I have this message written on a post-it
note on my desk.
I look at it every time I see something
transphobic written online (which is a lot of the time, unfortunately) and ask myself,
"Should I say something?"
The answer is different each time,
depending on the circumstances. But the reason behind it is always the same.
Do it for her, the
yellow post-it note beckons.
See, it's not about ego. I don't want to be
right. I don't want the other person
to be wrong. I don't want someone to
feel bad as a result of my words. So if that's all I'm arguing for, it's just
not worth it. Who cares if I tell off someone I've never met? What does that
prove?
Advocacy is challenging work. It's lonely work. It's tiring, frustrating, tearfully maddening work. You have to have a purpose, a fire in your belly, something or someone who makes it worthwhile.
I have a 12-year-old someone, and I do
it for her.
Whenever I walk away from a situation
because my gut tells me it will only lead to more hate, I do it for her.
Whenever I momentarily step away to gather
my thoughts, so that I can breathe and come back to educate with more kindness
and less venom, I do it for her.
Whenever I know I might burn a bridge or
two, but speak up anyway because it's the right thing to do, I do
it for her.
Do I come across as a righteous asshole
sometimes? I'm sure I do. Absolutely. But I'm not trying to be righteous or an
asshole. I'm not trying to win. I'm trying to get the message out that we need
to stop judging what we don't personally understand. I'm trying to educate and
show support for a very marginalized population.
I'm trying to say, "Hey, fellow writers, when you
write things about someone like Caitlyn Jenner and how she's not really a woman, you probably don't understand the power of your words.
You probably aren't thinking of the
heartbroken trans person who stumbles across that page after an already brutal
day of discrimination.
You're not thinking of the youth who wants
desperately to come out and sees not only the post you wrote, but also the
hateful comments below it in support of that post, calling trans people 'it'
and 'freak.'
You're not thinking of the nearly 50%
attempted suicide rate, largely due to feeling so incredibly alone and
misunderstood."
No, you're just thinking of your opinion,
and comments, and page hits, and ad revenue. Hey, I'm a writer, too. I get it.
But I'm
thinking of all of those things that didn't cross your mind. I'm thinking of my
trans daughter, and someone else's trans son, and the gender queer kid who is
feeling like the world is against them. I'm thinking they need to be
supported, not have their gender invalidated.
We all need someone to have our back, and I
want them to know I have theirs when they see my words. Always.
And writers, I want us to think before we write. Our words have power. Let's do some good with that power.
And writers, I want us to think before we write. Our words have power. Let's do some good with that power.
So when I do speak out, that's why.
Do it for her, the little
post-it note whispers.