I am at a tiny writer’s retreat in Greece to escape an exhausting round of youth trans critical writing, talking and interviews. Only eight wise and thoughtful people are here, between us from Ireland, Holland, Australia and the UK. At the dinner table, in the middle of relaxing small talk about meditation, blessings and enlightenment, trans appears. Everyone has a view, most people ‘know one’, including knowing parents of children identifying as trans. Even here, on the terrace of a remote peninsula, trans is everywhere. Once again, I find I dare not speak of my experience.
I left the table to try and write out my troubled thoughts but couldn’t think where to begin. No, no. Not again, not saying the same things over and over and over. I had been reading Nelson Algren trying to explain the way of things to a girl who had been out of town
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