The Unbelievable Reality of Being Trans
I didn't wanna get out of bed this morning. The very idea of leaving the cozy blankets made me snuggle harder as I became one with the bed. I'd fight anybody who'd come try to takeaway this safety. Nostalgia washed over me, as I welcomed memories of when I used to effortlessly lay in bed the entire day.
I’m grateful there are a lot more reasons to get out of bed these days, including the one that was now laying next me, gently asking if I was ok. After a silent embrace I decided I wanted to get up. For them, and for me.
The first place we went was a vegan gluten free Cafe where Pride and BLM flags welcomed us into a cozy space, to be greeted by beautiful people who happen to have expert coffee art making abilities, only matched by their warm hospitality. The coffee was euphoric. As we relaxed, took a few cute photos, and cozyied up next to each other, I felt safe again. Nostalgia returned. I’ve felt this way before. So many times before. #MyDream
Friendly customers trickled in, some choosing to share space, while others seemed to be having more of a grab and go situation. As one person was leaving, they complimented my dress. I was awkwardly silent, contemplating how to respond to the attack, deeply analyzing every intention they could have and calculating where each of them could lead us. The other person seemed to panick to, causing them to look again and confirm I was wearing a dress, which I was, so then I imagined they were just confused in my silence. I considered the possibility that an attack was not occurring, and then, after an akwardly long time, I thanked them. Long after they left, I felt my guard lower more. Did I believe them?… maybe they really did just like my dress 😊💜
THIS is exactly where I was in composing this reflection, when my soon to be in-laws sat down next to me, and asked for me to change out of my dress, before my partner’s sister and her family come over, who have little children, and seemingly little love for trans people, and they feared I’d be fuel to a fire of pre-existing sibling tension. I genuinely thought I was having a heart attack, and I still not convinced I’m not. But, eventually I calmed myself enough to say, I understand, I will change, and went to do so.
I just sat in the floor though, trying to calm my heart, which was actively trying to leap from my chest. Nostalgia again washed over me, but this time, it brought trembles… What an unbelievable reality being trans is.
Safety. Pain. It’s a tango every day.
I’m not mad at anybody. Oppression, well that shit is fucked up! I’m very mad at oppression. But we are all in the system and I understood so much of what was going on. I too don’t want anybody to fight and I feel the immense familial love, so despite my role in the situation being pretty shitty, I accepted it. Center my truth, put on a smile, and support the emotions of all the cis-people around me.
I could write a book about this day, all the feelings, connections to memories, thoughts about the movement toward collective liberation, or even just my plan for getting through rest of the day (and week), which I discussed with my partner, figuring out what they want, sharing what I want, and deciding how we want to proceed.
“What is really hard, is the numbing. I feel it. I don’t like it. I feel myself suppressing, compartmentalizing, and not crying.”
We’re all together now, only half of us know what proceeded the gathering, but we all sit with the impact (knowingly or not). Some of us are sitting in the living room, others are wandering about the house, and it’s quiet now, so I allow myself to look up from this reflection. My partners sister looks to me and says, “it’s quiet; that means trouble". All I could do is ckuckle, “that’s accurate”.
Im ok. I mean, look at me. I know THE truth 🔥❤️🌈✊🏻
And I know so many people love me, ALL of me, and that’s one reason I share openly. If you read this and wanna connect, I welcome the love. I always welcome the love. One day, all the people in this story will love me as much as you all do.
