What It Means to Be Trans in My Tiny Town
My trans friends rarely come home, and when they do, it is for brief bursts of time. They question why I’ve chosen to keep living here.
I can’t do this anymore.
Cheer up, face!
San Francisco Chronicle
It’s because I’m trapped here
The war is over
Both sides!those people
The ‘H’ is out of shave at last
What are you?
Train approaching, whistle squealing
don’t ask, don’t tell
Avoid that rundown feeling
More by this author
How can I say that I fear I’ll never date again without feeding the monster? No one owes me their touch; I am starving for it just the same.
It is very rare, as a disabled person, that I have an intense sense of belonging, of being not just tolerated or included in a space, but actively owning it.
More in this series
“I should hate forever to be a burden to you”: Lessons in Love from Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West
I don’t want to take time away from your book, she said, but the book could wait. My writing was always there. She might not be.
There was nowhere to go back to. Oklahoma was out of the question, always out of the question. But then, where was home?