There’s an article written that was featured on the **** that discussed the tense relationship between the trans* community and drag performers (specifically transwomen and drag queens, as from the recent events that followed RuPaul’s Drag Race). Now I could talk at length about the relationship between identity and performance, but it wasn’t the article that caught my attention so much as who wrote it.
The article was written by someone who I had known briefly. It was someone interned for the summer at the school where I did my MFA as well as my undergraduate work. This person, while an activist and working for the benefit of equality for all–I found to not be a very kind good person. At the time. This might have changed, but when I knew this person, they had sexually harassed and coerced someone who I was close to (that person and I have grown distant within the last few years) and it made me uncomfortable to be around the author knowing what they had done.
Once I realized it was the same person, I couldn’t read the article. Still couldn’t get past the first few lines because of the emotional weight and baggage I carried. This person, I felt was a hypocrite–now I am not saying that all activists should be infallible, but the fact that this person did the same sexual harassment/manipulation that we as a society are calling Robin Thicke on, it feels like it cheapens the work that the author is doing now.
I could call this person out, but I doubt they’d remember the incident that I am talking about much less acknowledge it. It just makes me wonder what ghosts to we have hanging on us, what duende, what demons hang onto us when others see us pass by?