When I got all of the set up on the back end I was feeling pretty great, honestly. That, unfortunately, faded a bit with time. Further unfortunately, instead of getting myself back to feeling positive, I think I’m going to go ahead and just rip the bandage off while I’m trying to force myself to take a social media break but can’t quite stop sitting at my computer.

Being trans and trying to find community online while living in Ohio has become an unbearable hellscape where every single person is absolutely convinced they know better than you and need to explain why you’re a bad person for having negative feelings about the Democratic candidate for governor of Ohio. The specific situation we’re experiencing here has been more aptly summarized by Katelyn Burns than I could possibly manage, but Amy Acton recently spoke about a ban on “[She does] not support boys playing in girls sports,” and the ban already being settled Ohio law.

The context I would like to add to this is that this is a law that was vetoed by our current Republican governor Mike Dewine and then overridden by our Republican super-majority state legislature. This has given the trans residents of Ohio a sinking feeling that our shot at having a Democratic governor after the next election will actually be worse on trans rights than what we have now. But heaven forbid you say that in a space that isn’t exclusively trans, because you will be argued with.

It is impossible to make clear how much I detest Vivek Ramaswamy. If he becomes governor of Ohio, it will absolutely be worse than what we have now for every human citizen of the state including every naive soul who will vote for him. Assuming he governs how he behaves publicly, Ohio will take several massive strides toward being a cyberpunk dystopia. So I am, indeed, trapped. The only viable opportunity for me to cast my vote in November is for someone who absolutely does not have my back and will do nothing to protect my community.

Publicly threatening to withhold my vote is, at this point, the only power I feel like I have. So I have said I will absolutely not vote for her, publicly, on social media. But if I’m being honest, I probably will regardless of what she says or does before election day. Granted, admitting that probably takes away some of the minuscule power it gave me to begin with. If I’m going to be honest, though, all the grief I’ve gotten myself or seen directed at other trans folks on social media is a little spark right in my doomer kindling pile that I’m desperately trying to stop from catching.

I’m exhausted of being condescended to. I’m so unbearably tired of being told that “Amy Acton wasn’t talking to you when she said what she said,” as if that means it shouldn’t make me feel any way at all. If someone explains to me that the law in question only affects student athletes and that’s only very few people and doesn’t include me so “it doesn’t affect me” while they themselves cannot comprehend that laws like this help justify bigotry felt by every trans person regardless of age or athletic prowess I absolutely will just start crying.

I need a place I can be angry and not face ridicule. I need space where I can feel hurt and betrayed and not be condescendingly lectured to about how it’s my responsibility to save American democracy by joyfully voting for Amy Acton with a shit eating grin like a Stepford animatronic. Andy maybe this can be that space, I don’t know. I wanted this to be a positive space, where I practice trans joy. But I think I just need it to be this for a moment?