Roxanne and a group of dykes from the local bookstore organized a care network. They didn't ask if we were the same letter. They didn't care about the labels. They just saw their brothers dying. Roxanne would cook massive pots of soup and carry them up five flights of stairs to feed men who were too weak to stand. She would hold their hands when they took their last breaths so they wouldn't die alone. She taught me what love looked like when the rest of the world was full of hate.

Maya hesitated. I want to know if it was always like this. The community, I mean. Sometimes it feels like we are all so separated now. Different letters, different fights. Was there ever a time we were just… one?

Arthur squeezed her hand gently. No, thank you, Maya. For listening. Now, tell me about your world. Tell me about what it is like to be a young trans woman today. I want to add your story to my archive.