Satire

After months of lockdown stress, I decided to treat myself to an afternoon of pampering at a health spa. I felt sure my anxiety-ridden bones would benefit from a nice long soak in some warm, soothing, vitamin-infused waters. I convinced myself that a deep massage, followed by a detoxifying celery juice smoothie would exorcise my inner demons and factory reset my mind’s iOS to pre-COVID levels of tranquility. Oh, dear reader, how wrong I was. For I had omitted to include the torrent of anti-trans bigotry I would encounter at the spa. As traumatic as it is, I shall relive my experience for you here so that it may never be repeated. As a trans woman, I am no stranger to uneducated TERFs and their ‘gender critical’ ignorance.

(If this were a documentary, I would open with the track ‘Turning Japanese’ by The Vapors which, yes, I know that’s the wrong ones, but I still think it would work so please have that song in mind as you read the opening paragraph.) Today something beautiful happened. A tortured soul was finally able to present themselves to the world as their authentic self. YouTube star, songstress and social media guru Oli London came out as Korean. Oh, and also nonbinary too, but to be honest all that gender stuff is getting a little old these days. When almost every social media influencer is either nonbinary or genderqueer, the market becomes somewhat oversaturated. Like what happened with Beyblades.

Dear Demi (whoever you are), I hope this letter finds you well and that you are able to mentally center yourself in a positive and mindful way by doing whatever it is that you do, (I’m sorry but I just don’t have time to Google you what with dealing with my own groundbreakingly courageous gender non-conforming shenanigans). I cannot express just how important it is that you’ve come out as a plural. Your bravery to invite the world to dip their jaded fingers into the open wound of your vulnerability strikes such a chord with me. I watched your video (at one point I thought I recognized you from somewhere...maybe a commercial for a cereal or something?

I wake up each morning and take a good long look in the mirror. ‘Wow! You are AMAZING!’ I say to my reflection. And I mean it. I truly mean it. I am literally gobsmacked at how incredible I am — and in so many ways. As a trans woman I am FIERCE. As an activist I am FEARLESS. As a human being I am empathy personified. Yet the moment I step out of my boudoir and into the virtual world of online social media, I am bombarded by negativity. Why is this? I know it’s not me. It’s YOU. Yes. I am sorry dear reader, but the fact that you are unable to handle me and all my perfections is a YOU problem. As an online influencer I am no stranger to violence. My viral videos often bring with them a torrent of abuse.

As someone who is able to process information at a higher level than the average person, these past few weeks I have been investing a lot of my energies into the situation we find ourselves in regards to the COVID vaccine rollout. I have some concerns. Firstly, are any of the vaccines suitable for vegans? Have the ingredients been ethically sourced from independent suppliers who only employ Black and ethnic minority workers at a 25 percent above-average wage? Did the vaccine trials include a significant subset of genderqueer and nonbinary individuals and, (more importantly) if so, were their needs met when it came to respecting their unique identities and their right to exist?

Discerning cancellation connoisseurs so far have overlooked one of the most problematic boy bands of the 20th century — and it's time to change that. The American disco group the Village People features a cast of empenised individuals donning costumes that glorify toxically masculine tropes of the time: a police officer, a cowboy, a construction worker, a sailor, a biker and, bizarrely, a Native American (more on that later). This mono-gendered depiction of the local proletariat is laughably outdated. While some might say the only thing lesbians are actually good at is running nonprofits, today we know that Sappho’s daughters are just as good as men, probably better, at chasing down perps, roping steer and erecting skyscrapers. But let’s look at the music.

Before I begin, let me get one thing straight: I am not a racist. Therefore, anything negative I say in this article is aimed exclusively at Harry, NOT Meghan. I would never dream of criticizing a strong independent WoC and everything Meghan has done in her life so far, and will achieve in the future, is empowering — and a direct result of either her own inner strength, or the systemic racism she has faced while navigating the stormy seas of prejudice.  Good, now that’s out of the way, I shall get to the plant-based meat substitute of this article. The Oprah interview was nothing short of Earth-shattering. As a Brit myself (although I inwardly apologize for this every damn day), the impact Meghan’s truth has had on us as a nation has been immense.

New York Hello friends, and a merry Christmas to you all. I suspect we are all eager to see the back of this year. But the season brings on my sentimentality, and I wonder what waits on the other side of this particular solar circumnavigation. We will welcome spring and, hopefully, with it, the lifting of lockdown. Walking around the dreary streets of the city, I worry what we’ll leave behind us in this annus horribilis. Crowds are thin, sidewalks spare. Eyes are downcast. Has the virus won the War on Christmas? I pray not. When I was a boy, Christmas in the Dent household was a New York affair. The city was near its nadir, yet the Yuletide charm brought out its best, and ours.

