An Explanation of My Apprehension of you Writing an Article about My Life
by Xan, 20, Nonbinary
Rationally, I do not mind that you want to tell the world about my life In fact, I think it is a miracle anyone noticed at all However, I’m not particularly cozy with the idea that you want to tell everyone how hard my life is It is not that I am embarrassed that I struggle, it is that I am angry Yes, I told that hate crime researcher that I want everyone to feel valid in their own struggles, and yes, I did mean that. No, I do not always feel that way, especially when I cannot leave my house without fearing for my life, and over there, they are bitching about healthcare. Yes, I know healthcare is important too, but you only need your hormones if you are living. I am aware that anger is simply fear turned inward. I can explain. I am afraid of my life turning into a sad charity commercial, displayed every half hour, to the upper-middle class who feels not sorry for me, but sorry for not caring, *click* changes the channel, and complains about something trivial that is way too important to them. Even for those that do care, who read your article, what happens then? What will really change when 15 and 30 year-olds sit around in their privilege and discuss the one article they read that suddenly made them an expert on the trials of queer southern living? I do not want to be transposed into smoking area chats and cocktail conversations. I want a goddamn revolution. I am so motherfucking pissed that I had to tell you that I cannot hold your hand in the city where I spent 75% of my life because I am scared to die. I’m fucking self-conscious about the lack of resources available when you ask if there is a community we can take part in when you visit. I’m furious that I feel apologetic because I had to tell you that we cannot be ourselves because we do not have the privilege of expecting human decency and protection, even from, especially from, law enforcement. I did not report it when 5 middle-aged men beat me for being a “tranny dyke” on my college campus because I was scared the police would spit on my face where my tears should have been. I had wanted to cry, but I did not want my tears to look like glitter or victory in the moonlight Tonight, we will not back down, we will wear our pride like lipstick and smear it all over each other’s faces when we kiss, and when we kiss, we will whisper encouragements. You will write that article, and it might not change the world, but at least we know that we tried. It takes a whole life to fight ignorance, but it only takes a second to die.
