August 5th, 2010

queer as a three dollar bill

We shall come home before dark. (Prop8 Ruling rally)

So yesterday!

Judge Walker delivered his decision on the case about two seconds after I decided that there was no point waiting by the internet in suspense, I should go the hell and take a shower. After that, it was all squeeing. I was too nervous to actually eat lunch, although I did have a cup of the moderately vile chocolate-flavored hemp-based protein drink I picked up at Trader Joe's in the hopes that it would serve well for just such occasions.

IRC was a-buzz, despite the general prohibition of politics in #dreamwidth. ##crawl-offtopic was less restrained.

[personal profile] jd talked about the practical considerations of a quick-before-they-take-it-away marriage. I examined the contents of my wallet (enough to at least help out with the cost of a license, as a wedding present, if they went for it), and looked up the requirements for officiating at a wedding in the state of California (if doing it as clergy, one must list one's clergy status on the certificate, and the couple in question must accept one's clergy status, but there is no central registry with the state; one must also be conversant with who can and can't get married, and not marry anyone who can't get married).

[profile] teshiron commented on all the general furor.

Sadly, the chatter became moot when we discovered that there was a stay on the verdict, at least until Friday. So there wasn't to be an emergency wedding -- at least not until later. [personal profile] jd vowed to tell people about it, if it happened. IRC was still enthusiastic about the concept, and people made with the wedding chatter in any case.


I had it in my mind to leave early, but I wound up taking so long with my eye makeup that I was merely leaving on time. Collapse )

Eyeshadow on Twitpic

In addition to the eyeshadow and lipstick, I pinned my braid up in a bun, stuck my fascinator in my hair, and wore my Loud Pink Scarf, which is almost as good as a hair-on-fire boa.

Dressed up on Twitpic

I nearly started crying on the train.

I encountered a few people going my way on the platform at the Civic Center station. We greeted each other with enthusiasm and cheer. We didn't know each other. On the crowded train, I high-fived a little girl with a rainbow-striped hoodie and a rainbow flag almost bigger than she was; she asked me if I was heading to the march. Yes, yes, I was. We saw each other in the parade later. [profile] teshiron hailed me as I got off the train, and we got his iPod untangled from his backpack. The pretty silver rings I wear on a regular basis are the wrong size to fit them. I checked. Just in case. Teshi went off thattaway for the safety briefing, and I emerged into chaos.

There were Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. There were same-sex couples of all ages. Someone handed me a sign referencing the Loving v. Virginia case. Someone handed me an American flag. I collected stickers. I spotted someone with a "BLOGGER" sign in his hatband, and fist-bumped chipuni, who recognized me by name: we know people in common. I held the sign facing traffic. The police kept having to push us back off the street so traffic could get through. There was a truck with a sound system, but it was aimed at the crowd down on Castro, not up on the streetcorner. People were taking pictures, video, of everything. People snapped pictures of me. Two different reporters took my name. One asked me where I lived, how did I feel. Great! Proud. My aunt called in the middle of it all with a question about laundry; I shouted back at her so she could hear me over the noise; she told me to enjoy the party, and she'd see me for the Farmers' Market if I was awake in the morning. I started crying at a few points. There was singing. There were more American flags than rainbow ones, even in the Castro. Some people were wearing rainbow flags as capes. I got a few compliments on my eyeshadow. I kept on holding up the sign and the flag and smiling. I was surprised that my face didn't get tired.

JD texted me to ask where I was. I made my way through the crowd to their corner, then called to navigate precisely through the masses of people. They were both in SAFETY t-shirts over their long-sleeved shirts. We waited for the parade to start and kept clear of the streetcars. JD insisted that Teshi and I simply must watch Cazwell's "Ice Cream Truck", which elicited equal amounts of giggling and staring from us, peering at Ryan's Blackberry's screen, sharing a pair of earbuds, one for each of us. A woman with a tiny girl in arms walked past; I passed along the pink beads I was wearing.

The parade started out with the truck, blasting music. I fell in behind it. I wasn't sure if I was going to keep up with the parade, as I walk slowly, but I reasoned that I could start out near the head of the parade, walk as fast as I comfortably could, and drop back; if the parade left me behind, I could simply walk to the courthouse on my own, a one-woman parade.

We got the entire half of the street as we marched down Market in the direction of the courthouse. Cars honked. Pedestrians waved and snapped pictures. One guy was driving along with his cellphone stuck out his window, naughty naughty. A streetcar driver rang his bell for us. We cheered and waved back, waving our flags, our signs. There was a huge rainbow flag. One girl wasn't feeling the cold because she was drunk. People waved from windows, from the upper story of a bar. I sang: at first to the truck's music ahead, then, when I fell back out of range, I sang snatches of "We Shall Come Home" to myself quietly -- this was a homecoming, not a protest. Then I switched to "James Bondage". A fellow with a guitar came along, singing "Going to the Courthouse", and I sang along with him. We kept pace for a while, and eventually people around us joined in. Going to the courthouse of love.

[personal profile] jld texted me, so I knew he was in the parade somewhere. We found each other just as the parade reached the Civic Center Plaza, and he and his friend homed in on JD and Teshi as I joined all of them. A police motorcycle motorcade brought up the rear of the parade, and I realized that I had, in fact, gone from the head of the parade to the tail, but I had actually marched the whole 1.6 miles with the parade, even walking slowly, with a cane, and a sign, and a flag, and in pain. I started to realize how much I actually hurt. I limped along to the speechifying. Eventually I needed something more than my cane to lean on, and located a handy railing. I draped myself over that as I learned that on this very same day as Judge Walker's ruling, a group had released a massive document that hospitals receiving ... some sort of funding, I was too whited-out to register ... were expected to take as guidelines, with thought given to unmarried same-sex partners, same-sex parents even if the parent had not legally adopted the child, transgendered people. I cried -- broke down sobbing, rather than dribbling decorous tears as I had been doing here and there all day -- as I heard that the guideline stated that transgendered people should be addressed by their preferred gender and name. I never knew you, you were just part of the extended part of my social circle, and it is too late for you, but be damned to the ignorant, fearful people who denied you your very name and pushed your family to allow them to do so before you slipped away and died. Be damned to them.

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