Heaviness

I’m feeling sad. It’s a heavy sadness, a dark heaviness that has been weighing on me since Sunday. 

I’m feeling sad and exhausted, and almost everything in my life now feels heavy and joyless.

On Sunday, I had signed up to race in a local 10k run that has had a nonbinary category for a few years now — a race I did last February, too. But then, Friday afternoon, I got an email from the organizers to “remind” us of their “prize policy”, i.e., that “rewards are given only to the first three finishers in categories with at least three participants”, which the nonbinary category in which I was racing did not have as of Friday. While ostensibly being a general policy applied to “all gender categories”, de facto this really affects only the nonbinary category because there are always hundreds of participants in the women’s & men’s categories. So, of course, this shifted the whole mood of the event for me: it suddenly went from being a “safe space” for me — a race where I could show up and compete and be recognized and awarded as my authentic self with no effort (other than the athletic effort) — to being yet another place where I had to fight, or at least advocate loudly for myself & those like me, in order to have my rights recognized, in order to be treated fairly and equitably. I did eventually get them to change their policy, if not officially, at least for Sunday, but it was at the cost of several emails, a lot of frustration & extra effort on my part and also thanks to the help of a couple of (cis-het) buddies of mine who chipped in as allies. 

It shouldn’t have to be this way: all I want to do is to be able to show up and run, like anyone else. If I were a cis-man or cis-woman, I could do that. But given that I am nonbinary/trans, I cannot. So I either don’t race altogether or I put up a fight every f***ing time. It’s exhausting. 

On Monday, I participated my first Lobby Day at our Colorado Capitol! It was quite overwhelming, especially at the beginning, but I eventually got my bearings and found my grounding, and finally I even went to the office of my District Representative and spoke directly to his Aid, voicing some of the issues that adult trans/nonbinary athletes have (& that are often disregarded, or forgotten, even within our own LGBTQIA+ community). It felt empowering and liberating to actually voice my concerns, to see/feel them being listened to and taken somewhat seriously, and it made my day. But it was also, again, exhausting. It was a long day (I got up at 5 AM to go there) that was physically, mentally, and emotionally very trying. 

On top of all this, I’m having to advocate for myself, for my own needs and boundaries, even at home, in the place where I live, in a space that should be safe & comfortable for me. My housemate just got a cat (they also already had a dog) and it is peeing everywhere, including in one of my two rooms. This would be annoying in and as of itself, but what makes it even worse is that my housemate has behaved very irresponsibly about it, putting off the cleaning of the cat-pee for a few days. Apart from causing the cat-pee smell to set it more, and thus be harder to remove, this has caused me to be uncomfortable in my own space, to not even be able to access all of my own spaces — the spaces for which I pay rent. 

So I’m tired. I’m exhausted. Everything this week has been feeling heavy and hard and joyless. 

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]