Some people look at me.

Look again, recognize my gender.

Please tell me that you know what I mean.

My existence means that the world is changing.

Do you know that almost half of us are suicidal and the other half aren't accepted by their families?

Do you know that every day we face ignorance and a lack of acceptance?

Do you know what I mean?

I have an identity.

My identity changes for no one.

I will walk into the Women's or the Men's bathroom depending on how well I feel I'll pass,

and maybe that's cowardice. I consider it common sense.

I should be able to feel safe in my school, in the locker room I belong in,

in the bathroom I belong in, in the clothes I feel like wearing.

But me and my siblings, we don't get justice.

We walk every day through hostile streets, loathing the days when we must go to the DMV, take a flight, go swimming.

Or maybe that's just me.

See, I'm jerked around like a puppy that's being called two different names.

I hate it with every cell in my body, but I don't protest 'cause my parents would be so self-congratulating.

I hate that my mom calls me "he" and "she" in the same sentence.

I hate that my parents don't accept me but pretend like they do so that they're not the bad guys.

I hate that my parents act like they accept me in front of my friends, but they revert back to "she" when we don't have company.

Let me leave.