CW/TW: mentions of mental health, suicidal ideation,
poverty, racism, and transphobic violence
Im afraid of the cynicism it takes for a tranny of colour to survive the city... I say stay soft so we don't break, but how do you stay soft without rotting when they wrap barbwires on trees ? A sister/mentor once said to me: "One of the reasons I love you is because you smell the truth off of everything... I know from experience, as you do, that it's not easy to be a feeling person in this world." So a femme of feelings, going crazy and already clinically sad, rotting of chills and shades in a city that cries with sirens... Sometimes my mind still wonders of ways to die, replaying visuals of overdosing pills and walking in front streetcars - playing with darkness. A trans woman of colour wanders the downtown at midnight searching of moonlight, waiting for answers, for death...
Less than two weeks of settling in and a call to house and support a black trans sister in need, running into the rain and streets of Tkaronto to find a friend of friends that I've only met once. Serving, caring, reaching out for resources and planning collective solidarity/action - we must all practice walking the talk while looking out for those in need and most vulnerable. Another sister joked about me having to cry silently at night now while caring for/rooming someone else. The truth is that I'm not mentally/financially well/stable enough to support much, but this is how trans women of colour survive, together and by each others side. Along the way I had learn sisterhood and self-motherhood as tools of collective thrive, while promising myself and my communities that no one gets left behind. And still I pray/beg for compassion and empathy from even within communities of marginalization, as we have been all too invested individually wether of survival or for "success".
Instead of hiding my scars to serve, I wish to heal for us... I want power, but not how the world knows and understand it. Instead of being known for what I'm doing, I wish to be known for being/feeling/becoming. I want us to do enough, I want us to be enough, I want us to feel enough... I must continue (re/un)learning joy thus to heal for change/justice. I must cry a thousand rivers more if it means to water the soils after planting the seeds. We must dare to have hope, and reimagine love and peace no matter the pains... Though tonight I'm holding myself closer, crying a little louder, and embracing uncertainties tighter - I admit that I am tired, too often neglecting my worth/needs while taking on responsibilities passed down by communities/others. I say I'm here when no one else can be, but who will be here for me or for those after that I'm gone ? Why is it the same people always at the front-lines ? And how will I/we survive better, to serve/support better ?
"I crave a meaningful life of gasping in wonder... a riveting life of panting in heat...
a ticklish life of chuckling and hollering... a sweet life of sighing and star gazing...
a soft life of whispering and kissing...
A life where the words 'I Can’t Breathe' just means
I’ve been laughing a little too hard and I need to calm down.
A life where I am granted the freedom to use more of
my energy exploring myself, my community, and the world around me —
rather than dedicating so much of that precious energy to
protesting, challenging, and suffering white supremacy...
Let me breathe." - Princess Bouton
They say be a storyteller, a care-giver, or a healer during these times, but why not be all ? I wish to care and heal as I connect stories. I wish to continue sharing our pains and our joys; I pray to keep on living despite hurting, surviving, and dying. I wish to become powerful through soft love, to become deeper within only to contribute widely... The privileges of flowing through the in-betweens, smoking a cigarette with tranny sisters talking of crisis-care next steps and joking on death, while the next day smoking a joint with cis-students complaining of boredom. People of institutional privileges question my beliefs/actions in abolishing the police, redistributing my income, and having too much on my plate, but the real issue here is passive/performative allyhood and folks thinking that two weeks of reposting #BlackLivesMatter is enough. Black and femme folks are still dying/mourning; trans folks are still murdered while denied of health-care/shelters. Black trans folks, especially femmes, deserve so much more. I don't understand how people have grown to be so apathetic/complicit, I don't know how to teach care and love if people are hesitant/afraid/refusing to feel... How can we heal ? I'm losing patience for teaching/sharing with crises around/within me - how do I maintain grace ? I'm becoming exhausted with empty commitments and selfish excuses of "self-care" from non-black/native/queer/trans, neurotypical, and non-suicidal people only for joys/peace never shared. I'm tired of BIPOC and trans peoples carrying our own pains while searching for healing and peace, I want us to be more responsible for our collective joys while "allies" step up to fight for the pains and injustices... Though I am let down in disappointment again and again - why I say I don't have friends but only sisters, chosen-families, and partners-in-crime, I wonder why I've continued hope in the same people who suggested going to the police after I was assaulted/ra*ed.
"Your anger is the part of you that knows your mistreatment and abuse are unacceptable.
Your anger knows you deserve to be treated well, and with kindness.
Your anger is a part of you that loves you..."
Thus we love and work harder, we try and try again, we plan, we organize, we try to find peace among uncertainties; thus we search for softness and joy. Im afraid of the cynicism it takes for a tranny of colour to survive the city, but then I remind myself of how it is love and community that got me here and alive today. My understandings of survival has always been collective, and may my storytellings be soft evidences of truth and experiences/encounters. And it is to carry each other's bodies when sore and tired, as it is to carry each other's laughter while relearning joy, that we survive this together... I felt as if I cried a lake from last night til today - drowning from survival guilt, depression, PTSD, and anxieties, wondering and planning of what more I can do without starving, exhaustion, and/or dying. I pray for healing, I mediate on community, and I continue active allyhood with care... Always balancing lines of the in-betweens, and while at the intersections of privilege and oppression, I ask myself - is my justice and healing not worth it too ? I've got so much to learn and let go, I must continue listening to/following those who have survived before and have continued to survive, organize, and thrive, both in self-preservation community support/solidarity. And instead of neglecting myself of rest/joy, I want to still manifest joy and healing for sharing. We've come to know our grief and loneliness so well, thus we must also remind ourselves of hope, of how we got here and how far we've come - only to go further for a breath, together...
what are the colours of leaves from branches wrapped in barbwires ?
how do flowers still bloom while wilting ?
and are we still breathing even though rotting ?
...
...
In a world where my existence and our pride are ongoing threats,
take care and take rest, as
the revolution needs us after to rebuild the world again...
Rest in power and ever soft peace Chantel Moore, Dominique Fells, Riah Milton, and Oluwatoyin (Toyin) Salau. Say their names and demand/act for justice.
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