Coming off of an extremely, extremely full weekend. Dyke March. The Trans Memorial. Eating fire. The love, the tears, the caring, .... the fear nibbling around the edges.
I haven't really processed everything yet, but I did want to tell you about someone I met on the T Saturday, heading into the Boston Pride parade.
I'm not really a crowds and parades person. I'm kind of introverted, can be painfully shy, and am a perfect example of Hannah Gadsby's "Quiet Gay" - you'll find me with a book and a cup of tea in the queer-friendly bakery, not at the dance party.
But still, every year my partner and I march in the Trans Memorial section of the big Boston parade. It's important to me to be there, to carry a sign with a name, and bear witness to who we've lost, despite the lack of sleep after the wonderful Dyke March the night before.
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