happy pride month! this was written for a display at my local library on the theme "see me".

a handful of reclaimed slurs used.

in eighth grade, someone you know will tell you that you're 'one of the good ones'. you don't speak high and nasally. you don't dress weird, or throw it in everyone's faces. not like those fucking faggots. or god forbid those ridiculous freaks who pretend to be a different gender to get into the wrong bathroom.

you know this is not right, that nobody should see these people that way, but you agree anyway. you are young, and yet to discover the sense of community that would prevent you from throwing these people under the bus in favour of being respected by your peers. there are scant people who will tolerate you, and you are more willing to tolerate a couple slurs and uncomfortable statements than you are willing to sit alone.

two years later, you will discover a preference for a different name, and a different set of pronouns. you will discover a name for the discomfort hiding in the mirror. worst of all, you will discover all of the new ways people see you.

you will stop attending school. you will stop going out. you will lock yourself away in your room. you cannot stand the way anyone sees you now. you will not be able to see yourself as anything but a delusional piece of shit.

it will get worse when you rediscover your attraction to men. you will vomit, sick to your stomach with what you've become. you have become a freak, and a faggot; a person to be mocked, ridiculed and spat on. you fear being seen as a sideshow attraction – something to gawk at.

if your own shame is not enough, there will still be people who call for your execution. there will be those who volunteer for the position of executioner. there will be calls from just enough corrupt people in positions of far too much power to start revoking hard won rights. they will see you as nothing but a stain on this blessed earth.

no one will see you for over three weeks. you are too scared of what will happen otherwise.

eventually, you will find people who celebrate their freaky trans bodies. for whom faggot is a badge of honour, carved from the stones thrown at them. these people will see you as a miracle. they will see every part of you considered weird, and stand in solidarity with it. it's heavy, and an awkward pose, but if you hold your outlook just right, you will see a glimmer of hope for your future. you will work towards finding a happy life for yourself, too.

two days after your birthday, once you are well out of school, someone will tell you that seeing you live your life under a more comfortable name has helped them find themselves too. that you are weird and unconventional, in ways that spark joy.

you will go home. you will cry. and you will look in the mirror to see a man you are proud of, for the very first time.