We Need More Real LGBTQIA+ Allies
Feeling safe and secure as a queer person is an ongoing battle — one we need help with.
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Generational trauma is an invisible blanket that covers the soul. Its strands are woven together by the anxieties and depressions of a collective group that once experienced something horrific. We define it as the past relived in the present, former memories, though not our own, that remind us to be as small as possible, to step aside for the ones who demanded our execution, who held the knife and roused the crowd. Histories that tell us to fear: a shadow, a footstep, a stare. But what do we call trauma that is relived, over and over again, in the present? What do we replace the word generational with when the memory is traced not in our blood, but the way we walk, the way we speak, and the way we dream.
This is not a plea for understanding, nor a statement of anger. Anger requires some semblance of surprise. This is an obituary for Jesús Ociel Baena — Mexico’s first openly non-binary magistrate and a prominent LGBTQ+ activist — and their partner, who were “found dead” in their home after several death threats. This is an obituary for O’Shae Sibley — a dancer and choreographer who reached the heights of performing at the Lincoln Center with an all-queer dance group — who was killed in Brooklyn while his friends were voguing. This is an obituary for Jacob Williamson (18), Akira Ross (24), Cam Chamberlain, Ashley Burton, Chanell Perez, and every queer life that has been underreported by major news sources.
We are nurses, artists, technicians, volunteers, CEOs, teachers, therapists, and mechanics. We are daughters, sons, grandchildren, aunts, fathers, mothers, and friends. All we want to do is be able to exist.
This is a declaration of remorse for the way we transform entire lives into statistics, names on a page that read like a recipe, in an attempt to draw attention to the fact that we are being slaughtered. This is a reminder that existing, for many people on this planet, is an act of resistance, for we are told that we are not wanted here until we are removed.
Most of all, this is an urge for the allies to read, speak, and act.
Take notice of the disappearing bodies, the voices that are being silenced, and the violence that grows unchecked like invisible mold beneath the convenience of a global trend, for repping the glitter on Euphoria and jokes on Drag Race does not amount to the induction of an ally. The world sports our colors and adopts our makeup, but falls short of understanding what it means to be other. We need allies who are prepared to speak up, to lend an informed thought to the cultures of religion, masculinity, and homophobia that have robbed us of our friends since the very beginning. We need less people who ask us what it means to be queer, or why something is homophobic, and more people who are ready to explain on our behalf — especially in the spaces we don’t have access to: the locker rooms, the courtrooms, the private parties.
There have been several instances in my life where I have heard someone ask a simple question or speak a subtle statement that poses more harm than they understand. Lacking knowledge of another community and expecting them to explain their experience to us is, in and of itself, harmful. According to the HRC, over 200 trans people have been killed in the U.S. over the past five years — it scares me more knowing that most people I’m acquainted with have never consumed a single piece of trans media than it does knowing that the killers exist. Families and friends can live with the impression that they are allies without understanding the lived experience of a single queer person. When a bigoted comment comes their way — ”trans people are making our kids trans,” “I just don’t like sassy gays,” “you don’t seem queer” — with what vocabulary will they rebuild ignorance into empathy? My fear and assumption is that, on most occasions, bigotry is left unchecked, for the majority of society lacks the resources to combat it, and the responsibility is alway redirected onto the people who are being attacked in the first place.
This extends to every community that has been persecuted and othered. This extends to every life that has contributed to a percentage on the page. If you trace the story of any oppressed peoples back to the beginning, it started with an aggressor who was supported by a population of neutralists, people who watched and frowned but never said a word. We need allies, not idlers.
On certain days that I think about the news, I am afraid. I am afraid to hold my partner’s hand in the park, to wear colors around my eyes, to walk and speak the way that I do, until fear transforms into the dull understanding that this is how it is, that the rest of our lives could be reduced to a white blur of anxiety unless we remind ourselves to continue living, to cope with the mechanisms we have to feel safe, even if we are not.
The fear can feel like a strike of thunder with no beginning or end. I tell myself that people are kind until the rumble recedes to rainfall. I pause in the pleasure of a movie, a walk, or a chat with a friend, things that convince me the world is good. I write a few words, and then a few more, until I find my way back to hope, for the only option, and the best way to fight, is to believe that the sun, somewhere, is always shining.
An Experimental Capy Corner: My Favorite Things 🙂
Hello capybaras! I want to continue experimenting with the “Capy Corner” until I find something that y’all resonate with. This time around, I’d like to share some of my favorite things (very in tune the spirit of the holiday season!).
At the moment, these are a few of my favorite things…
Film — Happiest Season (on Netflix & Hulu): I watched this a while back and recently rewatched it in a pool of heartfelt tears. I’m excited to say that this film may FINALLY replace my festive obsession with the heteronormative, outdated films Love Actually and The Holiday (although I will, of course, still watch those films)
Restaurant — Michi Sando (CDMX): Mijael and I recently visited this restaurant for the first time and I LOVED IT! It’s a Japanese sandwich cafe with delicious Japanese-style sandwiches (tamago, chicken katsu, pork katsu, etc.). Their homemade bread is out-of-this-world and the decor made me feel like I was back in Japan. They also have sake bombs on the menu!
Book — Horizontal Vertigo by Juan Villoro: Currently reading this collection of essays and stories about Mexico City and I’m loving it. The book is filled with anecdotes and analyses of the city’s culture, history, people, and general ethos. Highly recommend for anyone who is living in, traveling to, or simply obsessed with CDMX.
Music — ANOTR: Every single song by this duo makes me bop my head and shoulders. It’s house, groove, funk, and (at times) techno all in one.
If you miss the weekly news roundup from previous newsletters, please let me know!
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With love,
Your favorite capybara ~ AKA Travis Zane
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Sleepover is a party that turns into a sleepover, a newsletter publishing cozy content to your inbox every week, and an occasional mixed media series promoting BIPOC+, queer, and womxn-identifying creators — produced online and in print.