14 months in which I’ve been called ‘demon’, ‘faggot’ and ‘man’ and misgendered in every imaginable way, threatened with violence and sometimes scared for my life.
14 months in which verbal harassment from groups of men on street corners became a regular part of my life. Exposure. Vulnerability. Fear.
14 months also, of respect, and beauty. Of having the privilege to create new networks and projects, new friendships and connections. Of building change,and getting to share my stories. And best of all, to hear those of so many inspiring activists and their communities and struggles.
14 months of seeing people show up for each other with such elegance, dignity and sincerity, so far from the shallow ally theatre we all know so well.
14 months in which I could not have worked harder, which have left me as precarious as ever, just a bit more tired with some incredible memories.
Financially, energetically, I can’t say if its been worth it. I also had no other option to get my work out. Publishing and success are all about money and looks. Power and class and knowing the right people. The odds might be stacked too high for my work to really get out in the world, but I’m going to keep trying just the same.
My best won’t always be good enough, I know that. I feel it. But I can at least celebrate that I tried. I’m deeply, deeply grateful to everyone who supported me and also to myself for making this happen. I showed up. We did this. Thank you with all my heart.