Sometimes I forget I’m different because I’m trans. Sometimes I get up and eat and do yoga and feed my rabbits and watch TV and go several full hours without remembering that 99% of my fellow Americans don’t understand me. Not this morning. Today, I was less-than-gently awoken by nasty cramps, which immediately triggered my body dysphoria. Very little makes me grumpier than being REMINDED that I have body parts I DON’T WANT because they’re HURTING me, except being reminded that in the trans community, period-related woes are the least of our problems.
When I got to work and began my daily routine of scrolling through my news outlets, I was greeted by article after article about Cemia Acoff’s murder, and the horrendous coverage of the crime by a variety of publications. This twenty-year old woman was killed, dumped, and then written about in the least respectful way possible by nearly every news outlet that covered her death.