I honestly can't get over how entitled and disrespectful and disappointing some Black men continue to be.
You have the audacity to call me your baby to get me in bed but would not defend me if I was called a man by one of your homeboys. You would laugh at my pain. You would hide it from me. You wouldn't admit to them about your attraction to me or how you were living your best life and doing things sexually that turned you on more than me. But I am supposed to be available whenever you have time for me. Please tell me who TF do you think I am? More importantly, who do you think you are.
Transgender women and girls are being killed constantly, and you would fight to the death to protect that toxic masculinity of which you are most definitely a member. So how did we get here? What makes you feel entitled to my time at 5am with no prior conversation? What made you think I cared about your girl going to work and you having missed me. That was not information I needed to know, like ever. But you felt confident enough to do this anyway. Should I have felt honored or privileged that you chose to waste your time and mine?
These are the questions I must ask myself. I'm often told I'm beautiful. Yet, I'm my worst critic and I constantly harp on my perceived flaws. Let me say, these flaws are not what have been dictated to me by society. I mean things about myself that I see today and perhaps because of age and inactivity. Nonetheless, I don't see what others see when they look at me. But just because a man thinks I'm pretty or let's call it what it is, fuckable, that doesn't mean I don't aspire to have more in my life.
What scares me most is their unwillingness to have a discussion around HIV. I am undetectable so I can't transmit to my sexual partners, but I am so much more than a sexual being. I pay attention to the red flags. One time I told the guy what he heard about me was true and tried to have an intelligent conversation, yet it was clear he was not interested in using his big head. I blocked him. And he declared that he loved me after not knowing anything about me but what he sees on social media. He constantly said I was a model. I'm like, "You're not even listening to me. You have already made up your mind that I'm famous."
It's as if what I want doesn't matter, but I do matter and what I want matters. No one will ever make me believe that this hell I have gone through and continue to go through with every report of a trans woman being killed, has been for nothing. I am attracted to men, yet I will not share my body nor my space with anyone who has not accepted himself and his wanting trans women. That's just me. I don't knock anyone for getting them.
As for me, I can go without, or I can pleasure myself. I do this because I am empathetic. Sometimes, I can't differentiate in my emotions and the emotions of those around me. So, sex is extra tricky to an empath. Desire, passion, and lust is mistaken for care, concern, and love. This is about me and is in no way reflective of the entire trans community. I have witnessed beautiful, inspirational love that fills me with the hope that I will one day have my one and only.
For today, I'm not your jump off, your secret, your first time, your mistress, your fantasy, nor will I allow you to disrespect me and the wholeness of who I am.