Åbo Akademis bibliotek

I’m Allison. 

A Latina trans girl. A survivor in Stockholm, or a fraud, depending on who you ask. This is my story. 

But don’t call it a story. Because a story has a beginning and an end. A red thread. A meaning. This? These are the remains of a lie I once called life. A lie that went so far that it became true, until truth itself struck back with a clenched fist. 

There is not a before or an after, only a chain of choices that lead here. Everyone says we are free to choose our own lives. That we can go whichever way we want. That we can create our own happiness. That’s a lie. 

We are chained to the decisions we’ve made, to the choices we didn’t realize we were making. To guilt we were born into, to legacies that were never ours but that we still have to carry. Some chains we see, others we notice only when we try to run. I tried to run. I tried to flee. 

But every time I ended up back in the same pattern. The same darkness. The same dirty deals, the same shadows whispering that I was free while tightening the noose around my neck. I sold the lie; I lived the lie. I called it love while I tore apart the only person who saw me for who I was. 

I ran in circles. I fell for the same poison, the same pattern. I searched for love in hands that only took, in eyes that looked right through me. I sell my body as a Latina trans girl to disgusting sex buyers on Rosa Sidan and social media to have control over the darkness. I said I had control, that I chose this, that it was power. 

So no, this isn’t a story. It’s a warning. 

And now you’re going to hear it.