Trans Day of Invisibility

I WANT a Trans Day of Invisibility.

A DAY where the Dolls & Bricks
disappear,
scrubbed from view,
flying stealthily under the gaydar.

A DAY where chasers look at me
& see a cloud,
a pixelated blob, or

a blank outline-
with all my fine details missing.

A DAY where women look at me
& see a biblically-accurate angel,
one of Boris Vallejo’s barbarian babes,
or a non-binary pin-up,
cohesive in my contradictions.

A DAY where I can get a compliment
on my mani-pedi or makeup or Thistle
& Spire without second-guessing if
the admiration comes with a silent qualifier:
“for a trans woman.”

A DAY where the word TRANSGENDER is
nowhere. Unseen. Unhead. Non-existent.

—where the [REDACTED] word
never leaves a reporter’s lips

—where the [REDACTED] word
never leaves fascist lips, &

—the T-slur induces ankyloglossia
or instantaneous anomic aphasia.

A DAY where gender-affirming surgeries

are just surgeries & all surgeries are-
affirming.

A DAY when the Girls, Gays & Theys get:
Government-subsidized
bimbo/himbo/thembofication
Tops are expeditiously chopped
There are no hormone shortages
Wait times go way way down,
& patients are never misgendered as they
wake from anaesthesia, or hear under the
gas they’ve been irreversibly damaged, by
gender critical nurses w/ atrophied
empathy.

A DAY without cops checking IDs
in lavatoryies, surveilling the bodies
of Butches, Studs, Fat Women & any
person who doesn’t fit their profile

of who belongs in the so-called
“Ladies Room.”

A DAY without transvestigators,
body language experts, brow bone
phrenologists, finger length examiners

& Sherlock Karens-
suspiciously eyeing slightly too tall girls

exiting restrooms as if they were fleeing
crime scenes.

A DAY where I can piss like Sue Storm.

A fantastic pisser-
invisibly minding my

business in the stall.

A DAY where I can go the beach
full bulge in a bikini & no one cares.

A DAY where my junk is invisible,
all the unhoused queers are visible,
& conservatives & liberals
would care more about the housing crisis
than puberty blockers.

A DAY where no trans kids are kicked
out of their homes, onto the street,
into survival sex work.

A DAY where my family doesn’t care
that I’ve changed,
my mother-in-law won’t die
before we reconcile,
& my father will stop grieving
like he lost a son

when his oldest daughter is thriving.

A DAY where I don’t have to think
about what kind of woman I am.

A DAY where no one needs
a birth certificate, every rebirth
is real & sacred, name changes
are rites of passage & we
are all socially secure.

A DAY where I don’t have to choose between:

● spectacle
& violence
● trans joy
& abject grief
● saying nothing at all
& simply existing.

A DAY where I can be VIABLE
instead of VISIBLE.

A DAY

that lasts more than 24 hours

& A MONTH
of never having to explain myself

& A LIFETIME
of peace & filled prescriptions.