cripchick's blog

dear personal care attendant,

this weekend i want to play with gender
wrap myself in it
it’s not every day i get to see queers
maybe to them it’s just another conference
but i don’t ever take it for granted

yes i’m gonna speak in queer
talk liberation
whisper and shout
get free, get free

i’ll get all lipglossed up, use eye shadow that make my eyes pop
you’ll curl and pin my hair so the highlights shine against the blackness of my hair
i’ll know i look fly in my red summer dress and matching cherry toenails

or maybe, just maybe, i’ll sport a fedora
it’s been sitting on my shelf, just begging to be worn— peacock feather and all
i could do this properly in a button-up shirt, pinstripe pants, new black-laced white sneakers…

either way
i will radiate

thank you for making this happen

thank you for being safe space, even when you disagree 

thank you

this summer, i had a chance to meet tiona m., director of the film black./womyn., a documentary that chornicles the experiences of black lesbians in the united states (some people interviewed are cheryl clarke, hanifah walidah, staceyann chin,..even just the youtube clips are amazing). recently tiona had the opportunity to screen black./womyn. in atlanta and witnessed some blatant homophobia *during* her screening *at* the venue in which it was taking place. tiona gave me permission to post her account of what happened below, in hopes that folks in atlanta will not patronize this venue, the plaza theatre. so much work to do…

full account below the cut.

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Dear Wheelchair Dancer,

Hey sister— thanks for your blog post on the elections, racism, prop 8. I’ve been in such a funny place lately after all of this and your writing really helped me in naming why.

Sylvia posted a tweet the other day about wanting to wrap Obama in bubble wrap, Teflon, a condom, Fort Knox— anything— to keep him safe until January 20th. That’s kind of how I feel about my emotions. And I hate to sound cliché here, but also my hope. My head knows what this election means and what this election does not mean but I still want scream Yes We Can!, rock my Obama shirt in classes full of Republicans, and, well, just bask in the symbolism of it. I want to believe in what everyone else believes in for more than one night, even if a lot of it is compartmentalizing what I know and not thinking about things folks like Moya and so many others are sayin’. So I close my door, download all the free mixtapes people are producing for Obama, and bullshit around happily.

But then it changes, right? At least it did for me, couldn’t even last a week. I read a message from VivirLatino about another mass ICE raid where over 100 people are rounded up in Florida and separated from their families. I hear white racist gay folks getting time on the tv and then blame Prop 8 on communities of color! I get an email from someone I really care about saying someone she knows was being beaten to death from what seems like a hate crime. With tears in my eyes I read of Duanna Johnson’s death and then see talk show radio hosts trying to leave comments on my blog saying they’re advocates while simultaneously disrespecting who she was. All these things tear me right from that cloudy good place. These things come at me like a million lightening bolts, reminding me of all the work that needs to be done and more importantly, who will be the ones doing this work.

It will be us. We will do it cause there isn’t anyone else but us, the people, la gente. So like our dear friend asks in her blog— as organizers, as artists, as community-builders, as dreamers, how can we learn from his campaign? How can we get the folks on the ground, many who weren’t believers in power of people before, to keep dreaming and ready to pick up other tools? How do we stay focused? Clear-headed? How do we build this bigger than non-profits, projects, campaigning?

And what about when the evil, the hate, the bondage is internal— How do we combat these things when they come in the form of our communities, people we love? I mean I didn’t truly understand what racism and white privilege really meant until I got involved in social movements, you know? Is it possible to take these conversations happening post-Prop 8 and turn them into something that lasts? Will there be room to sew close our open wounds, our mistrust? And is it even worth it, trying to work it out with gays and lesbians who will always choose marriage, gentrification, assimilation and capital building as priorities, when so many fellow queers are homeless, forgotten, oppressed, closeted, beaten, denied their humanity?

I’m really hoping you have some answers, that someone has answers. In the meantime, thanks for being who you are, for our gchats, for the love…

In solidarity and w/ love,
cripchick