So, you'll accept me as transgender. I like that part, you call me the right name and pronouns. It's pretty nice.
But there's the flip side of that, isn't there? You call me by the right name and pronouns because you desperately hope it'll be enough, that I'll somehow be swayed from going on those nasty artificial hormones or cutting off my breasts.
Well ->-bleeped-<-ing think again. You think this is all about "gender roles", that I just want to be in a male gender role? Do I act masculine? No, I ->-bleeped-<-ing don't. Because I'm not masculine. I could care less about gender roles. It's not about that, and it never will be.
Because you're my mom, I've spared you the gory details, but I'm a big boy now, and if you ask me again why I can't just live as a boy without transitioning, this is what I'm going to scream:
I AM NOT TRYING TO GET PRIVILAGE
I AM NOT TRYING TO LIVE IN A MALE GENDER ROLE
ALL I WANT IS A FLAT CHEST AND A PENIS, DAMNIT!!