What I would have done with cis-privledge

Pro-tip: Hit play then start reading below the video.

Back story: I flew, alone, to Detroit to get an orchiectomy.

To Chad.

It was really quite cute when you bumped into me while we stood there in line, right next to each other. When you said “Oh I’m so sorry,” I couldn’t help but say nothing. Not even a “No worries.” My voice would have outted me.

If I had cis privilege, I wouldn’t have brushed it off so quickly.

I noticed your amazing smile right away. It was absolutely breathtaking. Such a cute boy. I know you don’t know this, but when I turned my head back around, a really big smile formed on my face. I was giggling to myself.

If I had cis privilege, I wouldn’t have hidden it as much as I did.

It was quite funny when you wound up getting the seat assignment next to me. Who would of thought that? You were at first so “Uh oh”‘ed because I was the person you thought you had offended in line, but you really didn’t.

If I had cis privilege, I wouldn’t have not already let you knew.

Still, you talked to me. Nobody ever talks to me. Half the time I’m treated like an other. You didn’t care who I was or what was wrong with me. You treated me like any other human being should treat somebody else.

If I had cis privilege, I wouldn’t have worried to begin with.

Making you smile at my silly jokes about the beautiful palm trees in southern California, oh how fun. There’s a whole world there that I wanted to share. I was so happy to have somebody to talk to, I couldn’t stop talking.

If I had cis privilege, I wouldn’t have drown you in my excitement.

Still, you listened. You didn’t even ask until I offered to. It was so much fun as I got to tell you about my entire trans story. The entire time you listened so intently: I was born a girl and always was a girl. And you agreed.

If I had cis privilege, I wouldn’t have been searching for your sympathies.

The turbulence that came was like an amusement park ride. I got scared. I tightened my belt. I laughed it off, but really inside all I wanted to do was grab onto your arm and have somebody to hold onto.

If I had cis privilege, I wouldn’t have kept my desires away from you.

The trip went by so much faster with you there. You kept on smiling, and it made me so happy. I don’t think anybody in a long time has treated me that well. You even understood I liked guys when I told you I was straight.

If I had cis privilege, I wouldn’t have been seeking validation of my gender.

It was so gentleman like of you to hold up the entire line and allow me to get up and go first. It was so cute when you didn’t even budge, as I fought to get my bag out from under the seat.

If I had cis privilege, I wouldn’t have had such heavy baggage to begin with.

I had a driver waiting, and you took the time to walk me all the way there, just to make sure I was okay. I skipped off the moving walk ways in the cutest of ways, in my heels, just for you, because I would have fallen otherwise.

If I had cis privilege, I wouldn’t have been needing to be as careful.

But the time drew nearer, and before I knew it it was time for me to go. I looked at you. Your smile. Into your eyes. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to live in that moment just a little bit longer. Just a bit more…

If I had cis privilege, I wouldn’t have felt the need to leave so soon.

As I walked out, being led around corners by this, unknown random driver, a tear formed in my eye. I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to be alone. Please, come with me, Chad… Please… Hold my hand through this…

If I had cis privilege, I wouldn’t have felt so utterly alone.

But yet, as it’s raining outside the car, something dawns on me as I think back to what led up to these series of events. Something that gives me a bit of warmth that no cis woman would have ever experienced, or have ever felt.

If I had cis privilege, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet you.

Good bye, Chad.

Love, Johanna. <3

Pic related: Chad

Pic related: Chad

Post-op update: Thank you all for reading this and crying with me. It means the world to me. I’ve been crying alone in my hotel room all morning long, but I’ve been writing too, so I’ll be okay. Writing helps give the tears meaning. They help express the emotions in a way people can understand, and feel with me. I don’t feel so alone as a result. So, seriously, thank you. Thank you for your time, and your tears. They’re being given meaning, too, I assure you.

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