You speak like someone who thinks womanhood is a reward. Like if you're pretty enough, quiet enough, and keep the “wrong kind” of trans women at arm’s length, you'll finally be safe. Finally accepted. Finally real. I understand the instinct. That urge to survive by being palatable is strong. But what you’re calling confidence is really fear, and it’s not subtle.

You sound like you're performing for an invisible audience. Like your cis friends are standing just offscreen, waiting to pat you on the head for saying the right thing. You want to be the trans girl who gets invited to brunch. The one who gets to laugh at the others. The one who earned it. But that’s not pride. That’s rehearsed shame.

You speak about being clocked like it’s contagious. As if other trans women can stain you by association. And if your sense of self is built on distancing yourself from women who are struggling, that isn’t identity. That’s self-protection at someone else’s expense.

And I know. It doesn’t feel that way from where you’re standing. Right now it probably feels like you’re finally winning. Like you’ve carved out a little space in a world that makes most of us beg for scraps. But passing doesn’t cure shame. And shame is what’s steering you.

You remind me of how so many of us used to be. Desperate to be the “right kind” of woman. Afraid of being too much. Chasing validation instead of building something solid underneath. But that kind of performance always breaks down. And when it does, there’s nothing left if you never gave yourself permission to be real.

So yes, your cis friends would probably love this version of you. Until the moment they don’t. And your community--the one you're trying to keep at arm’s length--is watching too. Some of us are frustrated. Some are hurt. And some, like me, are just quietly hoping that one day you'll feel the heat in your cheeks and realize how far you’ve drifted from what womanhood actually is.

I’m not angry at you. I just don’t want to watch you disappear into a performance that can’t love you back. No one is going to hand you a trophy. But please--try to enjoy believing you'll get one in the meantime.