He was pretty homophobic and transphobic when I originally met him, which he attributed to his upbringing.
He was a black guy, of Jamaican descent, and he often explained that coming from a single-mother household put more pressure on him to be a certain kind of man.
And, to be clear, I don’t need constant validation of my womanhood, but I do need respect — which J wasn't prepared to give.
He had just moved to Atlanta from Chicago and had this whole stereotypical macho thing about him.
We’d just met, so I can only imagine the infinite possibilities swirling in his head.
A little under a year from now, I'll be the same age as 25-year-old India Clarke, a recent victim of trans killings.
One of my biggest fears is becoming another murder statistic: someone for the media to posthumously misgender, leading the public to believe that I somehow deserved to have my life taken away.