To All The Young Trans People Out There

The original letter was a local trans woman’s life story; the editor picked it because the woman was her neighbor, and she thought it interesting and meaningful. The letter detailed vast amounts of shame the writer still holds; she called herself disgusting, disfigured, in need of correction.

I wrote this in a fit of rage and love.

My bright star,

There will always be people who believe that gender is two precarious cliffs connected by tightrope. That the crossing is both necessary and life-threatening. That they may only celebrate themselves once they’re firmly ensconced on the other side, as indistinguishable as possible from its other citizens.

Once upon a time, not nearly long enough ago, this was, in fact, the way many people survived. Those who lived on the tightrope did so at the risk of violence — from the state, from the culture. They still do, sometimes; make no mistake.

But I am going to suggest that you don’t have to internalize the violence. That you don’t have to enact their hatred on yourself in order to be taken seriously as a trans person. I take your gender seriously because you told me that you are trans. If you ever tell me something different, it won’t invalidate the time we’ve spent in this space with you. If the shape or color of your gender changes over time, it won’t negate the time you’ve spent in your current skin or state of mind.

Forget the tightrope, my love. It’s just a path. A path that crosses more beauty, more soft, habitable places than [letter writer’s] generation could have dreamed of. You can live anywhere you want on it. You can walk it, circle it, trace your steps back. And you can move. There is no finish line. You don’t have to stay in one place your whole gendered life.

The powers that be do not have to pity you in order to want fairness for you. You do not have to put your suffering on display to humanize yourself. You do not have to call yourself sick or broken or perform a yearning for a normalcy that someone else defines.

Dissatisfaction and grief are human birthrights; no one thinks you have to love every inch of yourself all the time. If something in your body feels missing, extraneous, unnecessary or painful, you don’t have to hate it to want to change it. The road to becoming more fully yourself does not have to begin in a pit of self-loathing. It can begin from a place of love and curiosity, even acceptance.

The only thing we demand of you is that you understand your story as one of many, and none more right or wrong than any other.

[Letter writer] grew up in a time when there were no GSAs, no trans characters on television, no friendly corners of the internet, no doctors or therapists who understood how to help, or wanted to. Her story is important because it is hers, and because it gives us a look into what happens when people are raised with more shame than love.

I’m not saying your world is perfect, or even very good. Your world was built on the same architecture as the one that held her in shame, denial and pain for decades. Our attempts to remodel it have only been half successful. The work your generation will do will be different than ours, not less.

But shame and suffering are not what make you worthy of equal protection under the law. You are worthy because you are human: no more, no less. You are worthy of competent medical care, and to make decisions about what happens to your body, because it is your body and no one else’s.

You are trans enough. No one should question your belonging in this moment, in this movement, in this family.

The rainbow that holds you is made of many colors. Yours and hers are but two.