First of all, I’m cisgendered, not trans, happily living the gender I was assigned at birth, but I have literally dozens of trans friends and acquaintances that I worry about at least a little bit every day. And every time I hear or read about a trans person getting killed I fear it is someone I know, or someone one of my friends knows. And days like today just bring all of that back to the front of my mind. If you go through my FB friends list there are a much higher portion of trans people than exists in random populations. I don’t seek them out, it just kinda worked out that way. I guess when you care about people in one sense, they seek you out for other senses of care. I have been an outspoken bicycle advocate for years, ditto advocate for minorities and women, and somehow I managed to get known as someone who cares about trans people, witness the number of homeless trans people who have spent time regrouping at my house.
But I still worry about them, a little.
I’m especially blessed that none of my trans friends have passed on, that I’m aware of. There are some I no longer talk to because I was a part of their lives before transition which makes me an uncomfortable memory to them. That… hurts, a bit, but I understand how that goes. There are parts of my life that I want to be able to forget about, but my nightmares won’t let me. I just hope that I’m not part of their nightmares. There are things I did either out of ignorance or because that was the way things were, and men and women were treated differently back then. If any of you are reading this I did not plan or intend to cause you distress, I was just ignorant and running on common media tropes of how men and women should interact.
Now, for the ones that still talk to me, even though I can’t remember most of your names, know that you are a treasured part of my life. And also that I can’t remember my wife’s and kids’ names either, so forgetting your name doesn’t make you unimportant, it just makes you one of the people I almost know. It also makes it hard for me to look you up because “that one guy who used to live down the street when I was in 8th grade” is not a particularly useful search string in Google. Particularly when I lived at 4 different addresses in 2 countries when I was in 8th grade, and can’t remember street names for any of them. Not to mention that 40 or 50 years ago I wouldn’t have known if you were acting
strange the way you acted because you were L, G, B, or T. And I was using a different name back then so finding this blog to read about my writing about you would require serendipity on an improbability scale that makes surviving getting hit by someone trying to murder me with a truck going 60 MPH look downright commonplace.
So to all you people out there, I’m glad you’re alive. Really, really glad. And I’m lighting a candle to those who aren’t there any more to guide you to a safe home.
I have many Trans friends. They are all as far as I know (one or two may have stopped speaking with me) still alive and well. I’m trying to get in touch with the Trans people I have lost contact with in honor of the day.
For the Trans people who read this who I don’t know personally I hope this day finds you well. For the people who have lost Trans friends to H8 or bullying or some other cause or no cause at all, peace be with you.
And for all my Trans readers, peace be with you always.
Thus says the Witch on a Bicycle, so mote it be.