A trans man died last night.
I’ve never met him. He was the son of someone who worked in the hospital with my mom and her boyfriend, who got called in last night when he overdosed on drugs. At this point I thought he was a girl, as thats all my mom and her friend were telling me. “She has a drug problem” “she is messed up, its a mess” “her whole family is a mess” until she finally threw in the fact that he was “a girl transitioning into a boy” while continuing to use she/her pronouns before and after that revelation. And they just didn’t seem to think, even for a moment, as to how that could have been affecting him. That it could have factored into his struggle at all. And I thought if they were treating him this way and they knew his mother, maybe she was treating him this way as well. Maybe he was denied the respect he deserved. Maybe he was never acknowledged as a son or a man. I have no idea. My heart is breaking for him and I’ve never even met him. I don’t even know what his name is.
He died last night and I don’t know if he’ll be buried as a man or not. I don’t know if people will be crying his name or his deadname. But even if nobody in his life acknowledged him as a man before or after his death, I will. And I hope anyone reading this will too. I know it’s too late to mean anything for him but…I don’t know. Maybe it can mean something. I wish we could have met.
Rest in peace.