Trump’s government’s attacks on U.S. democracy

News from NPR (National Public Radio) today:

– “Trump’s FCC chief opens investigation into NPR & PBS”

– “Scientists scramble to understand Trump’s administration actions”

Let’s not forget that these were some of the steps most dictatorships took…

The second piece of news worries me personally as it might affect my job… I’m hoping it doesn’t put me out of the job I just started and am loving so much…

“alternate names for black boys”

“

1.   smoke above the burning bush

2.   archnemesis of summer night

3.   first son of soil

4.   coal awaiting spark & wind

5.   guilty until proven dead

6.   oil heavy starlight

7.   monster until proven ghost

8.   gone

9.   phoenix who forgets to un-ash

10. going, going, gone

11. gods of shovels & black veils

12. what once passed for kindling

13. fireworks at dawn

14. brilliant, shadow hued coral

15. (I thought to leave this blank

       but who am I to name us nothing?)

16. prayer who learned to bite & sprint

17. a mother’s joy & clutched breath

”

[poem alternate names for black boys by Danez Smith]

“Why we oppose pockets for women”

“

1. Because pockets are not a natural right.

2. Because the great majority of women do not want pockets. If they did they would have them.

3. Because whenever women have had pockets they have not used them.

4. Because women are required to carry enough things as it is, without the additional burden of pockets.

5. Because it would make dissension between husband and wife as to whose pockets were to be filled.

6. Because it would destroy man’s chivalry toward woman, if he did not have to carry all her things in his pockets.

7. Because men are men, and women are women. We must not fly in the face of nature.

8. Because pockets have been used by men to carry tobacco, pipes, whiskey flasks, chewing gum and compromising letters. We see no reason to suppose that women would use them more wisely.

“

[poem Why We Oppose Pockets For Women by Alice Duer Miller (1874 – 1942)]

The lovely second celebration of my “double anniversary”

Yesterday was my “double anniversary”: three years since my arrival in Colorado, driving through snow storms, on Jan. 26th, 2022; and two years since my gender-affirming top-surgery on Jan. 26th, 2023. 

Last year, I celebrated these important milestones partying all weekend, going out dancing two nights in a row with many of my close friends here in Colorado. 

This year, I celebrated in a very different but equally significant and touching way. 

One part of the celebration was a serendipitous coincidence: I was invited to be a panelist at a conference in California for gender minorities in Physics, which I attended on Friday evening and Saturday, flying back from Californian to Colorado on Sunday the 26th. Although the conference organizers who invited me had no idea of the important date coincidence for me, I found it a beautiful way to commemorate and honor one of the greatest milestones of my gender journey by being present, being visible, being a face and a voice and possibly an inspiration for younger folks in Physics who struggle in that environment (as well as in the outer world) because of their gender-nonconformity.  By being there with them, for them, and answering their questions and sharing my story, I could be of help to them while also uniting the personal and professional sides of my life & my self in a beautifully meaningful way. 

The other part of my celebration came last night at chorus rehearsal, where I was encouraged to do a share about my “double anniversary”. So, with a shaky voice and trembling hands but full of eagerness, I stood up in front of our 130 chorus members and told them about my “double anniversary”: what it is, what it means to me, how I see those two milestones also as two steps towards eventually joining the chorus, and how being part of this chorus is allowing me to blossom in ways that to me are new and wonderful and very affirming. 

Again, like during my chorus share in December, I felt so held, so heard, so seen while telling them yet another piece of my story. I could see the empathy and love on their faces. And then, as my share came to and end, my Big Sibling stood up clapping for me and the others followed suit, many of them tearing up. And oh, the love I got from them, so much love! Folks whispering words of thanks and affection and encouragement as I went back to my seat; and then later, during the break and when we went for drinks afterwards, so many hugs and people coming up to thank me for sharing, thanking me for my courage, thanking me for making them part or my journey, telling me how honored they felt and how happy they were for me. 

It was truly lovely and I tried to just let it all fill my heart to the brim as I thought, “It’s the other way around — I am honored and thankful for being able to share this with you all”!

(And just think how a few months ago I was trying to hide the fact that I was trans, afraid that they wouldn’t fully accept me because of it…!) 

The outer world may be a shitty place for some of us right now. But within my communities, with my friends, with my chosen families I am blessed: seen, heard, held, loved just as I am.

The bullshit of only two “God-given sexes”

We could sit here and argue for millennia, as has already been done, on the question whether “God” exists or not, without ever coming to a final answer. Either side, or argument, could claim to be right and probably never have the proof to show. However, one thing is for certain: what White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt said, echoing Trump’s fascist executive orders, about there being “only two sexes, male and female”, and people being forced to use their “God-given sex, which was decided at birth” is simply bullshit (see article “Existing passports won’t be affected by Donald Trump’s anti-trans order, White House claims” in LGBQT Nation). 

