Life is a series of unforeseen, but not unforeseeable, events. How we handle ourselves defines who we are. This is how I can say that sometimes I am each of the following:
Bitchy, Kind, Selfish, Giving, Immature, Adult. Loving, Lonely. Happy, Depressed, Strong, and Weak
But, I am always human. I am always woman. I am always me. Somedays I dress butch. Somedays I dress academic. Somedays I dress femme. Somedays I wear pink (sometimes it is even Wednesday), Somedays I wear black.
Lately, I’ve been fighting a massive depressive streak. I’ve debated the following:
- Am I good enough?
- Am I loveable or a burden?
- Do I deserve to be here?
- Am I pretty or pretty ugly?
The things I have never doubted, though, follow:
- I am a woman
- I am worthy of basic respect
- ‘Trans’ is merely an adjective
Hi. I’m Delia. This is my story…
The Conservative's Trans Daughter 
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