I went to the protest at Seattle Children's Hospital yesterday afternoon. SCH complied in advance — you know, that thing you're not supposed to do with fascists — with one of the executive orders and stopped all surgeries on trans kids. Screw that.
The good news is that turnout was several hundred people, spirits where high, and the small marching band ("Assigned Gay At Band") was good. We spread out along more than a block of Sand Point Way with our signs. There was speechifying through a bullhorn with an ASL interpreter.
At one point a speaker asked how many of the people present are trans. I'd guess between a quarter and a third of us raised our hands. I find that heartening, too. Much honk. Very wave. And one dude in a pickup with Trump cap on his dashboard who did not honk or wave.
I'd showed up late due to poor planning on my part. It was just as well, though, because thanks to Raynaud's I couldn't feel my toes after an hour despite the second pair of socks.
The rest of the day? House cleaning.
But then, Dancer had asked me to go to the fiftieth birthday party of one of her friends as emotional support. The party was OK, I guess, in a bar waaay up in Seattle's north end. And two of the four people I knew there including dancer were Temptress and her boyfriend,![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jengalicious's vile ex.
There was karaoke. Temptress sang "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend"*. I said into Dancer's ear, "Oh, the fucking irony." Dancer, who'd said earlier that we weren't going to stay that long, chose that moment to bail. I don't think she quite approves of how I feel about those two, often mentioning "other people's business", but I reject that categorically. If you fuck up badly enough, it's everyone's business.
As I told Dancer on the way home, I've been in a weird head space this whole week for the same reasons as many of you. She said she was worried about me, which is sweet. She's done other sweet things for me lately that don't belong in a public post. But sweet only goes so far when assholes are running amok.
*How is she as a singer? Distinctly meh.
The good news is that turnout was several hundred people, spirits where high, and the small marching band ("Assigned Gay At Band") was good. We spread out along more than a block of Sand Point Way with our signs. There was speechifying through a bullhorn with an ASL interpreter.
At one point a speaker asked how many of the people present are trans. I'd guess between a quarter and a third of us raised our hands. I find that heartening, too. Much honk. Very wave. And one dude in a pickup with Trump cap on his dashboard who did not honk or wave.
I'd showed up late due to poor planning on my part. It was just as well, though, because thanks to Raynaud's I couldn't feel my toes after an hour despite the second pair of socks.
The rest of the day? House cleaning.
But then, Dancer had asked me to go to the fiftieth birthday party of one of her friends as emotional support. The party was OK, I guess, in a bar waaay up in Seattle's north end. And two of the four people I knew there including dancer were Temptress and her boyfriend,
jengalicious's vile ex.There was karaoke. Temptress sang "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend"*. I said into Dancer's ear, "Oh, the fucking irony." Dancer, who'd said earlier that we weren't going to stay that long, chose that moment to bail. I don't think she quite approves of how I feel about those two, often mentioning "other people's business", but I reject that categorically. If you fuck up badly enough, it's everyone's business.
As I told Dancer on the way home, I've been in a weird head space this whole week for the same reasons as many of you. She said she was worried about me, which is sweet. She's done other sweet things for me lately that don't belong in a public post. But sweet only goes so far when assholes are running amok.
*How is she as a singer? Distinctly meh.
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Date: 2025-02-11 03:07 am (UTC)From: