I love letters and use them often in my work. I love how they can be simultaneously direct and open-ended.
Several months ago, I created an open call for letters that queer and trans people wrote to the places they've had to leave behind. The prompt is intended to support writers in finding intimacy and reconnection to something that feels far away, if not thought to be lost entirely. Most importantly, it is open-ended enough to let the writer lead the way to say what they may need to say.
As a result, I try my best not to arrive with precise expectations.
Most submissions would relate to rising anti-LGBTQ+ legislation and be written to more obvious concepts of "place," such as a city or a country. And I assumed I’d only receive a handful of submissions in total. I arrived at the text and prompt primarily through my personal history of domestic violence and addiction, pushing me out of the Midwest and, at one point, out of the US. I felt lonely and silly in that experience and anticipated being an outlier.
Courtesy Lexie Bean
However, the process has been full of unforeseen turns.
The first surprise that became apparent as letters came in was my understanding of "place." People were writing to more than just countries, such as Turkey and Singapore, or cities like Pittsburgh, PA, and Redford, MI. Nearly half of the contributors were greeting their younger selves, parents, the concept of anonymity, and more
There are many things that we try to find a home in and can't.
Leaving a figurative place, such as a person or a feeling, often leads to changing literal locations, too. This could be getting older in a new city, getting away from Dad, or living somewhere publicly out, perhaps for the first time.
Courtesy Lexie Bean
This all offered a clear reminder that the forced move of queer and trans people has been taking place long before many of the anti-LGBTQ+ legislation made the concept of staying even harder. A few submissions speak to oppressive policies in places like Oklahoma, Florida, West Point, and China that impact public life. However, most speak to the cultural and interpersonal dynamics, a deep loneliness that follows a person into their homes or sense of home.
This led me to another surprise—the lessening of loneliness alongside this growing atlas. As emails continued to come in, I was holding several types of grief, especially from the springtime deaths of three special friends. These included the loved and admired Cecilia Gentili, whom I had collaborated with and planned to commission for this anthology's opening words. Alongside death and my own history of estrangement, I have long been wondering about my sense of staying. I had previously worried that arriving at this project with a thick history of displacement through my journey would have me stand alone.
These stories have reminded me that we all find a place, even if we've had to make it.
Courtesy Lexie Bean
Again, to my surprise, over 100 people sent in their letters. Most were previously strangers, and I'm thankful to know them now. What is striking to me about this project is a bittersweet realization of how deeply the prompt resonated with other queer and trans people. Where do we escape to? Who gets to leave a place? What does it mean if we love a place that doesn't love us back, or vice versa? How does this all develop our sense of past or future as individuals and as a community? We should find out some of this together.
Lexie Bean (they/he) is a trans multimedia artist from the Midwest whose work revolves around themes of bodies, homes, cyclical violence, and queer identity. They are a Jerome Hill Artist Fellow, member of the RAINN National Leadership Council, and a Lambda Literary Award Finalist for their anthology Written on the Body. Lexie integrated their personal experiences into the acclaimed The Ship We Built, the first middle-grade novel centered and written by a trans boy released by a major US publisher. Their work has been featured in Teen Vogue, The New York Times, The Huffington Post, The Feminist Wire, Ms. Magazine, Them, Bust Magazine, Autostraddle, as well as JKP's Surviving Transphobia. Currently they are working on new book projects, including Meet Me There, Another Time, film writing, and co-directing their first feature-length documentary, What Will I Become?
Voices is dedicated to featuring a wide range of inspiring personal stories and impactful opinions from the LGBTQ+ and Allied community. Visit pride.com/submit to learn more about submission guidelines. We welcome your thoughts and feedback on any of our stories. Email us at voices@equalpride.com. Views expressed in Voices stories are those of the guest writers, columnists and editors, and do not directly represent the views of PRIDE.com or our parent company, equalpride.
