And now, I’m angry
November 2022
“That will be $213.97”
My pulse increases rapidly as I look up from the counter, trying to keep a low profile and not be perceived my the two other people waiting in line. “Wait, did you run my insurance?” I mumble.
The pharmacist looks at me like I have horns coming out of my head. He looks at my hands and says, “oh, you need a prior authorization for this.”
I’m so confused. “The clinic has been prescribing this to me for the past year,” I stare blankly.
“Why don’t you just use a GoodRX coupon?”
I want to scream. “Okay give me a moment, let me look.” I stare down at my phone, opening Google and type in ‘Testosterone’ and ‘Coupon’. My blood starts to boil since I am jumping through so many hoops to get a medication I have been taking for a year with more difficulty than ever.
The pharmacist takes pity on my slow movements. “I have one right here. Let me scan it.” He grabs the coupon and scans it. “Oh look, it’s $20.18.”
It takes everything in me to maintain my composure. “Thank you,” I state as this moment gives me great clarity on why I need to move. Why I need to get out of Florida.
September 2023
“Well this is….quaint,” I say as my boyfriend and I walk into the 400 ft hotel room in Jamaica, NY. We are adjusting I remind myself. We just picked up our entire lives as we know it in Florida and are here in the “big city” where everything happens. We are going to be okay. And yet I know, it is going to take time.
A year ago was when our world started to shift. We saw the laws in Florida restricting Nurse Practitioners from providing gender affirming care. We saw my NP crying to me in the office about how she would try to have her clinic persevere, but encouraged me to fly to a different state to get medical care. We saw my friend’s stock piling their medication. I got texts from friends asking me if I had leftover medication to give them. We saw what some looked at as a “inconvenience” become all consuming.
And the worst part? Not many people seemed to care.
So here we were, laying in bed holding hands. Recognizing my new job got us out of Florida. Feeling grateful for the Uber Eats Thai food that had more seasoning than anything we had consumed in our old home state. Here we were, hoping for a new beginning in a safer state. For a new forever.
December 2024
I grab my phone at my desk, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. It’s been a month since election results and I feel hopeless more moments then not. I text my now husband two words. IM SCARED.
We eloped in the court house in August. I wasn’t one for big ceremonies and wanted everything on paper. I had hope for a Democratic President in 2025, but was jarred from years past.
Three minutes go by and my phone screen lights up with its rainbow clock and a photo of him cheering me on at the New York Marathon, a major accomplishment of mine recently that I tell anyone I meet about. Under four hours may I add.
His text reads:
We will figure it out. I promise. I’m not going to be the jew who waits around in Germany when things are getting bad because it’s still my country and this’ll all blow overs. We will figure something out. Spain gives remote work visas. Whatever we have to do, we will figure it out.
Well, sh!t.
January 2025
I’m not scared anymore. Now, I’m angry.
I was scared and hurt when I saw that my country voted for someone that doesn’t believe I exist. That people picked a man of hate. That people thought this would be good for the “economy.”
That fear turned to anger when a week after the inauguration went by and I see headlines that make my blood boil, knowing my existence could lead to persecution.
After years of not knowing who to be, watching everyone else and thinking that in order to live life right I had to be like everyone else; I found my voice. I found comfort being a nonbinary athlete. I found comfort in my body changing to align with my mind. And now, some orange man wants to take it away? Absolutely not.
More than half a century has passed since first documented LGBTQ+ civil rights demonstration in the nation took place at The Black Cat in Silver Lake, Los Angeles, when community members took to the streets to protest police raids of local gay bars in the neighborhood.
For those that pour out into LGBTQ+ community members that are your friends, your family, and your coworkers - stay informed. And if you can’t comprehend why you may not be getting responses back from people if you aligned yourself with this new wave of political leadership, I can’t help you.
Today
“Hi, I’m looking to refill my prescription,” I say through the phone to my pharmacist. Her name is Linda at a gender affirming clinic in NYC and I love her.
“Hey Finn, do you do .4 or .5 every week? You know these vials are technically one time usage.”
“Oh, my doctor told me to get 2 weeks worth in one vial.”
“Right…..” she pauses, waiting for me to catch on to something that took me too long to catch on to.
She’s trying to make sure I have back ups and enough. She’s on my side without saying she’s on my side.
“I only do .4,” and with that information she fills my script the correct way.
History has a way of repeating itself.
Don’t be scared. You want to know what’s more powerful than a scared gay?
A gay that’s angry someone cut them in line for their cold brew or didn’t pay the cover at the drag bar like everyone else.
Visibility is representation and if representation as a nonbinary and trans person is defiance, then I will be the most angry defiant person you’ve ever met.
Bring it.
