Mach 12 through the wall of silence.

For Angie.

Maybe the trial is over and done. Allen Ray Andrade was declared guilty without wavering by a jury of his peers more than hers, if external markers were all that mattered. And maybe we did learn. Maybe we did learn that indeed, no matter what, trans panic is absurd and an insult to all of us. Maybe we did learn that it is high time a trial caused by the victimization of a person member of a "minority" stopped being the trial of that person, of that "minority". Maybe we did learn that walking the walk is saying something, anything supportive, even if we don´t really feel we have something intelligent to say, because not saying anything is not only isolating those personally in the trenches, but even silencing them. Maybe we did learn that when a trans woman is covering the trial, we should indeed pay attention if we are allies, and recognize that her presence there is part of justice being served.

But what is justice? What is justice when Angie´s family will never stop feeling the staggering weight of her absence? What is justice when no one, ever more, will ever be greeted by Angie´s smile and Angie´s dreams and her courage?

And still we do not breathe freely. May the atoms that conformed you be there the next time a butterfly becomes a storm and touches us all. May the atoms that made you live, that you made alive, triumph with all the transgender kids out there who will be and know happiness. May the image of you accompany me everywhere life searches, and give it its blessing.

May we all be as beautiful and unflinching as your family and those who loved you. May we all be as honest as you, Angie, as determined to be in truth and with truth give.

May the memory of your life, the joy of you, be there the next time I look at my body and feel the hurt that it´s not how I am. May I recall the world, with my body and my words, that you lived. That you were as you were, that you chose to be, that thus you were. That you are. In all of us, because no matter what, we are all your peers.

May we never forget Angie Zapata, and where our strength comes from. Ourselves. All the history of ourselves, the histories of ourself.

For Angie.