A Letter About Literature

Note: So, I changed my name(s) for privacy purposes but the rest of the letter is legit. This is for Letters About Literature

Dear Julie Anne Peters,

The first time someone called me a “lesbo”, I was in fifth grade. At the time, there was no real reason for that association and the boy who used the word let it slip negatively from his mouth. My boyish haircut and tie that I’d worn for my school picture could not override the girly bell bottoms and Fashion Bug t-shirts that I wore daily, not to mention that I had a boyfriend. I mean, hello?! No way was I a lesbian; of course I wasn’t. I couldn’t be, could I?

Six and a half years later and after a long period of depression and struggling with my identity, I came out. At first, I defined myself as “bisexual”, but it slowly progressed to “lesbian” (even though, truth be told, I still found guys attractive in some aspects). This was all before I knew what the term “transgender” meant or that such a thing even existed.

I could never fit myself into society’s cookie-cutter girl. Dresses for concerts and wedding were forced on me, like the ponytails and jewelry. For almost 17 years, my public appearance was merely an act. At school, I hid myself; at home, I didn’t have the privacy to be real. *Lemon* was truly trapped inside *Perspiciens*’ body.

It took literature to release him. If not for a librarian handing me your novel Luna, maybe I would’ve been stuck forever.

When I first got my job as a shelver at the ******** Library, my identity crisis was just beginning, as was my attraction to girls. My new co-worker - the Young Adult Librarian - saw what I was going through and was always there to talk to; our friendship blossomed. Queer herself, if she hadn’t gone through an emotion or experience herself, she’d been an ally to someone who had. My friend told me a little bit about trannies and, unlike “dyke” and “über butch”, “tranny” suited me mentally, emotionally and physically. And then came Luna.

I bonded with Liam. Both disturbingly trapped inside our own bodies since childhood, wanting to be the opposite sex. While Liam’s parents brushed off his desire to cut off his penis, my parents ignored the frequent statements like “I wish I were a boy”: neither of us knew that we really are the opposite gender stuck inside bodies of the opposite sex. “Gender” and “sex” are so conveniently misused synonymously in society. My understanding of these words was extremely under-developed until I devoured your novel. Regan’s statement on the gender spectrum not only helped me learn about Liam/Luna but also about *Perspiciens*/*Lemon*.

Mentioning terms like “T-girl” and “Gender Identity Disorder” led me to research their meanings. I discovered more and more about the queer community, the trans community. Your book and Liam’s curiosity about surgery got me to question if I wanted to take hormones and start using the men’s bathroom, if I wanted to change my name and if I too wanted Sexual Reassignment Surgery. Luna helped me discover myself and my options. It simply changed my life.

The first time somebody called me “tranny”, I was a Senior in high school. The kid who let it slip from hir lips said it with playful acceptance. Beyond boyish, my Carhartt pants and rainbow suspenders made me appear masculine and handsome. I grinned at hir. “You know it!” I laughed back. Of course I was trans; I mean, hello?!

Thank you,
*Lemon*

Edit: This piece won first place for the state of Vermont and is going on to the national level.