Invisible Till I Die

So yesterday was the Transgender Day of Remembrance. I thought this would be an appropriate time to post a very powerful one-girl play that was sent to me as a submission for the HRC-Is-Not-Your-Friend zine (which will hopefully come out someday...)

This is "Invisible Till I Die", A provocative monologue by Zoe Kala for the Transgender Day of Remembrance:


Hard economic times have an insidious way of reinforcing violence against those who have been most marginalized in society. Consider the recent increase in reported transgender murders. Then consider where most of these victims of violence called home.
Typically these slain transfolk are among the most marginalized even within the GBLT movement, where home was wherever they could lay their weary head. They were typically the kind of street queer people who have repeatedly been shoved to the margins of invisibility.
In the hoopla to celebrate the resistance of such urban queers 40 years ago at the Stonewall Inn, ostensibly resulting in greater social privilege for all GLBT folk, how easy it can be to forget how many of them are still struggling and not quite surviving. We may unite in rhetoric with these urban transfolk, but the lingering divisions of class and ethnicity remain palpable.
Another anniversary of confronted violence sparked the annual Transgender Day of Remembrance. For a decade the trans community has marked November 20th of each year as a vigil for those killed by transphobic violence. It was on November 20th in 1998 that Rita Hester, a trans sister of color, became an unsolved murder, bringing attention to the vulnerability to violence that transgender people face in our hostile society. On the first anniversary of her death a vigil was held, and then a website was started to list all those lost to transphobic violence the previous year.
Around November 20th this year, many will congregate in a safe and typically suburban location to reminisce the lives we have lost this year. Not me. I’ll be somewhere else. Who is willing to go down with me to reclaim the terrorized spot of the latest transgender murder? I’m not content to live in the burgeoning shadow of the Stonewall Riot while my sisters in the inner city are still suffering. I am ready to repossess for us that space where an act of cowardly violence tried to scare us away, and proclaim to a fucked-up world how my queer ass is not going anywhere!
To honor these marginalized lives we have lost, I penned this one-person play to try to bring their issues back to life. The idea was to have it performed as part of a TDOR vigil, in specific honor of one of our latest fallen kin. Maybe I will inaugurate its first reading at the sacred ground of one of our recently fallen sistahs. Maybe I will be next to go, and then you can read it for me. Then maybe our queerness won’t be so invisible anymore!

“Invisible Till I Die”

I Shock of her own murder
II Honored by vigil
III Anger personalized
IV Beginning her resolution
V Institutionalized violence
VI Full resolution embracing love

INTRO: “She was poor, black and trans. She was a street person. She struggled to barely survive, mostly by trading the only thing she had left to barter: her body. And then she was murdered. We know her now as another name on the TDOR list. If she could, what would she say to us now?”

I

[She stumbles onto the stage disoriented, trying to get her bearings]

Where the hell am I? I-I can’t remember what I was doin’ here.

[looks around, then notices an imaginary body lying on the floor]

Who the hell is that layin’ there?

[pause, trying to peer closer]

Damn, she kinda looks like me from the back. Hope she’s okay. Looks like she’s wearin’ my—ughh, a pool of blood!

[approaches closer, then abruptly stops as she is filled with shock]

Fuck, it is me! What the—oh my god!

[quickly looks about in shock, on the verge of crying, covers mouth]

Oh my fucking god, there’s blood everywhere! My blood, my fucking blood, [shouting] my fucking life! [softly] What the— I-I-I must be…dead? Am I dead? Am I really gone?

[collapses to floor crying, suddenly remembering, screaming]

Why did he do that to me? Why’d he beat me and stab me? He kept stabbing me!

[rises to her feet, fists hurled into the air in anger]

That fucking john! That cold hearted son-of-a-bitch trick, he took my money and he raped me!

[back to the floor, crying]

He raped me. I cried for him to stop, but he kept forcing it in. Oh god, it hurt. It hurt so bad. I pleaded and begged him: Why you doin’ this to me?

[then painful recollection comes to her face]

He says he does this to all the “fags”! Like he lifted my skirt and didn’t like what he saw. Like he didn’t already know. Fuck, he had to know. Or what the hell was he doin’ [shouting now] on my goddamn street?!

