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The Violence of Being Erased
There is something uniquely terrifying about being told your existence is “too much” for public consumption.
Not dangerous. Not harmful. Not violent.
Just… inconvenient.
As a trans masculine autistic person, censorship does not feel abstract to me. It does not live in textbooks or constitutional debates or political talking points wrapped in polished language. It lands in my body. It crawls beneath my skin like static electricity trapped under wool. It feels like watching entire shelves of humanity quietly disappear while people insist nothing important has been removed.
And maybe that is the part that hurts the most: the gaslighting theater of it all.
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