It’s the fourth trans day of visibility that I’ve been able to make myself visible. For the fourth time, I look at everyone’s pictures and art and think, “I could do that. Take a few pictures, post something supportive.” It’s not like I’d be outing myself (for the most part). It’s not exactly a secret. But I still don’t correct people who assume I’m cis, or tell them, and I still get nervous when I’m out in public, and I still pray that in four, five, ten years, I’ll be somewhere where no one knows. I don’t want to be stealth. I am proud of every single one of my trans family. I am out, but I’m not very proud. 

So I can’t take pictures proclaiming my pride, I can’t tweet out something brave and steamy like TRANS AND KILLING IT or ONLY TRANS DOES IT LIKE THIS. However, I can tell you about Roman.

Roman is not my first character, but I call him that because he’s the first one that’s really stuck. He was originally created to let off a little steam; I could throw my life problems at him and shake them up a bit to fit his life, and work through things that way. Over the last three years (he was born into this world March 28th, 2015, the beginning of Easter break), I’ve severed as much of our ties as I can while keeping him as authentically human as possible, and there are some things about myself he needs because he is transgender. I remember not knowing what the hell I was doing when I first started writing him because what do I know about being trans, I wear khaki cargo pants and terrible plaid button downs and bind with a shitty $6 binder that I have to replace every two months. 

Somehow, he thrived, and after a week straight of pounding out 90k words about this man, so was I. With him came Lawrence Silverstein, whose only major change has been the spelling of his last name. He’s been a damn good character from the get-go.

But Roman? Roman has grown with me. Beside me, not inside me, I’ve been very careful about that. He used to be as hopeless and in desperate need of someone to pull him back up as I was, and I’m 90% sure it was through him that I relearned how to put my palms on the ground and do a damn push up. At the same time, now I have to learn how to actually stick my hand out when have to, because he learned how to do that around year two. When I got accepted into my first college, I put everything of the previous year (also known as The Cold Year because I’ve blacked the vast majority of it out for self preservation) behind me and taught Roman how to do the same thing. In my second college the next year, we realized at the same time it didn’t work. Some things can’t be forgotten, no matter how much Sharpie you scribble them with. But they can be made duller by better memories, and that second college was honestly a life changing experience. Sure, it ended abruptly, but I’ve also carefully crafted three years of Roman’s life, from the 28th of March 2015 to the 31st of March, 2018, I know what he’s doing on nearly every day in between and, not to sound obsessed, every day after. 

I know this character, this 23 year old barista from Greenpond, Louisiana, far better than I know myself at times. He likes coffee because it brings people together and lie likes to people watch. He likes horror movies. He loves his best friend. He really thought Stella loved him, even when he was running from her. I know he wasn’t proud in 2015, but he is in 2018, and 2019, and even in 2020. He still has his days, because he’s more human than I feel at times, but he loves far more of who he is than he did when a scrappy, khaki, 15 year old who had a lot of homework to avoid first wrote his name. 

So why can’t I? How can I understand the core concepts of what it means to accept yourself and build yourself from the basics and not only accept but love what you created, but not apply those same concepts to me?

I don’t know. Fear. Of what? Failure? Actually enjoying it? I might be used to good things lasting minutes. I’ve moved 17 times in 18 years. I know what temporary means. But being trans isn’t temporary. When I was laying in bed that one December and realized quite literally out of the blue holy fuck I’m a boy I knew for once in my life that some things are not temporary. 

Like Roman. He’s with me, whether I’ve written anything about him since February or not. When I read over old stories because I miss him. Even if I’m able to let him go one day.

I don’t have much pride for being trans, but I’m goddamn proud of Roman Ramirez, and everything we have built together, and everything we’ll do one day. So, happy TDOV to him, and maybe I’ll try again next year.