It's gotten a bit quiet in here.
I went to the protest in Boston over Prop. 8 etc. on Saturday. It was my first public protest and while I didn't find it transformative in the moment, I find that my feelings on politics, particularly queers politics and the politics of queers and the politics you can't avoid just because you are queer, have undergone quite a shift over the past several weeks. I was raised not to give offense, ever, to anyone, and so it's something new to stand around with 5,000 of my closest friends outside Government Center shouting about my civil rights, that's for sure. But even more new for me is the talking out and talking back, not letting a conversation peter out when I feel uncomfortable but pressing on and making the best case I can for challenging the passage of Prop. 8 in the courts or whatever it is.
All this politics, and it's all so important, and tomorrow's Trans Day of Remembrance, too. I'm not able to take part in anything formal but I'll be thinking about all those who have suffered and died for being transgender. (Well, does anyone transgender not suffer, in this society? But that's another topic entirely.) I really hope all this galvanizing over Prop. 8 ends up being inclusive and expansive. We need an end to violence and we need civil rights; we need equal protection, full stop.
And in the midst of all this, real life flows on, too, of course. I distract FG from her homework and drag her off to the bedroom (oh yes I do). And I make up for all that (not so) wasted time by making a couple of big pans of lasagna, which fed us for most of the first half of this week. I gave a presentation and it went well and I feel better about my work than I have in a long time. And I keep on learning to dance and building new friendships and rehabilitating old ones and crushing and sending cyberhugs to Jess & Tina and wishing they were real ones.
And between all those shifts in political consciousness and the press of daily life, there's still the ongoing drama of my life, the sorting out of my past and my relationship with FG and my gender, oh, always gender with me. But who really wants to hear, right now, about my complicated reaction to the middle-aged couple who, when I passed them on the sidewalk, hissed to each other "that's different" and "uh, yeah"? I'm not sure I'm even interested enough to write about it.
But I miss you all and so here is this miscellania of my consciousness, offered up from a dear friend's guest room where I am spending the night. Is there anything you want to know that I might write about? What should we write about now? Is it really the dawn of a new era, or am I just sleepy and typing nonsense with chilly fingers?