I'm Major Jackson, and this is The Slowdown.

One of my grandmother's best friends was assigned male at birth, but sometimes presented as a woman in the 1970s, long before we developed language and inclusive attitudes toward transgender people.

We were instructed to call him Uncle Bobby. He and my grandmother belonged to a

gospel singing group. He'd often quizzed me and my cousins on American history. I remember him as

kind and full of laughter. After a while, we stopped seeing Uncle Bobby. The group disbanded because of his

drinking. When I asked about him, my grandmother simply said he was unhappy. I had not thought

about Uncle Bobby in many years until I discovered an inherited photo of him in a wedding dress.

The picture dates to 1973.

When I was young, on my way to the basketball court, one Saturday morning, I came upon a guy kicking

and punching someone dressed in women's clothes. I knew people like

Uncle Bobby were in mortal danger for their lives. We have come a long way from yesterday,

but people still refuse to see non-binary and transgender folks as full-fledged members of our communities.

Society's debates around gender identity boils down to this simple fact. People want others to

see them as they see themselves. This is a pure human need for affirmation from friends, parents, and peers.

It builds self-esteem and mental stability.

Today's poem grapples with the emotional difficulty of transitioning,

but proudly asserts a sovereignty over the body and importance of the right

to shape one's identity.

Trans Loneliness by Ricky Laurentis

for Martha P. Johnson

Why doubt I grow breasts a natural way? Am I not real flesh? Am I not in

worthy sway of that biology? Not this, you think me alien? Loose? Do I so estranged? Wouldn't I be monstrous? The Gorgon lady with my two new,

...