“Happiness is not seeing that show,” I say.

“Ouch.”

I softly kick the desk leg, trying to put into words what’s in my head. “There was a transgender character. She was a prostitute, addicted to drugs, and stabbed.”

“So not a comedy?” Aunt Lil jokes.

I shake my head. “Lots of scenes with the main character yelling the most transphobic and awful things at the trans character. The worst words, Auntie. I still feel upset about it.”

She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Off-Broadway can be more edgy. Are you feeling okay?”

“I don’t understand why the trans character can’t be the funny best friend or hero or love interest.”

“The play took place in the nineties?” she asks. I nod. “It’s possible that the writer wanted to stay true to the reality of that time. Even though it’s hard, maybe we need to see those stories to understand trans history and create empathy and understanding?”

“I guess so,” I say, but it doesn’t make me feel better.

“I’m hitting the hay. Good night, kiddo,” she says in her Randy voice, and walks out.

Once the coast is clear, I open my computer again. Aunt Lil is right—it’s important for people to understand the history and struggle of being transgender. And it’s great when there’s a transgender character onstage, even if they are being bullied and hurt, but those aren’t the parts I want to play. I don’t want to stay in my lane.

MY SUPER-OBJECTIVE by August Greene

My super-objective is to play iconic male and female characters on Broadway stages. Roles like Sweeney Todd, Glinda, Evan Hansen. Characters usually only played by cisgender actors. A Jersey Boy, Pippin, Roxie Hart. I want to move the audience, make them feel things, think about things, and leave the theater changed. I want to be a star.

Five

Five

Monday, September 16

2:36 P.M.

Between Improv and Audition Technique, I pay a visit to the gender-neutral bathroom on the first floor. There’s the boys’ dressing room in the basement, but I can’t bring myself to go inside. I feel like I don’t belong. I get up to the doors, panic, and retreat. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. I don’t want to make anything awkward. I’ve been in several men’s bathrooms, but that’s easier—no one knew me in there. In the boys’ dressing room, they will know I’m transgender. It’s easier to use the gender-neutral bathroom and wear the dress code for drama classes—a black T-shirt and jeans—to school every day.