we gonna trod until babylon falls.
Dec. 16th, 2003 05:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
starfrostingI am not cool enough not to eat.
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In my dream I walked into a big hardware store with Ali. They were letting in students in small controlled groups; Ali wanted to go in cos there was some boy inside.
In my dream I was scared cos I walked inside and someone asked, Are you a guy? And like always there was enforced threat behind this question. In real life I could not be mistaken for a man. In my dream, in the hardware store, I could. It cut to my nervous hands smoothing down napkins and forgetting if knife or spoon goes on the outside. Kristy was there, telling me to look at it as a positive thing, an assertion of my gender deviance or strength or something I don’t know. And my hands shook as I lay down knives and tried to tell her that it’s not true, it’s not genuine, I’m just not that butch and besides there was violence there. In real life she, way more than dreamself me, would know this of course.
Brushing my teeth this morning I realized the incredible danger women like Kristy and Drake face each day. Using the term woman loosely, of course. Not that I hadn’t realized it before, but it punched me in the stomach and said, Wake up. This was a dream for me, on two levels: the nightmare level and the secret desire to be more boish sometimes--for them it is everyday, waking stomping striding life.
In my dream I just broke down, but in real life I want to be a source of support and strength for these brave people living themselves against all odds and gender laws. I want them to do more than survive, trodding through Babylon.
* * * * *
* * * * *
In my dream I walked into a big hardware store with Ali. They were letting in students in small controlled groups; Ali wanted to go in cos there was some boy inside.
In my dream I was scared cos I walked inside and someone asked, Are you a guy? And like always there was enforced threat behind this question. In real life I could not be mistaken for a man. In my dream, in the hardware store, I could. It cut to my nervous hands smoothing down napkins and forgetting if knife or spoon goes on the outside. Kristy was there, telling me to look at it as a positive thing, an assertion of my gender deviance or strength or something I don’t know. And my hands shook as I lay down knives and tried to tell her that it’s not true, it’s not genuine, I’m just not that butch and besides there was violence there. In real life she, way more than dreamself me, would know this of course.
Brushing my teeth this morning I realized the incredible danger women like Kristy and Drake face each day. Using the term woman loosely, of course. Not that I hadn’t realized it before, but it punched me in the stomach and said, Wake up. This was a dream for me, on two levels: the nightmare level and the secret desire to be more boish sometimes--for them it is everyday, waking stomping striding life.
In my dream I just broke down, but in real life I want to be a source of support and strength for these brave people living themselves against all odds and gender laws. I want them to do more than survive, trodding through Babylon.
* * * * *
