team, about to dive in to the water head first, adrenaline surging within me, listening to my own
heart pound.
I read and reread her Huffington Post articles about Transgender Day of Remembrance
(Smith). Her words were articulate, and they captured the truth that her community was
drowning in violence. Her words scared me.
The clock struck five and I called. Two rings. She answered, sounding breathless. Was it
possible she was nervous, too? Her voice was smooth, very much like her writing. She made a
few jokes to put me at ease and said she couldn’t believe someone wanted to interview her. I told
her that I couldn’t believe someone hadn’t already. I could hear myself talking too fast, trying to
fit as much into one interview as I could, in case she decided she didn’t want to have another
call. I asked many invasive questions without meaning to, but the hour flew by.
And then, Sunday after Sunday, the hours flew by.
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