Away at Anfield and Being Brave

I've been meaning to write since Thursday. Arsenal drew 0-0 with Liverpool away, at Anfield, in the first leg of the Carabao Cup semi-final. This was remarkable, particularly given that Xhaka did a classic Xhaka and got a red card about 30 minutes in. 

Arsenal were expected to succumb, being under constant pressure from one of the best teams in the league while playing in the most difficult stadium too. But they didn't. Arsenal held on tight defensively, covering up for each other's mistakes and fiercely getting stuck in for complicated challenges. 

This sent me an important message. On Thursday, a few hours, before the game, I moved to an apartment on my own where I'll stay for the next month; a big step in my life and also a bigger step in my gender transition. The way Arsenal reminded me that even if things begin going (drastically) wrong, such as they did with Xhaka's red card, that does not mean that the final outcome will be disappointing. Bravery, effort, and determination are all it takes to turn it around.

So far, nothing has gone terribly wrong while living alone. Sort of. Something that did happen is that on Sunday morning, news broke out of a transfemicide attempt committed against a trans activist in Mexico City. These news were not particularly unique (sadly), and I thought they wouldn't affect me too much, but they did—at least enough. It was the first time since I live on my own that I heard of a hate crime against trans people near(ish) me, and this was a considerably recognized activist. Not even her was safe enough! 

So today, some 24 hours after, I walked to get a tattoo in parts of the city I had never explored by foot, less so on my own. I felt very vulnerable—I felt other in the city (more than ever before), as if anyone could harm me at any moment and no one would stand up for me. All other citizens suddenly became like a clan, and it feels like trans people just don't belong. For the next 30 minutes, I couldn't find anything familiar to turn towards for as I walked, which made the experience scarier. I was literally Other to the space! I removed my pink scarf, hoping that my outfit would become less indicative of my gender and I anxiously spiraled over whether the clothes I chose to wear had been the right decision. They weren't scandalously gendered, but for sure they screamed 'urban gay' at the very least. Shy woman at best. 

I realized at some point that it was pointless to walk in fear. Fear stopped me from embracing and building on my vulnerability. Thus, when I turned towards that vulnerability, I allowed myself to be coated in bravery instead. I felt brave thinking and feeling the love of the people who make me feel affirmed as myself. I realized that the people who love me as a woman literally keep me upright, offering me balance and safety like my backbone. I don't need to be out to many people, just to those who love me. That's enough for me. That love is what helps me feel brave in moments where I can only accept my own vulnerability. 

I eventually made it to the tattoo studio, an explicitly queer-safe space, and felt relief, but mostly I felt so empowered. I had been so brave. Getting tattooed (I was actually quite afraid it would hurt a lot since last time it was almost unbearable!) was nothing compared after I had just walked for an hour feeling like my whole life was at stake. That tattoo, thus, is now a mark of bravery, of love, of support, and of vulnerability. I am happy with it in my backbone—a site of balance that supports all of me, just as the love I receive and give does. It is also located in a place where it may timidly pop up above my shirts' neck occasionally, carefully allowing itself to be seen. Like me, as I allow myself to be seen by those whose gaze I can trust.

Returning to Arsenal and the ways they managed to hold on to a draw on Thursday: they inspired me and, most importantly, they reminded me the importance of unity and collaboration in managing vulnerability. Ramsdale fucked up once or twice, but Gabriel, White, Holding, Chambers, and Tierney always showed up to make sure Liverpool didn't exploit those mistakes. Being brave against Liverpool was a team effort, and so was it being vulnerable for me today: while walking I texted my live location to someone i love. I expressed my fear and uncertainty to someone else over text. I texted someone else about my realizations on love and feeling supported. That was the team effort that helped me get through it!  Hurray for Arsenal and for being brave. Both Arsenal and I made it out of the foreign territory successfully. Playing at home is truly always a different story.

Whatever happens in the second leg, this has already been an inspiring chapter. Making it to the final would be nice, yes, but it might as well just be a sweet bonus on top.

Who'd imagine the Carabao Cup actually does matter.