As I lay in bed, pre-crack-of-dawn, freezing (it got very cold by Florida standards last night, and I only had one cover on, and somehow couldn't summon the requisite energy required to go get a second one, so I opted to freeze into a solid block of ice instead), I realized dawn was, in fact, just starting to break. And I realized this is the day my employer is honoring/marking Transgender Day of Remembrance--which actually falls on this coming Sunday, November 20, but today is the last weekday ahead of that, so they are doing the following today--with a flag raising ceremony. I lay there in bed feeling grateful to work there (as I posted about the other day, upon learning of the upcoming ceremony). And then I thought about how this will be the first Transgender Day of Remembrance since someone I love with all my heart and soul, who was trans, passed away.
Every TDOR, she posted about it on Facebook. But she didn't just try to educate about everything trans people go through on that one day. To her, every day was Transgender Day of Remembrance.
I've been--or fancied myself, anyway--an extremely liberal, progressive, or whatever word you want to use, person all my life. I was raised that way and I also think/feel that I hatched straight out of the egg that/this way. I abhor prejudice in all forms. I am passionate about the human--and also very American (when we're at our best)--ideals of equality and fairness. I'm all about what is now buzz-worded as DEIB: diversity, equity, inclusion and belonging. Yet, until my trans loved one came back into my life, after DECADES of us being lost to each other (yep: I date back before Facebook, social media, or event the internet, to prehistoric days when you could actually lose touch with someone and have no idea where they were, or what was going on with them), I had no idea what trans people go through, or even really the slightest idea what it really is to be trans. I thought I was an aware, educated human being yet, in point on fact, on all things trans, I 100% was NOT.
When my friend, Mika, came back into my life, and I learned she is trans, I had a steep learning curve to even begin to understand and know what she and other trans people go through. For just one example, I had zero idea--zero, none, nunca, no clue--that trans people are murdered every day, for no other reason than existing while trans.
Just to go out of the house, just to walk outside, is risking your life.
My friend told me about being "trans bashed"--beaten to a pulp--back in the late 1980s. She told me this in 2011. I wanted to KILL someone or several someones, whomever did this to her. My heart raced, my blood boiled, I started almost hyperventilating, I started crying, and I wanted to, as I said, hunt down the people who did this and KILL THEM. I had to tell myself: Edna, this happened years ago. Decades ago. You cannot do anything. And it's over. Calm down. Yet I couldn't seem to make my heart or any part of my physical body catch up with my mind to understand that this did not just happen five seconds ago. I could not calm down. And that was 2011, when I was told this, and still my heart starts racing and I feel myself going into "fight or flight" mode, just thinking about it.
That is only one fraction of the fear and other emotions that trans people go through on a daily basis, just trying to go to the grocery store, or walk outside as their true selves.
I had no idea of so much about being trans, and the issues they face, but even just that ONE thing: you can't walk down the street without the very real chance that you could be attacked, and killed, should give us all pause and hopefully make those of you who may not have known this before want to fight for transgender rights.
You may not think you personally know anyone who is trans but you probably do. Maybe they, like my friend, back when I first knew her, haven't yet been able to name what it is they feel--maybe they don't even know yet. Or maybe they are afraid to come out. Or maybe they are out and you don't realize that they used to present to the world as another gender. But I guarantee you that someone you know is trans, or somehow doesn't fit neatly into the black and white gender boxes we try to put them into.
And, when that person lets you know, please respond with love, kindness and acceptance. And when you see a stranger who you think is trans, no matter what you think, even if you don't accept them for who they are, please at least tolerate them: We are supposed to be a tolerant society, a respectful society. Please live and let live. You don't have to understand everyone, but as long as a person is peaceful and not hurting anyone, please be peaceful and don't hurt them back.
Today is only Friday and TDOR isn't until Sunday, but I felt compelled, lying there in the cold, dark dawn this morning, to write about it NOW. I felt the need to post about it NOW. Why wait? This is the first year that my dear friend, Mika, is not here herself to give voice to her truth, and her community, and speak up and out, and bring awareness to Transgender Day of Awareness. So I will do it. Please: take a moment on Sunday, November 20, 2022, to reflect on all the trans people who have been murdered just for not fitting into the gender box, the artificial lines we draw on a page to try to fit people into, when we are learning that gender is so much more complex than that. Please, if someone tells you what their gender is, believe them, and give them not hate but a hug.
