Things are so desperate, I am wondering am I strong enough to keep my new job after only three months .My mind and soul hurt. I break down often when I get home. So much damage has been done.
Italic paragraphs from the New York Times For Transgender Detainees, a Jail Policy Offers Some Security “They are more likely to interact with police because they are more likely to be victims of violent crime, because they are more likely to be on the street due to homelessness and/or being unwelcome at home, because their circumstances often force them to work in the underground economy, and even because many face harassment and arrest simply because they are out in public while being transgender.”
Flip to my life in bold: Today as I exited a stall in the women's room the ten ladies waiting suddenly ceased their light hearted banter. As I washed my hands I could literally feel the hate boring into my back. Dead silence.
Seven percent of respondents reported being arrested or detained in jail due only to their gender identity.(myself being one of that 7% who responded we had been arrested simply for being transgender on the Task Force's survey.
The bathroom was so crowded because the shipping department meeting just ended. The one that the vice president of my company assured me the subject of sexual harassment (they do not have gender protections) would be raised. It was not, again.
Today the cumulative effect of the 3 months of harassment, ostracization, physical assaults and just evil vitriol gossip made me wonder, why am I working? My kitty stripy baby and my first apartment in 20 years?
If I went back to the streets what then? Nothing certain but one thing. I would rid myself of this hateful place and people once and for all. I would also lose all of my self respect and dignity. Why even breath then?
And it all started with a rumor on my very first day of employment. It spread like wildfire that I was using the men's room. That sort of hateful rumor is given visual conformation by this image published by ABC "Work It". So ABC don't tell me your picture isn't about me. Its killing me.