I knew well before the third week of November during my first year of college that I wasn’t going to join the extended family for the Thanksgiving extravaganza. While it wasn’t the first year I had skipped it, the strain of me being a trans boy and the denial of family members rationalizing me as “lesbian but still interested in boys” had been intensifying over the years; I knew my presence there would be like trying to meet north to north, and it repelled me.
I was fortunate to discover–or, rather, learn about–“F*CK Colonialism Day, hosted by Minnesota Transgender Health Coalition.” The latter was a volunteer-led shot clinic run by and for trans people, the former a trans-only holiday event happening at Cafe Southside. Invited by a volunteer at the coalition in my Tuesday night class, and with directions printed of from Google Maps, I made my way from the North Metro to the opposite end of the Cities.
There must have been at least 40 people in the heated event room portion of the split level building, some staying for the vegan mashed potatoes and deep conversations, others coming in and out of the clinic rooms to do their hormone shots. The lights were low and the food stuffs on our slick restaurant plates heavy.
While I’ve been to other events like it since, F*CK Colonialism Day by MTHC means a lot to me. While invited there by a classmate I wouldn’t see again after the end of the semester, I ended up meeting people that I would work with almost five years later as a sexual health and gender educator, eating dishes I would never forget (to this day trying to recreate the sweet potato and pumpkin pie and gluten free stuffing I had), and hearing stories that I hold onto dearly, words of hope and cautionary tales both.
Events like this go on all over the Twin Cities and Greater Minnesota and are typically private and spread by word-of-mouth. This year, however, has been different, for obvious reasons. I am fortunate this time of year to live with other trans people who are reminded of our strained relationships with our families as the world around us amplifies the “Holiday Season.” Today, we order Chinese food and struggle to make a gluten-free cheesecake, we check the scores of Cowboys and Washingtons super spreader event, and we laugh, nothing too different than any other day besides that historic twinge of panic or frustration.
This isn’t a day to be thankful for what the reactions to transness have done to families or the feigned ignorance towards simple public health guidelines has done to support networks. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, an event rife with false claims, this is a good day to remember that trans people aren’t somehow “not trans,” confused, or the “only ones.” You are part of a greater community, and you deserve to be. When you recognize yourself as trans, you have a real claim to trans culture, organizing, and solidarity; you are already cared about. Don’t forget that.
This year is showing us the importance of being able to take care of ourselves without a physical community holding us up. Please keep taking care of yourselves; I’ll be the first to let every trans person I know about an ethical event with warm food and good company, and you ought to be able to go. I can’t wait to meet you, taste what you’ve cooked up (and share my own experiments in turn), and hear everything going through your mind. Be there or be square, and until then, be safe.
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