[she then notices the body being hauled away]

Hey, hey! Where you takin’ my body? Hey, that’s my body! Where you takin’ it? [crying] That’s all I have left now. [said while running: ] Come back here with my body!

[darts off stage in direction imaginary body removed by imaginary people; a moment later she reenters more composed, and for the first time addresses the audience]

II

Wow, where’d all these people come from? Who are all you people? I don’t recognize any of you.

[looks around then notices poster on wall near stage left]

What’s this? That poster on the wall, it looks like it has a picture of me on it.

[approaches poster to read it]

Oh shit, that is me! It’s that picture Desta took of me last April. It says—

[eyes darting back and forth as if reading the poster to herself]

Wow. A vigil in my honor. Damn, a bitch has to die like that to get some fucking honor around here? Guess it’s better than no honor at all.

[looks back at audience]

Wow, you people are cool. And you dress pretty nice, like you all dressed up for somethin’ special. Of course, I probably wouldn’t ever see none o’ your faces down in de ‘hood. Faces down there are mostly black. Most you faces are white. That’s cool. Hey, any of you know where I can get a good job or somethin’?

[chuckles pathetically]

Yeah, a little late for that now.

[glances up to the back rows of the audience]

Hey, now I don’t mean to step on any toes here, but it looks like you all came a little too late to this bitch’s party. Know what I mean?

[quickly turns serious]

Oh, now don’t get all fuckin’ PC on me, I’m just tryin’ to keep it real, y’know?

[looks up at imaginary people without looking directly at audience ]

Some of ya wanna walk out on me now? Go ahead! Just ‘cause I ain’t your sweet little innocent girl next door. Or ‘cause I be doin’ things to survive you be too ‘shamed to talk about. Ain’t no clean cut prissy, y’know, but who gives a shit? What’s it to me now?

[pointing to an imaginary person that is obviously not anyone specific in the audience]

III

Stop! Yeah, you! Don’t just walk away and pretend like you cared at all about my fucking life. Did it take my violent death by the hand of some stranger for you to notice I exist? You really think this stranger would have come after you just because you too are a transgender? Please!

You should come down here and walk the streets with us for a while. Yeah, down here with my other sistahs, sisters of color. Down here near the dirty center of this vacuum of a city. See what it’s like for us bitches when we simply try to walk the streets in peace.

Yeah, we sometimes stroll down for a quick buck. I hate it, but what the hell else we gonna do? Ain’t no fucking jobs for grrrls like us! Not the kind of secure jobs you take for granted. We gotta survive somehow. You think these tits come cheap?

Yeah, some of us crack under the pressure. I know one grrrl who gave up turning tricks and tried moving into a women’s shelter. Wanna know what happened to her? They kicked her out and forced her to go to the men’s shelter, where nine guys cornered her and road a train on her. Hell, if you gotta give it up you might as well get paid for it, right? At least then you can get your ‘mones and stuff. Shit!

Yeah, I thought that’d get your fuckin’ attention. While you’re keepin’ some doctor appointment for your prepaid Premarin, we gotta scratch and crawl for ‘em from the black market on the streets. Ain’t no doctor seein’ us po’ folk. Hell no, we ain’t got a fuckin’ dime to give ‘em anyways. No such thing as health insurance down here, fuck no.

Medicaid ain’t gonna do shit! Besides, you ever try gettin’ gove’ment help with your daily name? Never again using that name Momma gave me! Ain’t no way we can get a court order for a name change. Damn, wouldn’t that be sweet?! Wouldn’t it be—

[puts head in hands for a few seconds, then quickly pulls up head, throwing back her hair]

Okay, sorry for bein’ so intense. Been through a helluva lot lately, y’know? Don’t mean to disrespect ya, like I don’t appreciate you honoring my life now. If that’s what it’ll take for you good folk to take notice of what us grrrls go through.

Just wished you could’ve been there for me much sooner, y’know? Like where were you when my Momma kicked me outta my home? You momma ever said she hated you just for bein’ trans? Bet you still have a nice warm bed ev’ry night. Ever tried spending the night in a cardboard box? Or sleeping with some stranger you hardly know? Ever had to give it up just for a quick meal and place to lay your tired head?

