I’d love to not wake up every day to new threats to my access to HRT and medical care. Not get another newsletter about another state legislature banning me from public spaces or threatening to forcibly revert the identity documents of trans people. But instead it’s a slow descent down an ever more oppressive path seeking to eliminate us from existence.
Not long after I came out and started transitioning I was asked what it felt like suddenly waking up every morning knowing there are millions of people (mostly old men) angrily obsessing about me and what’s in my pants. I replied that I wasn’t gonna lie and it was more than a little creepy. The response I got was, “congratulations, you are a woman!”
But I’m also not naive enough to think that if somehow the trans panic could be over come that those seeking to erase us from existence would just go home and live quiet lives not interfering with anyone else’s life and happiness. All that hate would just end up being directed against some other vulnerable group instead of those actually causing the grief and pain and inequity in the world.
Meanwhile the pool’s almost done and until AZ turns ruby red and renames itself Gilead del Sol I can float in peace and escape the world while lobsterfying under the desert sun.
I'm going to say this publicly because maybe someone like you or I are reading this….
Consider me your ally. You're not my first trans friend, by far, everyone's journey is uniquely different but if there's anything I can do to provide you comfort or a hit of solace during these days, consider it done. You have other allies here and around you but remember that sometimes their voices, and especially their actions, get drowned out by the rumble of intolerance and bigotry.
The same old men that are angry with you and the 'pick me's' who got fifth in a swim meet that blame it on someone transgender can absolutely get bent because they think you're easy to pick on and it's just some flippant choice you made. You may a choice to be who you are just like I made the choice to be 5'9 and of West- and North African descent with some sprinklings of frisky caucasian slave owner in a culture built by the wrath of my people, but not for them.
There wasn't a choice. I am who I am as much as you are who you are and the naysayers can get lost. And even if there was, I'd be exactly who I am as well as you would be you.
Keep your head up, find your allies, they're out there and here.