TODR - Why I'm Pissed

Yesterday was the Transgender Day of Remembrance. Most every person who reads this will be aware of the TODR and written about it or read something powerful about it. I have always had a link to the Remembering Our Dead site because it's that damn important to me.

I'm angry because we are still being killed. I am angry that our murders don't get solved. I am angry that the G the L and the B pay token attention to our issues.

But that's not why I'm PISSED. I'm PISSED because our lives are still erased by the media. Our names are written "IN QUOTES" like a nickname. We are "gay men" who "dressed as women". Our lives, our humanity, our identity is constantly questioned by cis-sexual society to the point we get no relief even in death. When we are murdered, we are somehow partly to blame.

The men who "admire" us are oddly absent at a TDOR. Our lives are only as valuable as their next orgasm. We are only allowed to be the sexy silly dolls of their little fantasy land. When the lights come on and their dreams are over, they are absent, silent, afraid.

At the end of the last TDOR I spoke to a couple friends about safety. I found out that the number of Trans*women I personally know who have been assaulted sexually is 100%. Yup ALL of us every age, every occupation, every socio-economic class. Most of us have been hit or threatened with violence by an intimate partner. Half of us have had our status as Trans* used as ammunition to coerce us into staying in a relationship, or not reporting violence.

I want to have an answer, and mostly I'm pissed that I don't.

Funk

Boy have I been in a funk lately. With the news about my friend, my complete lack of a social life, job stuffs, then the last few rather troubling articles we wrote - damn I just can't seem to get excited/happy/not bummed out. It's a pretty rare feeling for me - I'm generally pretty up tempo and chipper (if a bit cranky).

So.. I'll relate a little sumpin that recently happened that gave me a little bit of a smile. I went to the local super-duper-mega market to get some stuff. Being both careless and eco-friendly (in that order I'm sure) I walked the 10 or so blocks to the store. About half way there I had this gripping urge to tinkle. I picked up the pace and scooted to the store. Thankfully surprised to find an open stall in the women's room, I jumped in.

I came out and washed my hands. When I noticed two women giving me a less than complimentary look. Steeling myself for some comment or challenge I met their gazes. The older of the women stifled a giggle (great someone laughing at a tranny). Then she pointed out that I had tucked my skirt inside my panties with a shared mirth of something every woman has done in her life.

Being one to (over) process things. I spent my time getting some fixin's for burritos and thinking. Thinking about how sometimes we create our own conflicts. How in my desire to be accepted on my own merits (not as "trans" not as "woman") can sometimes make me see things in ways that are not how they are intended. And how, ultimately, everyone needs a moment to laugh at the stupid shit.

This unknown woman in a super market bathroom, kindly and jokingly pointing out that was showing my ass was the exact thing I needed to bust down a self-created wall I was starting to build. While keeping in mind that bad shit happens to all kinds of people, and particularly lately trans women, I can't let that limit me or sour me.

"Things" Update

I got off the phone with Amanda. The rapist was our friend's ex (I'll call her "C") and her current is still MIA. She will not be pressing charges. Her reasons being that she is "stealth" and has a history of sex work. The media and law are hardly friendly to either Trans* women or ex-sex workers. She would rather avoid any potential attention to herself than she has to. Also, her father is a pastor in a nearby church, and she doesn't want to shame him.

The officers at the hospital talked with C's neighbor when she was admitted. After a while the doctor came out and spoke to the police (and probably disclosed C's status). After this point I understand the officer's tone changed. They went from being concerned to being rather aloof with the neighbor. Amanda tells me that part of C's decision not to press charges was the questioning by the officers when she woke up.

** Here is where I'm going to interject**

First of all, if I had the bastard's picture his face would be plastered all over this blog and mailed to everyone I know. How is it that she doesn't want to press charges?? I understand the reasons, and I support her decision - but I don't like it at all!!! Rape is statistically the least reported crime, more so if the survivor is Gay or Trans*. This sends a message to the rapist that we are easy targets - they can violate us with no repercussions. particularly in the case with SO abuse, they are creeps who already feel that we are obligated to protect them based on our relationship with them (past or present).

As far as bringing shame on the family... that's hard. I understand this also. Especially if the relationship with the family is strained. But... Uah! I'm just too angry to type.