The Best of the Worst of Times
Glomming onto glimmers in the gloom
Hello friends. What a week this has been! I mean, it’s been metaphorically comparable to so many things, I’m not even sure which to choose. A roller coaster ride? A whirling dervish? A David Lynch film? A Kafka novel? Your basic fever dream? Probably all of it. Suffice it to say that, from where I sit, it’s been a series of downward plunges, a bunch of ziggety zags, and a glimpse from the summit, too.
For me personally, Wednesday was a day of particularly extreme contrasts. By the end of the day, that Dickens quote from A Tale of Two Cities was ricocheting and reverberating like mad off the walls of my between-the-ears echo chamber. What’s that, you say? You’re not into reading agonizingly long novels written by Victorian-era white guys hunched over their desks in the dark heart of colonial empire? No? Not even if they’re one of the most celebrated 19th century authors and generally regarded as a literary genius? Fear not, I fault you not one jot. And I’ve got you. This is the quote to which I refer (which is actually the entire first paragraph of chapter one):
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."
What was it specifically about Wednesday that put Dickens in my noggin, you ask? Well, while that morning may not have been *the* worst of the worst of times, let’s call it close enough. In case you missed it, SCOTUS announced that morning that it had decided to uphold Tennessee’s ban on gender affirming (read: lifesaving) care for transgender youth. Not only was this a terrible blow for trans families in Tennessee, it had much broader implications, because as
reported, right here on Substack, “The ruling effectively greenlights medical care bans across the country and may pave the way for broader restrictions, including for adults…”Juxtapose that morning’s horrible news with Wednesday night, which culminated in a best of times moment around 10:30 pm. But hold on. It’s important not to bypass the fact that the best of times rode in on a series of worst of times moments that began at 6:00 pm, which was the time our local city council meeting began.
I’m not in the habit of attending city council meetings for fun, friends (no shade to any of us reading this who are). But there was no way I was going to miss this one. No way. This was the night the council would vote on a resolution supporting the Trans, Nonbinary, Gender Diverse, and Intersex (TNGDI) community, a resolution that would commit to making our little town a welcoming city and place of safety for folks like me.
While this resolution was non-binding and mostly aspirational, it would be a step on the way to a more binding ordinance and also a public commitment by a little city with a big heart to honor, respect and protect the rights of TNGDI people. It would be an acknowledgement of the breadth and depth of harms being perpetrated against us by the federal government and many (most) state governments. It would be, we were hoping, a patch of calm visibility on the otherwise stormy seas constantly trying to pull us under.
This resolution took hours and hours to put together, and the vote on it had twice been pushed back unexpectedly (the second time, just this past Monday, we succeeded in pushing back the pushback with a tidal wave of righteous indignation). And as the meeting opened, we were sternly warned by the council prez that we would have to sit through a public hearing on the town budget, along with a passel of related appropriations, before we’d be permitted to comment in favor of this resolution.
So sit we did, through over two hours of bureaucratic budget ballyhoo. And by “we,” I mean a city council chamber packed with mostly queer and trans folks and allies, plus a virtual online room of 40+ more of us. By “we,” I also mean a group of people who regularly question their own belonging, because their very existence is targeted every day for scapegoating and, ultimately, erasure.
When the budget ballyhoo at long last drew to a most merciful close, those of us in the room formed a single-file line probably 30 deep to reach a podium where we could take up to three minutes to make our appeals. Our online folks also formed a virtual queue to claim their three minutes. I’ve got to say, friends. Three minutes felt like an absurdly short period of time to make our cases about why our existence might be worth protecting. At the same time, it felt like an eternity to have to try like hell to defend one’s legitimacy.
And as much as I love words, there’s just no way I can adequately convey here the experience of listening to a diversity of voices, back-to-back-to-back-to-back, presenting such a powerful and poignant case for protecting TNGDI folks. There were comments ranging from tragic to laugh-out-loud funny from TNGDI folks of all ages, from their parents and siblings and friends and therapists, from local business owners, clergy, teachers, and cis allies. Each story was unique, and each was spoken in the language of the heart.
I wish I could share each of these stellar public comments with you here, friends. But since that’s not possible, I’ll give you a glimpse of what I said:
I’d like to invite you to imagine the following. You wake up every single morning bracing yourself to face dehumanizing rhetoric about you and your gender identity. You also brace for news of the latest legislative efforts to strip away your legitimacy, remove your basic rights and demolish your dignity.
For decades, you lived trapped in a false identity and in a body that felt wrong for you and caused you to be constantly misgendered. Your nightmare included intermittent suicidality, the horrors of addiction, and eventual family estrangement. Somehow, you’ve survived despite this nightmare, and for the past several years, you’ve been living in alignment with your true self. But now you’re watching, with horrified disbelief, as the legal rights that have allowed you to live authentically are taken away.
I want you to know that this my reality, and the reality of many trans people in this country. Every single day.
Now imagine living in a town that has publicly said “We see what’s happening to you and it’s unequivocally wrong. We won’t stand for it, and we’re committed to protecting you with everything we’ve got.”
Contrast that with living in a town that chooses to ignore your reality and remains silent as you cry for help.
This is what is on the table here tonight. The resolution in support of the TNGDI community isn’t a threat to anyone’s existing rights. It’s a commitment to protect the fundamental rights of very vulnerable people who are being scapegoated.
As I stood at the podium saying the forgoing, I intentionally tried to meet the eyes of each of the councilors. As I said that final sentence, I locked eyes with a councilor who, rumor had it, may cast an opposing vote. As I finished, he gave me a little nod of affirmation.
Once all comments were heard, the full resolution was read, and the vote taken. Then the council *passed* the resolution. UNANIMOUSLY. And then? Then the room erupted in applause and cheers and a standing ovation, and it was the best of times! At least for a few moments.
After it was all over, a friend of mine commented that this was probably the longest amount of time some of the city council members had ever been in a room with a TNGDI person. And maybe the only time they’d ever heard one of us speak. I suspect my friend was probably right. And who knows how the empathy encountered at that novel intersection may have changed their hearts and minds and rippled out into the wider world.
Friends, we are living through what often feels like the worst of times. There is so much reason to feel that way. And yet I witnessed firsthand this week that when a community comes together with resolve based in love and heart-centered values, the best of times can happen, even in the worst of times. May we all have more and more of the best moments as we travel through the worst together, changing hearts and minds as we go, one day at a time.
Vive la Révolution
Big congratulations on your part of creating the best of times within the worst of times! This is amazing; YOU are amazing, Keith!