There’s a list, and on the 20th of November, that list gets read (aloud) by many trans people around the world, in remembrance of their departed siblings.
That means murder.
That means suicide.
This list only contains reported deaths. Many siblings who have died or taken their own lives are not on it, because they were never found, because no one cared to report their death, or because the people involved deny the fact that the person was trans.
I’m afraid that someone I know will end up on that list next year.
I’m afraid that the next time I meet a guy alone on a train who wants to have sex with me, he won’t leave me alone after I reject him, and I’ll end up on that list next year.
I’m afraid, even though I know I’m statistically less likely to end up on that list than my siblings who are of colour, who are sex workers, who live in other parts of the world…
I’m angry that I feel compelled to write this post, when I’m already having a hard time dealing with my own transness and its consequences.
I’m angry because for many of us, it’s already difficult enough being and becoming ourselves, without the threat of violence.
And I am fucking angry that this graph is pointing upwards. That the killing of trans people is on the rise. That our right to exist on our own terms is being violated.
So, I pray for all the people on the list, that they will have found the peace that was denied to them in life.
I pray that all my siblings who are still alive may be spared the hatred and violence that is the cause of this list.
I pray that we are merely experiencing the violent death rattles of cis–patriarchal hegemony, and that we are on the brink of an era where fewer and fewer people will be victims of gender-based persecution.