So that time of year has come and gone in San Francisco once again. I’ll admit that this was the first Trans March I had walked in since moving here 4 years ago. It also was the first time someone has put themselves out in the public “officially” showing support of me.
(I’ve not had the fortune to have had a family member do such a thing, as I was pretty much shunned by blood and attacked, sometimes verbally, by the other.)
She, my girlfriend, stood (or rather sat in a wheelchair) with an intricately detailed sign. It was something that really showed the love and outpouring of support she has been willing to put into me.
When she first showed it to me, it took a few moments for barriers to crumble down to the point of happy tears.
“Why has anyone ever taken this much investment into me?” was really apparent. Her outpouring and support does show in her pride in me, being who that I am, is something that doesn’t change.
The Trans March is a protest march; it is for the open visibility of gender variant people, as well as a time to voice change, acceptance, support, and pride within this fraction of the queer community. There were a lot of people displaying support for Chelsea Manning among the march. Hand in hand were a few people displaying “proud parent of a trangendered child” signs and shirts. It was a really beautiful thing.
As we had planned to also do the Dyke March on the following day, exhaustion on both our behalves kept us from attending. (2+ mile parade route plus to and from the subway stations as well)
As for the “pride” of Pride, it hit me on a more personal level than I could have imagined before.