A Day of Remembrance….and a Call to Action

Since the election, I have worked harder than I thought possible, with back-to-back sessions until 9 and 10 at night. I have supported friends and clients as they cried in anger, fear, rejection, despair, and anguish. So many of my transgender and gender diverse clients are scared for the future, their own and ours as a society. When you live your life in constant and genuine fear about your safety, your health, your relationships, your job, your children, your neighbors…..and everything else that makes up our daily existence, it is not an overreaction or overdramatization or distorted thinking to be terrified of what is coming down the pike. It is the reality of those pushed to the fringe who are trying to survive. Trying to stay alive. It is scary and it is sad. Tears, tears, and more tears. Though it all, I remained steadfastly resolute so that my clients had a safe space. Compartmentalization is a wonderful skill as a therapist to avoid burn out and emotional reactivity. But it takes a toll. For me that toll was this weekend.

The Transgender Day of Remembrance (TDOR) began after the 1998 death Rita Hester (http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2015/11/20/the-trans-murder-that-started-a-movement.html). Rita was murdered in Boston. She was savagely attacked in her own apartment and stabbed twenty times. She did not die right away. She died of cardiac arrest as soon as she arrived at the hospital. The following year, Gwendolyn Ann Smith organized a memorial for Rita that has grown into an international event in more than twenty countries. At each event, the names of those who were murdered the previous year are read or displayed. This year’s list included nearly 90 lost souls from the past twelve months.

candleheartAs I participated in my first TDOR, lighting a candle on in support of transgender and gender diverse people everywhere on behalf of mental health professionals, I was speaking out. Not just about the past twelve months, but about the coming twelve months. And the twelve after that. And so on. The candle I lit on behalf of mental health professionals represented our commitment to do all we can to prevent violence, end oppression, and heal those who are hurting to build communities of love and unity.

As the ceremony progressed and I had time to reflect on the past two weeks and the spirit of the room, I started to have a very emotional reaction. I knew immediately it was a release of all the feelings I had been dealing with for two weeks. I delayed my own reaction to the election and our future so that I could remain available to my clients, my friends, and my family. I had let it build and build and build. I had been holding it back for as long as I could….until I couldn’t.

238When I saw the names of those murdered across the globe (https://tdor.info/), I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I sat there crying and crying, trying my best not to actually sob. Each name that flashed across the screen brought out another tear. And another. And another. The most painful reaction was every listing of “unidentified woman” or “unidentified man.” The nameless who were killed and disposed of without anybody even realizing they had been taken from this world. Where are their families? Their loved ones? Their friends? Who has not yet noticed somebody is missing from their life?

Sad as that was, my reaction only got worse as I let my mind wonder. I tried to imagine what it must have been like for Rita Hester the night she died. I tried to imagine somebody entering my home, the safest space I have, with the sole intent to kill me. What it must be like to feel the knife slice through skin over and over and over. Feeling cold steel cut into muscle, cut through arteries or veins, pierce vital organs. Tearing through nerve endings and flooding my brain with pain signals. To see another person looking into my eyes as they stabbed deeper and deeper out of nothing but hatred and malice. And then they leave me there. In my living room, bleeding out. How terrifying would that feel to me to know I was dying, all alone, just for living my genuine life. What would those last few moments of consciousness reveal to me? What would be my last thoughts and feelings as the life drained out of me and I slowly left this plane of existence?

I cried. A lot. At one point a friend asked if I was going to be okay, if I could get through the ceremony. It occurred to me as I looked around the room that I was crying harder than anybody else. I don’t think it’s because I was more affected by senseless murder than anybody else. I don’t think it’s because I’m more aligned with a community than anybody else. I don’t think it’s because I’m a more sensitive person than anybody else. I know what happened….I stopped taking care of me and let it all build up to the point it was like a dam bursting, with a river of emotion pouring downstream and washing away all my safety and security.

Two days later and I still have not recovered. I’m still crying. I’m so sad and so angry. I’m so fearful for my friends and all those beautiful souls who are just living their truth. I want to do more and I feel powerless. And that makes me cry all over again.

socialjusticeI will be fine, this I know. At some point I will be cried out and something else will try to take over. A sense of tragic normalcy where I once again feel numbed to news coverage of hatred and bigotry because it has become just another thread in the tapestry of our society. I cannot allow this. I would rather cry every single day than become blasé to cold-blooded murder rooted in hatred and persecution. Instead, I will channel this sadness and anger into action. I will continue to stand up for the marginalized and disenfranchised group of people who have accepted me into their subset of our larger community and shown me much love and grace. I will continue to fight not only for mental health parity but social equity. I will honor the commitment I made when I lit my candle. To prevent violence, to end oppression, and to heal those who are hurting to build communities of love and unity.

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