I was going to write more in depth about the anti-LGBTQ protests that happened last month, as well as the rash of anti-trans legislation in the United States and creeping into Canada thanks to a few opportunistic premiers. Unfortunately, it all started to sound too much like I was writing a research paper or serious editorial. I’m not writing here to submit for publication, I just want to process my own thoughts and feelings; to clear my mind in a way that I rarely can elsewhere.
I was surprised by how big the protests were, though, as well as the level of vitriol coming out of people’s mouths, including from children. It was heartening to hear about how there were more pro-LGBTQ counterprotesters than protesters in many cities, but there were still a number of smaller cities where they were outnumbered by the anti-LGBTQ side.
Speaking as a queer trans person, it’s pretty fucking scary to know how many people have the view that teaching people that LGBTQ folks both exist and should be treated like any other person is somehow perverted. The invocation of “parents rights” is a disingenuous dog-whistle, meant to obscure the hate under the cover of having valid concerns.
There is a lot I want to say about the harm this anti-queer sentiment causes, as well as the callousness of the politicians mining the culture wars in order to retain power or distract from their own incompetence. I’m just too exhausted on several levels to write everything I feel about the issue.
I wasn’t anywhere near the protests that day, though; my coworkers and I were all at an offsite meeting for our division. Ironically, the topic was diversity and inclusion.
I’ve been sitting with some heavy news about a few friends who are dealing with very serious health issues; without getting too much into their particular situations, they don’t have a lot of time left. It’s not my first experience with others’ impending mortality (you don’t get to middle age without dealing with this stuff unless you’re either extremely fortunate or unfortunate), but being reminded of it is never an easy or pleasant experience. I can’t imagine what their families or partners are going through, let alone themselves.
When someone I didn’t know particularly well or mostly knew online dies, I wonder how much of a right I have to grieve, aside from in a general sense. In a way, I think I’m mainly grieving the wasted opportunity to know them better or to keep in touch; I am grateful for what memories I do have, but there have been more than a few people that I wish I had gotten to know better while I still had the chance.
But time is short, and there’s only so much that’s within our control.
It’s already October again. I’m remembering a lot of little different things here and there, still somewhat amazed at how much more quickly time passes as I get older. I posted online about moving to the city 11 years ago; a friend commented that we’ve now known each other 10 years. It still feels like yesterday that I was working for temp wages on the basement floor of an office building, commiserating with Steph, Ida, Barb and Julie (among others) over our shared frustrations.
My life is very different now, but still very much the same.
I’m thinking a lot about how differently I handle my online and offline lives. I’m much more willing to share myself on the internet than I am in the physical world, where I don’t really feel comfortable being perceived. I tend to feel more vulnerable and exposed when face-to-face with someone than I do writing these posts or on my other site. As well, being around people physically for extended periods of time wears me out to the point where I need to use my free time to recover. Everything my senses take in adds up, every thought I have compounds, and by the time I try to sleep my brain has too much noise.
The work meeting I mentioned earlier took a lot out of me; my head was static at the end of both days. The first day had a “speed networking” activity where we were paired into groups of two, and each had to talk about ourselves for a short period of time before switching to the next person. I’m way too introverted for that kind of thing, and it didn’t help that the activity was a sensory nightmare with the noise of so many people speaking at once overpowering our ability to hear each other.
It’s easier for me to be more candid online, but I still wonder what people who have met me first think when they see what I write.
I was relistening to Broken Social Scene’s Hug Of Thunder album last week. “Gonna Get Better” usually kicks me in the feels when I hear it; something about Ariel Engle’s voice and phrasing does it. I’m sharing a different song, though, because when I relistened to it on my phone a day or so later, it really broke me open.
I’ve been finding some songs, TV shows, etc. have been leaving me a sobbing wreck lately; The Good Place finale definitely did. I’m curious what does this for you.
"We're Here" and "Heartstopper" are two shows that definitely make me cry, mostly for the queer joy. With We're Here it's the queer joy of having a drag community in my home, on a small screen, but doing all the wonderful things queer spaces always do to make me feel at ease. For Heartstopper, it's a weird tension of being so happy that there is a whole generation of queer kids who can experience the usual stuff of being a teenager alongside their cishet peers while also being acutely aware of how my own queer teenage experience was fraught because of my peers bullying me for my gender presentation.
"I’m much more willing to share myself on the internet than I am in the physical world, where I don’t really feel comfortable being perceived." I feel that to my core 😭! It is indeed both disheartening and disturbing how much anti-transness is rearing its head, and it's upsetting to know that it's trickling into Canada. Thankfully, I'm in "a safer state" here in the US, but I fear for the worst most times 😖. Anyway, thank you for sharing your candid thoughts in this space. 💜