When Fiction Gets Too Fucking Real
I started revising a story in Undertow because I'd written something that was a little too close to reality and not nearly fictional enough. So I decided to explore what could have happened instead of what actually did. That led me down a rabbit hole researching what happens to transgender women in New Mexico's criminal justice system. And holy fucking hell. What started as an exercise in creative writing turned into something deeply personal, frightening, and infuriating. Sometimes fiction forces you to confront realities you'd rather not think about.
Just Fucking Saying
A Facebook meme claims no child ever feels born in the wrong body unless some creepy adult puts the idea in their head. Well, that's fucking news to me, because I knew something was wrong when I was three or four years old, long before the internet or anyone had explained what transgender meant. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't be asking some hard fucking questions about diagnosing children and administering life-altering treatments. Parents need to parent, doctors need to practice medicine, and politicians need to get the fuck out of the examination room.
The Fucking Public
Albuquerque has collected more than $11 million through automated speed enforcement, and now there's talk of letting cities keep an even bigger share. Meanwhile, the cameras keep multiplying. Government calls it public safety. I see an expanding surveillance system, an addiction to revenue, and another assault on individual liberty. Here's a fucking reminder: I am the public. You work for me. Not the other way around.
The Procedural Fucking Dance
I spent hours watching people move through a courthouse where the enormous power of the state had somehow become routine. Dates were scheduled. Names were called. People were told when to come back. Everyone played their part. But somewhere underneath all that fucking procedure, I kept wondering what happened to justice.
Apparently My Fucking Motorcycle Owes Albuquerque Money
Albuquerque says speeding is dangerous enough to justify automated enforcement, but apparently not dangerous enough to actually stop the fucking vehicle. Instead, a camera takes a picture, you keep driving, and weeks later the registered owner gets a bill. Ignore it long enough and eventually a debt collector comes looking for the money. Sorry, but I don’t fucking buy the safety argument.
Who the Fuck Authorized This?
Cameras are going up everywhere, and nobody seems to be asking the most important fucking question: who authorized government to routinely watch free citizens suspected of absolutely nothing? Liberty isn't being watched more responsibly. Liberty is being left the fuck alone.
The Free Fucking Bacon Problem
Maybe the free fucking bacon isn't really about bacon. Maybe it's about entitlement, responsibility, and what happens when people become so accustomed to somebody else solving every inconvenience that carrying the weight of liberty starts feeling like too much fucking work.
What the Fuck Happened?
A brutal three-hundred-mile motorcycle ride across southeastern New Mexico somehow turned into Texas liquor laws, government-mandated technology, individual liberty, and my general irritation with being protected from myself. I’m not entirely sure how the fuck we got here either.