“Lighten up.”
That’s what a friend told me just earlier today after listening to me rant about Trump and then whine about the fact that I can’t join my LGBT brothers and sisters in a vocal, visible way. You know, because I’m still in the closet. (The motherfucking closet.)
“Lighten up,” she said.
And she’s right. I mean, I’m actively working toward being able to be open. I’m trying to set myself up to come out. I can’t even describe how wonderful the very idea of coming out is.
I want it. So. Bad.
And, yes, I know it’ll mean painting a target on myself. I know people won’t accept me. That they’ll judge me and make fun of me. That some may even want to hurt me.
I know I can’t “pass”[1], and I know coming out will be a mixed bag. Some days it’ll feel like freedom — Mel-Gibson-screaming-at-the-end-of-Braveheart freedom — and some days it’ll suck. I don’t care.
I don’t wanna live the rest of my days in hiding.
But my friend was right to encourage me to lay off the martyr shtick. I mean, yes I feel tread upon, but that can’t be the center of my focus. That doesn’t help a damn thing.
So Trump’s in office. He’s already fucking up our country, making enemies of everyone from Mexico, to American LGBT folks, women, and other minorities. Tell me you’re surprised. I’m not.
Life will go on. One man can’t ruin the entire world. He can do damage, but we’ll just fight right back.
Lighten up. It’s gonna be okay.
Notes
1. I know the terms “pass” and “passable” are offensive to some trans folks. You can read about the complexity of these terms here.
But even though the terms are messy in a way, they also communicate. To be “passable” is to blend. Some trans people can, and those around them never suspect that they were assigned the wrong gender at birth. Some of us can’t. Our outsides will always clash with our insides, even if we do our best to make the two match up. I use the term here, not to defend it or offend, but to communicate the tension of wishing I could look like I feel.