First of all, I must register my amusement at the election of Governer Jerry Brown, who always smiles and never frowns, soon he will be PREZ-I-DENT! (Fun fact: I actually have been forced to meditate in school.) I am relieved, of course– Whitman would’ve been terrible, not least because then I would be posting “Material Girl” instead of “California Uber Alles.”
I am, however, extraordinarily disappointed by the passing of Prop L. I need to take this moment to say a massive FUCK YOU to San Francisco, and all the people in it who were narrow-minded and small-hearted enough to vote yes on L. Monday there is a protest at City Hall. I’m thinking about getting arrested. Hope I see you there.
On a lighter note, Victoria Kolakowski of Alameda County has just become the first transgender judge in the history of this nation. There were a lot of trans women in this election, actually. Theresa Sparks ran for supervisor here in San Francisco (and lost). And in Oaklahoma, of all places, Britney Novotny ran for the house of representatives, and also lost– but its incredibly impressive that she even had a fighting chance out there. I want to applaud the courage of all of these women for undergoing the trauma of a public campaign wherein their medical history was guaranteed to be under the crudest possible scrutiny and constantly held against them.
Yesterday at a bus stop I saw an example of that kind of ignorant scrutiny. I was waiting for the 24 in the Castro. A couple of older cis people were at the stop with me. Across the street from us was a poster of candidate Rebecca Prozan, openly queer and quite butch, who the cis folks seemed to have confused with Theresa Sparks. “Isn’t that a transgender?” “Is it a man who became a woman or a woman who became a man?” “Well if it was a man who became a woman why would he become a woman who looked like that?” On and on and on. It was almost funny. People are so entitled.
In conclusion, I have been constantly bewildered over the past week about the perfectly socially acceptable way in which sports fans can scream as if they are getting murdered. I, too, am often tempted to scream when I am having a good time, considering that my idea of a good time involves bondage and heavy beatings– but if I were to do so at home, somebody upstairs would probably call the cops. It’s just not fair. (Here I sulk.)
See you all next week for your upcoming installment of Transgression. I’ll be talking about the “It Gets Better” movement. Stay tuned.