Why I Write
I write because I’m #trans, and every trans voice matters. I doubt that I have novel things to say; I nod to the socialists, I repeat my trans siblings, I retread the ground feminists have walked, I find markers left by people of color, and I know I’m not alone. I do not seek to break new ground. I seek to hold ground, ground that was taken from us. To hold space and memory. To leave behind a record of who I was, of what I knew, of why I fought, of how I loved, and of the lies I was told, so that those who come after me will know they are not alone.
I won’t bore you by making the point that not all voices matter, that cis voices who babble
platitudes offer nothing to liberation and allies who push us aside to speak for us do so without regard for the cliffs they shove us over. I’ll trust you learned from Black voices. I know I’m still trying to learn from them.
But fascists know trans voices matter. The patriarchy knows; capitalists and racists know. They know what a threat self-actualization is.
It’s how I’ve come to understand the importance of valuing any trans voice that speaks, and why it’s important to add my voice. Our stories are brilliant spotlights shined into the darkness of the lies used to keep our siblings from knowing themselves. Each time we speak, it is a spell of curse-breaking. Our lives are resistance. Our stories are beacons lit by crystallized memories of our lives.
I write because let’s face it, even better than ruining a transphobe’s day with my joy is ruining many of their days with records of my joy.
And I write so that when I’m dead, trans people will know what I had to do to be myself. I cannot tell them how to be themselves. But perhaps I can show them what I did, and why.