Dear Republicans, Stop Trying To Kill Me (And Others)

  On the night of November 6th a sense of relief overcame me when Barack Obama was projected to be reelected. Not that I had many doubts, reflecting on the numerous polls that were in his favor. But it was still a relief, nonetheless. And trust me, I'm not Barack Obama's number one fan. There's many instances to criticize and cherry pick him until there's nothing left. But the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act isn't one of them.

  There's an epidemic in our country. Neither entitlement nor the gay agenda. Not silly fearmongering over violent video games. None of this made up right-wing propaganda. But apathy and ignorance. We write legislation and vote for candidates or referendums without reflecting on the human impacts of these simplified words crafted to solve abstract problems. If we even vote at all, that is. We see numbers in statistics but we don't see the people. We don't visualize the raped teenage girl who constantly has anxiety and panic attacks because her state made it harder to get an abortion. We don't endure the stress and agony of the family living in poverty, struggling to pay off their medical bills on top of everything else. And you don't feel my desperation when I want to violently strip the skin off my bones.

  I'm transgender.

  Some of you will read that as a statement of a biological and psychological medical condition. Others will write it off as a frivolous undignified preference. But it's not. When you find yourself on the edge of a train platform in the middle of the night it's not something you decided on a whim on a Monday morning. Every birthday is only a reminder of the testosterone that has eaten away at your body. The facial hair protrudes and suffocates your skin like you're slowly being buried alive. Bulk sticks out of you like a rotten wart. You live in a relentless state of physical discomfort and mental aguish. But there's a cure.

  Hormone Replacement Therapy, sexual reassignment surgery, facial feminization surgery, and silicone implants for some. The only time transgirls are considered equal to their cis counterparts is when it comes to criticizing our treatment. Corrective surgery is labeled cosmetic. And insurances are let off the hook for ignoring us. We stand between a wall of debt or sliced wrists.

  If you're lucky as I am your insurance covers HRT. But before PPACA stepped in you were only covered under your parent's health insurance if you were in school. That wasn't a problem. Until the combination of ADHD and depression made me crash. When my grades dropped so would my insurance. And any chance to pursue happiness.

 Thanks to President Barack Obama I'm covered until I'm 26 and started treatment three months ago. Every time someone mentions repeal my gut tears and warps. Apathetic fools throw around arguments of paying twelve cents extra on a pizza. Twelve cents that would insure all the workers for Papa Johns. That people in my situation or worse wouldn't have to suffer. But this is America, land of the consumer. Sharing your toys has turned from a basic human folkway to a leftist ideology. We contradict ourselves as we fear a semi-socialized healthcare system while we accept public libraries, schools, and parks. Seeking finical help for a medical condition is an entitlement. And we have to demonize legislation that won't negatively impact us. In the end, numbers are more powerful when represented in dollar signs than statistics. It doesn't matter if 41% percent of transgender people in the United States have attempted to commit suicide, or if 19% percent of transgender people report being refused medical care because of their condition. We do not see them. When I watched the TV that Tuesday night it's as if my skin could breath again. So please, don't kill me.