So, it’s been a rough 12 hours at Ms. Moody’s house. (It’s been a rough year overall, but, per tradition, I’ll save that particular story for New Year’s Eve). Even in the relative safety of Chicago — where we ousted the GOP incumbent senator in favor of Tammy Duckworth, where we had the option of dumping anti-LGBT judges up for retention, and where the only member of the Orange Lantern Corps is visibly frightened to visit — I had a scary moment when I kissed my girlfriend goodbye this morning.
I’m a queer lady. My girlfriend is a trans lady.
We’re quite visible. You may have seen us on the streets, huddled together under a bus shelter, or walking hand-in-hand. We saw you, too. We’re used to stares and the occasional catcall. We’re quite loud, as well. Well-educated, well-spoken (her more so than me), unwilling to let other people steamroll us or patronize or presume to tell us what our needs are, or what we can expect to receive from the paternalistic concern of allies and non-allies alike.
We’re not the “good gays” that are still going to invite Trump voters to brunch at the end of this. If we haven’t run you off already, you’d better lace up your trainers and start now. You’ll be out of our lives before too long and our lives will be better for it.
But, if you were a Trump voter, it’s not you I’m worried about.
I’m worried about the threats made to me and mine by the people you just elected — specifically, the governor who advocated conversion therapy for gay teenagers, the governor who advocated and signed into law “religious freedom” measures designed to limit the mobility of LGBTQA American citizens. North Carolina’s notorious governor is out, but, regardless of whether that will disable that state’s anti-trans “bathroom bill” and repeal of non-discrimination ordinances is immaterial — because two key supporters of similar bills were just voted into two of the highest offices in the country.
So, yes. I was scared to kiss my girlfriend goodbye this morning. Call it separation anxiety, general anxiety, and good old-fashioned dread. I have no idea what kind of country we are going to become after this and how welcome the two of us “bad gays” will be in it in the months ahead. But we’ll be together and we’ll be safe together.
In the meantime, I glad I know how to knit. Wherever we end up together, we’re going to need warm scarves and gloves.