Ah, fuck.
For some trans women this is a tough day because it’s a
heartless reminder that things will always be a bit different for us than cis
women. For some it’s a chance for affirmation and belonging – to be included in
the population of “mothers” as it always should have been. For some it’s a
chance for acceptance – to be a mother’s child, unbroken and righted, as was
not always the case.
And then there’s my contingent. This day is nothing but a
spiteful twisting of the knife. We have to spend the day being reminded that
blood relatives are a thing, and that ours are fucked and we wish they wouldn’t
continue to invade our reality anymore.
My mother is very sentimental and prone to taking things
very personally. I know she’s hurt that I’ve broken off ties with my relatives
and that I am pushing to widen that distance as much as I feasibly can. I’m not
heartless or evil – it hurts me to know that this is how she’s taking it all,
and I feel bad for being responsible for it.
But only to a point.
I didn’t choose to be beaten routinely as a child. I didn’t
choose to endure almost twenty years of emotional and psychological abuse, or
to spend another ten just trying to figure out what the fuck happened. I didn’t
choose to be born into a world that would never accept me, let alone care about
me, and god forbid actually fucking love
me. I didn’t choose to be born into a world that almost successfully convinced me to live my entire life like
something I’m not. I didn’t choose to be mocked, ostracized, struck, or
threatened with worse, until I learned that who I am is not acceptable and she
should be hidden away forever.
So fuck you. All of you.
I did choose to
get the fuck away from you. I did
choose to try to learn something about reality – not the corrupted, warped
idiocy that you pass off as some kind of life. I did choose to dig into the rubble and ashes and mines buried all
through my soul. I did choose to
listen to the voice of the girl I heard trapped under there. I did choose to keep digging, until my
fingers bled and my body would barely move. I did choose to get her free, and I will keep choosing to fight for her life.
She’s worth it. And she’s the best fuck you I could possibly hope for, to all of you.
Happy fucking Mother’s Day. It’s a girl.
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