I attempted discourse with people online who don’t see things the way I do. I know what you’re thinking. “Ashley, they’ll eat you alive!” And they did, but I’d still do it all over again.
The fire in me is born of righteous indignation. I don’t care what holiness you claim or what heathen name you call me. I know what I am, and I stand against those who would abuse.
Every single time I see someone post something well-meaning that suggests (or overtly endorses) hate as a solution, it hurts. That won’t work. That never works. Hate is no solution. It never has been.
Day in, day out, I find myself trying to make sense of the madness and coming up empty time and again. Because, come on, people. KINDNESS isn’t hard. It really isn’t. Can we please give that a try?
I know how jazzed you are about the idea of reading a whole article on privilege. Probably as jazzed as I am to be writing it. Which is to say, not jazzed at all. Let’s do this.
I’ve been quiet for a while. Let’s not make it a thing. Yeah, I know. I brought it up. Okay. Fine. If you insist. Where does one find attractive lesbians who are cool with trans chicks?
When they found him, he was incoherent. “They come in the night,” he said. Evelyn knelt beside him. She scanned his face. His eyes wandering to the floor as he muttered, “That’s when they come.”
Coming out has been mostly positive, at least in the places where it matters the most. My friends have been fucking awesome, and not one person has cornered me and called me a freak.
We like the idea of control, but we don’t have any. We SO don’t. We just comfort ourselves with the illusion of control. Things keep changing, but it’s okay. I keep changing with ’em.