[draws in a heavy sigh]

IV

Okay, so I’m gettin’ intense again, I know, I know. Wonder what Momma is doin’ now. Does she miss me now? I know Desta is missing me like something aweful. Desta, are you out there in this crowd? Desta! Desta? Hey, if any of you see her, let her know—

[tries to hold back her tears]

Tell her I miss her too. She’s my best friend and I still love her, think I’ll always love her. She was always there for me, especially when times got rough. She knows how tough this life can be. We’re both survivors—well, I was.

She’ll now have to get on without me. I know she must be kicking herself now ‘cause she couldn’t be there that night to save me. Her love saves me, it really does, helping me know my life as I lived it was not all in vain.

[steps closer to audience]

Thank you, thanks for coming here and showing the world that my death was not in vain. Thank you for standing up against violence to all of us who are transgender.

Just don’t forget, okay, that some of us tend to be easier targets than others. Just ‘cause the hand dealt to us. Y’know, it can be easy for some of us to envy you.

V

Sometimes the violence we suffer comes from those you’d think was there to protect us from violence. If there was anything you could do to help us, you can do something about this fucked up judicial system. Ain’t sayin’ it’s all bad, but can’t say it’s done much good for us grrrls down here. They ain’t caught that john yet, have they?

Bigoted cops sweep us up and throw us in a pen with a bunch of rapists. You don’t wanna know what those guys do to us. It’s disgusting. But there’s nothing we can do ‘bout it. Like, what can we do? These dirty cops are in on it. Who cares?

I don’t know any grrrl among us who hasn’t spent at least one night in jail. They make it look like we brought all their rage upon ourselves for “choosing” this life, like we really have other options open to us. Shit! Try walking a mile in these shoes, you mothafuckin’ popo!

Ain’t saying all cops are bad. But the good ones are silenced by all the bad ones. Some of ‘em even plant evidence just to keep us off the streets longer. Then cage us for years with a bunch of violent haters.

We can have a full set of tits, great looking body, and convince anyone we are all natural woman. But if we ain’t got the right plumbing down there, you know where they send us? Damn right. Right where those haters can rape us at will. You know what a men’s prison looks like from our perspective?

This is your justice system. You like it? Hope you never get caught up into it like many of us. And don’t be fooled, it don’t take much. I was arrested once just for walking across the fuckin’ street in the only clean clothes I had left. Sorry if I look damn good in anything I wear! Wasn’t tryin’ to pick up no date, but that popo didn’t care!

At least I got out of jail in one piece. Some grrrls get sent up to do some hard time with some hard hearted motherfuckas, if you know what I mean. Some joints may be a better place to do time than others, but men’s prison ain’t no place for grrrls like us. Really. They pass us around like daddy’s blow up doll, forcing us to give sexual favors just to survive. Heard one of our Latina sisters couldn’t take it anymore and hung herself right in her cell. No one was gonna take her body anymore, ‘cept herself! Sho nuff! Anyone remembering her life?

Sara, one of our memorable white sisters in the joint, she punched a guard who tried to choke her. Little was done to him for puttin’ hands on her, but she got more time just for defending herself. Then she got five more years added to her sentence when she stabbed her roommate. They kept makin’ her bunk with rapists, till she finally had enough. One night, when this fuck-head tried coming onto her, she pulled out a shank and took care of bidnezz. She ended up doin’ twelve years on a three-year bit!

Some of us never get out, y’know, even with a short sentence. Kamala never got out, tho’ she only had a five-year sentence for resisting arrest, by some motherfucker who tried to feel her up just to make sure she had a dick. Ughh! Heard he was trying to get some and was gettin’ ready to take it by force. She clocked him in the jaw and he went straight down to the ground. His partner came out of nowhere and threw her into the wall, cracking her skull. They stitched her up and then sent her as a fresh piece of meat to the state sanctioned whorehouse you know as a men’s prison.

She wasn’t givin’ it up for no one, not even in the joint, if you know what I mean. She was a big woman and on the streets she demanded a good price. But inside she was just another chick with a dick, and they pulled her into a cell and four of them gangbangers raped her. They had her pinned down for four hours, each takin’ turns. Is this your justice system?

