What It Means to Be Trans in My Tiny Town
My trans friends rarely come home, and when they do, it is for brief bursts of time. They question why I’ve chosen to keep living here.
I can’t do this anymore.
Cheer up, face!
San Francisco Chronicle
It’s because I’m trapped here
The war is over
Both sides!those people
The ‘H’ is out of shave at last
What are you?
Train approaching, whistle squealing
don’t ask, don’t tell
Avoid that rundown feeling
Enter your email address to receive notifications for author s.e. smith
Confirmation link sent to your email to add you to notification list for author s.e. smith
More by this author
Those who spend their lives in bodies others deem unworthy grow accustomed to building our own self-worth.
It is not so much that these things are invisible as it is that people are trained to hide them, and society is conditioned to look away from them.
More in this series
I know that I’m living in a ticking clock, and all of this—dinners with my parents, peaceful conversations—will likely be gone one day.
I want to believe that I inherited too ways of feeling joy, ways of finding pleasure, ways of being with other queers in raucous and wild ways.