Don't you think I know which door and what it's for?
I had no idea there were Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence in attendance at the rally to support trans youth tonight. I think that's fabulous.
At first I didn't see anyone I knew in the crowd. I had mistakenly gotten off the Orange Line at State Street rather than Downtown Crossing, so I was approaching Post Office Square from an unfamiliar and partly conjectural angle and knew I was in the right place mostly because I was suddenly surrounded by signs like "I Stand with Trans Students," "Trans Rights Are Human Rights," "Let My People Go to the Bathroom," and "Donny Knows Dick." There were people wrapped in trans flags and waving them; there were people of every gender presentation, including non-binary and totally indeterminate; the age range spanned queer elders who had evidently been doing this shit for years to parents of school-aged trans children (and trans parents of school-aged children) to toddlers with scribbly, glittery signs. The trees of Post Office Square were lit up purple and there were blue and pink lights in the windows of a building on Pearl Street. I took a blue-and-pink-and-white-striped poster reading "Protect Trans Youth" from a man with a sheaf of them and carried it for the rest of the night. I had a nice exchange with the young trans man next to me and his cis boyfriend who had just bought him some H.G. Wells, as a good boyfriend should; during the portion of the rally when we were encouraged to introduce ourselves to strangers and meet our community, a pink-haired activist from Athens, Georgia and I bonded over our sudden mutual flashback to college orientation. I complimented one protester on his pride flag kippah and another on her trans flag bowtie. (I got compliments on my bisexual unicorn T-shirt.) The executive director of the Massachusetts Transgender Political Coalition expressed his heartfelt appreciation for the couple of hundred people who had shown up on practically no notice to tell the trans youth of Boston and elsewhere that they are not alone; he pointed out the Office for Civil Rights of the U.S. Department of Education on the other side of Congress Street and spoke passionately about intersectionality—making the cogent point that this administration has not just now begun to hurt trans people; trans people who are Black, Muslim, Latinx, and immigrants have already been hurt—and then threw the megaphone open to trans students and teachers, of whom I think my favorite was the tenth-grade trans boy who talked about equality: "We're all human! We're all skeletons!" And then the formal part of the rally broke up into networking and people with signs going off to line both sidewalks of Congress Street, at which point a woman I had met last month at Jewish Voice for Peace came up and greeted me and![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skygiants, genarti, sandrylene, and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
teenybuffalo all wandered by at once. I could not participate very loudly in the communal call-and-response, but it was important for me to say the words: When trans youth are under attack, what do we do? Stand up, fight back. When trans rights are being denied, resistance is justified. We're here, we're trans, no walls and no bans. People honked in support as they drove by, smiled out the window, gave thumbs-up, Doppler-cheered. I was told later that one man shouted "Trump! Trump! Trump!" as he drove past, but since I didn't even hear him over the activist chanting, I don't think he won.
I did not expect the rally to turn into a march. I'm not sure the rally was expecting it. But first there were protesters with signs on either side of the street, then there were protesters with signs in the street, then there were protesters with signs walking down the street with the trans flag out front, and by the time we turned the corner on Franklin Street we were definitely a march. The call-and-response widened to include Whose streets? Our streets! Whose city? Our city! and We all got to pee, so let's get free, which I had not heard before. There was a brief logjam at Downtown Crossing which occasioned the only violence I saw all night—a bunch of kids on the sidewalk who didn't care about trans rights but were happy to shout "Fuck Trump!" got into some kind of altercation with one of the older protesters; he got slapped or otherwise physically infringed on, but I saw people taking care of him after the kids ran off—but on the whole bystanders were either visibly supportive or took out their phones in a neutral to approving fashion. We marched up Winter Street; one of the loudest voices in the chants near me belonged to a woman with a white cane. A number of protesters including the Sandry contingent peeled off at Park Street, but I guessed the core of the march was heading for the Massachusetts State House and followed them, which is why there may yet surface some footage of me standing outside the locked front gates of our state house and talking about Bill H.97, although since I couldn't remember the number I just said it was co-sponsored by Christine Barber and designed to protect minors from so-called conversion therapies and had been sitting in committee for over a year and could our state representatives just agree that torturing children is bad and pass the damn thing already? Other people spoke before me, more angrily, more lovingly, and more eloquently: a non-binary trans femme MIT professor who had to leave to grade papers, but first reminded the audience that trans people have always existed, that gender has never been binary (it's so true); a working-class male-presenting trans person with a kerchief over their face because they did not feel safe revealing their identity, talking about class and safety and the need for networks in Boston to help homeless trans people like they had been last summer; the H.G. Wells-buying boyfriend I had met first, doing a much less awkward job than he thought expressing love and support for his boyfriend who had been kicked out of his parents' house for coming out as trans when he was sixteen. People talked about statistics, suicides, bashings, murders. People said things to each other like "I love you; you're beautiful." People chanted hey, hey, ho, ho, white supremacy has got to go. For a while there was a police car spinning its lights over the crowd, but it left without arresting anyone. (I hadn't been confident it would.) There were local news crews at Post Office Square and the State House, which I managed to miss completely. There are some nice photographs here. Around eight o'clock everything broke up quietly and I took the Red Line to Davis and metderspatchel for a very late dinner when he got out of work. My knee is hurting again and I think I spoke more than I have in a week, but it was worth it.
