“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, ‘O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless–of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?’ Answer. That you are here–that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”
~Tom Schulman (Dead Poets Society)
We all have our jobs, aspirations and needs. Aspirations to live a better life, a better job for more funds, and needs to care for ourselves. These persisted are not selfish when they are needed in the sustainability of life yet they can not become your life. We can not be consumed by jobs lest we forget what life truly is for. Some days I wonder what my verse will be or if I have already written it without notice. Do I serve a purpose or purposely serve? What will my verse be?
Was the best measure of myself before I ever started my journey or did I become such because of it? Who does it matter to and why would it. Do we do good for gratification, or because it’s the right thing to do. To many questions in the vast systematic time loss we suffer everyday. My life and my story are my own. I share it because I hope it helps others. I do outreach because it means something. I do speaking engagements because others fear the thing we call society.
I speak of my suicide attempts, depression, and struggles not because I enjoy it but in hopes of helping someone out there. Funny how as I write it with all that hope that it could just fall into nothingness. Another girls story just washed away. There is a reason I bring this all up…
Some may have noticed a large break in the last few months. Well there is a lot behind that break. I’ve been chastised, verbally accosted, and belittled for being to pretty, happy and well adjusted. I’ve been told I’m “not trans enough”. Was informed that I don’t know struggle because I look good (I don’t, but I digress). Made to feel that my story didn’t matter. I wasn’t worthy in the eyes of another. I thought I did something wrong.
I found out that I’m not alone in this. Numerous friends have reported similar stories. From all walks of life, many girls like me are chastised and made to feel as if our stories don’t matter. Their help is invalidated because they are pretty or attractive. I’ve yet to figure this part out, but I will say that it’s been trying.
The worst part of this entire statement is that the ones criticize my friends and I are not who you would think. They are other transgender females. Pretty sad when some fee the need to criticize those who have come before them to lay a path for better acceptance but I can promise that no matter how bad it hurts… we are going to carry on. The ones who have been there for you will continue to help you wether you want it or not. We always will be. Because we care, we love, and the thought of helping just one person will continue to drive us. And for every 2 that hate us, there are 20 who love us.
I may never realized what my verse will be, but I can promise that it will never be “I gave up”.