Hold On

I was just walking around campus when I came upon a tree that had lost most, though not all, of its leaves. As I passed directly under its virtually barren canopy, I paused for a moment to look up. There were a handful of leaves still clinging to their branches. On one hand they looked to be doing so quite delicately, as if at any moment, they might release themselves. On the other hand, as the wind gusted and stirred them, it was clear just how strongly they were holding on.

This made me think of these songs from the 90’s:

“Hold On,” Wilson Phillips (1990)
I know this pain
Why do lock yourself up in these chains?
No one can change your life except for you
Don't ever let anyone step all over you
Just open your heart and your mind
Is it really fair to feel this way inside?

Chorus:
Some day somebody's gonna make you want to
Turn around and say goodbye
Until then baby are you going to let them
Hold you down and make you cry
Don't you know?
Don't you know things can change
Things'll go your way
If you hold on for one more day
Can you hold on for one more day
Things'll go your way
Hold on for one more day

You could sustain
Or are you comfortable with the pain?
You've got no one to blame for your unhappiness
You got yourself into your own mess
Lettin' your worries pass you by
Don't you think its worth your time
To change your mind?

(chorus)

I know that there is pain
But you hold on for one more day and
Break free the chains
Yeah I know that there is pain
But you hold on for one more day and you
Break free, break from the chains

Some day somebody's gonna make you want to
Turn around and say goodbye
Until then baby are you going to let them
Hold you down and make you cry
Don't you know?
Don't you know things can change
Things'll go your way
If you hold on for one more day yeah
If you hold on

Don't you know things can change
Things'll go your way
If you hold on for one more day,
If you hold on
Can you hold on
Hold on baby
Won't you tell me now
Hold on for one more day cause
It's gonna go your way

Don't you know things can change
Things'll go your way
If you hold on for one more day
Can't you change it this time

Make up your mind
Hold on
Hold on
Baby hold on

“Hold On To The Nights,” Richard Marx (1998)

Just when I believed I couldn't ever want for more
This ever changing world pushes me through another door
I saw you smile
And my mind could not erase the beauty of you face
Just for awhile
Won't you let me shelter you


Chorus
Hold on to the nights
Hold on to the memories
I wish that I could give you something more
That I could be yours

How do we explain something that took us by surprise
Promises in vain, love that is real but in disguise
What happens now
Do we break another rule
Let our lovers play the fool
I don't know how
To stop feeling this way

Repeat chorus

Well, I think that I've been true to everybody else but me
And the way I feel about you makes my heart long to be free
Every time I look into your eyes, I'm helplessly aware
That the someone I've been searching for is right there

Hold on to the nights

Oh, if it were all only so simple

I got to see an amazing sunrise this morning--full of bright pink hues pushing through darkened cloud masses.

And, I just made myself an amazing breakfast--spinach, tomato, mushroom, onion, mozzarella & parmesan cheese omelet over avocado slices placed on fresh baked toasted sourdough bread.

An awesome sight to start the day with, and a good breakfast to carry me through the morning. Now, if the rest of my life were only so simple...

Transgender Day of Remembrance

This past Tuesday, I finally made it to my first Transgender Day of Remembrance event.



Although I didn't get even a rough count of the crowd, it did seem like a good turnout. I saw a lot of familiar faces, and certainly felt like part of a community.

Later that same night when a friend asked me how the event went, I struggled to respond. I still feel like I'm struggling with what to say now...

It was a good showing of the trans community and our allies.

The Agape Praise Choir sang with enthusiasm and spirit.

The words offered by the speakers were heartfelt.

But, because we were gathered in remembrance, in memorial, it's hard to say it was a "good" event--as one speaker offered that night, may we reach the day when such events no longer need to be held, because we'll have put a stop to the violence. (In many ways, it reminded me of visiting the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum. Powerful and necessary, but good in so far as we acknowledge and remember the harms done, in the hopes that we don't repeat them.)

One thing a speaker said that I really appreciate was to point out that as horrific as aggressive physical attacks are on transpeople, so too must we remember the other types of violence transpeople face--economic injustice, as well as oppressions based on immigrant status, age, race, etc.

The message was clear, we must unite and work together and strive for an inclusive movement (that includes transpeople, but also acknowledges all the other dimensions of our identity as well).