Scientifically speaking, even without going into gender (which has, in fact, in a fascist manner been eliminated from the vocabulary of these orders and been replaced by the term sex), there are not only two sexes and sex is not given by “God”. First of all, sex (however we want to define it) is not given to a baby, or a person, by “God”: it is determined by biological and chemical factors, such as genes, chromosomes, hormones, etc. Moreover, and maybe even more importantly, “female” & “male” really are not, and have never been, the only “options”: intersex people exist and have always existed. “Intersex is a general term used for a variety of situations in which a person is born with reproductive or sexual anatomy that doesn’t fit the boxes of ‘female‘ or ‘male’. … Being intersex is a naturally occurring variation in humans, and it isn’t a medical problem — therefore, medical interventions (like surgeries or hormone therapy) on children usually aren’t medically necessary. Being intersex is also more common than most people realize. It’s hard to know exactly how many people are intersex, but estimates suggest that about 1-2 in 100 people born in the U.S. are intersex. There are many different ways someone can be intersex. Some intersex people have genitals or internal sex organs that fall outside the male/female categories — such as a person with both ovarian and testicular tissues. Other intersex people have combinations of chromosomes that are different than XY ( usually associated with male) and XX (usually associated with female), like XXY. And some people are born with external genitals that fall into the typical male/female categories, but their internal organs or hormones don’t. If a person’s genitals look different from what doctors and nurses expect when they’re born, someone might be identified as intersex from birth. Other times, someone might not know they’re intersex until later in life, like when they go through puberty. Sometimes a person can live their whole life without ever discovering that they’re intersex.” [from https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn/gender-identity/sex-gender-identity/whats-intersex#:~:text=What%20does%20intersex%20mean%3F,male”%20or%20“female”.]

So I cannot help asking myself: why are these people using so much time and energy and money and effort to attack us? What’s their problem with trans, nonbinary, intersex, and generally “different” persons? Why not use all that time and energy and money to solve actual, real problems? 

And the only answer I can find is that they are fascists. This is what fascists and nazis and all authoritarian governments and dictatorships have always done throughout history: they find scapegoats in whoever is somehow “different” and try to take their human rights away. And if there ever was something that is “God-given”, that is the human rights of each and every human being, regardless of their sex or gender or race or sexual orientation or religious beliefs or (dis)ability level or anything else. 

And one thing is for sure: I will fight for my human rights, and those of my fellow humans, if it’s the last thing I do.

“The people I love the best”

Yesterday evening I started my first poetry class and the instructor shared a poem by Marge Piercy, To be of use. 

To me this felt like a concrete image of love, of friendship, as I imagine it, as I experience it. This is the way I hope to give and receive love and friendship — such are, indeed, the “people I love the best”… 

“

The people I love the best

jump into work head first

without dallying in the shallows

and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.

They seem to become natives of that element,

the black sleek heads of seals

bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,

who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,

who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,

who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge

in the task, who go into the fields to harvest

and work in a row and pass the bags along,

who are not parlor generals and field deserters

but move in a common rhythm

when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.

Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.

But the thing worth doing well done

has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.

Greek amphoras for wine or oil,

Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums

but you know they were made to be used.

The pitcher cries for water to carry

and a person for work that is real.

“

[Poem To be of use by Marge Piercy]

“We who are your closest friends”

Maybe my insecurity — possibly even paranoia — around my friendships can be expressed with some humor through this poem by Phillip Lopate…

“

we who are

your closest friends

feel the time

has come to tell you

that every Thursday

we have been meeting

as a group

to devise ways

to keep you

in perpetual uncertainty

frustration

discontent and

torture

by neither loving you

as much as you want

nor cutting you adrift

your analyst is

in on it

plus your boyfriend

and your ex-husband

and we have pledged

to disappoint you

as long as you need us

in announcing our

association

we realize we have

placed in your hands

a possible antidote

against uncertainty

indeed against ourselves

but since our Thursday nights

have brought us

to a community of purpose

rare in itself

with you as

the natural center

we feel hopeful you

will continue to make

unreasonable

demands for affection

if not as a consequence

of your

disastrous personality

then for the good of the collective

”

[poem We who are your closest friends by Phillip Lopate]

Choosing my personal safety: an act of self-care

I’m feeling frustrated. Even sad and somewhat angry. Yet what I did yesterday evening was a practical, firm act of self-care and a concrete instance of putting one of my New Year’s resolutions into practice, i.e. “not pursuing unavailable relationships/situations”. 

