bleh
Clocking another trans person out in the world hits me with a unique cocktail of emotions. Initially, I brighten up - I feel like we exist, in spite of all the terrifying rhetoric around me. I feel proud. Then my focus shifts onto myself, and I feel deeply ashamed. My patches of facial hair are unshaven, my hair is long but unkept, and my outfit is chosen in denial of who I am. I feel like such a half-assed trans woman. I take the hormones but avoid doing the work or taking the risk. That shame is a constant hum in my mind, but roars when I’m in front of someone who shows up to take those risks every damn day. I feel like I’ve been assigned this duty to courageously press forward and express myself, both for myself and for others like me, and I fail every. single. day.
the bar is not even on the floor; it’s buried within the pits of hell