She resisted as much as she could, but what could she do? Ain’t no one caring if she screamed, least of all the guards. Finally one of them gangbangers slit her throat and left her to die. So he caught another case, shipped him upstate, where I heard he raped another grrrl. I bet Kamala is never gonna be on one of your Remembrance lists. Wonder if I’ll get to see her now.

Hmm, you know what’s ironic? That gangbanger who killed her, he was in for slapping around his neighbor ‘cause he thought the guy was gay. Some kinda gang initiation, I think. He could’ve gotten a one-year jail sentence for assault and battery, but was instead sentenced to three years in prison because it was a hate crime.

They don’t treat hate in prison, they just let it grow wild. And we grrrls, yeah, along with the guards we get to be their target. Hmm, hate crimes legislation. I hate it.

Look, I-I ain’t trying to tell ya all how to believe and stuff. Just wish you could see all sides, that’s all.

Don’t let my death be in vain, please. Look where I came from. Try and see life how we were forced to live it. Try to see death how it’s often forced upon us.

[pointing near imaginary poster]

Look at that list of names. Consider how many of them are street people, or poor trans folk who aren’t a part of the American dream you take for granted.

[looking back at audience]

Sure, enjoy what you’ve earned. Just don’t forget us the next time you buy another outfit or pair of shoes. We’re often ignored, and it’s getting deadly.

VI

Thanks for honoring my death—I mean, my life. Thanks for honoring my life like this. I am deeply touched. Your remembrance of me helps to remove some of the painful wounds left by that jerk who killed me. If only there was something I could give you in return. Are my memories bittersweet to you? It’s all I got for you now.

[glances over at vigil poster]

Please do something about all this crazy violence, whatever you can do. I don’t wanna see any of my sistahs on another poster like that. I want them to know they are loved before it’s time for them to leave this planet.

Love, real enduring love, that’s all that matters to me now. I was born to be loved, no matter what my body looked like. No matter how or where I was born.

All the hate around me wounded my heavy heart. Built walls, y’know. Walls that mean nothing to me now. Walls that probably locked out more of the love I craved. Walls meant to keep me from hurting a little while longer. That’s all. Only love endures. Love is all I can carrying with me now.

My greatest fear was not dying a violent death, but leaving this world without ever tasting true love, without ever being touched deeply in my soul. I thank my sistahs in the hood for letting me get close to such love. I think I’m finally understanding how deep and true such a love can be. Thought they were the only ones who cared. Thanks for proving me wrong. Thanks for helping me tear down this useless wall.

You’ve seen how I carried a lot of hurt from living on the edge of hopelessness. Your deep respect and unqualified love for me now lifts much of that hurt away, helping me see hope is not in my circumstances but in the love that surrounds us all. A love that dissolves the bitterness and washes clean with a much greater hope for whatever comes next.

Thanks for enduring my ranting, and not walking out on me. I suppose I offended some of you, but you loved me enough to listen and let me vent. Some things just needed to be said, tho’ I ain’t the one with the gifted tongue to say ‘em. Well, it’s all outta my system now, and all that’s left is your newfound love for me. A love I feel transcending all of our differences and linking us to our shared humanity. A love that breaks through any hurt that may have once separated us. Your undying love. Thank you. Thank you.

[leans toward audience and peering into their eyes]

In your eyes I see a purifying warmth that’ll help me float away along that gentle breeze, ready to carry me away somewhere. I feel a tug at my heart strings, and I trust it’s your love for life, even for a lowly transgender life like mine, wishing me a safe journey.

I gotta go now. I don’t know how or why, this is all so new and strange to me. Just feel there’s somewhere I gotta get to, ‘fore it’s too late, y’know. Like I gotta dump this shit and get to the other fucking side.

[starts departing then pauses]

Hmm, maybe I should stop using words like that.

[exiting stage]

Kamala, are you there, grrrl?
* * *
“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” – MLK while incarcerated

Tripping

So I'm real tired of Humboldt county, but honestly I have no idea where else to go or what else to do with my life. I've got ideas about what I'd like to do in the future. I'm applying to do a work/study internship with Herb Pharm-- it's a worktrade for an intensive herbalist education. If I get in that would happen in the Spring, and then after that I could find a job working for an herbalist somewhere. But in the mean time, I just feel... stuck.

