/pol/ - International /Pol/itics & /Bant/er

2030. 3:17 AM.

Three knocks at the door.

Outside, the agents call your dead name. They promise you safety if you comply. If you register. If you behave. If you prove that you're one of the good ones.

You almost laugh.

You are not fighting to be accepted by a world that wants you erased. You are not asking for a seat at their table. You want the table overturned. You want every cage unlocked, every border burned off the map, every trans person free to exist without permission.

Your phone buzzes.

THEY'RE COMING. ARE YOU STILL HERE?

You type back:

UNTIL WE'RE ALL FREE.

The door splinters.

Your hands shake. You're terrified. You want to live.

But you are trans. You are still here. And you refuse to mistake survival under their boot for liberation.

Outside, they shout an order.

Inside, you whisper a promise:

"NO ONE IS FREE UNTIL WE ALL ARE."

The door breaks.

And somewhere, a thousand miles away, another trans kid reads your final message-and decides they aren't done fighting either.