I have not done as much work on the channel in the second half of 2025 as I initially planned on doing. It is also awkward in that this has not been for simple reasons like “my internet is down” or “I’m tired”. It is for a more foundational reason – I realized that the sound of my own voice does not represent who I am, or at least, how I want to be perceived. When I produce YouTube videos that are put in front of potentially thousands of random strangers who have not seen any of my work before, it is my voice that delivers that first impression. Given that my voice is no longer me – or does not represent how I want to be seen – this has complicated my own relationship to my past work in ways I had not foreseen. This is a vulnerable process and one that has taken a lot of introspection and courage to recognize about myself.

The voice is an important part of how we are seen and perceived, even on an unconscious, micro-level. “The voice carries many aspects of identity, including gender, age, and background”, writes scholar Michelle Adessa et al. “Transgender women may experience gender dysphoria with their perceptual voice quality, vocal pitch, vocal loudness, and overall communication. Aligning voice with gender identity can be achieved by behavioral voice training, surgery, or a combination of both” (1). The process I want to go through – gender affirmation – is both simple and daunting. “Gender affirmation is an interpersonal process in which a transgender person receives social recognition and support for their gender identity and expression” (2023, 1), they write.

When people tune into my streams, “hey man” or “good job sir” or any number of masculine titles are conferred upon me. This is, suffice it to say, not gender affirming. (For future reference, “hey ma’am” or “good job miss” sounds pretty good to me!) While the masculine titles have never been laurels I’ve particularly wanted to adorn, I was never aware of myself enough to reject them outright. I am coming to understand, through a long, slow process, that neither my body, nor my voice, nor even my avatars or my old actual name represent who I am, and who I have always been.

The present problem and concern, of course, is what I produce right now, as I work on changing the sound of my own voice through voice training (probably starting next year, when I have the time and the mental space to work on it). Is the rich legacy of my old video essays – which have history stretching back to my very first Artemy Burakh character analysis in 2022, ugh I just threw up a little in my mouth at that thought – something that I will one day reappraise when I have a voice that is better befitting of myself? It seems an extreme response to want to shed my old voice like a snake sheds its skin, or a shibito sheds its humanity, but nonetheless I shudder to think of such obvious evidence of my inauthentic self remaining there in perpetuity, even if I am exceedingly proud of what I have done. Worse, think of the hundreds of hours of stream archives of my nonrepresentative, misinterpretable voice that already exist, that I am also proud of. I have worked so hard on everything I have produced for this channel – but it is my voice that wavers in the face of my own legacy. It is easier to deal with in person – a feeling I can push through, and a sense that I can, in the flesh, assert my own identity in a number of other ways. I am not just a voice in person.

But here, online, I am either text or a voice, and I have no real desire to ever show my face or use my real name (at least not anytime in the near future). And that complicates things a lot for me. If this is how people understand me, how can I bear to let those who will never cross over to the blog judge me? This vulnerability – which has grown for a long time but bloomed unexpectedly – has complicated every facet of this project aside from this one, my little website.

Gender is as much to do with how one is perceived as how one feels about themselves. As Jenny Holmberg writes, in an ideal world “gender is not seen as an inherent property of a person but as something that is done. The doing of gender takes place through social interactions and is reflected both in how gender is expressed by the individual, and how this expression is perceived by others” (2025, 4 – 5). Until the day my voice reflects the reality of who I am, and who I have always been – a woman or simply a feminine person, depends on the day where I land on that scale – the realities of sharing my voice and asking for understanding can some days just be too hard to take. I am forever impressed by the bravery and authenticity of every person who can stand up and keep going through misunderstanding, and unfortunately much worse sometimes.

I appreciate everyone’s understanding and compassion when it comes to my own newfound reticence, and I am cursing my own voice particularly hard, given that my chosen career relies on me talking to people all the time. Believe me, the frustration is profound. I can do nothing but push forward, and I hope that my confidence will redevelop so that I won’t even need to consider remaking all of my old videos, and redoing some playthroughs (everyone down for all of Pathologic Classic HD again?). But if it doesn’t, I am privileged to have your support and your understanding.


Citations

Adessa, M., Weston, Z., Ruthberg, J., & Bryson, P. C. (2023). Gender-Affirming Voice Modification for Transgender Women: Characteristics and Outcomes. Transgender health, 8(4), 352–362. https://doi.org/10.1089/trgh.2021.0071

Holmberg, J. (2025). On voice dysphoria : placing the transgender and gender diverse client at the centre of gender-affirming voice training (PhD dissertation, Umeå University). Retrieved from https://urn.kb.se/resolve?urn=urn:nbn:se:umu:diva-233766