And Sometimes… It Doesn’t

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“It gets better.” This is what we are told. We are told this by a campaign by Dan Savage to help bullied kids, in particular bullied queer kids. For a while, for a long while, it was kind of true. Yes, in the just over a decade since I came out as trans I have had my fair share of unpleasant encounters with bigots or the system in general, I have also encountered so many people, loved ones and strangers alike, that gave me hope for my future. I remember what things were like when I was a kid, the dark days of the eighties, and got to see all that “it gets better” unfold before my eyes. Continue reading

Funny Thought on 2-21-17

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Funny Thought for the day:

I will get there. I will transition. The estradiol and spiro will shape my biochemistry, and a surgeon will shape my flesh. I will be the me I always knew I could be. Then the robot overlords will come and force us all to upload our consciousness into their mainframe. With my luck.

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How I Stopped Worrying About Riots and Began Loving Anti-Fascist Rage

AfroSapiophile

Hello there.  This is Johnny Silvercloud, the Soul Brother #1 of a Kind.  The Vicious Abolitionist.  Frederick Thuglass.  The Gordon Parks of these parts.  Being that I was back home in Washington D.C. employing my lens during this historical event of an Inauguration, I feel compelled to discuss my mixed feelings on the micro-riot that occurred when I embedded myself into a set of black-clad protesters.

A Different Type of Protester

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When I first saw these protesters arrive, they marched through McPherson Square (a spot for multiple protesters) and I’ll have to say that there was something different than them.  The first thing I noticed was that they were decked out in black, head to toe.  They all wore masks, and walked out in as a uniform front.  Out of the various protesters meeting and crossing McPherson Square, these folks were the most intriguing folks out there.

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Getting Going

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“When the going get tough,” except I am not tough. I am fragile. I break down over a missed or late bus. I cry in great, heaving sobs if there is too much noise in a waiting room. Despite my tough girl persona on social media I loathe conflict, knowing each argument, each raised voice, each stabbing finger puts me that much closer to a quivering heap in the fetal position on the floor. Whatever the farthest thing from tough is, that is me. Continue reading

New Poem: This is a Picture

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I remember the first time I saw this photo. I thought “this is terrible, but maybe this is just what we need to finally get people to act.” I was naive, it is a flaw of mine. Despite my bitching, and my general cantankerousness I want to believe the best of people. Now we have in the highest administrative office of our government a man eager to make things worse, and backers, far too many backers, who are urging him on. Maybe we all need to really see this photo, with our eyes wide open, for the first time.
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