The other day I was in Garberville and I met up with some friends and randomly decided to take a ride back up to Arcata with them. We all dropped acid and I was having a pretty good ride with them in the van. We picked up some hitchhikers and dosed them too. This one guy just wouldn't stop talking the whole ride. We stopped and walked around the Redwoods. I felt like-- I'm home. There's nothing like tripping in the Redwoods.

Then I got dropped off in Arcata and lost my friends and all my stuff was in their van and I was wandering aroudn Arcata tripping face no idea where my friends with all my stuff were, no idea what the fuck I'm doing. I bumped into friends and they were like "hey, Saffo, what are you doing here?" And I'm like "I... don't... know!!!" Lol.

I found some other hippy kids who were driving down to the beach where my friends were gonna be partying. Their car was in bad shape and almost broke down several times on the way-- we had to stop and keep putting water in the radiator. We also got totally lost. Finally we got to the beach and my friends showed up soon after.

I really can't stand being around hippies. Honestly, I think when it comes to queer shit the fucking rednecks are just as open and accepting as the fucking hippies. It's like, for all the shit these kids talk about opening their fucking minds it's like-- liberate your mind from the fucking gender binary, asshole.

So these kids get drunk and beat the shit out of someone who gets sent to the hospital and folks are throwing bottles at cars and we have to run into the woods to hide from the cops. All on acid. And all the stupid gender shit that they say, talking like they're so fucking liberated. It fucking pisses me off. And sometimes I wanna just be like, ignorant people are gonna think ignorant shit and I shouldn't involve myself with it. But then their assumptions about me do affect me and it fucking pisses me off. ARGH. I hate hippies.

Seriously, the next time someone fucking calls me "brother" I think I wanna punch them in the face.

The next day, some drunk dude who looked like probably a tweeker was starting shit and getting out of control. Some folks beat the shit out of him and there was blood pouring down his face. He took off his clothes and started rolling around on the sand. So we all wanted to leave. But like 20 people pile into this van and I'm like "fuck it" I'm not getting in. So everyone drives off except me, I'm walking. And the cops are there.

But I end up hitching. It's fucking cold it's 7 in the morning I haven't slept and I'm still coming down off acid. And I know I look like shit. I get a couple rides and walk a lot of the way-- end up going to Eureka because I need a new phone charger for my phone. Someone earlier had suggested the Target in Eureka, which is fine cuz it's right on the North side of town right off the highway, real easy to get back on the highway to go back to Arcata.

So I finally get to the Target, and, of course, they don't have my fucking phone charger. Totally useless. So I try to go back to Arcata. There's no good hitching spot right there so I decided to walk a little ways up the highway. Except the highway from Eureka to Arcata is all curving around the bay and there's no good spot to hitch cuz it's all curved. I sat down and thumbed it for a while, like "fuck, I'm tired, I'm just gonna sit and wait until a car stops for me." And then I'd give up on waiting and start walking and then I'd soon give up on walking and start thumbing again. I was so exhausted. I thought earlier about what some folks said about hippies who took drugs and just got LOST. Everyone at that beach just looked like they were totally fucking LOST.

So I was a fucking lost hippy. I'm not a big fan of just traveling with no destination and no idea why the fuck I'm going somewhere. I was just like... I guess I'll go to Arcata. But I'm literally nodding off on the side of the road as I'm thumbing it. Finally this woman stops for me and I didn't even notice she'd stopped, until she backs up towards me and honks. Like, do you wanna get in the car? I felt like such a dumbass.

I went back to Arcata and SLEPT. Made me feel a lot better. But my stomach still hurts from the acid.

It's a lot easier for bio girls to get trimming work here. The number of times I've heard people be like "it's easier if you're a girl." And I want to say "No, it's easier if you're a girl with CISGENDER PRIVILEGE, dumbfuck." Sometimes I think being a tranny girl is like all the shit you get for being a girl minus any of the perks. Fuckers.

ALIVE

Someone told me recently about a time when Jim Morrison got on stage and yelled at the audience how many of you really know that you're alive?! I don't know exactly what he said but he yelled some shit like none of you really know that you're alive you're all a bunch of plastic drones or some shit like that. Well, fuck Jim Morrison; he's a fucking misogynist pig and his music is fucking overrated as fuck. And that's a fucking pretentious-ass bullshit thing to say.

