From The Blogosphere To The Streets And Back To The Blogosphere Again

A wild Real Life appears!

They Call Me Vroom uses “focus on writing commitments”.

Real Life uses “flooded basement”!

It’s super effective!

They Call Me Vroom uses “walk it off”.

Real Life uses “Pride Weekend”!

It’s super effective!

They Call Me Vroom is about to faint!

Real Life uses “begin planning trans conference held out in Nor Cal redwoods!”

They Call Me Vroom uses “take some time to get her shit sorted out and feel bad about it later”.

Pride. The activist blogger’s lament. A year toiling beneath the dull bluish hue of a computer monitor, forwarding e-mails, penning snappy one-liner cuts on queer snark message boards (more like TWISTED CISTER, AMIRITE?) and conducting grueling, midnight-oil burning research on a possible cure for that special type of stupid that causes “Harry Benjamin Syndrome”, all so you can be outdone by a cadre of shirtless assholes on the Bank of America float.

Oh em gee, how progressive and brave of them to show their support of the cause…and advertise at a street fair with at least a million fucking people in attendance.

I’m sorry. It’s not BoA. Or the girl in rainbow armbands and the shirt that said “straight not narrow” passing out flyers for some show of her friend’s band or whatever. Or the guy rubbing one out on the Burger King wall. It’s me.

Only I could go to SF Pride and be more excited about my ice cream sandwich than experiencing community and visibility and blah blah blah grumble get off my lawn. To say I had a terrible time would be untrue. I got to see a living statue (and squee), took my picture in front of a banner for my girlfriend (who couldn’t attend)’s rugby team, and got to use the word “classist” in casual conversation sans eye-rolling from my friends. So it wasn’t a total bust.

Now I know how a freegan left inside the Mall of America must feel. How can there be this many people and nothing to do? I mean, there’s tons of shit to buy, but nothing to do. And who the fuck told Leather Alley it was okay to charge a $5 donation? AND HOW CAN IT BE A DONATION IF IT’S MANDATORY? I ALREADY GAVE YOU $10 AT FOLSOM LAST YEAR! WHEN DOES IT END, I ASK YOU, WHEN DOES IT END?!

I think I need to regain my perspective. So I’m going home to Phoenix for the 4^th of July weekend. Four days of my friends and family referring me by my birth name/gender and being asked for ID every time I use a public rest room should give me something to really cry about.

I seem to forget that out here in SF, I’m considered among the privileged. I pass. 100 percent of the time. I have access to hormones, and have never gone longer than two months without. I have a partner who accepts and validates my identity. The fuck do I have to complain about? I bet I won’t even last four days in Phoenix. Five bucks says I crack the first time an establishment refuses to serve me. I’ll be missin’ all that fancy big city commercialism when people are poking my hair and tits, asking me if they’re real.

It’s easy to forget that not every front of the struggle is fought on balanced terrain. Here and now, my objective is not to be obligated to buy useless shit I don’t need as a condition to participate in my community. Tomorrow, in Phoenix, my mission will be to take a leak in peace. In April I am hosting/organizing/bottomlining a Camp Trans-esque event out here in Nor Cal. And while there, I will sit down with every person who attends and ask them what their day to day, real life experience conditions are, and be wiser with the understanding of just how misbalanced the needs and wants of the community per region really are. And then, I don’t know, I’ll become a famous artist activist and travel the country fighting the kyriarchy and sawing women in half or something. Maybe. I dunno. I’ll let you know when I’ve learned the “buy cupcakes without incident” trick down.

For every friend who asks me if I’ve heard about the passport policy change I will donate $1 to a charity of your choice.