I was born a woman in 75, raised a boy and denied of my voice. I grew angry because I felt unsafe to speak freely about my identity and who I wanted to spend my life with. I am and I was a bisexual woman and I understood this to be true as air and taxes.
I remember being told I wasnât allowed to play with my 6 year old best friend because he was feminine, because I was feminine, because we were not like other boys. I remember the sermons my grandfather preached that called homosexuality disgusting and unworthy of Godâs love. I remember being denied dolls and toys because adults with power were scared of my choices and intrests. The first time being caught dressing in my motherâs things and how it reduced me to something of embarrassment. Something to be punished in hopes that a good beating would cure my percieved disease. I remember the shame of being forced to talk with the familyâs minister because I chased the boys on the playground, trying to kiss them.
I remember my high school days when I began to push back. Being called a freak, a pussy. I remember the night I went out with a group of guys only to find myself in a car chasing down gay men on Senate St. cruising for love. The fear of speaking out because I understood in a moment all that hate would be directed at me.
I remember the harrassment and assaults as a young adult. The fear of being attacked on a Saturday night trying to get from our cars to the gay bars. I remember the fear of being outed at work. Seeing my friends fired for just being gay and little that could be done about it. I remember my own fear of being attacked while out with my trans girlfriends. Not knowing whom I could trust to share my secrets and the people I loved.
I remember how all these experiences were turned inward. Until my internalized homophobia and transphobia began to make me sick. The insomnia and the dark nights looking for a way out in a bottle and a pipe. I remember the moment it all caught up to me. Speeding at 80 mile per hour towards a ravine. Eyes blind with tears.
I remember my child being used as leverage to shame and control me. To force me back into the closet. I remember the emotional blackmail by my spouse. Determined to keep me under her thumb despite how it was obviously killing me.
I remember how some reacted when I finally broke free and began to fight back and claim my identity. I remember how many told me I was unfit to parent, how I was selfish and lost. I remember the constant fighting from my spouses family just to be allowed freedom to chose to wear certain clothes around my child. I remember my daughters birthday party. The one none of her friends came to because of me.
I remember having to fight my employer to change policy so that a trans person couldnât be outed on the first day of employment. I remember the calls to doctor offices searching for anyone to care for me. Only to be called Sir and met with discrimination, again and again. I remember my Stateâs law that denied me the right to safe spaces. I remember everything.
Now I am not only jaded and living with PTSD, I am pissed off. I donât care anymore what you may think of me. I could care less about your narrow views on biology. I donât give a fuck about your God or your political views. You no longer have power over me and I am done meeting you half way because my dignity and my safety are not up for compromise. I have become a silent fury. I have learned to stand tall with grace despite you. I have learned that no one can define me or deny me. I have power and insight most will never know. I am bored with your anti-science biblical story telling. You do not have my respect, nore does your hateful God. I refuse to expend my energy on your constant judgements of those you deem different. I have seen to much. Been through too much. Endured too long.
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