BUT, he's got a point. Yeah, one of my friends was talking about that when we were tripping acid in the redwoods a couple weeks ago. And you know what, I felt fucking ALIVE. I've been really fucking alive lately. I spent 2 weeks camping in a fucking redneck town getting fuckers yelling shit at me for being queer, and going to sleep with a fucking stake next to me in case the mountain lion attacks. But I felt fucking alive. I am alive.

Of course now I'm not feeling all that alive. I'm pretty tired and exhausted and I've been hungry and dehydrated for the past several days and I drank too much two nights ago.

But, I dunno. The other night I burnt my black lace skirt. Just threw it onto the fire. It was in tatters, the pink slip on the bottom had turned grey. It survived hopping a fence running from cops in Chicago, tripping acid in the redwoods climbing all sort of crazy trees everywhere, and about half a million fucking blackberry thorns and my stumbling ass. It was held together by safety pins.

Some one trying to be my friend told me I looked "whoreish". Actually he was a really good friend. On the road out here when you're a tranny you really gotta just take what you can get in terms of people who got your back even if they don't understand you. I haven't been correcting people when they call me the wrong pronoun. I also don't feel as restricted. I'm not going to let being trans keep me from doing all the shit that I wanna do. But I don't change my goddamn appearance for nobody but my fucking self. Even if that means having people yell shit about my back hair from across the street, like it's any of their fucking business. Even if that means having some drunk fuck threaten to kill me for being a freak.

Sometimes when someone tries to push me to do something I feel myself digging in deeper and deeper, and the more I fight the more important it becomes to me that I stand my fucking ground. Sometimes I dig in deeply over something that wasn't actually that important to me in the first place-- like a torn up skirt that looks "whoreish". (As if there's anything wrong with being a sex worker.)

Well, sometimes I let go. I threw that skirt into the fucking fire and watched it burn. It had come a long way. I wore that skirt almost every day in Providence. That was when it looked almost respectable. The first tear was that fence in Chicago when the cops were beating people. It just kept getting more and more torn--- no, more and more alive-- as time went on. Well, I watched it burn and I knew that that was the end of something, and the beginning of something. What exactly, I don't know.

I haven't stopped being trans. I got a new skirt today. But maybe I stopped letting as much stupid shit get to me. No matter what someone says or does to me, it's MY choice whether or not to let it bother me. No matter what stupid assumptions somebody makes about me, it's MY choice whether to let it bother me. My skin is getting thicker (and fucking dirtier too. My new tan'll probably wash off next time I take a shower.) And I don't give a fuck what anybody else thinks.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not angry and I don't need sympathy. I'm just the strongest I've ever felt in my whole fucking life.

Much Love,
~Saffolicious.

HRC IS NOT YOUR FRIEND-- CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

SEND SUBMISSIONS TO: anarchoqueer@gmail.com
AND PLEASE FORWARD WIDELY!

As Radical Queers, we are in a constant war against the HRC. Our frustrations run much deeper than ENDA or any other single issue. However, I have often found myself unable to substantiate my frustrations when talking with more mainstream "LGBT" folks. So, me and a friend are planning to compile and edit a zine on why we hate the HRC. We are looking for more radical perspectives written in a language that would be accessible to more mainstream "LGBT" folks.

Talking points could/should include, but are not limited to:

Racism, Classism, Assimilation, Militarism/Imperialism, Transphobia, The Prison-Industrial Complex, The Non-Profit Industrial Complex, Immigration as a Queer Issue, Public Sex/Sexuality and Pleasure (and how the HRC tries to hide that as a part of our identities), The culture of respectability, Healthcare.

Or maybe, even more fundamentally, why there are no "separate issues."

We would also be interested in writings on things people have done, actions that have been taken against the HRC, and why we don't need the HRC. (We can do this shit ourselves!)

Remember, the intended audience is mainstream "LGBT" folks who aren't already radical-- this is an attempt to radicalize them!-- so please make sure submissions are written in a way that will make sense to these folks. (I.e. don't assume somebody knows what the prison industrial complex is or why we don't like it.)