Oh, and I met a trans woman in the bathroom at Walgreen's on my way over to the rally. The worst thing that happened was we were both in a Walgreen's bathroom.
At first I didn't see anyone I knew in the crowd. I had mistakenly gotten off the Orange Line at State Street rather than Downtown Crossing, so I was approaching Post Office Square from an unfamiliar and partly conjectural angle and knew I was in the right place mostly because I was suddenly surrounded by signs like "I Stand with Trans Students," "Trans Rights Are Human Rights," "Let My People Go to the Bathroom," and "Donny Knows Dick." There were people wrapped in trans flags and waving them; there were people of every gender presentation, including non-binary and totally indeterminate; the age range spanned queer elders who had evidently been doing this shit for years to parents of school-aged trans children (and trans parents of school-aged children) to toddlers with scribbly, glittery signs. The trees of Post Office Square were lit up purple and there were blue and pink lights in the windows of a building on Pearl Street. I took a blue-and-pink-and-white-striped poster reading "Protect Trans Youth" from a man with a sheaf of them and carried it for the rest of the night. I had a nice exchange with the young trans man next to me and his cis boyfriend who had just bought him some H.G. Wells, as a good boyfriend should; during the portion of the rally when we were encouraged to introduce ourselves to strangers and meet our community, a pink-haired activist from Athens, Georgia and I bonded over our sudden mutual flashback to college orientation. I complimented one protester on his pride flag kippah and another on her trans flag bowtie. (I got compliments on my bisexual unicorn T-shirt.) The executive director of the Massachusetts Transgender Political Coalition expressed his heartfelt appreciation for the couple of hundred people who had shown up on practically no notice to tell the trans youth of Boston and elsewhere that they are not alone; he pointed out the Office for Civil Rights of the U.S. Department of Education on the other side of Congress Street and spoke passionately about intersectionality—making the cogent point that this administration has not just now begun to hurt trans people; trans people who are Black, Muslim, Latinx, and immigrants have already been hurt—and then threw the megaphone open to trans students and teachers, of whom I think my favorite was the tenth-grade trans boy who talked about equality: "We're all human! We're all skeletons!" And then the formal part of the rally broke up into networking and people with signs going off to line both sidewalks of Congress Street, at which point a woman I had met last month at Jewish Voice for Peace came up and greeted me and
skygiants, genarti, sandrylene, and teenybuffalo all wandered by at once. I could not participate very loudly in the communal call-and-response, but it was important for me to say the words: When trans youth are under attack, what do we do? Stand up, fight back. When trans rights are being denied, resistance is justified. We're here, we're trans, no walls and no bans. People honked in support as they drove by, smiled out the window, gave thumbs-up, Doppler-cheered. I was told later that one man shouted "Trump! Trump! Trump!" as he drove past, but since I didn't even hear him over the activist chanting, I don't think he won.I did not expect the rally to turn into a march. I'm not sure the rally was expecting it. But first there were protesters with signs on either side of the street, then there were protesters with signs in the street, then there were protesters with signs walking down the street with the trans flag out front, and by the time we turned the corner on Franklin Street we were definitely a march. The call-and-response widened to include Whose streets? Our streets! Whose city? Our city! and We all got to pee, so let's get free, which I had not heard before. There was a brief logjam at Downtown Crossing which occasioned the only violence I saw all night—a bunch of kids on the sidewalk who didn't care about trans rights but were happy to shout "Fuck Trump!" got into some kind of altercation with one of the older protesters; he got slapped or otherwise physically infringed on, but I saw people taking care of him after the kids ran off—but on the whole bystanders were either visibly supportive or took out their phones in a neutral to approving fashion. We marched up Winter Street; one of the loudest voices in the chants near me belonged to a woman with a white cane. A number of protesters including the Sandry contingent peeled off at Park Street, but I guessed the core of the march was heading for the Massachusetts State House