It keeps getting worse, so pleasantries feel wrong. Instead a letter:
Dear Kansas,
You have betrayed me.
I trusted you as my home for over seven years, not just for me but my family too. In this state, we have created a life we love full of friends, neighbors, and a community that accepts our unique family just as we are.
However now, you reject us, because you reject me. My present concern for our safety is unmatched in all our time here, while I am isolated for being different. I was a part of you.
Dear Kansas Legislature
You have betrayed me.
I trusted you to be pragmatic, though compassionate, for the individuals in your state, even if we did not elect you directly. As humans, I trusted you to treat all fellow humans with dignity and respect, regardless of whether you understand their journey. We all have our own journey.
However now, you issue edicts of hate towards my marginalized community, judging our journeys to be inferior to yours. I don’t choose your God, which feels like a death sentence. I was tolerant of you.
Dear People of Kansas,
You have betrayed me.
I trusted you to choose leaders who reflect your values, which I believe are focused on being good to your fellow Kansans, regardless of how each looks or believes. This trust was built on a foundation of your own words to me, speaking messages of support and kindness.
However now, you elicit fear within me, based on my shattered confidence in who you truly are. I no longer know who, or what, or where is safe for me. I was secure among you.
Dear Hope,
You have betrayed me.
I trusted you when I was my weakest. More than anything else, my friends offered you as solace to help me through the persistently difficult days, when I was unsure how I otherwise could. You assured me when I was afraid.
However now, trust in you feels foolish, while I regret my past reliance on you. I am deemed unworthy of hope, perhaps because of who I am or what I’ve done; regardless, you no longer exist in my life. I was counting on you.
Dear Hazel,
You have betrayed me.
I trusted you to be happy, since absolutely nothing could shake my incredible glee after I started presenting authentically. Finally, I felt visible as myself in the world, propelling my worst days as Hazel above even my best days before, simply because I was me.
However now, you generate pain that would have spared me, as the joyous peaks are mirrored into cavernous valleys, both of which were once beyond comprehension. My existence is reduced to basic parts of me, in lieu of depending on my intellect, personality, or dreams. I was once a whole person.
The agony of betrayal has changed my life, eliminating my ability to trust again. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.
I don’t know how anything can ever change this.
My life this last month has felt unreal, as I battle for my existence in Kansas. The legislature overrode the governor’s veto, establishing into law an effective ban on my public presence. They accomplished their goal of my eradication.
While mitigating measures might be put into place, such as more gender neutral bathrooms or a potential court injunction, the worst part is already done, which is compromising my ability to feel safe within this state’s borders.
They won. Even in these past few days, I feel substantially more afraid than ever before.
I was betrayed, while being demoted into a second class status, forcing me to decide if the risks of being present is worthwhile. My mentality is WHEN harassment will occur, as opposed to IF, based on the betrayals I have encountered.
The fright surrounds me like the spotlight, calling to attention that my presence should be evaluated based on my appearance, or whether I have had surgery to change the one single body part that all attention is centralized.
My genitals are what this discussion is about, specifically relative to the misalignment between my outward presentation and society’s expectations, which apparently were unalterably established the very second I was born. My existence has been reduced to this.
Why is the discussion not about this?
Why is the obsession with what’s under my skirt acceptable?
Can I be more than that? Aren’t you more than that??
People do not talk about cis bodies this way, because it’s disrespectful to do so, yet this is precisely the discussion with trans bodies. Disrespecting trans people is the norm.
I was not born into the wrong body, nor am I broken. My surgery is for me, not to “fix” me. This is me, so love this me, or leave this me.
Please stop justifying me. I feel I’m required to be grateful merely for belonging among you. My presence is always worthy, rather than an exception.
Sadly, I will sign off this post as my final one, as I am unsure I can keep going. For me to continue, I must first reconcile whether I can write about being enthusiastic about who I am, when this world rejects who I am. I am sorry I may no longer have capacity to keep this part of my life going.
Instead, I need to focus on the utterly basic need of safety until I can be in a place I feel safe, which is not Kansas. Also, my prized goal is publishing my book, so I can use this time to move and finish my book. My lease is up in November, coincidentally aligning with other parts of my life.
As I type out these words, I am crying yet again. Maybe when next Friday comes, I will find the urge to sit down here again, but in case I don’t
Have a wonderful life everyone….