In the last year at least 29 trans and gender expansive beloveds known to have been killed by anti-trans violence in the United States and at least 350 worldwide. I say “known” because too often the lives and deaths of trans and non-binary people go unreported — or misreported, misgendered.
Sunday we wrote the 29 names on a banner, lit candles, and created some visual prayers around the names. You can see the banner hanging in the entry of the church.
The queer community has always known violence. I don’t say this to depress us or as a placid acceptance, but as a statement of truth. Like many marginalized communities we have always known violence. Generation to generation; emotional, spiritual, physical, psychological violence has been woven into the DNA of LGBTQ+ people. But resiliency and resistance have also been handed down as family heirlooms. I am reminded that we’ve been here before and because of our queer ancestors we have stories, and wisdom, and strength to call upon.
I’ve been thinking about the parallels between the AIDS epidemic of the 80’s and 90’s and the epidemic of gender violence we are living through today. There is a similar lack of public conscienceness and awareness while having a significant impact on the LGBTQ+ community. Transgender people are over four times more likely than cisgender people to experience violent victimization, including rape, sexual assault, and aggravated or simple assault, of which more than 80% are women of color. But because of ignorance and misinformation everyone is worried about bathrooms. The invisibility of it is infuriating.
As a musical theatre kid in the 90's, my introduction to HIV/AIDS was through the musical RENT. RENT is a rock musical by Jonathan Larson, loosely based on the 1896 opera La bohème, making it's broadway debut in 1996.
Set in the East Village of Manhattan in 1989/1990, it tells the story of a group of young artist friends struggling to create art and life amid poverty, homelessness, sparkly feisty queerness, drag queens, and punk culture, under the shadow of drug use and HIV/AIDS. Even nearly 30 years later, many of the themes and struggles are familiar today. It has been my favorite musical since I was in middle school. They made it into a mediocre movie a few years ago (*cough* ....2005?!), and there is a recording of the stage production on YouTube. If you haven't seen it, I encourage you to watch.
I've had a couple songs from the show stuck in my head recently.
The first is between Mimi and Roger, they live in a broken down warehouse without electricity. The will fall in love, but in their first meeting Mimi asks roger to light a candle that she’s holding. The song has a lot of innuendos and parallel plot running through, lighting the candle is actually a minor part of the scene. But, the refrain, “will you light my candle," weaves through the verses as they share some of the darker parts of their lives.
The other song, "Will I" is a haunting multi-voice round voicing the deep fears of living with AIDS, and the nearly promised death sentence at that point.
Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care? Will I wake tomorrow From this nightmare?
The song is like a heart wrenching prayer and has stuck with me for years. It is a fitting prayer for many moments in life and I hear it echoed in the voices of the trans and gender diverse community. Will we ever wake from the nightmare of ever-present violence.
In very different ways, these two songs ask am I alone. Will you light my candle, will someone care? Do you see me?
Transgender Day of Remembrance holds space to offer some dignity and care, to honor the lives of those who will not wake from this nightmare. It is an affirmation for our trans, non-binary, and gender diverse friends, loves ones, and community, that we see you, you are not alone.
We light a candle
We care
We will remember
Always
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