and followed them, which is why there may yet surface some footage of me standing outside the locked front gates of our state house and talking about Bill H.97, although since I couldn't remember the number I just said it was co-sponsored by Christine Barber and designed to protect minors from so-called conversion therapies and had been sitting in committee for over a year and could our state representatives just agree that torturing children is bad and pass the damn thing already? Other people spoke before me, more angrily, more lovingly, and more eloquently: a non-binary trans femme MIT professor who had to leave to grade papers, but first reminded the audience that trans people have always existed, that gender has never been binary (it's so true); a working-class male-presenting trans person with a kerchief over their face because they did not feel safe revealing their identity, talking about class and safety and the need for networks in Boston to help homeless trans people like they had been last summer; the H.G. Wells-buying boyfriend I had met first, doing a much less awkward job than he thought expressing love and support for his boyfriend who had been kicked out of his parents' house for coming out as trans when he was sixteen. People talked about statistics, suicides, bashings, murders. People said things to each other like "I love you; you're beautiful." People chanted hey, hey, ho, ho, white supremacy has got to go. For a while there was a police car spinning its lights over the crowd, but it left without arresting anyone. (I hadn't been confident it would.) There were local news crews at Post Office Square and the State House, which I managed to miss completely. There are some nice photographs here. Around eight o'clock everything broke up quietly and I took the Red Line to Davis and met
derspatchel for a very late dinner when he got out of work. My knee is hurting again and I think I spoke more than I have in a week, but it was worth it.Oh, and I met a trans woman in the bathroom at Walgreen's on my way over to the rally. The worst thing that happened was we were both in a Walgreen's bathroom.
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May there be many, better days ahead for you and yours.
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I'm hoping that if they can get a couple hundred people on half a day's notice, they can get many, many more with the lead time of a week and a half.
May there be many, better days ahead for you and yours.
Thank you. You, too.
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I heard about this on Twitter, and thought I had a conflict but then, at the last moment, didn't, so I got lost and then found and discovered I had never been to Post Office Square before, which seems improbable but not impossible.
I'm pretty sure the march part was mildly spontaneous but also mildly planned, because I kept running into a person (slightly literally in one case, mental apologies to eir) who was directing the crowd in specific directions.
I hung around until Downtown Crossing and then peeled off, because all the yelling was shredding my throat. Sorry (for once) to have missed the speechmaking.
(I totally didn't notice the assault, but got to serve as a 'Hey, are you guys OK?' bystander for a couple of teen girls getting into some kind of altercation with a couple of teen guys. They worked it out with the help of police, who I /also/ kept a weather eye on since all the teens were Latinx or African-American.)
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I said I'd be there unless I fell over!
so I got lost and then found and discovered I had never been to Post Office Square before, which seems improbable but not impossible.
I thought I hadn't and meticulously researched how to get there, after which it turned out that Post Office Square was just the name for a very distinctive park that I have walked by multiple times. That was handy.
I'm pretty sure the march part was mildly spontaneous but also mildly planned, because I kept running into a person (slightly literally in one case, mental apologies to eir) who was directing the crowd in specific directions.
Cool. That was totally not perceptible from the section of the march we were in, where people kept asking things like (in between the call-and-response) "Which way are we turning?" and "So are we intentionally stopping here?" The Facebook page had said explicitly that there was no march planned.
I hung around until Downtown Crossing and then peeled off, because all the yelling was shredding my throat.
That's fair. I hadn't been yelling because I knew I would lose my voice instantly; I banged on the hardcover of John le Carré's The Pigeon Tunnel when I needed to applaud.
