So I was working on a post about how Ray Bradbury has touched me as a writer, and as a person, and how his writing made me hopeful when I was a teenager and didn’t have a lot of hope to go around.
And then Washington state conservatives decided that their precious Jesus-feelings are more important than my rights as a human being and, well, so much for hope.
I don’t talk about it much on here but those of you’ve I’ve met in person probably figured out – I’m trans. I’m not medically transitioning because of health reasons and I don’t pass as male most of the time and therefore, while Amber and I are actually a heterosexual couple, we can’t get married. Yet.
And now I have to fucking sit around and wait to see if people deign to give me my rights? No. Fuck that shit. I am a goddamn motherfucking magician.
I am tired of people disclaiming and talking about how all magic is internal. Doing magic for larger goals is given the side-eye, seen as almost megalomaniacal. How dare one person claim they changed the weather, or the politics, or… well. You get the idea. Even with something like job magic, you’re dismissively told to do the “fill out an application” spell.
I can campaign, and talk to people, and write letters, and whatever, and still do the magic. That can be part of the magic, or related to. But there’s no point in working with the spirit of a place if I’m not also engaging with the people of that place, and therefore with the politics. A city, in particular, is shaped by it’s people.
I live on the Washington side of the Columbia. That means Portlandia is not really the lady I need to call on for this. Maybe John McLoughlin, who founded Ft. Vancouver and did his best to work with and defend the rights of everyone who lived in the area, British, American and indigenous, would be interested.
I have to do something, anyway. Even if I fail, I’d rather say I tried and it didn’t work out.