Too bad The Washington Blade decided to cover the day's event by focusing on the controversy around the Human Rights Campaign's (HRC) cancelled trans memorial event. I would have rather that they focus on what did happen, not what didn't.

Surprises

I hate surprises, but I love ties...



don't know where that leaves me in terms of a surprise tie!


I do have to admit, though, that I love this tie, and even more the thought and sentiment behind it. Just a few of the many things I'm thankful for...

(more on thankfulness to come)

(Not so) Ordinary People

People are complicated. Life is messy. Still, I'm thankful for it all...

I've been fortunate enough to run across some really great people in my life thus far. More posts about these folks coming... In the mean time, wanted to pass along this recent article a friend wrote.

Vayetzei
Surely God is in This Place: A d'var Torah for Transgender Day of Remembrance
by Vanessa "Vinny" Prell

Though we haven't spent much time talking about our beliefs, spirituality, and religions with one another, it's definitely something that draws me to him.

Here's more about her work at NUJLS, the National Union of Jewish Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Intersex, Queer and Questioning Students.

Solidarity Sunday

Okay, so it's been more than a month since Solidarity Sunday passed, but better late than never!




Especially with the Transgender Day of Remembrance coming soon (November 20), it felt apropos to once again talk about the need to opposed and end violence, espeically that against lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex, and queer people.

Another comic

(From The Washington Post November 12, 2007)

I'm probably supposed to think the teacher in this comic is a little ridiculous, but really, what's ridiculous is the way in which this comic reflects the disturbing trend of cutting public school funding. (No, this isn't the case in every public school district everywhere, but certainly in more than should be.)

*sigh*

I guess having seen a re-run of Mr. Holland's Opus this past weekend, combined with a recent conversation with a friend about Teach for America has gotten to me. Oh well, here I am back to serious posts!

November

The other day a friend commented that my recent blog posts seem serious and academic. She certainly didn't mean it in a bad way, but I got all sensitive about it anyway...

So, to try and change the tone of things, I wanted to share this comic from yesterday's (November 12, 2007) Washington Post



[Not that comics aren't serious and academic, just that I wasn't going to go there with this one ;)]

I actually don't hate November, though it's true that being the California kid that I am, I'd much prefer blue skies, sunshine and 80 degree weather. Still, if I'm going to have to experience seasons, Fall is by far my favorite one. I love the brilliant colors some leaves turn, and of course, who doesn't love the coziness of sweaters and other warm clothes!

(I'm going to have to make my way to the craft store soon to get some new yarn for my annual crocheting of a new scarf...)

Parrotfish by Ellen Wittlinger

What sets Ellen Wittlinger’s latest novel, Parrotfish, apart from other young adult queer fiction that features a trans character (such as David Levithan’s Boy Meets Boy or Julie Anne Peters’ Luna) is that Parrotfish tells the story of a young FTM, Grady.

Given the historical trend of focusing on transexual, transgender, and MTF women not only in academic and scholarly realms, but also in fiction and memoir, Wittlinger should be commended in turning her focus to transexual, transgender, and FTM men—perhaps even more so because she deals with a transboy whereas other authors have told the stories of transmen.

Parrotfish opens with Grady’s assertion of himself as a transyouth. His joy in having come out as trans is apparent, clearly buoyed by his feelings of finally being about to tell his truth, “And the truth was, inside the body of this strange, never-quite-right girl hid the soul of a typical, average, ordinary boy” (9).

Like many trans coming of age/coming to be stories, one of our initial points of introduction revolves around naming. About his chosen name, Grady says, “’It’s a name that could belong to either gender...Also, I like the gray part of it—you know, not black, not white. Somewhere in the middle’” (6). Other elements of Grady’s transition that Wittlinger touches upon includes binding his breasts, changing his wardrobe, and negotiating bathrooms.

