On Trans Days of Remembrance, scrolling through statistics, faces, a litany of loss, I am inundated by rage.

Rage at how little our city does to recognize the tragedy that happened at Club Q 3 years ago while our community weeps.

Rage at how hard we have to fight against local school boards to not pass cruel policies specifically made to harm trans students.

Rage at the unmitigated spread of a virus that disproportionately hurts our community and the untimely deaths that will cause.

Rage at how the list of people to mourn keeps on growing.

Rage at how trans people get buried with their dead names.

Rage at a populace so willing to let trans people be the scapegoat for ills created by income inequality, white supremacy, and capitalism.

Rage because there are so many trans people who should still be here today.

And still, despite all of this, trans people get out of bed. Care for our loved ones. Do our damned best to create a better world, not just for ourselves, but everyone.

We bless this world with the daily reminder of the freedom we have painstakingly fought for, the knowledge that you don't have to be confined to rigid roles defined by your birth.

Trans people remind the world:

You are the god of your own understanding. You are the potter and the clay. The gardener and the flower. The poet and the poem.

Trans people embody this knowledge every single day, this knowledge that has been deemed so dangerous, because if everyone knew it, the foundations of power would start to crumble.

To the trans person reading this: This is a reminder. You are a gift. A force to be reckoned with. Every day you face a world that tells you no, and you show it what it means to say yes to the life you know you deserve.

You deserve a life full of trans days. Trans days of ease. Trans days of joy. Trans days of laughter. Trans days of friendship. Trans days of love.

Thank you for being here. You make the world a better place for those around you, and for those who are on their way.