Sorry, no clever memes on this one.

I had a random memory pop up this morning.

Circa 1983, I was in my grandmother’s kitchen where she had a woman visitor. They sat at the kitchen table drinking gallons of truly awful coffee and smoking pallets of discount cigarettes, talking for hours.

When the visitor took her leave, my grandmother sat me down and said that that woman had suffered terrible abuse at the hands of society because she looked and spoke like a man, and that people really needed to learn to see past the packaging, no matter how out of the norm they may perceive it.

Thinking back, over forty years ago, I realize my grandmother had befriended a trans woman. She was well over six feet tall with a man’s voice and broad shoulders. I was too young and ignorant at the time to make the connection.

Grandma certainly had her prejudices when speaking, but in practice, she never turned away anybody in need of an ear and some kindness. Ever.

Trans people have always been

Hatred has always been

But in the mess, there has also always been a beacon of kindness. Maybe the beacon is small and difficult to find, but it’s there

I wish Grandma had lived longer. I had so much more to learn

Live your true life. Be happy. Love others.