I walked two miles in the rain in a suit, my feet torn up by my father's shoes. Receipts and cards stumble out of my pockets to the floor of the station, I still don't have a wallet. Up a flight of stairs, to Harold Square, the umbrellas of New York take up too much air, so we'll just walk real slow, at double arms length in unison!

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Epistemic Injustice, Cissexist Society & Trans Representations in Media

January 2025