There is nothing more powerful than those who are unafraid

I do believe that trans women and femmes are some of the most powerful people to survive this world. For so many reasons, the girls embody what resilience means.

When I choose to wear a dress, I know the weight for my decision. I know this means the fabric will contrast against the body hair I chose not to shave off. I know the juxtaposition of masculinity and femininity will make people stare. And I mean stare. I mean, eyes locked, jaws dropped, fingers pointing. Children stare amazed, watching someone exist out of the boundaries their parents never mentioned. It is almost as if I am magic, but the magic from a movie screen somehow assumed to be evil without having to label as such. Young people also stare. Usually they are with friends and I do my best to avoid those groups because the need to feel powerful in front of peers means they will use me as their scapegoat. My body will lose humanity and I will become a punchline. Adults also stare. Old age doesn’t mature you when transgender people are involved. I almost think age allows people to assume agency over my existence. This is probably why they feel secure enough to slowly shake their head in disappointment, almost as if I owed them my complacency in gender roles.

Today was just this. Everyday actually is just this. I wake up and work my way toward the shower. Showers mean taking my clothes off and no matter how hard I try, my eyes somehow always catch the mirror. My naked body is beautiful and I wish I never believed it was not. It carries life, but somehow my trauma always swoops in and disgust fills me. So I shake it off and hop in the shower. I do my best to avoid feeling my body for too long and I get out. I dry off and take a deep breathe as I search for my favorite dresses. I do this while singing. Music will help me distract myself from remembering every reason why wearing a dress will be a bad decision. Danger. Violence. Pain. I put on my dress and I work hard to convince myself today will be different. See, this is usually the part in my day I convince myself this is a bad decision and I quickly change into shorts and a shirt and promise myself tomorrow will be different. But today, high hopes won. I walked out the house in a dress.

I sometimes wonder about organizers and activists who push for narratives to focus on happy trans people. I understand that our experiences are usually told through the stories of murder and tragedy, but when I walk down the street, that is all I see. I don’t feel love in my gender, I do not feel happiness or success. The pit of my stomach is tighter than ever and I am praying to a God everyone says hates me, asking for one more day of life. I watch people as people watch me. I walk a little faster by the men who scream at me, who approach me like the wives they try to control. I walk a little fast by the fish girls who search for every distancing characteristic between them and myself. I walk a little fast by the slow-driving cars, the men who see me as the meat they can buy. Sometimes I take their money because being seen by them is a little better than by those who see me dead.

I remember being bullied since before I even started kindergarten. My entire life has been walking faster once people raise their voice. I guess this is why I’ve been able to allow the comments to pass right by me without pausing for consideration. But sometimes my defences aren’t strong enough. Sometimes the comments hurt and sometimes I am afraid. When the group of adults in front of my workplace started to scream at me this morning, I wondered what the people watching this happen were thinking. I wondered if they would sit and watch if the people screaming began to walk my way. I wondered if the people screaming were walking my way because the voices were rising, even as my pace was fastening. I wondered if I was going to be hit. I wondered if a knife would enter my body and I wondered if they could really kill me in daylight. I wondered if my mom would be called and told that I wore the wrong outfit today and now my body is in a morgue. I wondered why I wore the dress.

I walked faster and faster until my hand was reaching for the door and I knew that even if they were right behind me and even if they stabbed me, I had about 5 seconds to scream loud enough for my coworkers to hear me and at least then, people I loved would find me before the detectives came. But I made it in.

I said that I do believe that trans women and femmes are some of the most powerful people to survive this world because of mornings like this. There has to be power in people who exist in danger and choose to be true to themselves, versus folding to the world. I think trans femmes are the most powerful of people. I’ve almost died too many times and I still wore the dress today. Imagine living in a body that the most feminine of clothing put you in the most dangerous of dangers.

Beyond this, even after 20 years of violence on my body, I still do think I am beautiful. I still do think I am deserving of love. So I give myself love.

I work everyday to convince myself and reconvince myself that I am worthy. I tell myself that I am a woman. I am my mother’s daughter. I tell myself that dresses look good on my body. I tell myself that I do not always have to shave my facial hair. I tell myself heels help me be seen. I tell myself I deserve to be seen. I lie to myself when I do not believe myself. I allow myself to cry and I give myself grace when I am tired of having to fight to exist. I let myself oversleep and I let myself eat unhealthy foods for small moments of bliss. I take my time in front of the mirror on good days and I take a lot of pictures of myself. I post a lot of pictures of myself with the captions on comments I believe I deserve to hear. I call myself beautiful because women like me don’t get enough of that.

I have almost died too many times to be scared of living. There is nothing more powerful than those who are unafraid. So today I wore a dress and as I type this, most of my body regrets that choice. But I thank every ounce of the tiny voice in my heart that is screaming, “girl, wear it again tomorrow. You look beautiful.”