Please, I'm a transgender former boy-bander. You think I don't know how to defend myself?

Writers are also sort of like vultures, but with fewer ethics.

The man in the shop peered disapprovingly at Evie through the glass. She pumped her arms and legs up and down in imitation of a marching band, gave the man a salute, and continued her meandering walk to the museum.

Prepared to fly, even if she has to loose her legs to do it

Life don’t come to you, Memphis. You gotta take it. We have to take it. Because ain’t nobody handing it to us.

The dull pain of truth weights my soul, pulling it under. I am left hopelessly awake.

We're still expected to color within the lines of accepted femininity, and women who step out of those lines are usually attacked, whether verbally or physically.