Dear Fredrick Douglass,

I am writing to wish you a happy birthday and let you know that things are real weird right now. I don’t know how much we have in common. I wonder if I have anything meaningful to say to you, or you to me for that matter. But, I suppose, if we’re trying to make a human-ish connection, I could say it’s been interesting to think about how we both experienced oppression. Thought that feels unfair, as I’ve been very fortunate in that the issues I’ve faced have been relatively minor so far (knock on wood). But I supposed that there’s something to say about being thankful for the work that has paved the way for the privilege I enjoy today.

With love,

A white transfemme facing a precarious future.