Lemon, it's Week Two

I wish I had the perfect words, folks, I wish I did. But I don't, so what I do have is what is on my mind. This might be rough, it might not be the greatest string of words. But it's what I have to say.

Like I don't want to be talking about this crap. I want to talk about movies and television and shit. Hell, I'd prefer to talk about Pete Campbell. And I hate Pete Campbell! Okay, I do enjoy talking about Pete Campbell, that piece of shit. Shit, I'd even talk about Harry Crane and I really hate Harry Crane!

Umm, where was I? Oh yeah, the endless parade of horrors that have been going on the past week and a half. Now, it's been a full buffet horse manure for us all in one form or another, but I want to talk about one specific station of that disgusting spread.

You see, us trans people have all but been declared enemies of the state by the current regime. Look at the several Executive Orders about us and there's one clear signal being sent.

Forget yourself or die.

They say that to me, my wife, a supermajority of our wedding party, dozens of friends, and hundreds of thousands of other Americans who are trans. In the dispassionate legal voice, and in titles and introductions which are peppered with unconcealed hate. They say in unison:

Forget yourself or die.

How do you go on at a time like this? We're expected to get up and do all the usual bullshit of our daily lives. Sitting in meetings and doing our work and acting like we aren't being told by the current power holders of the most powerful state in human history:

Forget yourself or die.

This isn't building to a succinct answer by the way, it's a question I've asked myself pretty much every day. And you know what? It's absurd to have to give a crap about work at a time like this. I don't have an answer, beyond the wholly unsatisfying "what else am I going to do?" I hope you didn't come to me for answer to that question, because I'm going to have to get back to you on that one.

I don't have answers. I don't know what's going to happen. I really don't. But I can say how I feel. I don't really feel sad. That was November. And I don't feel scared, at least not in the unbounded hypothetical sense. That was December. Here, at the end of January, as we are for sure now deep in the shit, I feel angry. So very fucking angry. And all I have to say to those who wish to come make me or the ones I love forget ourselves or die:

C'mon and make me, you toad-lumps!

What's a toad lump? I don't know exactly, but I assure you it's nothing good. It's not something you encounter when things are going your way. In fact, you've probably strayed off the high road, and entered a swamp most treacherous if you encounter them. But it's patently ridiculous, and downright wrong in its heading and trajectory. Its existence is both tragic and farcical.

That doesn't mean it can't bite, and it can't hurt me, or you, or anyone else. This is the unfortunate truth about a toad-lump. Their teeth are sharp, and they will draw blood. But eventually they will burn out, and have a particular problem when people stand up and say, in unison:

C'mon and make us, you toad-lumps!

Say it out loud, I dare you. If you did, I bet you couldn't help but smile. Because the very act of saying it is so damn silly. Awful, sure, but silly. And that's the contradiction at the heart of a toad-lump. It's so silly, that it catches us off guard, and lures us into its swamp. But once we are there, we pass through being scared and realize that the only through is to fight, and that's when the toad-lump is truly vulnerable. But we have to fight, for the nonsensical duality of the toad-lump won't self destruct for us. Instead, we must refuse to pre comply with its horrific croak and its wretched display of its claws and teeth. Yes, we must all stand firm and shout our battle cry:

C'mon and make us, you toad-lumps!

For us trans people, survival is how we win. For some of us it means fleeing the swamp and finding a nice dry place to wait out their destruction. For others it means finding a way, any way, to survive. Be it to support and protect our loved ones, or because we aim to fight, or simply because we wish to spite the fetid dreams of the toad-lump. We must survive. But never collaborate with the toad-lump. One must never become a wubri or a kaitner, after all.

But part of surviving, of standing up to the toad-lump is to find time for joy. To live and enjoy something. Even if its a favorite song in our head, or the stars above. I'm personally going to create things that may or not make sense. I'm going to watch movies, and let you all know about them. I'm going to brush Anya and hold Cora tight and live and live and live.

The sorrowful life of the toad-lump means that true joy is elusive to them. They are too busy forcing the "natural order of things" against our will on the rest of us. But when we survive, it is as we are standing defiant upon a hill and crying together:

C'mon and make us, you toad-lumps!

Okay, cis folks, I know you're here too. I can hear you thinking "But Amy, what about us?"

I've got good news! You get to help out as well. Not by surviving, or rather, your survival and mere existence isn't necessarily an act of defiance. The way you help is by standing with us in the toad-lump swamps. When things happen, and we light the beacons, answer the call. When the toad-lumps mass together and truly begin the attack, use your cis-ness stand between us and their musty jaws. I'm not saying go all Al Pacino in Dog Day Afternoon, but...

But far more often, the things you can do to help are far more mundane. When trans people stand against the toad lumps, amplify the message, but don't expect us to do the work for you. Keep yourself informed. Watch out for the local toad-lumps croaking their misbegotten cries of "PrOtEcT WoMeN" and "GeNdEr IdEoLoGy" at school board meetings and in local elections. Call your representatives. Do it often. Make them annoyed to hear your name. Legislators aren't typically known for their bravery, particularly against the toad-lump, but they don't like being annoyed, and will tend to do things to stop being annoyed.

But it's not just action, it's just being there for us. Buy us lunch, ask us how we are doing, and show interest in whatever things we are writing, drawing, or just doing to distract us from the toad-lumps all around us. Mourn with us our losses, and celebrate with us our victories. The toad-lump chortles at the idea of us all being siloed off away from each other, unable to stand in solidarity. Show them that you will not go gently into that night and instead look to the heavens and we can all together exclaim

C'MON AND MAKE US, YOU TOAD-LUMPS!!!

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Amy