i'd rather be a riot than indifferent

2. a need to escape

Sixteen-year-old Freed is forced into coming out to their parents and it doesn't go well.

tw for homophobic/transphobic language and physical violence

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Ten Years Ago

"You're...a what?"

Freed kept their gaze trained on the table in front of them, avoiding their mother's disapproving stare. Everything in their body screamed deny it, keep quiet, but they forced themself to take deep breaths and tell the truth.

"N-non-binary." Their voice wobbled as they picked at their cuticles, hands hidden under the table. Freed's stomach twisted, and they were fairly certain they were going to be sick. "I don't feel... like I'm a boy or a girl. Just..."

"Like one of those transvestites." Freed winced at their dad's words, spat angrily from the other end of the table. "You are a girl."

"Dad, I..." Freed swallowed, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. This wasn't how they wanted to do this – they weren't ready. But dad had come into their room half an hour ago with a dangerous glint in in his eyes and the words I'm not stupid, Amanda, I know how to check the browser history on his tongue. Freed had realized with a sinking stomach that they'd forgotten to log out of the LGBT support forum they'd been posting on. "It's not... I'm not a boy."

"Of course you're not!" Freed's mother's voice was high and shrill, and Freed could see her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "I can't believe we thought it was a good idea to let you use the internet. You're... you're grounded. Give me your phone right now."

"Mom..." Freed's heart stuttered, eyes finally flicking up to meet their mother's. Her gaze was steely and unforgiving. "It's... this isn't... I didn't do anything wrong." Tears started to form in the corners of Freed's eyes and they wiped at them angrily.

"Associating with these kinds of people has poisoned your mind," their father announced. He brought his hands down on the table and Freed refused to look at him. "All of this... sin... goes against our family values, and against the values of our church. I expected better of you." Freed winced.

"I th-thought that love was unconditional," Freed whispered. "I'm not... a sinner, or a heretic. I'm still me, I just... I'm not a girl. I'm..."

"I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense," their father growled. "You're not to communicate with these people any longer. We're going to see Father Samuel tomorrow, and you're going to pray for forgiveness for these thoughts."

"They're not thoughts, it's who I am!" Freed shouted, immediately regretting the outburst but unable to stop themself. "You can't tell me to change who I am. I'm not doing-"

"Young lady, that is ENOUGH." Their father's voice was hard and angry, and Freed flinched back into their chair, trembling. "I'm not going to be the laughingstock of the community. You are going to give your phone and laptop to your mother, then remain in your room until we call you. You'll be coming back to school here, where we can keep an eye on you."

"Dad, please, no..." Freed was crying openly now, hands over their mouth. They had spent months convincing their parents to let them transfer to a school in the city instead of on the commune, insisting that the school's bilingual program would be good for them. Being able to go to school with people who weren't steeped in transphobic religious doctrine was the only thing that had been keeping Freed sane over the past few years.

"All of these outside influences are damaging your spiritual well-being," their father insisted, moving closer to Freed and placing his hands on the table. He leaned over them, and they shrunk back, arms crossed over their baggy sweater. "Your brother and sister are both upstanding members of the community, but you've always been... difficult. That ends now."