it struck me how many people were there in secondhand clothes and how many of us seem to have to cobble together an image for ourselves out of almost nothing and I dressed up in my credit-card wardrobe wondering how we all got to be so poor. are there no trannies with corporate jobs or do we always lose them when we decide to transition? trust funds get taken away?
there is no simple answer I am sure but the difference in dress between the trans march and the gay march is striking. everyone looked fabulous of course--just a little worn and faded in spots.
I will ponder this more poetically in the near future. right now I have to grade papers. my favorite moment last night came when we were on our way to BART after coffee after the march and crossed paths with a group of transwomen who said "hi boys!" and we said "hi girls!" and it was very sweet. you don't get that kind of recognition every day and here is something else to ponder the extent to which you are not supposed to let on when your transdar has lit up. was there a time when gaydar required the same sort of discretion? where you weren't sure if someone wanted to be recognized?
I guess there is a question for the mechanism of recognition and the extent to which it relies upon my own representation of myself for which you serve as a mirror and the extent to which recognition is thus illegitimate and imperial. but also the extent to which recognition is necessary to relieve solitude.