I hadn't gone to a TDOR vigil for a few years. (I did go to the one for Brianna Ghey in 2023.) Since it moved out of the city centre, the venues have always been inconvenient. Both Clifton and the University are the wrong side of town for me and going round the Ring Road at that time of day is a pain. But this year it felt important to attend, given the prevailing climate:
Ever increasing hate crime, propagated by a callous cum malicious mass media to further its own interests. A cowardly prime minister with TERF-adjacent cabinet set on implementing the politically motivated bullshit that was the Cass Report. An impending trans-hating Christo-fascist US government with full control of the legislature. And on. And on.
So I made the effort. It was cold but everyone dressed warm. (Me: afghan coat, chunky mohair jumper, bobble hat in trans colours.) A huge trans flag appeared on the giant screen – and disappeared to leave us in candlelight – then reappeared and disappeared, ad repetitum. We listened to and applauded speeches and poems and such. When those had finished we were invited inside for food and fellowship.
I went home.
I like social situations less and less. I don't want to talk. I avoid conversation when I can. I don't have anything to say anyway. I haven't posted here in months. All I have is unexpressed and unorganized feelings, mostly of a lugubrious nature.
But as Amelia from the Hub said beforehand: It was “a chance for us to come together, honor, and remember”. That much at least I can do.
