A Small Stand

One small stand for a trans man, one giant leap… towards what will likely be blinding rage by the end of the day.

I have this one person in my life. You probably know the type. Super religious, super high on her morals, super everything except actually following through on anything she preaches.

Yes, one of those types.

Well, today I have a long drive with her. One last act of charity, she says, then we have to stop relying on her.

Excuse me? Relying on you? This whole thing was her idea, her push, every year. And now we’re suddenly a burden because it was her idea to do this?

Just so much sighing.

Well, after this one last time, then I have to pay her back another $320 and then she will be out of my life. I just don’t need this stress. I need positive people who accept me, not bring me down, and I know that. The only reason I associate her is because my children used to see her as a grandparent. They have since become wise to her hypocrisy.

I’ll still love her for what she has done for my family, absolutely, but I just can’t handle the criticism.

One criticism is going to be the fact that I have not shaved my face in a week. Five days ago we went to lunch to celebrate my daughter’s birthday, and my son pointed out that he could see my facial hair. Now, you reading this blog understand why I might want to grow out said facial hair, but I could not just admit this to her. So I made up some stupid excuse about banning razors from my life, tired of oppressive beauty standards.

So for this trip with her, stuck in her car, driving for hours, I debated shaving, just to save myself the grief.

But no, that would be dishonest to myself. That would be giving in. So I’m not going to do it.

Each and every hair on my face is one small stand against oppression!

Or I’ve just had too much coffee.