PLEASE EMAIL SUBMISSIONS, QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, SUGGESTIONS TO: anarchoqueer@gmail.com.

AND PLEASE FORWARD WIDELY!

Thanks!

Solidarity and Sodomy,
~Saffo

Tonsillitis

So I've had a tonsil infection for the last week or so. I'm hoping it's finally starting to get better. I suppose this is what I get for getting shitfaced and making out with a shit-ton of people @ ida. You know, I have a habit of getting tonsil infections when I travel. I really need to stop doing that. I went to the emergency room and the doctors told me it was viral and there's nothing they can do about it. I'm not sure I believe them. I think I'm getting better, though. We'll see.

Anyway, I've been really feeling the need to write more lately. I haven't had much consistent internet access, but I'm hoping sometime soon to write some more of my thoughts here. There's a lot going through my head, in terms of politics and such, but I haven't had much of a chance to write anything down or to really form any coherent thoughts.

The idea occurred to me that I wanna try and get published. Like, write a book about my politics. People do that all the time! I should start working on it. I think I want the front image to be a picture of a police line guarding a pride parade from some radical queers. Anyone seen any images like that? I'm sure it's out there.

Anyway, Denver's cool. Helped out with food not bombs today. Itching to leave, but Pride is this weekend, 40TH ANNIVERSARY OF STONEWALL!

QUEERS DON'T DENY IT-- STONEWALL WAS A RIOT!!!!!!

Tennessee

So I'm at Ida, helping set up for Idapalooza. I've been here for almost a week. Got a ride here with a bunch of people coming from Bash Back!. My first couple days here I had to withdraw away from everybody. There was so much shit that happened at Bash Back! and so little time to process. There was a whole shit-storm over this "action" that happened, with a whole bunch of holier-than-thou self-righteous macho anarchists and shit. Almost got arrested.

Anyway, this is my first chance to get on the internet since I've been here. Won't be back on here for a while probably. Wish I had more to put my thoughts together about shit but kinda overwhelemed.

It's fucking humid out here. I can't wait to go back west where there's no humidity. Gonna hop back to Denver after this, hopefully. Maybe I'll be hitching across the country for my birthday!

Much Love,
~Saffo

New Blog Entry

Okay it's time for me to write another blog entry. But what to write about?

Let's see... what's on my mind...

I left the farm. Spent the weekend with my family, which was... intense. Got to see my brother's play, which was awesome. I got back into the bay today (tuesday.) It was funny to think that it had only been a weekend that I spent with my mom in Palo Alto. It felt like weeks had gone by.

Anyway, tomorrow I head off for Denver. I'm really excited. Like, really really really excited. I think I like Colorado. I passed thru there going to the rainbow gathering last summer and definitely felt that I would be coming back there.

I've got a lot circling through my head since this weekend about me and my family and all this shit that I can't really put to words. Without going into too much, basically there's a lot of shit that I need to sort out and need to put to words sooner rather than later if I'm not going to fall off the deep end. Shit about my childhood and the way I was raised and my relationship with my parents that's just not resolved.

I feel like I'm running away from my own past. That the last five or six years or so have just been me trying to run away from who I used to be and the situation that I was in living with my parents. And I still haven't recovered.

That's all for now.

In The Closet

WOW, I'm on a dial-up connection. I can't remember the last time I've been on such a slow internet connection, lol.

So I am working on a farm in California. This is my first job I've been able to find since... way too long. I'm not out as trans here, and people have been calling me 'he'. It's really frustrating. I keep wanting to come out but I... don't. I just don't know how it would go over. Maybe I can just pass for the next month or so while I'm here.

I have been wearing girl clothes back-and-forth since I've been here. 'Course, it's hard to put a lot into my appearance when I'm digging around in the dirt all day doing farm work.

It's been real nice getting some serious solitude, tho. My favorite part of the day is at night when I just hang out by myself in my trailer. (Yes, I'm living in a trailer. I love living in trailers.) I just hang out and read. I guess you'd have to experience it to understand.

Anyway, this is the first time I use the internet in a week, since I've been here. And it's really fucking slow. It's nnice being totally cut off from the world and what the hell'z going on.