Perhaps most significantly, however, are the ways in which we travel alongside Grady as he manages his transition in relationship to the people in his life—family, friends (old and new), teachers, classmates, cashiers, etc. It is through these human interactions that the richness of Wittlinger’s novel arises. To her credit, Wittlinger portrays a wide range of characters’ reactions to Grady’s transition. By offering several different points of identification, Wittlinger not only makes Parrotfish a novel that can potentially resonate with a wide and diverse readership, but also constructs a nuanced tale of transyouth living. These elements make Parrotfish a novel that simultaneously sympathetically opens readers’ hearts up to Grady’s struggles, while pointing to the need and importance for us to more closely examine our roles, responsibilities, and culpabilities in these struggles. (After all, despite its beginning, Parrotfish is still a coming of age/coming out novel and so retains the traditional arc of having to overcome struggle.)

One character of note to look forward to is Kita Charles. I was indeed quite impressed with Wittlinger’s development of this biracial character and the connections between sexuality and race that she embodies and highlights.

(I certainly could have done without the “parrotfish” story line which suggests a biological etiology for being transgender, but given the prominence of the question of etiology, it is not unexpected.)



As usual, some of my favorite passages:

Wittlinger, Ellen. Parrotfish. New York: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, 2007.

(9) And the truth was, inside the body of this strange, never-quite-right girl hid the soul of a typical, average, ordinary boy.

(19) But you can only lie about who you are for so long without going crazy.

(33-34) It occurred to me that the male members of my family seemed to be taking this better than the females, and I wondered why that was. Did the women feel like I was deserting them by deciding to live as the opposite sex? Maybe for Dad and Charlie, it didn’t seem strange to want to be male, since that’s what they were. But Mom and Laura—and, of course, Eve—acted like I was [end page 33] betraying them somehow. Would I have to give them up if I wasn’t a girl anymore? I hoped not. I hoped that changing my gender wouldn’t mean losing my entire past.

(131) When I decided I was a boy, I realized that if I wanted to pass, I’d have to learn to walk differently, talk differently, dress differently, basically act differently than I did as a girl. But why did we need to act at all? A quick look around Buxton High provided numerous cases of girls acting like girls and boys acting like boys—and very few people acting like themselves.

(more on Parrotfish to come)

What Can We Afford?

[Disclaimer: Though there has recently been some interesting research circulating about the economic position of gay men this post, despite its use of economic-related allusions to affordability, does NOT specifically address queer economic issues. A post about the intersections of class and sexuality to follow.]

For a while now, I’ve been haunted by Ignatius Bau’s words that “those of us who are queers of color who are now U.S. citizens or have legal immigration status can afford to speak out about immigrant rights” (61).


In his essay, “Queer Asian American Immigrants: Opening Borders and Closets,” [which appears to the anthology Q&A: Queer in Asian American, eds. David L. Eng and Alice Y. Hom (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1998)] Bau argues that queer Asian Americans can build bridges between Asian American communities and LGBTQ communities. He seems to stress that not only is such coalition building “a personal necessity as we integrate our multiple identities in our multiple communities” (59), but also that it is the only way as queer immigrants to be acknowledged, supported, and protected by the queer liberation agenda (61).

The sentiment behind Bau’s argument speaks to the power of visibility. I know first-hand the great influence that being visible can affect, yet even knowing that does not dissipate the fear I feel in being visible. Bau does little to acknowledge the fear or risks of coming out and speaking out about immigrant rights, saying only that we “can afford” to do such things. While he does acknowledge that for many in the LGBTQ community the stakes to stay in the closet about their immigration status are high, he is clear to assert his position that it is up to us [queer Asian Americans] to take action. In part, he supports his claims by providing historical evidence of immigration laws and policies that have historically been anti-Asian (the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act), as well as contemporary immigration laws and policies that continue to negatively affect Asian American communities (California’s Proposition 187).

I have nothing but admiration and understanding for Bau’s arguments. However, I question the degree to which “those of us who are queers of color who are now U.S. citizens or have legal immigration status can afford to speak out about immigrant rights” (61). U.S. History is also rife with examples of how, even in obtaining legal U.S. citizenship, Asian Americans have not always enjoyed security, fair treatment, and other protections usually associated with citizenship (the interment of Japanese Americans during World War II is but one such instance). Perhaps is it not a question about whether we can afford to speak out, but rather, can we afford NOT to speak out?

The fears and risks are undoubtedly “real,” but so too is the predicament that change will only come about if we take action.

I pray I have the courage to change the things I can.