Today is the annual Transgender Day of Remembrance, a painful day. Violence against transgender people is extremely pervasive and, as always, transgender people of color and trans women are the primary victims, which even when it is showcased today is often blurred throughout the rest of the year. erica, ascendant has an excellent angry post on this topic:
it’s disappointing to see that there is little to no mention of race on the official TDOR site other than in raw statistics. trans women of color have met with everything from passive-aggressiveness to outright ignorance when attempting to deal with the folks who run TDOR. … there is an unchecked/unquestioned monoculture at work. i’m sure the intent of the volunteers who run TDoR is not to create such a monoculture, but this is how it ends up, and the expectation seems to be that TDoR is by its very nature exempt from accountability for being such a monoculture, especially when most of the stories they’re telling, and too often mistelling, are about dead trans women of color.
More excellent writing in this vein by Monica Maldonado at transactivisty.
And so, in the spirit of preserving the lives of trans women, and trans women of color, every day, we repeat Marlene Hoeber’s post from this blog last year.
It’s Transgender Day of Remembrance. Today we remember those lost in the last year to transphobic violence.
I refuse to remember you next year. You will still be here. I insist.
I have hands and mind and the will. If need be, I have guns and knives and boots and bricks and I know where to get torches and pitchforks. All of these things I have are for you, because I refuse to remember you next year. You will still be here. I insist.
You are quiet and I have not heard enough from you lately. I hope you are ok. Are they mistreating you? Are you mistreating yourself? I have a comfortable couch and quiet conversation and a glass of brandy and a bowl of soup and a loud laugh. These things too are all for you, because. I insist.
I spend the time I can surrounded by boxes full of other people’s memories. I am nearly a professional rememberer. Whether you slip quietly away, surrounded by those who love you, or you fall in the fight against those who would see you suffer, I will collect the box of things that others can remember you by. I am not afraid to remember you, but I will not remember you next year. You will still be here. I insist.
Thanks to tim for the links to erica and Monica.