You’re not silencing me. You’re proving why I need to speak

I got a friend request the today.

Curious, I checked out their profile and saw post after post praising J.K. Rowling. So I did what any self-respecting trans woman would do—I asked the obvious question: Why would you send a friend request to someone like me, knowing what Rowling stands for and the damage her words have done to people like me?

The response?

“Stop playing the victim. No one is dehumanizing you.”

I wish I could say that reply shocked me. But it didn’t. It was familiar. Tired. Predictable. But I still answered—not for her, but because silence isn’t something I’m willing to practice anymore.

I said this:

The fact that you don’t see her vitriol as dehumanizing speaks volumes about your privilege. For the record, I do not have a penis. And just so we're clear, nearly every documented attack against cisgender women has been committed by cisgender men. There’s your problem right there. Trans women aren’t the threat—we’re the ones constantly under threat. We’re just trying to exist. To use the bathroom in peace. To be seen as who we are. But I understand that you can’t open a mind that refuses to budge. It’s not my job to educate the willfully ignorant. My job—my right—is to tell my truth. I will always defend anyone’s right to share their beliefs, even if I find them repugnant. But Rowling’s “beliefs” are not benign. They are antagonistic, bitter, and laced with a deliberate disregard for the pain she causes. She’s not transgender. She’s not a doctor. She’s not a psychologist. Her opinion is just that—uninformed and unqualified. When you don’t have skin in the game, speaking like you’re the expert is reckless. If you want real conversations about trans lives, then include actual trans people. And for those who still cling to the notion that gender is binary: basic biology proves otherwise. Gender is complex. It lives in our bodies, our brains, and our souls. You don’t have to understand that to respect it. You can think what you like about me. Call me names. Throw slurs. Try to erase me with words. But I will never be your victim. I know who I am. I choose not to dehumanize anyone. It’s just heartbreaking that others can’t say the same.

Her response?

She called me “Sir.” and accused me of being misogynistic

Then she blocked me.

And you know what? That last act—the misgendering, the blocking—is exactly the point. It proves everything I said. When some people are faced with a truth that challenges their comfort, they lash out. They erase. They run.

But I’m not going anywhere.

I'm so tired. I’m tired of waking up every day to a new piece of legislation designed to make my life harder, more dangerous. I’m tired of explaining the same basic facts to people who don’t want to hear them. I’m tired of trying to prove my humanity to people determined not to see it.

I’m tired of being a debate topic.

I just want to be—to live my life, love who I love, do my writing, walk my dog, enjoy a damn cup of coffee in the morning without wondering if some headline is going to make me feel like less than a person before breakfast.

But here’s what I’ve learned: even in this exhaustion, I’m still standing. Still writing. Still fighting. Still loving.

I don’t want to argue anymore. I want peace. I want joy. I want a world where we don’t need to justify our right to exist. But until that world is here, I will not let others write my story for me—or erase it altogether.

So to the people who block, who insult, who misgender and demean—go ahead. You’re not silencing me. You’re just proving why voices like mine are needed more than ever.

And to the trans community: I see you. I love you. We are still here. We are still rising.

Let them block the truth.

We’ll keep living it.