What place is this where my voice is silenced?
What place is this where my life is deemed expendable?
What place is this where support is nonexistent?
What place is this?
Exam week,
I'm at the police station,
Reporting yet another case of transphobia,
Appealing to the right to life.
They told me not to speak,
That it's just a phase and all of this will pass.
That in a few years I won't have to
worry about others' hatred.
I tried to speak,
I tried to ask,
I even shouted,
But they chose not to hear me.
I'm not to blame for the hate you feel for me,
I didn't choose to be autistic, nor non-binary trans.
I am who I am, from the core of my being,
I stand firm here.
I look for a place to sit,
But all are reserved for those
who identify with the cisgender norm.
I ask for help,
I ask for support,
I ask for understanding and respect.
It's not a favor, it's my right.
What place is this where my voice doesn't echo?
What place is this with only closed doors?
What place is this where my body is just a research subject?
What place is this?
It's postgraduate studies in Accounting Sciences.
