confessions of a queer chinese jewish AFAB trans-masc NB person

lately i have receded into my shell. not lately, for the last couple months i have been in flux, the kind of flux that you end up in when you finally realize that you've been navigating the world from a very specific, trauma-informed lens that requires the beginning of a foundational healing process.

becoming aware is simply the first step in the non-linear journey of healing and growing through whatever challenges we are faced with. a couple of months ago, i was part of an LGBTQIA+ centered study that my friend sent me and it opened my eyes to the ways in which those who stand under the umbrella of this identity share a specific perspective on the world. the study asked me questions about how my queer identity impacts how i view the world, and feel the world views me. the process really unearthed a lot of how societal influence and perceived feelings of unsafety affect seemingly mundane daily things.

a prime example of this is my daily commute. living in deep queens, my journey to and from work requires a long bus ride to the subway. in the morning, it's quiet, but filled with cis folk who aren't used to seeing gender fluidity of any kind. i get covert stares and stolen glances, but i'm too tired to acknowledge being a person so i tune them out via music or closing my eyes and not trying to counter their probing, and knowing there is the illusion of safety of a packed train car.

at night, however, it is a different story. the transit system is less regular, and there are significantly less people the later it is, which leaves too much room for the uncertain, and feeling of vulnerability. as an AFAB person, though masc presenting, i have to remain vigilant to the same dangers that womxn and femme presenting folks (i choose not to bind due to prioritizing physical comfort, not gender euphoria, and i know i get clocked by the general public) endure on the daily. when i forget my knife, i make sure to have my water bottle or skateboard at the ready when i am walking or if alone in subway cars.

sometimes i wonder why leaving the house requires more energy than it used to. i used to chalk it up to getting older, but in all actuality, coming into my gender identity has sparked a reckoning with all the spaces that raised me, and forced me to do my best to understand what led to the years of repression and internalized self-hatred on the basis of gender (not to mention the added nuance of being a racial minority/being raised color-blind).

all the media i consumed growing up framed trans people as victims, subjects of violence, ridicule, isolation …for example boys dont cry…quite honestly it wasn't until recently that i was finally faced with trans representation that embraced and celebrated and highlighted the joy and beauty that comes with living authentically and in your truth no matter what the circumstances. representation matters. representation can save lives. representation can save years. representation can save hearts.

if you are cis and reading this, i urge you to very seriously consider your inherent and often forgotten privilege in this cis-het-white patriarchal world. think about the simple things you take for granted, the thoughtless activities and access that you are afforded because you identify with the gender identity that correlates with your assigned sex at birth. to be able to walk the world and not wonder if your life is in danger because you felt like painting your nails that day or wanted to wear a skirt.

the incredibly harsh reality of the trans community is that we are targeted in the vast majority of spaces, and the addition of any other overlapping, marginalized identity only increases your vulnerability.

if you are a black trans woman, your life expectancy is 35, in some places this dropped to 29.

the harsh reality of the trans community is that we expect and prepare for violence. we need to have plan B's, we need to have folks we can call to make sure that we get to our destination safely, we need to have people who are watching out for us because this western cis yt man's world was not made for us, and yet we persist. we thrive. we find joy. we build community. though we shouldn't have to be, we are resilient, and are older than the colonizers. trans people have existed long before capitalism, long before colonialism, and long before the white man chose to conquer rather than cohabitate.

i say these things because i need to remember them and hold onto the joy, and the resilience, and the hope that the trans community brings me. the resistance is beautiful and brings an incomparable feeling of affirmation that we will not be silenced. we will not be extinguished.

the many different jigsaw pieces of my past lives are slowly coming together to form a picture of the cultures and expectations that informed my understanding and internalized structures of the "shoulds and shouldn'ts".

being raised in white conservative jewish spaces, gender was very polarized. though there was no mechitza (wall to separate men and women), there was a lack of women in positions of power (not to discredit rabbi robin fryer-bodzin, whom i still very much admire for going against the societal grain). there is also the very divisive topic of israel's occupation of palestine, and the centuries old history of jews and jewish diaspora/trauma that fosters a lot of disconnect between those i was raised alongside and those i am now surrounded by. this relationship has been strained, stretched, tested, and right now i am taking a break to recollect my thoughts and feelings (though i know that i can not procrastinate addressing the associated relationships. very complicated and painful to try and sort through.)

being raised as a result of the one-child policy, my parents explained to me that in china they preferred boys because sons would marry daughters and the daughters would move in with them to take care of their parents (leaving the daughters' parents to age alone) - thus, somewhere inside (not consciously) i held onto this idea that had i been born a boy, perhaps i wouldn't have been given up…perhaps i would have been worthy of keeping…in addition, the act of raising me color-blind led to the pervasive white-washing of myself, and internalized racism - leaving me very far removed from my chinese heritage.

unpacking whether or not i want to shed the standards altogether of gender because of how the concept has been weaponized within my life, how gender has been used to divide, to differentiate and to categorize what is "acceptable" has been a slow and often times painful process because i know that the event that sparked so much of this self reflection and introspection is the passing of my father and the inevitable re-evaluation of my life in correlation with the impact of his newfound absence and previous presence.

admittedly it has taken a lot of trial, error, mistakes, harm experience, and harm inflicted to come to these realizations. i am not proud of the harm that my lack of healing has caused, and am always open to reconciliation or roads to amends and healing if that is desired. i don't, however, want to stay hung up on the past, or pour time or energy into endeavors that are not mutually healing and uplifting.

i accept that times arrow marches on, and that some things are meant to come to natural endings.

i no longer wish to stand idle, muzzled by fear and insecurity, projecting my hesitations and trepidations onto those around me. i will undoubtedly have more realizations and things to work through and process, but it feels good to finally begin to lay them out in this space.

thank you for tuning in, feel free to engage or interact !!! i would love discussion abt any related topics broached!