An low income lesbian African American, trans-gender woman comes to a fork in the road high at the top of a hill.

There is a white light ahead to the right and she sees it clearly, her chances for prosperity will improve quickly if she can make it past the lurking gangs of CEO rapists. Past the CEO rapist, there is one successful well educated woman like her, someone who is trans and lesbian and African American. But unlike those conditions that are static, she sees a potential for changing the income variable if she takes that road.

To the left is a green light and a taller mountain. A top the tall mountain stand the Kings and Queens of the land. Over to the left of all of them she can barely make out one formerly poor, lesbian African American, trans-gender woman, standing solid so not to be knocked off her hard earned throne.

Like all women in this land who are trans, the Queen woman wears a giant T over her shoulders and down her backbone. Only one throne could even fit the T letter.

How many gangsters would she need to fight just to have some peace? The cost of peace for this woman on the hill was more than most of us can imagine.

I know because I wrote her thinking of myself. And that is the reason I only feel right sending her back home before the night.