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Angela Deuber - Family house, Thusis 2019. Via, photos © Schaub Stierli.

To be Trans, or not to be Trans: that is the question.

Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind’s identification of self

To suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous rumor,

Or to make war against the sea of troubling conjecture,

And by opposing, to end them? To live: to awaken

Once more; and by waking to say we begin anew

The heartaches and the uncounted sleepless nights

That flesh is heir to… To what? If not peace found within

Devoutly to be wish’d. To live, to awaken, to exist;

To be oneself: perchance to dream, to dare to achieve:

ay, there’s the rub;

For in that waking of new life what dreams may come

When we have cast off that mortal shell of former self,

Must give us pause: there’s the respect

That ends calamity of so long life lived in a fog, an illusion;

For who would bear the whips and scorns of the mob,

The oppressor’s wrong, the insulting language used,

The  painful emotion of a despised life, the law’s delay,

The insolence of the many and the spurns

of those very few so beloved

To be Trans, or not to be Trans

To then live, or to remain, to surely slowly die?

Soften the hearts of those who despise me. Look and see,how they have compared me to ISIS now, to murderous thugs they compare me… Just for my existence they say I should be set apart; purged. My works, and deeds matter not to them. For their heads are full of lies, and their hearts devoid of love. They do not know me, yet they seek the end of me.

Rainbow Road

Soften the hearts of those who despise me. Look and see,how they have compared me to ISIS now, to murderous thugs they compare me… Just for my existence they say I should be set apart; purged. My works, and deeds matter not to them. For their heads are full of lies, and their hearts devoid of love. They do not know me, yet they seek the end of me.

To be Trans, or not to be Trans: that is the question.

Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind’s identification of self

To suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous rumor,

Or to make war against the sea of troubling conjecture,

And by opposing, to end them? To live: to awaken

Once more; and by waking to say we begin anew

The heartaches and the uncounted sleepless nights

That flesh is heir to… To what? If not peace found within

Devoutly to be wish’d. To live, to awaken, to exist;

To be oneself: perchance to dream, to dare to achieve:

ay, there’s the rub;

For in that waking of new life what dreams may come

When we have cast off that mortal shell of former self,

Must give us pause: there’s the respect

That ends calamity of so long life lived in a fog, an illusion;

For who would bear the whips and scorns of the mob,

The oppressor’s wrong, the insulting language used,

The  painful emotion of a despised life, the law’s delay,

The insolence of the many and the spurns

of those very few so beloved

To be Trans, or not to be Trans

To then live, or to remain, to surely slowly die?