God dammit! OK, listen up, my dear trans babies. I know that you’re hurting. Probably hurting a lot like Leelah was, but I want you to see two things here.
Leelah committed suicide because she couldn’t see any way to escape. Her voice was actively silence and her story ignored in favor of a fantasy that her parents wrote. She felt powerless, alone and afraid. That’s because her parents WANTED that for her to make her feel like the only choice available to her was to conform to their narrative. She found a different choice, but one that ultimately gave her parents the final control over her story, her life, and now, her death.
She realized she couldn’t begin transition until she was at least 18 and legally responsible for her own medical care, and someone gave her the terrible, wrongheaded and dangerous belief that that was TOO LATE to transition and “pass” and find love.
She was wrong. I know many gorgeous and happy trans men women who transitioned in their 20s, 30s, 40s and later and have found the life they always wanted. Please don’t internalize that bullshit that your chances to transition end at 18 or 21 or 25 or 30 or whatever. It’s never too late. Never.
But the real lesson I want you to take from Leelah’s death here is that she’s gone, forever, and even though she did everything she could to make sure that her story was known and heard by queueing up that post, her mother is still ignoring all of that for this fucking bullshit narrative she made up about her darling SON accidentally being hit by a truck on a morning walk, instead of facing the fact that her daughter committed suicide because she saw no other way out.
If you’re feeling like Leelah, alone, afraid, powerless and like there’s a ticking clock counting down your chance to transition, please know that there is no peace in death.
There is no guarantee that your suicide will make anyone see anything they don’t want to.
This mother is still willfully and actively ignoring, denying and mythologizing her child’s life and death. Leelah has finally lost her voice forever. The news articles will fade, the tumblr posts will vanish, and this horrid person will be telling tales about the tragic accident that took her son from her until the day she dies. Her suicide solved nothing for her. She will never see the amazing woman she’d have grown up to be. And neither will her mother.
The only chance you have to be the narrator of your own story is to stay alive, get out, get away, find your power, find your voice, find your real family - the people who know you and see you for who you are, people who hear you when you tell your story, people who will defend and protect you at all costs. We are here, waiting for you with our arms and our hearts open. Please, I know you’re in a terrible and seemingly unbearable place and environment. The only comfort I can offer is that the world doesn’t stop turning, time doesn’t stop and this moment isn’t the last moment. Please find a way to bide your time, to hold on for one more day, one more hour, one more minute, though it seems eternal, this moment is temporary.
I can’t guarantee your future happiness or that your life will be easy, but none of us, trans or cis, get any such guarantee. The only guarantee you get is that if you kill yourself, you’ll NEVER have the chance to find and build a happy life.
Every storm passes, every rain cloud moves on, and nothing in this world is permanent. This pain of your present will become the aches of your past.
Please stay alive. Please hold on until you can escape from there and come home. Our light is on and our door is open.