Sorry (for once) to have missed the speechmaking.
I hope there are records of the other speakers, just because there were a lot of them and they were all good. Somebody got Keytar Bear on video.
(I totally didn't notice the assault, but got to serve as a 'Hey, are you guys OK?' bystander for a couple of teen girls getting into some kind of altercation with a couple of teen guys. They worked it out with the help of police, who I /also/ kept a weather eye on since all the teens were Latinx or African-American.)
I'm glad everyone was okay.
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True! I think I just assumed in my head that you would. (Fall over.) Also, it was dark.
"The Facebook page had said explicitly that there was no march planned."
Hm. In that case, it may well be that this was a person who took it upon themselves to make sure that march outliers didn't lose the march by accident, and there wasn't some Official Route. Anyhow, it charmed me at the time.
I shall go look at Facebook videos soonish.
"I'm glad everyone was okay."
Me too. Big time.
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And this particular event on Facebook, for privacy-protecting reasons, did not list the names of its attendees. Wave if you see me next time!
In that case, it may well be that this was a person who took it upon themselves to make sure that march outliers didn't lose the march by accident, and there wasn't some Official Route. Anyhow, it charmed me at the time.
Either way, good for them. I like the idea of the impromptu march guide.
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I think I vaguely remember the ugly garage. It's definitely a very nice park.
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(There are certain Theories and Approaches I use to potentially abusive and/or violent situations which I don't need to go into right here, but which are informed by domestic violence training.)
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It was! It had a lot of the same friendly anger, for lack of a better description, as the women's march in January. The same organizers have a larger and less hastily thrown together event planned for March 5th; I'll be there for it.
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Thank you! Today I am pretty wiped out, but I am very glad I went.
Yeah, if I had known there was going to be an open megaphone, I would have looked up the number of the bill before leaving the house! I think I described it sufficiently that people should be able to find it, though. It has a very clear title.
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Currently, there's an identical bill, also drafted by Ms. Khan, known as Bill H.1190 and just starting out its wild career. Here it is:
https://malegislature.gov/Bills/190/H1190
I'm trying to rouse folks to attend its hopefully-eventual public hearing and speak out against conversion therapy. Spreading it all over FB, will do an LJ post, will offer to read people's statements aloud if they can't attend but do want to offer their perspective.
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Well, that's not at all perceptible from their website.
Currently, there's an identical bill, also drafted by Ms. Khan, known as Bill H.1190 and just starting out its wild career.
Great! I will pester my representative about supporting it. Thank you.
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Indeed. Admittedly I'm not used to it, but I must say the MA legislature's web presence does a rotten job of making it clear what's current and what its discussion timeframe is. That may be one reason why my state senator/reps sounded pleasantly surprised when I called with my questions. Perhaps they don't normally get calls because people can't tell what the hell is important/urgent/current just by looking at the available info they provide.
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The different ways people honked their horns was also fun to observe. Chirpy staccato, sustained blaring, shave-and-a-haircut . . .
And the photos are beautiful.
People have been posting their photosets at the Facebook page. I turn up in one of them!
I hadn't even known of the existence of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, so thank you for that link, too.
You're welcome! I have no idea where or how I first heard of them, but they make me very happy. Derek Jarman is one of their saints.
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*cheers for you and everyone*
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There are legitimate things to be afraid of in public bathrooms! They're just not trans people!
(Okay, fine, statistically speaking some time a trans person is going to be the jackass who does not understand the concept of flushing. But that . . . is not what we're talking about here.)
*cheers for you and everyone*
I think it was the right thing to do with my night.
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What a wonderful event.
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I am really, really glad I went, even if today I feel like I went through a cement mixer.
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Me, too. I hadn't been sure how many people were going to show up; I don't know how many the organizers had been expecting. I'm looking forward to the rally in March.
"Friendly anger" is a great description.
Thank you!
(I'm also very fond of "We're all human! We're all skeletons!", for probably obvious reasons.)
I like the kid's philosophy!
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Good.
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I go to the ones I can. So far they have all felt worth it.
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Nine
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You're welcome. I said a little. Other people said more and it was right for them to do so.
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You're very welcome. I hope you can make the next one.