For some trans women this is a tough day because it's a heartless reminder that things will always be a bit different for us than cis women. For some it's a chance for affirmation and belonging – to be included in the population of "mothers" as it always should have been. For some it's a chance for acceptance – to be a mother's child, unbroken and righted, as was not always the case.
And then there's my contingent. This day is nothing but a spiteful twisting of the knife. We have to spend the day being reminded that blood relatives are a thing, and that ours are fucked and we wish they wouldn't continue to invade our reality anymore.
My mother is very sentimental and prone to taking things very personally. I know she's hurt that I've broken off ties with my relatives and that I am pushing to widen that distance as much as I feasibly can. I'm not heartless or evil – it hurts me to know that this is how she's taking it all, and I feel bad for being responsible for it.
But only to a point.
I didn't choose to be beaten routinely as a child. I didn't choose to endure almost twenty years of emotional and psychological abuse, or to spend another ten just trying to figure out what the fuck happened. I didn't choose to be born into a world that would never accept me, let alone care about me, and god forbid actually fucking love me. I didn't choose to be born into a world that almost successfully convinced me to live my entire life like something I'm not. I didn't choose to be mocked, ostracized, struck, or threatened with worse, until I learned that who I am is not acceptable and she should be hidden away forever.
So fuck you. All of you.
I did choose to get the fuck away from you. I did choose to try to learn something about reality – not the corrupted, warped idiocy that you pass off as some kind of life. I did choose to dig into the rubble and ashes and mines buried all through my soul. I did choose to listen to the voice of the girl I heard trapped under there. I did choose to keep digging, until my fingers bled and my body would barely move. I did choose to get her free, and I will keep choosing to fight for her life.
She's worth it. And she's the best fuck you I could possibly hope for, to all of you.
Happy fucking Mother's Day. It's a girl.