Reclaiming the T in Time

My morning traipse to work was bleak and rainy.

The fog as I neared campus was thick, offering a limited view. Symbolic. Hazy. Grim.

Gavin Grimm. First words on the morning social media scroll was disheartening news that you, we, are still being made to wait. That the political ping pong is still in play and all hopes for a much needed legal precedent has been prolonged.

Much like my ride through Minnesota fog, it’s hard to see too far ahead. It’s hard to know what hidden obstacles or unanticipated hindrances may emerge from the wisps. That to move along too quickly risks colliding with unnoticed roadblocks. You assume you’ll make it to your next destination just fine, but only being able to discern silhouettes of other moving objects keeps you cautious.

I don’t wanna be made afraid to move, I don’t wear caution well. I don’t wait well. And yet, here we are. Because cis folk with (in)justice titles decided we have time. We’re being killed, actively, passively, and systematically, but we have time. We’re trailing behind, lowest tier on everyone’s mind, be we have time.

I’ve been reading posts about trans+ elders. Critiquing the focus on trans+ youth. I’m struck with how time has never been our accomplice, that we are routinely disadvantaged by time. How time and ageing is a cis privilege. This quote from a recent Facebook post I saw prompts me with these thoughts:

“Many seem to believe that their trans/formed bodies defy chronology and that when their bodies cease to do so, cease to play along with the dellusion of being timelessly young, then they logically should be erased from view.” — Teej Bryan

When we are made to wait, we are being denied even more agency over the time that we are not sure we even have. For me, lusting over old age and living a full life is just that — lusting, wishful thinking, warped reality.

When we are told to wait, whether we are young, newly out, attempting adulthood, ageing, ailing, we are being denied access to our livelihood, and that is a cruelty far worse than arbitrary arguments about gendered facilities. This was never about bathrooms. This is about the manipulation of our time and the torturous impact of being told to wait.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.