I don’t want any more trans dead to bless

Within the past week, A 16th trans person (or 10th, depending on who’s doing the counting and what criteria are being used) has been killed since the first of this year, and all but one has been a person of color.

This time it was a 25-year-old black woman named India Clark, found beaten to death in Tampa Park Tuesday, July 21.

We’ve had three trans youth commit suicide in the past months here in San Diego County. I received a pink, white and blue bumble bee at the T Spot booth in remembrance of Kyler, one of the three youth.

I participated as a substitute angel in the die-in portion of the trans contingent in the San Diego Pride parade. One of the designated angels couldn’t make it, and another was late, so I filled in. I was the only other one in the contingent dressed in white, so I stood in. The angels blessed those in the contingent who stood in for the dead; it wasn’t lost on me that I was the only white angel; I was the only angel who wasn’t a person of color of the three taking on the role of angels.

This doesn’t take into account all of the trans people who face close calls with, or actually experience, violence in their lives for being trans. This doesn’t take into account all those who consider suicide but don’t follow through, or attempt suicide but fortunately don’t succeed, with transgender experience being a contributing factor to their considering suicide.

I blessed those who stood in for the dead.

While writing for the blog Pam’s House Blend, I covered the trial of Allen Ray Andrade from the Greeley, Colo. courtroom. He was convicted of murdering Angie Zapata. “It’s not like I just went up to a school teacher and shot her in the head,” I heard him say in a recorded jail house phone call played during the trial. “You know what I mean? It’s not like I went up to a law-abiding straight citizen.”

Andrade called her “it” and “that thing” in those recorded calls as well.

I still live with the pain of the death of my friend Christine Daniels (formerly known as Mike Penner). She committed suicide after detransitioning.

I blessed those who stood in for the dead.

It rained during the San Diego Pride parade. The angel wings I wore were designed for sunny San Diego weather – they were beautiful pieces designed by trans community member Invictus. When it rained, however, the synthetic feathers soaked up the rain like sponges, and the wings became heavy burdens to raise and lower. My body, days later, still aches from the efforts of raising and lowering the wings.

With the contingent of those who stood in for the trans dead who’ve died since the first of this year, part of its message was awareness and part of its message was to invest in the lives of trans people and issues as the fight for marriage equality winds down.

Frankly, I don’t know what further investment will look like, although I believe it’ll happen. It’s already begun to happen, yet I see it happening in a more diversified way into the future.

It’ll depend a lot on if the diversity of the trans community embraces its allies and potential allies, or alienates them with rhetoric and actions that rejects, or appears to reject, them.

Allies are wanted – needed – to help stop the deluge of death by participating in the process of showing that trans lives are valuable lives worth living. And, they are lives valued by more than just their trans peers.

With that thought in mind, I want to let all those who are reading this know how difficult it was by the end of the parade for me to bless those who stood in for the dead. The physical pain matched in inward turmoil.

I don’t want to bless any more dead, not because the dead don’t need blessing, but because I don’t want any more trans dead to bless. But I know – I know – there will be more trans dead to bless for years and years to come.