Roz Kaveney (rozk) wrote,
Roz Kaveney

And just as the Transgender Day of Remembrance ends

It could have been me
I was young. I took risks.
True, I was white.
I hitched rides with guys
One at least was a killer
It could have been me

It could have been me
He came to my door
He showed me a badge
He pulled out a knife
He raped me. I felt
The hilt of the knife
I thought it the blade.
It could have been me.

It could have been me.
They beat me in the street
They pummeled my breasts
And tugged at my wig
And said they would burn me
It could have been me.

It could have been me
He drew up alongside
And asked me to ride
And knew who I was.
He followed my cab
And drove his car at me
It could have been me.

They died
On the streetcorner with the streetlight that blinked
With the rubbish bin dented by a passing car
Among bricks and bent girders
On the waste ground behind the convenience store
In the car park behind the bar where the toilets flooded
And the johns were bad men. Or in bed
Their own bed where they thought they were safe.
They died where people who die by violence die

They died because
- Of course, there's no because. Just stupid whys
They died for smiling the wrong way
They died because god told someone gay things need to die
They died because they answered back
Or would not be called out of their names
Or let his hand go there between their legs
Or went on a hot date and told him and he didn't believe them until he did.
They died of other people's stupid violent hating ways.

The ones who died
The ones we know about
Thirty a year - that's more than two a month.
Handsome young transmen murdered in their pride
Duanna, Angie, Kelly and the rest
Iraqis with their long hair shaved away
Our sisters and brothers
Thirty of them

When people die
Their smiles are taken from us
Who might have seen them
And smiled back.
Their songs are taken from us
Who might have heard
And listened and been glad.
Their stories are remembered
By us, on this day
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