Tag Archives: family

Sound Reflection: Tell a Feminist Thank You

Cheers and thanks to you all!

Cheers and thanks to you all!

Today there’s a hashtag on twitter #tellafeministthankyou – so I’m going to say a few thank you’s to people who’ve taught me, or who keep me writing.

Thanks to my mom, Paula, for raising me as a feminist.

Thanks to MTR, because talking about feminism in his office made me better at what I do.

Thanks to Kenna and Lillian, for editing me, for talking theory and genuinely helping me learn more about what I think.

Thanks to my husband for being more of a feminist than he thinks he is.

Thanks to Jo Jo, Sailor, Jenn, Amelia, and all the other feminist burlesque ladies in my life.

Thanks to Orli, Kate, and Mary for discussions of feminist theology on a range of religious backgrounds.

Of course, thanks to my readers – because without you I’d just be writing into the void.

Being a feminist is more than just holding beliefs on your own, but about constantly interrogating your own thought processes and challenging the things you think in order to further your understanding of gender dynamics in society. I think all feminists are served best by the communities they involve themselves in, and the conversations they start within their communities.

Who are you thankful for? Who has helped you become a feminist?

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Happy Wedding Day

Yesterday was the first day that same sex couples could get married in Washington State.

And my home state did me very very proud.

It also has reduced me to a puddle of tears at least 3 times in the last 48 hours. I have been raised by a community – and much of that community was queer, or trans, or gay or lesbian or simply nonconforming.

When I got married this last April, I made a promise to myself that I would not sit in complacency just because I’m married to a man. In November, I voted for gay marriage in Washington.

And today, I can share with you these photos from buzzfeed: Photos 41 & 42 are of people who helped raise me. And I’m proud to be able to share these photos with people.

Raise champagne glasses to toast the world, and listen to a little Etta James in honor of all the couples who got married yesterday, and all those that will get married in the future months.

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World AIDS Day

I grew up in a world most people will never see.

My childhood was one where I knew about chest tubes, how to use syringes, running jokes about biohazard signs. I learned what sex was at the same time that I learned what death was. I wore plastic gloves more often than any child did in my grade level.

My father had AIDS. He died in December of 1993.

I usually do a heartfelt post about how I miss him, and about what the experience was like to live with it. But today I’m turning the tables. I’m making this a Q&A. You – the readers, ask the questions. I, the writer, will answer them. The only thing I ask is that you keep it respectful – even 19 years later, there are scars on my heart that are still raw. But I miss teaching, and I miss carrying on my father’s legacy – he took me with him when he taught AIDS prevention classes, and I have done that work since then.

Today I am a (mostly) open book. Ask away, I’ll take questions until end of day Saturday.

 

UPDATE: I’ll be adding stories as I think of them. Continue asking questions – since people have been shy, I’ll extend the deadline on queries – because this is seriously about answering YOUR questions. Here’s a short anecdote from the annals of my AIDS infected childhood:

“FUCK AIDS” I said. I think I was around seven years old, I may have been younger, I may have been older. I can’t remember the exact context, but I know I was angry about my father being sick. My mother had explained swear words to me in the recent past, and she had told me that they were adult and angry words, and that I could only use them in the appropriate context. So I did. I remember this: I didn’t get punished, because I’d used the right word, in the right context.

I swore.

Northwest AIDS Walk 1991

Northwest AIDS Walk 1991

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Internet Archive

Glimpses of Tanya Ransom
It isn’t often that I get to see my father perform. Actually, it’s a pretty rare occurrence. I think the last time I saw him perform was when I was seven years old. Maybe 8, I can’t really recall. The point, is that this is very unusual. yesterday I got to watch a video of my father performing at the Pyramid Club. It is where my parents met, where much of my extended family got to know each other. It is for this reason that I am grateful the internet exists, because without it I may never have seen this video. You can see my mothers response to the experience of finding this video here.
N. B – How to Survive a Plague comes out this weekend. I hope you’ll see it –  I plan to. It is a part of my history, and part of my life.

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Fathers Day (My mom is my dad too)

My father passed away when I was 8 years old, close to Christmas. I miss him. My father was a wonderful father and I am grateful that I had him in my life. When I was a child, fathers day was hurtful. It was a reminder that I didn’t have something other people had.

Today, I look at Father’s Day as a day to acknowledge the incredible parenting I have received. I have many fathers, or people who have been parents. Mother’s Day and Father’s day aren’t reserved for YOUR gender normative parent ideals.

Why am I writing this? I saw two tweets today, and it felt wrong to not at least acknowledge that they are out there in the world, and how HURTFUL these comments are, not just to the women they are targeted at, but to the proud children of single parents. One tweet read: “Instead of wishing happy father’s day to moms, and happy mom’s day to dads, can we just not? Everyone already has their own damn day.” and the second was a retweet: “If you’re a single mom, and you’ve decided Father’s Day is about you, you’re a self absorbed cunt. No wonder you’re single.”

I could break down the use of the word “cunt” by a man. I could break down the gender normative feelings that I see in these tweets. Or I could make it really simple.

Single moms don’t “decide” that fathers day is about them. It IS about them. It is about the parents who step into both roles. Fathers Day and Mothers Day are celebrations of the people who took on these parts in your lives, even when they weren’t biologically your parents. I have so many fathers. I have Greg, I have Thom, I have Jack, and yes – I have my MOM.

Being a single parent is not easy. It takes hard work, and from what I can tell, a hell of a lot of sacrifice to maintain a lifestyle for you and your child. Save your hate for someone who deserves it. Save your hate for someone who actually does something wrong.

All parents should be celebrated on these days. ALL OF THEM. I remember being bitter and angry about Father’s Day. I remember saying that I hated that it was a thing, and now I recognize that there’s more to it than just the word father. Maybe others should consider that too, and consider that the children of single parents will celebrate whatever holiday they choose, with pride and love.

I love the village that raised me.

Happy Father’s Day, Mom. Happy Father’s day, Dad. Happy Fathers Day, Village.

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