I wasn’t out for long enough to earn the right to be tired. But not having the right to be tired doesn’t prevent me from being tired. Also, who said that there’s such a thing as the right to be tired at all? Who decided how many unsolicited comments one has to get in order to reach that point?
Here’s how I imagine a vacation from being trans (while being as trans as you are): you go to a beach in a binder and nobody stares at you. You even swim in it and people give no fucks. None. At all. You walk around, your top surgery scars in plain sight, and it’s not a shocker. It’s not a thing anyone notices. You lift your hands up, revealing the hair growing in your armpits, and you don’t feel awkward because you seem feminine to everyone around you. Hair grows there and everywhere, and it’s common knowledge all around. No one feels awkward because there’s nothing awkward about natural body and honest mind.
This is how I imagine a vacation from being trans while being your magnificent trans-self. And I can’t wait to go.
Email Anna-Dmitry at [email protected]