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This week, Tiziana, a ten-year-old trans girl, received her new national identity document at the Civil Registry in Salta, Argentina, two years after telling her parents her gender identity. Salta-based trans activist Pía Ceballos wrote this column: an open letter from one generation to another.

By Pía Ceballos

Last year, a little girl said to her teacher: "Miss, at least call me TIZ, call me that... please, I beg you, call me TIZ..." A little girl challenged the adult in power in question, and it was the adult parents who defended with their lives the youngest member of the family, the one who dances, who sings, who studies, who steals the smile of that infinite love that their father and mother have. The battle had begun, and the struggle had one fundamental objective: happiness, that being happy, which is part of the deep desire of a non-binary identity. I met her in November at the march; she shook my hand, and we marched together. From that day until today, we continue to do so alongside her mother and father.

[READ ALSO: Lucas, the trans boy from Entre Ríos who asked to change his ID]

In December, I gave her her first dress, the one she so cherished and desired, because I could tell she was tired of carrying that bag with clothes, an outfit that hurt and violated her being.
That little girl reminded all of us older transvestites and trans women of the most beautiful and also the cruelest memories of our childhoods, marks that still linger on many bodies. It was the whip or the belt, it was the fists or the teacher's pointer, it was the cross and also the penance, it was discipline and its psychology… It was so many things: school, healthcare, the state, and the structure that threw us into the misery of misery when we were so young.

Who gives us back our childhood?

And when we ask: who, who will give us back our childhood? The state's response is silence and apathy, and a society complicit in this silence that joins in a single echo... but we dare to say that it is this generation, those to come, that will live in equality, in freedom, because they will be completely free from violent and discriminatory childhoods.
Because it is the infinite love of our ties with these children that made us embrace our childhoods again.

[READ ALSO: The story behind a viral tweet: “My 12-year-old son is about to be born”]

I remember the first day of school this year. We were all very nervous, but she did well, and she told us that the teacher respected her name when she called attendance. That means it was worth it to talk to the supervisor last year and give a workshop at the school, and then give "a thousand workshops." "I don't know" how many schools; I've lost count over the years, but this year I felt very happy for that teaching staff and administrators who were exemplary in their compliance with the law.
Getting Tiz's registration changed took a lot of back and forth. A few days ago, I found myself arguing that the attorney's office isn't binding on parents' requests. Finally, the day arrived, and that day is today.
Today, dear Tiz, will be remembered in your memory, but also in ours. With you, we have the hope that this fire of struggle will never go out. With you, the strength to keep fighting is reborn.
I hug you, my little one!