I arched an eyebrow at him. “Is there something wrong with that?”
He shrugged. “Liberals tend to steamroll over everything to prove their point.” He grinned at me, a condescending thing I wanted to wipe off his face. “No offense intended.”
That was a lie. He meant all the offense.
“I don’t understand why we have to bring politics into it,” Chase said as he cut his steak, probably wistfully dreaming of Andrew Taylor kissing babies and rescuing kittens from trees and paying him a couple hundred bucks an hour.
I wiped my mouth daintily. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because our entire existence is a political talking point?”
Adam coughed, sounding like he was trying to cover up a laugh.
“Look,” I said, folding my hands in front of me, “I know we most likely have… different political ideologies, but surely you can see how hazardous the rhetoric currently is. And even then, maybe you don’t have to see what the cost is face-to-face, but we do. We have kids worried about their future and whether or not they’re going to be deported. We have trans kids who wonder if they’re going to be arrested for using the bathroom that matches their gender identity. Some are in foster care, and while they have a roof over their heads, they often don’t have adults they can look up to. Which could lead to even worse situations. Recent studies have shown that LGBTQ kids are at more than double the risk of homelessness compared to their hetero counterparts. And those who identify as both LGBTQ and black or multiracial have some of the highest rates of being homeless. And of those in our community that are already homeless, they report higher rates of harassment and are twice as likely to have an early death compared to others. And don’t even get me started on some other statistics that I could throw at you, like how the life expectancy for trans women of color is thirty-one years. Thirty. One.”
I sat back in my chair. “And everything we do is to help others and educate our community. It might be as simple as pointing toward a resource or answering questions they might not feel comfortable asking their parents or guardians or foster parents. The work we do at Phoenix House is more important than it’s ever been because we can field those questions, and if we don’t know the answer, we can point them in the right direction. And I will do everything I can to make sure it stays a place where anyone can come to if they need help.”
“You’re being dramatic,” Brad said. He didn’t like me. I could see that. “Those stats could come from anywhere. And this gender identity bullshit is—”
“You’re on thin ice,” Jeremy growled.
Brad flapped his hand dismissively. “What? It’s this PC culture we find ourselves in that’s killing us. Everyone is offended by everything. And I can’t even start to keep up with how many different pronouns I’m supposed to use now. They? Them?” He snorted. “What the fuck is that?”
“Oh yes,” I said sardonically. “Because it’s so hard to call someone by their correct pronouns. I mean, what is the world coming to?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “You think you’re so—”
“I’m trans,” I said, and holy shit, the looks on their faces made this entire fiasco worth it. Oh, Stephen knew, and I bet Adam did too, but the others? Chef’s kiss. Mwah. “Bigender, if we want to get specific. So please. Espouse more about what you call gender identity bullshit so that I can tell you not every man has a dick and not every woman has a vagina. Go ahead. Do it.” I took a bite of my salad. It was delicious.
Silence.
“That’s what I thought,” I said after I finished chewing. And even though I’d rather be pretty much anywhere else, I felt strong. Powerful, even. It was fucking gnarly. “But thank you for proving why Phoenix House is something Tucson needs. Misgendering people is a common problem, but one with an easy fix. When I was younger, I thought I was going insane. I thought there was something wrong with me. There wasn’t. I just didn’t know who I was. I figured that out. It took a long time, and if I can help someone else avoid the shit I had to go through, then I will have done what I set out to do. And if it starts with helping others understand the correct pronouns, then so be it. It doesn’t take much effort. Granted, it doesn’t help that racism and transphobia are so prevalent in our community. Not that I’m accusing anyone here of that, but surely you can see how that’s a problem.”
Brad recovered first, because of course he did. “How the hell can we be phobic anything? We’re gay.”
I snorted. “Some of the most rampant homophobia and racism come from within the queer community. All you have to do is open up Grindr and see ‘whites only’ or ‘no fems.’ While it’s easy to point fingers, it’s harder to look in the mirror and see our own shortcomings.”
Chase looked as if he were choosing his words carefully. “I get your point. But you can’t help who you’re attracted to.”
“Well, no,” I said. “I suppose you can’t. But you can also not be an asshole about it. Though I suppose it does some good, because it shows you who the fuck to avoid. I know I don’t want to stick my dick inside a racist. How about you? Jeremy, could you please pass the pepper? My steak is a little dry.”
I could feel them staring at me, but I only looked at Jeremy. He handed me the pepper shaker, and his eyes were bright. I thanked him and sprinkled my steak. Steak was disgusting.
&
nbsp; “Corey is right,” Stephen said. “We have it easier than most. It’s easy to forget that.”
“That’s crap,” Luke said. “We still get looks whenever I hold Chad’s hand in public. Maybe we don’t have it as bad as some others, but we get shit too.”
“And that sucks,” I said. “I’m not trying to invalidate anything you’ve gone through. All I want you to do is keep in mind that you’re more privileged than others in our community.”
“Oh, here we go,” Brad groaned. “Seriously. You’re like a cookie-cutter SJW.”
“And you’re a Republican,” I said with a shrug. “I suppose we all have our faults.”
“I like you,” Adam said, patting my hand. “You can come back anytime you like.” He glanced at Brad. “Which is more than I can say for others here.”
“Are you going to let him talk to me that way?” Brad demanded of Jeremy.
“I think I am,” Jeremy said as he put his arm over the back of my chair. “You’re being a dick, Brad.”