Coming out as trans-class

I feel so inspired by the Washington president of the NAACP coming out as a trans-racial individual, bringing race back into the conversation after so many years of working to eliminate it, that I want to come out with a disability that I have been hiding ever since I was, as we say in the country, ittie bittie.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am trans-class.

All my life, growing up in the poor economy that was white trash trailer parks, sleeping on one bed with my brother and sister, I felt that I just didn’t belong in this lifestyle.

Whenever I’d see rich blind kids at my school tout around new technology that did everything from tell the time to bake toast with voice commands, I instantly knew that I belonged within the privileged rich white community. I’ve been placed into this poor, low class, white body, by the divine spirit, but he made a mistake, you see.

I feel at one with my rich brothers and sisters, even though I have never lived in the community. I feel, for example, that it was a genetic tragedy that I was born into a life where I felt oppressed because I had to work harder because I didn’t have influence instead of having a butler ask me if they can take my shoes off and rub my toes as I enter the house.

People say that class doesn’t matter, that you can be whatever you want to be despite the economy you were born into. It’s a fallacy, I tell you. My trans-class disability has hindered me from getting a good education. I had to work twice as hard as my rich college buddies to get the same opportunities as them. For years, I’ve had to maintain good grades and a good work ethic while others without this trans-class disability had the free will to throw money at officials, both in the state and government, and receive the needed amount of legislation to keep their status abreast and apparent. I, because of my new disability, have to rely on my wit and intelligence to get by in the world. I firmly believe that’s oppressive and patriarchal.

It’s been hard living with this disability. It’s been extremely difficult to live my life knowing that I was supposed to be a part of a community that can influence change just by waving dollars around like they are a new kind of tampon. I know the kind of person I’m supposed to be, and that’s a rich citizen who avoids paying taxes because my status is superior to everyone beneath me. Every day, I envision my true life. I have a house in the Bahamas, with about a dozen convertibles in my garage alongside a few Dodge RT’s and a Bentley. I am to have a limo comprised of an automatic chocolate dispenser to take the edge off after a hard day of swimming in my backyard water park.

So, I think I will make a change. I believe that the government should pay to correct my disability. I also believe that insurance companies should support me into making this change, and making it happen very soon! I’m suffocating in this lifestyle I’ve contended with for so many years. I just want to be who I know I am, deep down inside!

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