“Why do I have to change?”

A question I get as a trans person.

Sometimes people ask me, in good faith or in bad, “Why should I change just for you people? Why do I have to?”

You don’t. You don’t have to. I can’t make you do anything. All I can tell you are the consequences of your choice.

You could kick your neighbour, or burn down a building, or slash someone’s tyres, or scream at a librarian, or get a big tattoo that says “fuck queers!” on your forehead. You can do all of those things. They would make me sad. But you have free will. You have more power than you think. You can change anyone’s life in an instant with a few words, or a small action. You have no idea.

But queer people won’t trust you. For them, loving you will be painful. At best, speaking with you will be sore and aching. At worst, they will fear you.

You will face consequences for any and every choice you make in life. That’s just how decisions work. This is no different.

If you don’t treat people – queer or otherwise – with dignity, or respect, or compassion, then why would anybody want to be friends with you? Or hire you? Why would your child share something so personal with you if they think you’re going to spit on it?

What are we even doing here if not trying to love each other? We spend our whole lives trying to figure out how to love one another. We listen to people when they tell us how to love them, and we hope they listen when we tell them how to love us. That’s what this is. That’s all it is: here is how to love me.

Change is hard. Of course it is. There’s no denying that. But it means the world to see someone try, to hear someone speak a few unsteady words in your love language.