I wrote this over the Atlantic (October 29th, 2018)

Dear you,

It’s 8:20PM, or 1:20 PM, depending on who you ask

I’ve been to six different countries in two weeks, it’s all blurring together now

48 hours ago I was lying on a roof in Portugal staring at the night sky with two people who were total strangers a week earlier, and 48 hours before that I was ringing a church bell on an island in Slovenia, I’m still not sure if I did it right

All I know is that I’m trying to pass the time, I’m trying to pass the test,
I’m trying to pass

At dinner 72 hours ago the producer asked my father why him and my mother named me Solstice, that was hard to explain but I don’t think they figured it out, figured me out. It’s always a guessing game these days

Do they know? Are they just being nice?

The waiter in Switzerland didn’t know
Neither did the Olympian I was filming who said goodbye to the women by doing the bees, ‘left right left’, he instructed (I followed as my dad watched)
Neither did our boat driver, who passed out chocolate to the producer and I, and mused ’two women and chocolate, it’s a lovely day’
Same goes for the group photo when they said ‘girls in front’
And when my new British friend asked if the producer and I wanted a girls night out (we refused)
So yeah, I don’t think my new friends know.

This is what I’ve always wanted, it’s crazy

What I wasn’t ready for was the creeping curiosity that immediately followed.

If they knew, would they treat me the same? How do I know this person isn’t a giant transphobe? Am I just perpetuating the problem by staying quiet about my past? Am I obligated to speak up for my community?

All I know is that I didn’t speak up.

Instead I tried wine in Slovenia and climbed to a castle. I lied on the roof of the hotel in Portugal and stared at the stars with two 35 year olds even though it was cloudy. I told them about my girlfriend’s birthday and how I was missing it.

I lived my life. I hope that’s okay.