←Recommendations of I Can't Ride Trains Anymore

One of the most courageous written pieces I've ever read. I Can't Ride Trains Anymore is amazing, it's vulnerable, heartbreaking, and empowering. There is so much that I want to right, that gives away the subtilties and the in-your-face narrative about transition and ultimately trans-life, so I won't. I implore you, all of you to read this. Read August Forman's words, especially those (including myself) that are/were ignorant. You will walk away changed. This monologue has changed me for the better, forever. Thank you August.

Pieces like this, that offer a window into a world foreign to many, are so important and powerful and scary. The things that some people have to endure, simply because they are considered “other”… It’s horrifying to hear about it, but that’s exactly why we HAVE to hear about it. This is an incredibly brave, incredibly heartbreaking monologue that needs to be heard. Please, PLEASE, read this.

This is a powerful, dramatic and emotionally wrenching monologue to read — which is nothing compared to what it must be to live through. August Forman writes about their experience in a touching and inclusive way, but it should also make the audience angry: angry at the bigots and small-minded hate-mongers who can't just leave others the fuck alone and let them be themselves.
"I Can't Ride Trains Anymore" ought to be staged everywhere. Well done.

Everyone should read this ALOUD.
Especially every cisgender person. Especially every straight cisgender person.
Especially every straight cisgender male person.
Every person, whoever they are, who doesn’t understand “why anyone would do that to their body.”
This piece is a poetic eye-opener, even for allies, because we allies don’t know what it’s like to live in a trans body. To think with a trans mind. To feel with a trans heart. To fear these fears, to channel this anger, to want this unattainable simplicity.
To not be able to ride trains.

Powerful, beautiful, frightening. It shakes you to your very core and forces you to live in someone else's shoes. This monologue should be a must read and a must see for everyone alive.

Bitingly truthful, direct, and poetic. It reminds me of the original function of theatre to be a place where we come together and let ourselves let out the overflowing emotions we've been holding onto with nowhere to put them. In this monologue, we can finally grieve together.