I was 23 and nearly finished with graduate school when I first read a book written by a trans writer. To this day, I am motivated by that inaccessibility. Since, I’ve written books with the sole purpose of getting them into queer hands before it’s too late. I’ve found my peers in poetry, and all genres, are motivated by a similar imperative toward representation. We have to know that others have survived before we can do it ourselves. I once wrote, “I believe strongly / that had I known one trans person / as a child, I’d have half as many scars / as an adult.” And I do believe it.

The National Endowment for the Arts has gifted me such an immense honor, one that comes with continued responsibility to write for and about queer people—whether about our trauma, our joy, or most often, our trauma and joy in simultaneity. The NEA provides so much in the way of time for writing, funds for living expenses, and security. But most importantly it provides ripples of possibility, ripples of inclusion. I am grateful. And I am excited for every young trans writer coming next.