On the Collapse of the World Around Me, and the Rebellion of Holding On. 

My name is Holly Agatha D’Angelo.

I am a 23 year old transgender woman from Phoenix, Arizona.

I’m a lesbian, and my gender presentation is a bit more butch than you’d expect from your stereotypical transfem.

I’m around three and a half years into my transition, yet I rarely wear dresses outside of my work uniform and special occasions. I can’t remember the last time I wore makeup. My legs are hairy, but I try to keep my forearms smooth.

My morning routine consists of me shaving a face full of stubborn hairs, tying my waist-length hair into a rough bun, and putting on a t-shirt and jeans. 

When you meet me, my speaking voice is typically the first giveaway. I raise it slightly, but beyond one or two attempts, I’ve never committed to fully changing it. It’s hard to articulate exactly how voice training makes me feel, but the closest I’ve gotten is “existentially bad”. 

Obviously, as a trans person, it would be easier if I leaned into the stereotypes. If I had a higher pitched voice, I wouldn’t be scared to speak when I’m in a public restroom. If I dressed more feminine, I might not be misgendered by 4 out of every 5 strangers I meet. If I “passed”, I might not be constantly afraid. 

Alternatively, there’s the opposite. 

Detransition. I could give all of this up. I could admit defeat to a world of hostility. Go back to my deadname, stop shaving, pretend that all of this never happened. I’d want to kill myself, but I’d be “safe” again. A straight cisgender man, in a world that caters to me. 

Neither of these options are me. I’m not a man, nor am I the peak of femininity. Pretending to be either would be a betrayal of myself, even if it would be easier.

If you’re reading this, you know what the world is like right now. 

The U.S. government has declared war on transgenderism as a concept. We’ve been scrubbed from official federal histories. Our access to HRT is under constant attack. I could go on, but it wouldn’t be good for either of us. I already have panic attacks when I read the news, relaying it is a whole other matter.

In this climate, it’s become evident that the very action of holding onto my identity is now an act of rebellion. I may not be able to effect change in the wider sense, but I am able to do this; 

I will be my authentic, queer self, and I will take joy in it. I will grieve our losses, and celebrate our victories. I will make art, form new friendships, and keep my loved ones close. 

I will enjoy my life, to spite those who want to see me suffer. 

Death Before Detransition, 

Holly D’Angelo.