Silence.

I'm speaking for the girl who
sat in the back of the beauty parlor,
getting a new haircut and begging the
stylist to do the best she could. I'm
speaking for the girl who stood in front
of a mirror every day, who put on makeup until
she looked symmetrical, and turned sideways
measuring the width of her waist. If she
gained a centimeter, a millimeter, she
looked disgraced.

I'm speaking for the girl
who dumbed herself down, because
the boys thought she was a geek. I'm
speaking for the girl who was shoved down
the stairs, and when she got a broken
wrist, was still afraid to speak.

I'm speaking for the boy
whose head was forced under
the water while he was called a fag.
I'm speaking for the boy who had
a birthmark on his face, and disappeared
from his hometown when he finally embraced
who he was.

I'm speaking for the transwomen
who are assaulted, murdered, raped.
I'm speaking for the transmen who
grow up playing with the wrong toys,
and who cry in the dressing room as
their mother makes them put on a dress.

I'm speaking for all of those
who are put to the test and
don't quite make it. I'm speaking
because some of them got up, and
some of them couldn't. Suicide
isn't cowardly. Assault, rape,
murder; any violence, any hate
crime, however, is.

We learn to be soldiers
and some of us die in action.
The sad thing is, it's a large
part of the fraction.