Published ambivalence

Yesterday, I received an unexpected package. It was stamped MEDIA MAIL and had the unique shape and character of a single paperback book. I didn't recognize the mailing address--who do I know in New Mexico? Why are they sending me a book?

When I opened it, I found my copy of the anthology I was recently accepted to: writings by partners of trans* people. I submitted a piece that I wrote for a local trans* monologue event almost 2 years ago. Bittersweet pangs shot through my veins when I looked at the cover.

This is the first book that has ever contained my writing, and I didn't want it. I felt anger and disgust just holding it. My life has changed so much since I wrote that piece--even just since I revised my biography.  That relationship...I wish I could say it were over. What's truer is that we don't interact anymore, except in occasional wordless passive-aggression. I knew well before the final edits were made. I gave the editor this mailing address so many months ago I forgot the book was coming. I considered pulling the piece, and I chose not to. There is still truth in it: the truth of what I was experiencing at the time. Maybe some other young femme with a trans* partner will read those words and feel connected, like she is not alone in her experience. I want to share that truth.

I talked with my therapist recently (highly recommend therapy. Go, at least a couple times. You probably need it), and I said, "If you leave out the abusive sociopath part, it's a great story." She replied, "Or if you leave it in." That might be an even more important truth to tell. The truth is, LGBTQ folks are at higher risk of experiencing domestic abuse, and fewer of us talk about it. It would be nice if a young femme with a trans* partner felt better about her relationship after reading about mine. It could be lifesaving if a young queer person living with an abusive partner escaped their relationship after reading about mine.

I have a lot of writing to do.