Dec 2014
Leelah, I don’t usually write poems for people I never knew
I don’t usually write poems on the big issues, the things I haven’t studied, and the things I’m new to learning about
I can’t claim to know anything about you
In the seventeen years you were on this Earth, I had never heard your name
And even if I ever met you, there’s a good chance I still wouldn’t know your real name
That I would be introduced to you as Joshua and I wouldn’t have thought twice
Leelah, I haven’t seen much of you and I’ll never get the chance to
To me, you are one selfie in a cream colored dress captioned with a suicide note that I wish no one had ever had to read
The only words of yours I’ll ever know are the last ones you chose to give to the world
And any other information I could find will only tell me where the world stands on the events that lead to your death
I know that your parents bound you too tightly in blue baby blankets that you wanted to bleach white and toss in with the red laundry until it matched the assignment you wish you had from the beginning
I know that isolation and abuse took its toll on your health until your self-prescribed remedies left you standing on Interstate 71 at 2:20 on a Sunday morning
I know that more journalists misgender you than get it right but people are finding the best links they can to tell the world who you are
And they’re sharing your words on all forms of social media
Leelah, you’ve sparked a movement
You said that you wanted your death to mean something, and darling, it has
Progress shouldn’t have to come exclusively from tragedy
But it often does and you deserve to know that your tragedy is leading an advancement
The words that never should have had to have been written in the first place, at least are being read across the world
”The only way I will rest in peace is if one day transgender people aren’t treated the way I was, they’re treated like humans, with valid feelings and human rights”
Leelah, in a google search bar your name is the first result after just three letters
And even when someone types in Joshua Alcorn the whole first page of results is titles that name and gender you properly
Leelah, they’re getting better
They’re finding the breaking points in their ignorance and instead of supergluing the cracks they’re chipping them apart to find the roots of the weakened foundation
Things aren’t what they should be, but skipping stones are becoming stepping stones and hopefully the waters will hold enough of them to support the feet that are trying for the first time to cross over
And hopefully next time there won’t be blood in the water because
Leelah, you deserved so much better than the life you were given
But you’ve given life to new voices and they’re remembering your name and they’re saying
Leelah, we stand by the same things you believed in and now we’re taking your words to the streets
And you are loved and you are missed, but right now it’s important that you are known
And you are known as
Leelah
And you will not be forgotten
I don’t usually write poems on the big issues, the things I haven’t studied, and the things I’m new to learning about
I can’t claim to know anything about you
In the seventeen years you were on this Earth, I had never heard your name
And even if I ever met you, there’s a good chance I still wouldn’t know your real name
That I would be introduced to you as Joshua and I wouldn’t have thought twice
Leelah, I haven’t seen much of you and I’ll never get the chance to
To me, you are one selfie in a cream colored dress captioned with a suicide note that I wish no one had ever had to read
The only words of yours I’ll ever know are the last ones you chose to give to the world
And any other information I could find will only tell me where the world stands on the events that lead to your death
I know that your parents bound you too tightly in blue baby blankets that you wanted to bleach white and toss in with the red laundry until it matched the assignment you wish you had from the beginning
I know that isolation and abuse took its toll on your health until your self-prescribed remedies left you standing on Interstate 71 at 2:20 on a Sunday morning
I know that more journalists misgender you than get it right but people are finding the best links they can to tell the world who you are
And they’re sharing your words on all forms of social media
Leelah, you’ve sparked a movement
You said that you wanted your death to mean something, and darling, it has
Progress shouldn’t have to come exclusively from tragedy
But it often does and you deserve to know that your tragedy is leading an advancement
The words that never should have had to have been written in the first place, at least are being read across the world
”The only way I will rest in peace is if one day transgender people aren’t treated the way I was, they’re treated like humans, with valid feelings and human rights”
Leelah, in a google search bar your name is the first result after just three letters
And even when someone types in Joshua Alcorn the whole first page of results is titles that name and gender you properly
Leelah, they’re getting better
They’re finding the breaking points in their ignorance and instead of supergluing the cracks they’re chipping them apart to find the roots of the weakened foundation
Things aren’t what they should be, but skipping stones are becoming stepping stones and hopefully the waters will hold enough of them to support the feet that are trying for the first time to cross over
And hopefully next time there won’t be blood in the water because
Leelah, you deserved so much better than the life you were given
But you’ve given life to new voices and they’re remembering your name and they’re saying
Leelah, we stand by the same things you believed in and now we’re taking your words to the streets
And you are loved and you are missed, but right now it’s important that you are known
And you are known as
Leelah
And you will not be forgotten
