A couple of years back I marched at martigras, this year I am not sure if I will go.
When I marched it was under the banner of “The transexual empire strikes back” it was a mix of trans people and sex workers, marching together with joy and strength and the heaviness of knowing those who you would have liked to think where your allies would rather you stopped existing.
The banner we marched under was a play on a book written by Janice Raymond who claimed that trans men didn’t matter, as they where too rare to count, and that trans women where secret agents, created by the patriarchy to work against feminism. She is a feminist who has written in favour of criminalising the sex trade and making it harder for sex workers to earn their living. As one women put it “We want to save you! And if you don’t appreciate it you will be punished!”.
I guess what I am trying to spin here is a celebration of survival, am I romanticising, oh hell yes, but there was something there.
Over lunch two of my coworkers, north shore types who I am pretty damn sure are straight talked about their plans to go to marigras and perve on the butch conventionally attractive men. I feel like there should be space for all of us, but I wonder if their marigras can be mine? I want to tie these two stories together, I want something that unites these feelings I want to craft a story about gentrification, but I suspect it really wasn’t any different a couple of years back, just the people I knew then gave me that sense of community rather than it ever really existed.
Can we be the heroes of our own stories, finding our place, finding community and be free porn for straight girls? I don’t know how.
Not that I am any risk of being porn for straight girls any time soon.