An open letter to Leelah

[valarltd]

There's been a lot of talk. And I'm not sure if my reactions are victim-blaming, or transphobic. But they are my reactions, based on my lived experience.



Sweetheart,

It was only a year. Maybe two.

I know that seems like forever when you are 17. I remember that age. I remember being so very careful to guard every word out of my mouth. I remember plotting my escape.

The little things helped. Theater. The college acceptance letter as early as October. A summer job 80 miles from home. I'm sorry you didn't have all these.

I'm not trans. I'm bisexual. I blended in a lot.

My mother died about the same time you did. And she died never officially knowing I like to kiss girls. I think she suspected. But I knew she hated lesbians, so I gave her plausible deniablity. For thirty years.

I'm not saying you should have stayed in the closet forever, or even for thirty years, only making the transition after a long and macho life of being special forces and a CIA agent as one lady of my acquaintance did. But if you had given yourself a year, a year to plan your escape, retaining the male disguise for that time, you might still be with us.

I know you wanted to be out and honest. I know you wanted to see if your parents could love their daughter rather than the son they thought they had. It may even have been a test to see if they loved you more than their version of God. But to quote one of the all-time great gay movies (and if you're like my 17, you grew up watching this), "Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answers?"

A year, Leelah, maybe two. That's all you had to last through.

I'm sorry you weren't born into a family that could love you for who you are. I'm sorry that your parents will treat Leelah as their son's murderer. I'm sorry you were in so much pain that you saw no other option, but instead destroyed yourself, your family and an unknown person's livelihood. I'm sorry the same internet that gave you the knowledge to know yourself and to come out, failed to give you the resources you needed to live.

I'm sorry things won't get better for you.

Comments

[moonstone-fae.livejournal.com]

So sad...

[sidewinder.livejournal.com]

My reactions are a lot like yours. My teen years at home were pretty much hell, if for somewhat different reasons (growing up in a severely mentally abusive household, completely controlling parental figure, alcoholism, all of that fun stuff.) Dreaming of getting away to college was pretty much the goal that kept me going. But, I also know that while I suffer from anxiety and a certain amount of depression, it's never been to a suicidal degree. I can't even comprehend having that urge, I never have even at my worst moments (and some of those have been pretty damn awful). But I know that for others it can be a very real thing and very hard to see that there is any other option available even when there is.

[valarltd.livejournal.com]

Abusive family, abusive church and all here. And yeah. there were times I was counting the days.

The black beast is real and huge, and sometimes death looks like the only logical solution to everyone's problems.

[valarltd.livejournal.com]

It breaks my heart. Not every kid has supportive parents. And teen homelessness is higher than ever, because the queer kids are coming out younger and the parents are throwing them out.

One of my dreams, should I ever strike rich, is to set up Mama Angel's House, a housing solution for QUILTBAG kids who have no place to go. It would serve as a temporary shelter, connecting them with families who would take them in and be supportive.