It was a scorching June day in New York City, meaning the time had finally come for me to break out my new tank and hot pink denim cutoffs. What better way to celebrate the start of Pride month than with a pop of color, I thought? As I walked past Pride displays in store windows, minding my own transsexual business, an older man abruptly stepped in front of me, began yelling transphobic slurs, and spit in my direction.
Usually, this would have left me trembling, tearful and angry. But I was numb – my run-ins with transphobic people have become so commonplace in the last year that this was almost expected.