A video game with a multitude of problematic themes and mechanics has recently been released which has once and for all cemented my already unfavorable opinion on so-called ‘open world role-playing games’. Cyberpunk 2077 was launched on PC and gaming consoles this week, which generated tumultuous excitement and praise across all the major social media platforms. This unavoidable hubbub came from the majority of the gaming community who were applauding the title for its ‘beautiful graphics’ and ‘combat mechanics’ et cetera. However, there were also a small group of (decent) people who were quick to point out the darker and more problematic elements of this immersive video game.

Toward the end of my latest YouTube livestream, I casually invited my subscribers to email me for a free life-enrichment consultation, subject to a moderate monthly donation to my PayPal account. Subsequently, my inbox has been literally inundated with more than several emails beseeching my guidance on every progressive topic under the sun. I’ve therefore decided it is my duty to reply to these poor souls, and simultaneously share my seemingly endless bounty of knowledge and wisdom with the readership of this publication. So without further ado, dear reader, let us delve into your humble Woke Life correspondent’s mailbox to discover who is fortuitous enough to receive my progressive instruction. From Devastated of ClevelandQ.

The Mandalorian is a fabulous new show on the Disney+ channel based in the Stars War universe. I watched at least 10 minutes of one episode the other week and I must say I very much enjoyed what I saw. As far as I could deduce, it is about a COVID-aware masked space knight who is instructed by bigots to capture a non-binary trans-age baby called ‘Yodel’ (they probably want to practice gay conversion therapy on the poor they) but thankfully, the Mandalorian is an ally who ends up empathizing with Yodel’s struggle and together they go on a quest to seek acceptance in a cold transphobic universe.

November 7, 2020 To my dear parents, Victory. Uttering the word feels strange after four long years of battle. But we persisted. After our devastating ‘loss’ in 2016, I ordered my pink-knit pussy hat from Etsy and answered the call to arms. I remember learning of the atrocities suffered under other dictators whose statues we’ve toppled, such as Winston Churchill and Abraham Lincoln. But after the horrors I’ve witnessed online, I would trade places with them in an instant. It’s hard to describe daily life when you’re living in a war. For four years I’ve woken up in my Brooklyn apartment, heart heavy with the knowledge that I am living under the tyrannical rule of a madman. Is this how Anne Frank felt?

A worrying trend has emerged recently of non-trans uterus owners demanding the removal of inclusive language when dealing with gender-related issues. This is extremely harmful to the trans community as it is a blatant attempt to invalidate our existence as trans women and trans men. Many organizations have been making a valiant effort to respect trans and non-binary people by using more progressive and inclusive terms or phrases when advertising their products and services. This has been seen as a positive step forward in the struggle for validation for those of us who identify as non-cisgender.

New York Hullo, readers. Many thanks for the kind notes and well-wishes. I’ve fully recovered from my bout with the plague and am only a little worse for wear. I’m desperate for a bit more time on the water, but I’m convinced my palate hasn’t yet recovered. I’ve been reduced to taking brandy in the evenings. Still, though far from splendid, isolation hasn’t been all bad. I’ve spent a great deal of time on the phone with my brother Richard. We’re not naturally expressive people, and I’m more than a bit embarrassed about the state of my marriage. But our respective sheltering-in-place, his in Boston and mine in New York, has turned us into talkers. Like the rest of the family, I’ve always called him Dickie.

Once more, I attempt to fall asleep. My eyes are heavy, I feel dizzy, weak. My body is wracked with aches and I am shivering uncontrollably. The blessed relief of healing slumber still eludes me. Is it morning or night? What day is it? I don’t know. Nearby I hear a muffled groan. Someone else is suffering. Another victim of this god-awful pandemic. How many more of us will it take? With some difficulty I manage to turn my head and can just make out large, blocky letters which from my perspective spell ‘AROD’, adorning the outer sides of my Dora the Explorer play tent. From the amount of light passing through the garish green fabric, I’m guessing it’s early morning. Moments before dawn. I survived another night. Another night of this sleepless nightmare.

PortlandOn Wednesday, California became the first state government in the US to adopt a law to study and develop proposals for reparations to descendants of enslaved people and those impacted by slavery. This is positive news and I am hoping it will set an example to encourage other states to follow suit. As a transblack individual and an immigrant to the United States, it’s pure coincidence that I’ve recently (since yesterday) been mulling over the idea of moving to California. I believe that I qualify for reparations from the white man who has kept me down and prevented me from achieving my full potential.

As a trans woman and a Harry Potter fan, every day brings fresh pain. She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has written a new book (ironically, under a male pseudonym), and according to Pink News, it features a cisgender male serial killer who murders his victims while wearing women’s clothes. The wailing and gnashing of teeth from trans rights activists on Twitter has been immeasurable since Pink News imparted this information. It would seem that Rowldermort has finally decided to go full TERF and is not even attempting to hide her seething hatred towards the trans community.It’s probably no coincidence Rowling’s pen name for her amateurish yet unfathomably popular crime novel series is ‘Robert Galbraith’.