“God knew what words, or worse, this town would have for a boy who'd been born female. They would wrap their contempt and their cruelty in the lie that they wouldn't have cared, if only he'd told them.
'It's just the dishonesty of it all,' they'd whisper.
'All that lying, it's the lying I hate.'
'How can you trust someone who pretends like that?'
As though the truth of his body was any of their business, as though they had a right to consider how he lived an affront to them.”
―
Anna-Marie McLemore,
When the Moon Was Ours