We weren’t born broken.
We were born different.
But in a world that fears difference, that alone was enough.
Before we had the language to say who we were,
we learned to hide it.
And the tragedy?
Not that we were different —
but that no one ever made space for it.
For Some of Us, School Was the First War Zone
We showed up with curiosity, just like every other kid.
But what we got was mockery.
Every gesture, every voice pitch, every deviation from the “norm” —
was treated like open invitation for cruelty.
Some of us were ridiculed.
Some were beaten.
Some were ignored into invisibility.
We learned to walk differently. Speak differently. Breathe differently.
Just to survive the day.
And Then There Was Home — A Place Full of Eyes That Wouldn’t Meet Ours
Not every home was violent.
Some of us were lucky.
They didn’t shout.
They didn’t kick us out.
They didn’t even say the words.
But they also never looked us in the eye —
Not when we had so much to say.
So much confusion to unload.
We were screaming — silently — just hoping someone would help us figure it out.
Instead, we got silence.
Avoidance.
Polite dinner conversations layered over our internal crisis.
Their silence wasn’t kindness. It was fear.
Their love wasn’t freedom. It was conditional.
Their refusal to acknowledge us was louder than any insult ever could be.
And so, some of us shrank.
Some of us fought.
And some… never made it out.
The Law Changed. Society Shifted. But for Many, It Came Too Late.
Yes, we’ve seen rainbow flags.
Section 377 is gone.
Trans rights are inked into legislation.
Social media celebrates “pride” every June.
But for most of us, the damage happened long before those victories.
We weren’t just surviving laws.
We were surviving the erasure of our childhoods,
the denial of our identities,
and the betrayal of silence from the people who said they loved us.
You don’t need bars to feel caged.
All it takes is years of being unseen, unasked, unheard.
But Here’s What’s Also True: We Made It. And We’re Still Making It.
Some of us are still healing.
Some of us turned pain into art.
Into careers.
Into activism.
Into strength.
We wake up every day with the ghosts of a stolen childhood —
but we also carry discipline, awareness, and an edge that nothing can teach but survival.
We built ourselves —
Not perfect, but powerful.
Not whole, but awake.
We Speak Now — Not Just for Ourselves, But for the Ones Still Silenced
For every child hiding in their room,
waiting for someone to ask the right question —
we see you.
For every teen holding their breath through school,
trying to live a quiet life in a loud, judgmental world —
we remember you.
And for every adult still carrying the weight of who they weren’t allowed to be —
we stand with you.
Because We Know This Truth:
We were not born to be erased.
We were born to feel, to speak, to build, to lead.
And when they refused to see us —
we saw each other.
This is not just one story.
This is thousands, maybe millions —
quietly rising from the ashes of what was done,
what was ignored,
what was stolen.
We Were Never the Problem. Their Silence Was.
But now, we are the voice.
The movement.
The storm.
And the healing.
Not just for ourselves — but for the ones who still whisper their truth into the dark,
hoping someone finally listens.
We’re listening.
And we’re not going anywhere.
