In the event of my untimely death – a plea from a transgender person.

When I die, let me be dead with a little grace,
Don’t dress me up like a boy or masculinise my face,
When I die speak of me as I am,
They and them are my pronouns, even in death.

Do not call me by boy or man,
or male or son or him or he.
Do not speak prayers over my ashes,
and if you can’t control yourself, do it silently.

Do not bring my body or ashes into a church.
Do not have a priest give rites over my remains.
Do not show my body. Do not put my remains in a coffin.
Do not hold wakes for my body, I am not there anymore.

Any person who misgenders me or prays over me,
or befouls my corpse with patriarchal puppetry,
or makes me out to be a man is not my friend but my enemy.
They are committing desecration. I do not forgive them.

As for ashes, donate what they can use of my body,
and cremate whatever is left.
Throw my ashes in the sea, I don’t want to be shelved indefinitely,
a constant burden for the bereft.

Cry for me if you have to, but don’t you mourn my death
Celebrate the life I had with friends and food and song
Wear purple. Drink a glass of water. Eat something delicious or sweet.
Comfort those who hurt. And get some fucking sleep.

-o0o-