Do it For the Pettiness
There are many uplifting, hopeful reasons for trans people to carry on fighting. Riley Silverman brings us some of the other ones.
photo by Riley Silverman
by Riley Silverman
Hi there. If you’re reading this then I assume that you, like me, have been scrolling endlessly for the last several weeks looking for the finest glimmers of hope and optimism you can. Failing that, I’m sure you, like me, have doomscrolled, happy to at least commiserate with like-minded scared folks. Failing that, I hope that you, like me, have amassed a decent selection of cat videos, fanfic, video game playthroughs, Agatha All Along episodes, or whatever it is that gives you even a single moment of disassociated joy that you can carve out right now. Take what you can, seriously.
Knowing all of that is possible, I want to say then that this isn’t going to be another of any of those things. Not because they aren’t valuable, because wow they are, but because I don’t feel like at this moment I can say or do anything in those arenas to top that. I can’t be that voice right now, and if I can’t be that voice, expecting you to receive such wisdom from me seems like a foolish endeavor and a waste of both of our time.
Instead, if you were to ask me how else I might persevere, how else I plan to remain resolute for the fight, and all that, then I have one additional sense of why I will keep going, personally: Because doing so annoys the shit out of anyone who wants me to stop.
Lots of amazing sources can ramp up the optimism and the hope, but I’m here today to tell you to survive, to push back, to continue to exist as you for one very small reason. That reason is pure pettiness. Be petty. Be the most petty, obstinate, stubborn little (or big!) queer you can possibly be, and keep going because you and I both know they will absolutely hate it.
I’m a 42-year-old trans woman. For most of my adult life, I have been living openly as myself. I’m not “passable.” No one would ever confuse me for a cis woman. Digging into my whole chest to belt out my pronouns is old hat for me, and I will continue to take stodgy delight in doing so in response to anyone who tries to use other ones. Because they’ll never get to decide this for me.
If they call you the wrong thing? They’re wrong. If they force you to change your ID, they’re giving you a wrong ID, how weird of them. What fools they are to think that anything they do has any power over who you actually are, what your heart and soul and stuffed IKEA shark have long since settled as being an immutable fact of your being.
You ever see or read any version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas? Remember that part in the story when the Grinch has stolen all of Whoville’s Christmas supplies and he goes to his little spot on the hill with his mistreated dog? He’s so excited to sit, put his hand to his ear, and listen to the Whos start to cry about their missing Christmas. But what happens instead? (Spoiler) They come outside, take up hands, and start to sing. And the Grinch is furious. The only thing in the world he wanted to do was stop these Whos from singing and they sang anyway! He’s a cranky, lonely, angry guy standing in the snow mad that the spirit of Christmas still came without ribbons, it came without tags, it came without packages, boxes, or bags.
Now, of course, that story ends with the Grinch having a change of heart (literally, his heart changes and grows) and we both know that’s not happening. So I say to you: None of what I’m suggesting out of any hope that it will fix their hearts or their minds. I’m saying it to you because regardless of what they do, you have the power to sing anyway.
They want so badly for you and me to shrink, to give up, to wilt away and accept their narrative. They will try every single possible trick they can think of to diminish us. But how much sweeter will that feel for us, when all of that doesn’t work? If they get their way, have every piece of absolute power they can grab that they think can reshape the world to their wildest fantasies and yet somehow, despite all of that, I’ll still be here exactly as who I am, and you’ll still be here exactly as who you are, and they absolutely cannot do anything about it. So, if you can’t hold on to any hope, to any joy, or optimism (and I hope you can), hold on to that petty feeling. We got this. And they don’t.
Riley Silverman (she/her) is a writer, comedian, and professional geek. An author of Star Wars books, Riley is also a contributing writer for Nerdist and Fandom, the award-winning sci-fi podcast, Bubble, as well as SYFY's Forgotten Women of Genre limited podcast series. She has rolled dice on numerous actual-play D&D and roleplaying shows, including in the role of Braga for the official tabletop adaptation of Rat Queens and as GM on the Doctor Who TTRPG series Game of Rassilon. Her comedy album Intimate Apparel was a #1 bestseller. She lives in Los Angeles, California.