I’m Tired of Explaining My Humanity

“Google It Yourself: I’m Tired of Explaining My Humanity”

I’m in my 20s, and I’m already exhausted. Not from school or work—not even from the chaos of becoming an adult in a world that feels like it’s constantly on fire. No, I’m tired because somehow, in 2025, I still have to explain to people what basic human rights are. Why my existence, and the existence of people like me, should not be up for debate. Why no one should have to beg to be seen as equal. Why empathy shouldn’t require a TED Talk and a Google Slides presentation.

Every week, it’s something. A coworker confused about gender pronouns and treating them like a quirky phase. A relative asking why there’s a pride parade but not a straight one. A stranger online questioning if police brutality “is really about race.” I used to take the time to answer. I used to believe that educating others was noble, that maybe if I explained things well enough—calmly enough—they would finally get it. But years of doing that has left me drained. Because most of the time, they don’t want to learn. They want to argue. They want to center themselves in conversations that were never about them.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had to dilute my rage just to make the truth more palatable. How many times I’ve been told I was “too emotional” or “too aggressive” for daring to speak plainly. How often I’ve had to smile through someone’s ignorance just to avoid being labeled “difficult.” But here’s the thing: I’m not difficult. I’m just done.

I shouldn’t have to explain why trans people deserve to exist in peace. I shouldn’t have to explain why racism isn’t over just because you have a Black friend. I shouldn’t have to explain why women deserve bodily autonomy, or why immigrants deserve dignity, or why disabled people deserve access. These are not complex theories. These are not academic debates. These are lives—lives that are continuously diminished, debated, and discarded.

Some people will say, “But how can we change hearts and minds if you stop educating?” Here’s my answer: the burden should not always fall on the people who are bleeding. It’s not my job to spoon-feed empathy to people who refuse to open their mouths. The information is out there. The internet exists. Books exist. Entire libraries of knowledge are available with a few clicks. If someone still chooses ignorance, that’s a choice they’re making. And I’m done catering to it.

That doesn’t mean I’ve stopped fighting. It means I’m shifting my energy toward people and communities who do care. Toward building something better instead of constantly defending my right to exist. Toward healing, organizing, creating, and loving. I don’t owe my trauma as a teaching tool. I don’t owe you a debate club invitation every time my rights are up for discussion.

I’m not cold. I’m not heartless. I’m just tired of burning out for people who refuse to light their own damn candle.

I am not your dictionary. I am not your diversity workshop.