Well, that's it for now.
XOXO
~Saffo

Farm Life

So I've been in San Francisco for the past week. I thought I'd just stop by here for a bit, but I've been here for a week, trying to find a ride out. I'm going to go work on a farm tomorrow. I finally gave up on trying to find a rideshare since nobody's going the direction I'm going. Anyway, I've been staying at my friend's place for about a week, which is awesome. I think a week is just about the right amount of time to stay in a place when you don't really have anything to do there.

I crossed the Golden Gate Bridge the other day, that was fun. I was talking with my friend who lives here, cuz he said he's never been to the bridge. It's just one of those things-- like, most of the people I've met who live in Athens have never been to the Acropolis. Or who in New York has ever been to the Empire State Building or, god forbid, the Statue of Liberty?

But the Golden Gate Bridge really is pretty fucking beautiful. Even more beautiful, though, is the path up to it through the Presidio, and all the old military stuff around there. San Francisco, as far as big cities go, is pretty fucking beautiful.

But I'm psyched to get off to a farm. I've been spending too much money here and I'm excited to finally get to a job, even though it's not going to pay much at all.

Anyway, what I'm *really* psyched for is this summer, when I go to Bash Back! and then Idapalloza and then hitch across the country. That's going to be awesome.

Cheers,
~Saffo

Blue Eyes

You don't see a lot of Greek people with blond hair and blue eyes. When I go to Greece, people always ask me if I'm German, or Sweedish, or Dutch, or... I once even had someone just walk up to me and start speaking German. I tend to surprise people when I walk into a shop and start ordering things in Greek. The interaction is usually pretty humorous. It goes something like this (in Greek.)

Them: "Why do you speak Greek?"
Me: "Because I'm half Greek."
Them: "Your mother or your father?"
Me: "My mother."
Them: "Where (in Greece) is she from?"
Me: "Egypt."

My mother's family is Greek Egyptian. Which I guess makes the blond hair and blue eyes even stranger. People have a hard enough time realizing that I'm Greek. It wasn't until recently that I found out that one of my ancestors had been a French crusader. My mom spoke about it nostalgically, since she's such a Francophile since she went to a French school in Egypt. I said "you know that means that somebody raped somebody, right?" You don't just have a Greek family and one ancestor just happens to be a French crusader like that. That would explain the blue eyes I guess.

My mom was a refugee from the Suez crisis. Since then she has always hated the British. But she loves France, and everything that has to do with French culture. When I was in middle school and we had to choose between French and Spanish, I chose French. My brother chose French too. I told my mother recently, you know the French did the same thing! It was the French and the British who were the colonial occupiers in Egypt. But the French were her school teachers. She grew up speaking French. I guess that speaks volumes to how much more successful the French colonial project was, in a ways. Colonize the mind through education. Not just brute force.

They say Greek people with blue eyes have special powers, that we can cast the evil eye. The Nazir, or the blue eye, is a talisman that you see throughout the former Ottoman empire, which is supposed to protect people from the evil eye. I always thought it was a Greek thing, but then I realized that it was a Turkish thing as well, and you saw it throughout the Balkans. It would make sense; we were all part of the Ottoman empire. When I traveled to Herzegovina (part of Bosnia and Herzegovina) I got a blue eye bracelet. I have warn it around my wrist ever since.

I don't remember exactly where I got it. It was in Mostar, in Herzegovina-- a town that was particularly ravaged by the war. I know you might think I'm crazy, but this bracelet has special powers. It's not just the blue eye. You see, sometimes it turns red. The eye turns pink and it forms red splotches. This has happened several times, usually when I'm in a difficult situation in life or there is something threatening me. My friend who has psychic powers tried to read it, but it was blocking him. It has a very powerful life of its own. He thinks it may have belonged to a Bosnian woman-- someone who suffered greatly.

I went through a period of freaking out after I realized this. I had been wearing it for a while, not thinking that much about it. Then I was faced with the realization that it had a tremendous power that I couldn't really understand. This happened during a time when I was particularly faced by malignant spirits. I realized that it protects me though. And I still wear it to this day. It's a reminder of some sort of cultural commonality throughout the former Ottoman empire. And it reminds me of where I come from, where I've been, where I'm going.

~Saffo