“Well, here’s what I tell myself,” I say to myself. “I want to transition 

and I’m hooked on the Idea, you see I’d call myself Red and I’ll dye

my hair red² and I’ll bike around NYC, real dangerous like, on a fixed

Gear.³  And I’ll wear skirts and dresses⁴ sometimes and other times 

I’ll wear Carhartts⁵ and jean jackets and I’ll be happy.”

“But then my mind flips at the toss of a coin and I’ll imagine myself

like I am now, just in the future, and that also makes me happy.⁶ And 

when this happens I’m stuck telling myself that it’s an awful idea,

and I can’t tell the difference between excitement⁷ and fear⁸ when

my stomach lurches⁹ and my throat gets tight at both emotions.”

“And then my hands shake and I tell myself I want a cigarette but I 

don’t even smoke,¹⁰ and it’s not a body thing and a body thing only¹¹

because I’ve always wanted to be that cool freckled girl that bikes 

and laughs and wishes she were the moon,¹² and so then I ask myself

will I be happier with society’s idea of a woman’s body?

And honestly, yes. I think I would.¹³

Somedays I just wish 

it was easier to cry.¹⁴

---

¹ The doctors prescribe me leeches; my blood is wrong apparently.

² I hate leeches, mosquitoes, ticks and all blood-sucking things.

³ At the time, I must have missed the speed, weaving my own nest through the street.

⁴ I ached to feel the wind ruffle my fabric, preening.

⁵ It is not my fault that my pants have a hammer loop.

⁶ I don’t blame you, but I resent your thinking here.

⁷ Excitement is when the car swerves towards you.

⁸  Fear is when I look my cousins in the eye.

⁹  Both the same as having a home to leave behind.

¹⁰ I do now.

¹¹ Who cares.

¹² I am.

¹³ I am.

¹⁴ It is.