Last night, I had one of those unsettling dreams where you're caught between sleep and wakefulness, trapped in a tumultuous storm of emotions. In the dream, I found myself in a car with others, besieged by a group attempting to force their way in. Their aggression propelled us dangerously close to the edge of a bridge, overlooking a raging river below. The sense of being trapped, with no escape in sight, mirrored the lifelong battle with gender dysphoria that has shadowed me for nearly four decades.
Since embracing my true identity and coming out, I’ve shared my journey with others. Yet, articulating the complexities of gender dysphoria has proven elusive. It’s like trying to describe a storm to someone who has only ever known sunshine – nearly impossible to convey the depth of its impact. But imagine the worst situation you've ever faced, the suffocating feeling of being trapped, unable to see a way out, engulfed in anxiety every waking moment. Now picture enduring that day after day, year after year.
Transitioning was a lifeline, a path to liberation from that suffocating existence. The euphoria of finally embracing my authentic self was intoxicating. Yet, as I began to revel in my newfound freedom, a dark cloud loomed on the horizon – the resurgence of conservative backlash against trans rights.
In recent years, fueled by figures like Trump, Republicans have launched a relentless assault on trans rights. In my own red state, they've passed laws aimed at erasing our identities and stripping away our access to gender-affirming care. The threat of having my identity invalidated by legislation, like the ominous requirement to align my driver’s license gender marker with my birth certificate, hangs over me like a dark cloud.
The looming election only intensifies my anxiety. The prospect of another Trump presidency feels like a sentence to perpetual imprisonment, as his administration emboldens hatred and discrimination. I'm baffled by the unwavering support he commands, despite his history of misogyny, racism, and blatant disregard for marginalized communities.
I’ve already weathered the storm of having my healthcare denied and navigating the bureaucratic hurdles of updating my identification. The thought of reliving those battles fills me with dread. Yet, what truly bewilders me is the vehement opposition to our mere existence. How does my life, lived authentically and harmlessly, threaten theirs?
The venomous rhetoric of right-wing zealots and the complicity of those in power feel like chains tightening around me, restricting my freedom and suffocating my identity. They claim it's about morality or tradition, but it's just thinly veiled bigotry masquerading as righteousness. Their attempts to legislate my identity, to confine me within their narrow worldview, are nothing short of a waking nightmare.
But I refuse to be confined to their boxes, to be silenced by their hatred. Our lives, our transitions, our very existence, pose no threat to theirs. Protecting our rights doesn’t diminish theirs; it simply affirms our shared humanity. It’s time to break free from the shackles of ignorance and intolerance, to embrace the diversity of human experience, and to live authentically, unapologetically, and without fear.
But how can I get rid of this feeling of being shackled, trapped, imprisoned and stuffed into another persons idea of what and who I should be?
