“In Exile” by Toby Ameson
Toby Ameson (they/them) is a disabled, non-binary transgender American poet and fiction writer. They have a degree in English from the University of California at Irvine. They're very passionate about discussing marginalization in ways that bridge gaps with respect, compassion, and understanding. Their work has appeared on the back covers of graphic novels and in the Young Poets of America anthology.
Author Foreword:
"In Exile" is a piece about my experiences as a transgender person. I've chosen "exile" from the relative safety and protection of societal support in order to reclaim my truth, protect my life, and heal my spirit from the harm of being crushed into the dishonest and damaging role society would force me to play. But, I'm not alone in this exile. I found LGBTQ+ and disabled people online and in-person who have become my chosen family, and I have in turn become a mentor and teacher. Our community faces life-threatening oppression from being denied housing, jobs, and medical care, as well as from threats, abuse, violence, and murder, simply for existing out loud. But, we are a beautiful, natural, and valuable part of human diversity. As a community, we protect and support one another, we help each other heal, and we teach others how to stop perpetuating harm. We shed light on the underlying societal problems that create fear-based prejudices (like institutionalized racism, sexism, ableism, wealth inequality, etc.), and help shift our culture toward becoming something that values and protects all of its people.
I could go home.
I could return;
to the place where I was made,
to the place where I was made pleasing,
crushed into the shape of someone else’s design;
wings clipped, then bones hammered
so that I could keep my feet on the ground.
I could go home and be in exile from my truth,
from my spirit,
from myself,
from who I am meant to be in this life.
But I would be “home.”
Sometimes, I think about the life I could have there.
A half-life of cushion and buffer,
of rules and restrictions,
of safety from the cavernous jaws of capitalism.
A half-life of secrets and lies,
of rejection and ridicule and never being enough,
of bare survival and calculated betrayal.
A half-life
without meaning or connection.
No.
I can never go home.
Instead, I have chosen:
a life of poverty and pain,
a life of terror and struggle,
a life of freedom and truth,
a life of creative self-expression,
a life of passion and purpose and meaning,
a chosen family of people
who live in exile — together.
They too can’t go back
to the home where they were made
and crushed,
and left to die.
It is worth it,
to live in poverty and pain,
the terror and the struggle
of living alone and unsupported.
Because we live.
We are a people in exile;
a nomadic clan roaming the digital wastelands
who have come together
as survivors,
as healers,
as people who know ourselves,
who fight
to protect the wings of the next generation.
Our community was born of trauma,
of broken wings and severed ties,
of judgment, punishment, and exile.
But it ends here, with us.
Together.
