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the worst(?) part of it is I don't even have backlash to it anymore. I mean "worst" is not really the word. this is just an observation; this is how it is.

to have a background process in my mind that evaluates every local I meet, dates included, in "likelihood to expect me to culturally assimulate", "likelihood to escalate conflicts that are not with the enemy", "likelihood to agree to hiding my children in their basement", "likelihood to come fight if I'm being attacked ". to not be able to turn off this evaluation.

traveling to a kink party then getting massively affected by a Holocaust memorial because they all hit differently now. then still like, enjoying the kink party but there's also this, in the background. my poem about the experience elicits some strong reactions because of course it does, not all of them positive either because I mean how couldn't it it's the Holocaust, how can I write about it in any way that's satisfactory. how can I art about genocide, it's never enough. then there's so many people who genuinely, deeply appreciate me for who I am, who are enthusiastic about including the exact cultural differences that most of this society hates in me, trans people who cherish being with me with an intensity that makes me want to cry. then one of your trans friends is mourning the death of someone who was that to them, and what can I do about grief, about that bottomless hole. other than saying "I'm sorry for your loss", and what's that. then you have like the most beautiful date in the most beautiful sunny spring day. because, of course, you were trauma bonding with your date, so of course you feel bonded: even your loves are about trauma, even your fun is about pain, even your hobbies are about war. this used to freak me out but now I accept myself as what I am.

being condemned for being who I am made me see the value in who I am.

and then you're thinking of your own trans loss, your grief has calcified by now but it still flares in situations like this because how could it not? and you have to think of all the plans you never got to do with them. and your have to wonder how many more trans deaths, of all the people you have right now how many will be gone in five years? in this atmosphere? ten?

"I bind women with ropes because I do not want them to go away."

and then a new flirt is sending you oodles of love because you two been crushing so hard but there's this sense of like, underlying desperation to it, that you have to enjoy all the trans people in your life as hard as you can because who knows. three months from now I might be kicked out of the country, if the nazis don't get to me first. is this how the 80s felt.

oh yes did I mention there was another nazi rally today? background noise at this point, like who even cares. yeah you have a reichsflag shirt, wake up dude they're sending latinos to death camps already, you're not shocking anybody with that. just passed by a band of them after my date, they didn't bite so whatever. I can't lift a finger unless they attack me first or I get deported, and if they have the guts to start crap they're welcome to it. five against one I don't even care, a girl gets tired of waiting. but they look away, and waiting is what you have to do.

like everyone right now, aware that stuff is going to go down, just waiting for it. except of course for the people currently in places where stuff has already gone down, and by "stuff" we mean "bombs". cellphone videos you watch every day until one day you're the one filming. but hey another date tomorrow and then I'm hanging out with my queer protégés just to vibe and chill...

there's no backlash anymore, life is just this for me now: death and horrors interweaved with love and joy and trans ppl trying to be there for one another somehow, to varying degrees of success or failure, my own included.