My Little Bro

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One day, I took my 10-year-old brother shopping.

We were looking at some T-shirts and we came across one that had the transgender symbol printed on the front with the fist of power in the middle. There was also a sentence on it. It said: “Fuck the system player.”

When he saw the word “fuck”, my brother fell in love with the T-shirt. He bought it, without even knowing what it meant. But we were both intrigued. The conversation that followed went something like this:

“What do they mean by “Fuck the system player?’” he asked.

“What do you think it means?” I replied.

“Maybe that we shouldn’t follow the system. But there are many, and this one is related to this symbol. What’s this symbol?” he asked, pointing at the T-shirt.

“Well, let’s break it down,” I said. “You have the female symbol and the male symbol here. This is the fist of power. And they are all merged together to form one symbol.”

“Which symbol?” he asked.

“Transgender power.”

“What’s a transahoohoo?” he asked, his inability to pronounce it correctly betraying his intrigue.

“Transgender,” I repeated. “It means people who do not feel they are how they are born – like boy or girl.”

“So a person is born a boy but feels he’s a girl or is born a girl but feels she’s a boy?” he asked.

“Yes, something like that and sometimes exactly that.”

“Oh, but where’s the problem in that? So what?” he asked, defiantly.

“It’s just the system that tells people they can’t do things like that.”


“For many reasons,” I explained. “They don’t like to see people do things like that and they don’t wanna let them. People fight these systems because they wanna do what makes them happy.”

“Sometimes what makes them happy is killing other people and they shouldn’t do it,” he said. “But if it’s not hurting anyone, then people should do what makes them happy, of course.”

“That’s how you feel?”

“Yes,” he asserted. “I don’t wanna see my sisters not being able to do whatever they want because the system won’t let them. And I wanna do what makes me happy. This doesn’t mean I feel like a girl. It only means I don’t care if a boy feels like a girl or the other way around.”

He paused for a bit. “Will people think I wanna be a girl when I wear the t-shirt?” he finally asked, with a smile lining his face.

“I don’t think so,” I grinned. “They’ll just know you’re with fucking the system.”

We both laughed. “I’m glad I bought the t-shirt,” he said with glee in his eyes.

Contributed by Lemon

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