When Brave Voices Speak We Listen

There are only two days left in the month of May. That’s only two days until Pride month if you live by the queer calendar. June is Pride month or Pride season if you will. To many who identify as LGBTQ+ it is license to celebrate with kick ass parties, festivals, and bar bashes. Some would paint a pretty picture and have us believe that the season swells with love, inclusivity, and a glittery rainbow of commonality between allies and community. Well, I am here to tell you that that depends on whom you ask.

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I Scream, You Scream

When I was just weeks shy of three years old, I was hanging around the house with my mom doing the stuff that toddlers do, I guess. It was mid-morning on a warm spring day and I was bored and tired of playing with whatever age acceptable toys had been placed in front of me. My mom must have been focused on my sisters at the time – one was older and the other younger than I – because she didn’t notice at first that I’d made an all-important decision to find something else to do. I’d always preferred to be with my dad and that day was no different. Dads always did the cool stuff and I wanted to do cool stuff with my dad instead of the usual toddler stuff. I knew he was at work and lucky for me, his work was right next door. So I decided I was going to go to work.

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Don’t Fence Me In

Young trans boys want the same things as any other boys growing up. I was no different. I liked being outside and getting dirty and I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d have broken records for wearing through the knees of my jeans. I’m pretty sure I mastered that challenge with a record time of less than two weeks to wear holes in at least one of the knees. Oh, and the patches that my mom sewed on them usually “fell off” in even less time than that! Everyone knows that cowboys do not wear patches on their jeans!

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