The plans for yesterday evening were that I was going to meet one of my best climbing buddies for an after-work session around 5pm and then go see the guy from the chorus with whom I had hooked up to “talk about our friendship” at 8:30pm. To do this, I was going to drive to two cities that are not where I live, each ~45 minutes drive for me and ~20-30 minutes drive from each other. Plans involving this amount of driving is quite common for many of us in this area so under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have been a big deal for me. Yesterday, however, we were getting the tail end of the winter storm we had over the long weekend and the weather conditions got progressively worse as the afternoon went by. By the time I left my place to head to the climbing engagement with my buddy, winds were gusting over 30 mph, snow accumulated on the sides of the main roads was being blown (often sideways) across the streets making the cars swerve and the lanes invisible, and snow & ice still covered the side roads. The forecast was for these conditions to last, and possibly worsen, until 11pm — which would have been about the time I would have been driving home from a long night out. 

My car can take such winter conditions: it has excellent snow tires and AWD. 

But I couldn’t take such conditions yesterday. (Part of my current increased sense of vulnerability is due to my recent surgery and the death of my pet snake.)

It was less than a 15-minute drive for me to the gas station to fill my tank and check the fluids in my car. And as I drove that short stretch I could feel a voice in me say “No”.

“No, you cannot do this tonight. It’s already bad now and it’s going to get even worse later. It isn’t worth it: your safety isn’t worth this. It isn’t worth you risking a car accident for this.” 

I had been waiting a week for yesterday evening. I was so ready, so eager, both to climb with my buddy and to have the clarifying conversation with the guy from the chorus. I wanted those two things to happen so badly — all day I had been feeling like a sprinter on the starting-blocks just waiting for the gunshot to take off and go for it. But then yesterday evening, during that short drive in the tail end of the winter storm, something else kicked in for me: a sense of self-preservation, an “inner-love” towards myself that was stronger than the “outer-draw” towards either of those two guys. 

I miss climbing or hiking or just hanging out with that climbing buddy. And I really, really wanted to get stuff off my chest and have some clarification with the guy from the chorus. But somehow I also felt that the care or interest that either of them is showing towards me now, towards having/maintaining a relationship with me now, is not strong enough, or not clear enough for me: my interest or care and effort towards maintaining relationships with each of them seems much stronger than theirs. 

The friendship with my climbing buddy is, I trust, solid. Yet, due to circumstances this year we haven’t been able to climb together, or even see each other, as much as I would like to. And most of the time it’s me reaching out to him now to keep up the connection. 

The situation with the guy from the chorus is murky and it’s definitely always me reaching out to him to initiate meeting up. 

In both cases a clarifying conversation will be helpful — it is, I feel, necessary. But I won’t drive in a winter storm, risking a car accident, to have those conversations. 

No matter how important those conversations — and possibly those relationships — may be, my personal incolumnity is more important: I guess I had never really felt that way so strongly or clearly until yesterday evening…

“Martin Luther King shows us how to harness the immense power of the queer community”

“

Today we honor Martin Luther King, Jr., whose philosophy of nonviolent resistance is one any movement could look to for guidance. 

Nonviolent protest is a form of resistance that seeks to create social change by means of civil disobedience or political noncooperation while refraining from violence of any kind. 

King’s philosophy of nonviolence was inspired by the teachings of Gandhi, who emphasized the importance of love and nonviolence. He saw Gandhi’s teachings as the ideal method for achieving social reform, and he made use of them during the Montgomery bus boycott in 1955. He led the boycott with unarmed bodyguards despite threats on his life, and he reacted to the bombing of his home with compassion. 

… 

King believed that “darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that. The beauty of nonviolence is that in its own way and in its own time it seeks to break the chain reaction of evil.” 

King’s way of thinking also has data to back it up. Research suggests that nonviolent protests are ten times more successful than violent ones. In her book, Why Civil Resistance Works: The Strategic Logic of Nonviolent Conflict, Harvard Professor Erica Chenoweth explains how civil resistance campaigns garner more support. 

Chenoweth explains, “Nonviolent campaigns are on average four times larger than the average violent campaign, and are often more representative in terms of gender, age, race, political party, class, and the urban/rural distinction. Civil resistance allows people of all different levels of physical abilities to participate. Everyone is born with the ability to resist nonviolently. Violent resistance is a little more demanding and therefore more exclusive.”

… 

The march is a prime example of the power of peaceful protests and the immense impact they can generate. King knew this, and now we must follow in his footsteps.  

“

[from the article “Martin Luther King shows us how to harness the immense power of the queer community” in LGBTQ Nation]