The Self

By Leona Sal

This collection is about transition and the reforging of oneself through will. The stories, poems, plays, and literary non-fiction explorations within will at once hold up a figurative mirror reflecting the ugliness directed at trans women while proudly displaying a beautiful representation of the power, possibility, joy, and light of transition, as if it were a grand stained-glass mural. 

If you like stories about trans women, stories about transition, revolution, struggle, joy, pain, life, and memory, you will like this collection. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Independently Published
• Release date: Jun 20, 2025
• ISBN: 9798231305056

Book preview

Leona Sal

The Alchemy of The Self

stories, poems, and creative nonfiction

Copyright © 2025 by Leona Sal

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

Leona Sal asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Leona Sal has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

The author retains publishing, adaptation, and other rights to the included screenplay(s) and stageplay(s).

First edition

Contents

Foreword

Acknowledgments

I. STORIES

1. 3" Liberated Me

2. The Day The Gay Bar Forgot To Be Queer

3. Ayla’s Prophecy

4. New Job, Same Plan

II. POEMS

5. CIS - Coward, Infirm, Skittish

6. An ode to my repressor cousin

7. Lyrical Transition Poem

8. sun through partnership

9. 3x 10

10. 3x 11

11. 3x 12

12. 3x 13

III. LITERARY NON-FICTION

13. C18H24O2: The Elixir of My Life

14. Plato, Cleo, and Cheerleaders

15. Women of Color Feminisms and Intersectionality

16. Life, Revolution, Love: Ka’nan’s incompleted trinity

17. Book Review: Redemption and Revolution

18. Book Review: The Shape of Sex

19. Book Review: Community as Rebellion

20. Book Review: Occupation Organizer

21. Policy Essay: How to actually solve homelessness in SLC/SLCo

Foreword

Acknowledgments

My girlfriend, Bailey Saxon, who is my north star.

+

Benjanun Sriduangkaew and Fae’Rynn, for offering me community and pushing me to write.

:)

I

Stories

1

3" Liberated Me

Fuck. I really don’t want to go to jail. My recently-repaired 2011 Ford Escape isn’t starting. I am in a very expensive parking lot downtown, and I’m almost out of time before I have to pay with no money in the bank. My rig has rusted fenders, but has otherwise been dependable since I purchased it about 6 months ago. The culprit? The thing I just fixed- the starting circuit-relay wasn’t properly connected to the ignition wiring harness. Why did I do this to myself?, I ask, and nobody but me could possibly answer. And, no one did.

So, there I am, with the clock ticking. I’m in the middle of downtown Denver and stuck with a disabled car. Luckily, I have most of my tools with me. Most being the operative term. I don’t have my set of wire spools, my heat shrink gun, or my better wire strippers- I left all of those at the makerspace, which isn’t that far- it’s a 10 minute drive from where I currently am, but calling a tow truck isn’t an option.

I decide to do the only thing I can do- attempt a repair from the parking lot. The problem? Repairing the ignition wiring harness looks a lot like hot-wiring a car, and I really don’t want to go to jail. Jail sucks for everyone but for trans women it usually looks like state-sanctioned rape and worse. My fear feels like chills, but I know I have to push through it.

Despite my fears, I get to work. Everything I try, fails. I keep trying- the patches keep failing. No matter what I do, I can’t get a solid connection between the starting wire on the car’s side and the starting wire on the push-to-start relay’s side. The wire on the car’s side is too short and I can’t get access to make a clean connection.

Every time someone walks by, I get more nervous- Are they going to call the police? I wonder. They move along. No, ok. But what about that other couple? I keep working, and time crawls to a slow, painful pace. I am acutely aware of the passage of time as people walk by and my repairs keep failing. Worse, I can feel, intimately, that I’m running out of time. I keep trying, and failing, to patch the circuit.

In exasperation, I want to give up. I can’t, but damn do I want to. I decide to get out of the car for a moment, and it’s in that moment that I’m about to open the door that an epiphany strikes me. Literally, it struck my hand. A spool of wire that was on my seat rolls as I’m about to get up and decides to gently hit my hand. I know then what I have to do. I really, really, need to get out of there. I’m worried about police showing up- and I know that the cops tend to detain first, ask questions never. At least, if you’re queer or not white, that is. I’m white, but I’m also visibly queer.

The inspiration was that my problem was trying to do the patch right on limited time and without the right tools. It seemed so obvious once I realized that I spent precious time mentally kicking myself for not seeing it sooner. Once I snapped out of beating myself up, I was able to cut a short piece of wire from that spool. 3" of wire was all I needed. Finally! Finally, after what felt like 2 hours or more, I put the car back together. Well, mostly. I left the upper portion of the steering wheel cover off- but I had my reasons.

Once I had my 3" wire, I stripped the insulation from both ends and twisted and tightened the strands of copper to make them strong and give them form. Once I felt confident in my twisting of the wire strands, I was ready to leave the cursed parking lot. It felt like I had been there for a couple of hours and I was shocked that no police had shown up yet.

Chirp, Chirp was the sound I heard as the starter circuit authenticated my RFID tag. I put the car in on but couldn’t start it because of the faulty wiring. This was all part of the plan. I whip out my new best friend- that trusty 3" patch wire. I stick one end of my new friend’s body into the wire harness that I couldn’t repair, and prepare for the next step. I take the other end of my best friend and touch it to the semi-exposed power wire. My car turns over, I break the connection. Now, my car is running and I have a system- albeit a janky, kind of suspicious one, for getting my car started. It’s a pretty simple, elegant solution- just hotwire it. I put my friend aside in one of