[Trigger warnings: transphobia, violent deaths, hate crimes, shooting; grief.]
I’m still feeling a complex and intense mix of emotions from last night’s Trans Day Of Remembrance celebrations — and tired from another night of poor sleep as my mind couldn’t settle.
I went to last night’s event with my oldest/closet nonbinary transmasc friend and with a new, common, transmasc friend (the latter was one of the performing artists for the celebration).
There was food, poetry, music — local artist sharing their talents, a sing-along.
There was the “ceremony”, i.e. the reading of the names of the victims of transphobia: over thirty of them this year in the U.S. (that we know of), most of them people of color (& mostly transwomen); many in their twenties & thirties; some teenagers even… the youngest only fourteen, a child.
There were candles and photos and promises to not forget. There were trans flags and all other pride flags. And there were paper cranes: white, baby pink, and baby blue.
There were tears and hugs, embraces and (hand-)holding.
There were words and glances and nods. And there was silence.
I cried a lot. Silent tears, on and off. I cried for them, for me, for us.
[Yesterday, was also the sad two-year anniversary of the hate-crime shooting that happened at Club Q in Colorado Springs on November 20th, 2022.]
The Little Prince and the Fox 