11/13/2011

Seattle 168, TDR

Transgender Day of Remembrance an annual ritual in the queer community. Each community marks it in a slightly different way, but there is one element in common: the reading of the names of every trans person who has been murdered in the last year. There is never a year without names. It is a sad time, always set in late November, when the days are short and the skies often gray.

But many of us in the queer community aren't content to stand around and grieve once a year, shivering and crying as the wind and rain extinguish our candles. We are the ones who work year-round to create safe spaces, legislation, support networks and options for queer and trans people. This is for us, and for everyone.

Trans Day of Remembrance

Let their names be counted.
Let them be remembered, let their stories
hang like myth and legend over our hearts.
Let’s pool the flames of each candlelight vigil,
and invite their ghosts to the bonfire.

Let this remind the world that we are here,
and we are watching, and when we lose family,
we throw them the kind of funeral that can’t
be swept into a closet. Let’s make public altars,
throw them concerts, write obituaries,
ink their names in our most naked places.
These are the duties of survivors.

But let it be more
than solemn recitation;
let it be revival.
Let banjo parties and casserole dinners
be born from their ashes.
Let's reach for the ones we fought with,
put seeds in one another's hands,
and hold tight. Let's coax joy from November skies
and dance like we’re headstone sober
but oh, so alive. Alive to speak
and cry and scream and scrape our knees

and go home together. Leave the park
for the kitchen, leave the graveyard
for the bar, grab your violins
and your drumsticks,
toss a toast to every
weary smile to
their lives, our lives.
To the ones who are still here –
let’s make it count.

(c) Dane Kuttler, 2011