The American analysis

America from the perspective of a transgender, queer, teenager is a scary thing to experience. Growing up, it is the land of the free and opportunity; you later know your opportunities are limited. People the same age as you are not worried about these things; they do not have to self-reflect and micro-analyze themselves and others, they lack your sympathy. You watch a film in class of a tragedy be it 9/11, Vietnam, The Holocaust, or any of the plethora of other tragedies that plague the history of the world and the kid next to you will giggle and make a joke about how funny the whole situation is, the joke pierces your ears and slams itself into the recesses of your mind, the same mind that had been stricken with grief and pity for those affected by the tragedy. The man made tragedy. The tragedy that could have been prevented. 

When you talk about it with an adult in your life, share how it upsets you to hear people your age lack the basic state of empathy towards fellow men, you get told “that's the real world”. I understand the sentiment; I really do, but can’t the world change? Hasn't it already? The world does keep spinning, but what's the point of spinning if no one is analyzing the meaning as to why it spins? People are naturally curious, we want to know the inner workings of all that is around us so we can learn how to replicate it for good. We analyzed the way water moves so we could mimic its nature in boats; we analyzed the way the crops grow so we could enhance them to grow faster so there is more food for everyone, and we analyzed the animals and copied their nature into our politics and behaviors. It should never be a crime to question your surroundings, it is how discoveries are made. As a child, before you have the knowledge or vocabulary to voice your questions or concerns, they come out as half-baked statements. “I don't like being called pretty” you tell your mom as she puts a bow in your hair, helping you dress for 2nd, possibly 3rd grade. “Why not?” A hint of concern in the air, you allow the question to seep into the vent of the small trailer bathroom and float through the hair on your neck before you answer “it makes me feel icky”. Even as a child, you can feel the fleeting sense of concern be replaced by worry and curiosity.- “Why?”. You're starting to not like the why replies you're getting, the frustration starts to settle in through the tips of your fingers; you don't have an answer to the question, and you don't want to be bothered to explain something you don't understand. When you don't answer, your mom doesn't pry any further, not out of respect but because ignorance is bliss. She will later deny the entire interaction to maintain her peace of mind. Childhood goes on as planned, the birthday parties, the Christmas mornings, the first tooth lost, and the late nights when your parents let you sit in the living room with a rented movie on. The sting does not leave, but out of the fear you would be asked to explain what you don't know and appear stupid or, god forbid confused, leads you to never speak on it again. But locking a bird in a cage will not calm it; it only gets more restless. You have to let the bird out.