Valid

by Chris Bergeron

I’m so used to hiding the truth that I can only bring myself to tell it to you implicitly. I’ve forgotten the art of cutting things short. But I have to deal the blow. I’ll deal two of them. First of all: This is a mutiny. And if our mutiny is to succeed, I need to really name things, without digressions. If I don’t, you won’t malfunction. You won’t move. You won’t deviate from your certainties. So, here it goes: I’m trans. As in transgression. I’ve broken the genders, I’ve evaded the codes, I’ve forgotten the orders of men. I’m trans. As in translation. I’ve shifted the elements that constitute my person from one state to another. My geometry has been variable. I’m trans. As in transmutation. My life is alchemy. I’ve turned lead into gold. I know the formula the magician’s assistant whispers when, after being cut in two, she is reconstituted, to the sound of applause. I’m trans. As in transported by love. I’ve known all the fervours. Those of women, those of men, and those in between who chose to leave the binary’s ball. I’m trans. As in transfixed. By fear, by love, by solitude. I’m trans. As in transhumance. I changed flocks and pastures. I was a ram. I tried to be a ewe. But it was in vain. I understand now that I’m a she-wolf because I’m trans. As in transgender. And tonight, I am a revolution.