Today I wore my “trans pride” shirt out with my mom (because it would be easiest if the problem is just that she’s forgetting my gender and needs to be reminded sometimes instead of that she just refuses to believe it exists). I usually expect stares in that shirt, I usually wear it in secret with scarves on top or a sweater. But I wore it nothing less than emblazoned across my chest and the queens and queers were out in full force when we went out and they saw me and they smiled and winked and nodded and told me they liked my shirt or they liked my hair but I knew that it meant I SEE YOU BOO, YOU ARE ALIVE AND BEAUTIFUL AND I AM TOO.
And I don’t want legibility and recognition to mean so much to me but it just does right now in this moment. Because it is too easy to disappear if I feel invisible. Because I wanted to kill myself a little less the next fifteen times my mother called me someone else’s name and someone else’s pronoun. Because I wanted to live a little more when you leaned into your hip and raised you hand heavy with rings and turned your smile as crooked as your stance and told me you liked my hair.
Thank you gorgeous strangers for those stolen moments in the busy shoping mall. I see you too, boo <3