Justice didn’t exist.

From the very beginning I knew it would be difficult but I never knew just how bad it could be. 

Little boys would play with cars and trucks while I was content spending time playing Barbies and dress up with my little sister. My parents never judged me or put a label on me; I was the one to do it myself. They let me be exactly who I was yet it wasn't a surprise when I came to them the summer after high school confessing that God made a mistake.

In their eyes, God didn't make mistakes. 

They also believed that if God didn't want us to have the medications for birth control and gender transformation... we wouldn't. To them if we had it, it was to be used. I was privileged to grow up in an upper class home so when I told them I was sure that I was really Patricia and not Patrick; they started treatments.

From the start I knew it would be hard, but I didn't realize how hard. For the first two painful years my body changed slowly yet before my very eyes. After two years I was transitioning well but the bullying never stopped. In college I would be safer; I was wrong.

Every day I was an abomination. Because to them I was a man and I would sport black eyes and bruises. Because my gender choice and hormone therapy didn't matter to them; I was useless... a freak show. 

That's why I decided to transfer schools and coasts to get a fresh start. My breasts started growing, my hair was long and I had become a magician with the make up. Eventually I would get the surgery and my transition would be complete but until then... I just had to be careful about what I wore.

Transferring school's was supposed to be a fresh start but it became the worst decision of my life. Things went great for about six months but that was until my roommate discovered my secret and within a week it felt like everyone knew. The staring probably was light but it felt as if everyone knew. I felt like every time I passed someone they saw me and instantly thought 'That's really a dude.' 

Obviously college is a large place and it wasn't as if everyone bullied me, but it was High School all over again and the right people noticed. Upstanding students who had their own lives to live never paid me any attention; it was the ones who were just there to be there, the ones who partied and did drugs, the ones who made it their mission to make me as miserable as their lives were.

In my third year of school I was studying to be a lawyer. Little boys and girls dreamed of being vets, firemen, cops and actresses; my dream was always Law. That was until one night, until that event that caused the law to fail me so deeply that I lost all passion for it. There was so much that night stole from me.

If I was a woman that means I could be raped like one too. A disgusting thought that escaped booze stained lips. The worst part? I wasn't even at a party, I wasn't drinking, I bothered no one. In sweat pants and a pink jacket I had my hair tossed up and was walking back to my dorm from the Library; grades were my pride. 

You know when they say 'she was asking for it' as an excuse? That's not real, that's not even remotely reasonable. Head to toe, I was covered. But it didn't stop them from using that against me in that courtroom after their words, my story; being re-raped verbally time and time again.

So what if I still had a fucking penis; Being a straight Transgender woman... I wanted it right? Because all girls want it, they all ask for sex from people they don't even know. We're all whores and sluts. We all flaunt ourselves for men because we couldn't possibly have brains. 

That day they stole my identity, my dignity and my view of the world. They showed me what it was really like to be a woman. They pulled my pants down because obviously I was wearing baggy sweat pants to be more easily assaulted; Tight jeans would have been too easy. 

If I was born a man and didn't want it, I could have just said no or pushed them away. It didn't matter that four homophobic men held me down and stuck their disgusting dicks in the only hole I had for them to do it... while one more stood guard. 

Because I should have been able to stop it, it's my fault... it wasn't rape.

Bloodied, unconscious, bruised; torn apart. 

The disgusting man who thought he could be a girl wasn't helped, but photographed unconscious by multiple students; laughed at for it.

But it wasn't rape and Justice didn't exist.