Read this Village Voice cover story this morning and got my life + became a fan. Specifically here:
“Quattlebaum says he hates … the field of queer studies along with it. ‘I have a lot of problems with the academic queer community because it’s a community that exists completely removed from reality,’ he says. ‘Those kids who are selling their bodies on the West Side Highway, on Christopher Street, they don’t even know what the fuck queer theory is.’”
Hence our need to be rooted in grassroots, in the streets, in solidarity with those who are “marginalized.” I’m done with folks and organizations speaking our names and bodies in theory, in death, in stats. Yet ignoring the same folks they discuss in theory without ever knowing us, without ever trying to engage, without ever “outreaching,” without ever lending the stage and resources to us.
As a trans woman of color - no matter what space I enter - I have one stilletoed foot on the street. Always.
With my recent media critiques of the New York Times, I’ll probably never reach my goal of getting Michiko to read my memoir. But our living history is so much bigger than the personal dreams I have for myself. I urge us to mine the anger and frustration and disappointment into creativity and expression. Don’t let the New York Times (as evidence in their portraits of Lorena Escalera and the women of Christopher Street) stand as the record of our lives: Trans women are so much more than the less-than-human portraits they continue paint of us.
#TransDayofAction rally before the #rain in Washington Sq Park #NYC #girlslikeus (Taken with Instagram)
“Young women, you’re going to be an old woman someday. Don’t sweat it.”
Women of all ages need to be seen. There’s so much to learn from these gorgeous ladies who’ve actually LIVED, and lived with such fun and style and spirit.
This is the definition of beauty.
This is how amazing my view appears when traveling with Aaron.
It’s date night with my favorite guy Aaron at my favorite restaurant Gemma.
Martinis, black linguine and polenta fries. Yum!
My best friend Wendi posing at the opening of photographer Rose Hartman exhibit at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York.
First snowfall of the season in New York. Taken from my window in the East Village.
My Saturday afternoon errands were pleasantly interrupted by a sea of skaters on Broadway. Called Broadway Bomb, this parade of young skaters were en route to the Occupy Wall Street demonstrations.
“The world is changing,” Aaron said as we marveled at my generation, who is often accused of being unaffected and uninterested in igniting change.
Our naysayers are being proven wrong.
