That morning, the day after I got home from a long road trip, I walked into the living room and turned on the tv just in time to hear the news that some kind of plane had flown into the North Tower of the World Trade Center.

And just as the morning co-anchors were reporting that news, the live feed behind them showed a second plane, a big one, fly into the South Tower. My partner, Barbara Carrellas, and I had just moved to East Harlem. Ground Zero was seven miles southwest of us, and over the next few days, we watched thick, black smoke snake through the sky. Then the wind changed. The smoke trailed into our apartment, acrid and greasy.

Kate Bornstein

We looked at each other, realizing: we were inhaling people.

Those were terrible days. Along with a whole lot of other New Yorkers, I fell into a deep depression. What the hell was I doing with my life? I was hop-skipping around the country, talking gender this and gender that. What difference did it make?

Kate Bornstein

And then I started noticing something new: more and more students were killing themselves.

I understood that impulse.

I grew up a happy little kid—until nursery school, when they told us to line up in a boys’ line or a girls’ line. I didn’t think of myself as a boy or a girl; I was just me. But the teacher put me in the boys’ line, and I knew she was wrong. I also knew I couldn’t say so out loud. That was the first time I wished I wasn’t alive. And that feeling stuck with me for years.

So yeah, it hit me hard when I heard about young people taking their own lives.

I had to do something. I went to the library and looked up suicide prevention books. And they all said the same thing: be good, fit in, stop being such a freak, and you won’t want to die. Well, that was bullshit. What had kept *me* alive wasn’t prevention—it was distraction.

Kate Bornstein
Kate Bornstein

I realized that each time I’d wanted to die, I’d found something else to do instead.

I started keeping a list. And then I remembered an old East Village beatnik named Tuli Kupferberg, who wrote 1001 Ways to Live Without Working. The book was a mix of the ridiculous and profound: “Find a five-dollar bill in a public toilet and be the only one brave enough to fish it out.” “Help a stranger, and he helps you to keep on going.”

Inspired, I honed my list into 101 things to do instead of suicide. “Kill some time instead.” “Treat yourself like an honored guest.” My favorite: “Moisturize.” Seriously, it’s hard to feel bad about life when your skin is all nice and soft.

I included everything I’d done instead of killing myself—even the dangerous stuff.

Drinking, drugs, cutting, starving—yeah, they’re all bad for you. But they also kept me alive long enough to find better options. Who was I to tell someone, Don’t do that? So I didn’t. Those suicide prevention books I’d read, while kind-hearted, with chock full of rules to follow if you wanna stay alive. I took care to write only one rule in Hello, Cruel World—it was simple: Don’t be mean. Anything else? If it keeps you alive, do it.

And it worked. Over the last twenty years, I’ve heard from so many people who said that book helped save their lives.

Freaky, geeky, queer, outlaw lives. And sadly, over those twenty years, I’ve watched the world harden. The Tea Party became QAnon became MAGA. With each step, America’s far right got better at deciding who belongs and who should be left for dead.

Kate Bornstein
Kate Bornstein

I saw it coming.

So did the good folks at Seven Stories Press. Crystal Yakacki, my editor from the first edition of Hello, Cruel World called me up and said, “It’s time for a new edition.” And so we knuckled down and got to work. The second edition has twenty brand-new alternatives to suicide for the world we live in today. “Cancel all those subscriptions.” “Let go of your preciousssss.” “Break the fucking law.” My favorite: “Stay friends anyway.”

Oh, and I never stopped thinking and talking about gender this and gender that. In fact, I’ve got a whole new theory about gender in four dimensions, and it’s in this edition too.

So… January 20, 2025. Trump 2.0. And the attacks on trans people have ramped up like never before. They’re trying to legislate trans folk out of existence. And once they’ve done with trans folks and immigrants, they’re going to cast around for the next outlaw to round up, and that just could be you or someone you love. Look, once again I’m hearing about more freaky, geeky, queer and other outlaw teens and adults alike wanting to take their lives. If that’s you, please don’t. I mean it.

Stay alive.

We need you and I promise you can make your life more worth living.

Call 988 in the U.S. or your country’s suicide hotline.

The new edition of Hello, Cruel World—now 121 alternatives to suicide—is at the printer at this very moment. The book hits the shelves on April 8, 2025. And really, if these new and terrible days have made you wonder whether staying alive is worth it… please get a copy. You can pre-order one now. Buy one if you can afford it. Donate a copy to a library if you’ve got some extra money. And if you can’t afford it? Someone’s bound to make a pirate copy. Read it. I wrote it to make you feel better about living.

It’s up to all of us as a community not to let Trump 2.0 erase us or our words. And it’s up to each of us as individuals to not do Trump’s dirty work for him by erasing ourselves.

I love you.

Stay alive.

Hello Cruel World New Cover

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