Friday, February 13, 2015

Thinking Trans

Sometimes you forget how people would overlook you--how they'd stare and try to figure it all out in the twenty seconds it took to cross a crowded bar. They want to see which door you choose. Either way, you've lost.
You forget how hard you had to fight to be taken seriously as a man in this world, and you forget the price you had to pay for that respect. Some wouldn't call it that at all. Some may say privilege. And they may be right.
You forget the angst and the activism and just start living. The weeks pass and you pass and you finally get everything you've always wanted, along with a whole new set of misunderstandings. The assumptions may be different, but people claim you as their own, trying to squeeze juicy answers out of you until you are shriveled and worn. 
I still haven't lost that fear that someday there will be a problem in the locker room, a situation at the airport, a confrontation at the gas station. But I'll be damned if you think you can make me stand up to pee. 
Today, I remind myself how hard it still is for people who don't look like me. I've never had to worry about my chest--even though I do--and the color of my skin doesn't exponentially increase the chances that I'll be beaten bloody and left to die. 
I understand that I have become somewhat complacent, and I cannot be ashamed of this. But I can work harder to make sure others have the same luxury . And that's the road I have chosen.