I was washing up when she came through the door behind me. She caught my eye in the mirror, then turned and flipped open the door again to leave.

"You're in the right washroom," I shout, as the 'woman' sign swings by her face.

She turns again, walks past me silent, awkward.



The Cass identity model of coming out.

It's somewhat outdated, culture-specific, and doesn't apply as much to transgendered people (i.e. both transsexual and gender-variant), but it's good.

6 am and awake since 4:40 ish.

Woken up by a variant of an earlier dream: I'd been a negligent pet owner and the sickly abandoned rodents bred and bred and bred until they produced too many sick offspring to count - and it was my fault.

Hard to get back to sleep after that.

When I'm awake, what swirls around in my head like nothing else - and what has, for years, swirled around in my head like nothing else - is this feeling of being unable to speak.

The  most common form of this is my tendency to run into bands of old-fashioned lefty discourses that tell me (usually indirectly but occasionally to my face) that I have no right to be saying what I'm saying - that my mouth is selling us out. Might as well write it out.


Strange - after a bit of a lull, I seem to be back going over my queer issues.

(Note the use of the term "queer issues" and not "gender issues. See below)

Following my own advice, I plan to look at the context and not hold back with my thoughts.
You know what to do - giv 'er! )
More Surprises:
I have name-based ID e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e

It's coming in line. I have BCID, bank card, SFU Library, SFU internal database, and now, after more than a month of visits to the registar's, a matching U-Pass - I said "it seems to have the wrong picture on it, can you print me a new one?" This, finally, worked, and now I don't have to fish through my wallet whenever I see Translink police, because now my U-Pass and other ID match.

SFU and ICBC will only give you new ID when you turn in your old ones. I hand over an old name, I get back the right one. The bind is that the picture ID is the top priority on replacement, but I also want to hold onto the old  pictures. As I lose them, I feel like he/I is/am slowly being erased, falling into smoke and drifting away from us and into the otherworld.

You see, I cannot remember my father's face, and there are so few photos of him.

I have yet to replace my passport, medicare, credit card, Vancouver library card, and my birth certificate. Eventually there will be no card to say that he/I ever existed.

Proof, I guess. )
Going to Chicklets with April, as well as my newly-moved cousin and her girlfriend was not just fun, but felt like a coup. I don't entirely understand why. It may be the combining of queer events and family that I like. Indeed.

Music: up and down, widely varying themes, some awesome top 40 and 80s including a lady sovereign mashup that should have been left as-is, but also repetitive dance, some tunes semi-undanceable, inconsistent volume, higher tones and high hat often painfully loud

Crowd: sparse until 10:30 then increasing until 11:45, very gradually diminishing thereafter. Ages range from legal drinking to mid-fifties, with the median age being perhaps early thirties? Mostly White, but many more Black and Latina women than I am used to seeing anywhere in the city. Some Eastasians. No Southasians or Aboriganls as far as I could tell in the dark without my glasses. Pants near-ubiquitous: some shorts; no skirts. Guessing 90% women; 6% trans; 4% men sticking to their female chums. Women tended towards the gender-variant. A shorter crowd than I would expect - I was one of the taller non-male people.

Entertainment: two excellent aerialist acts turned the head of the entire dance floor; go-go dancers pulled off 1960s fashions well, but looked vaguely out-of-place. Screens overhead cycled through different videos, some visually cool and appropriate, others a bit sleazy, some just pretty and abstract. Pretty L.A.S.E.R.s and fake smoke abound.

Staff: friendly all-around, from door to staff, to bartender and attentive waiters.

Space: good size; some bumping getting into and off of the dance floor. Smoke room. 90% wheelchair accessible when not crowded.

Drinks: mostly ice

Personal and Social Context:
Running opposite HerShe may not have been a good idea, but it drew a packed house eventually.

Since this was the first time that I'd been to a Queer lasses' event (unless you count the three-and-a-half months of the 2004 course "Queer women's autobiographies"), I am unable to reach any strong generalizations. The social spacing and eye contact indicates that this particular event was a "take your  friends and dance together" rather than a "have a few and hook up" kind of thing. Is this generalizable to other dyke nights? if so, it could contribute to the pronounced difference between the number of gay clubs (a lot) and lesbian clubs (maybe one and they don't have a webpage).

I must say that I enjoyed the space. It had the queer of out-on-campus, and a lesbian-normative atmosphere, but it's also all-genders-welcome which makes this radical warm and fuzzy, instead of awkward and guilty.

If anyone has the goods on Lick (such as "where can I find out what they host over a given week, as - they don't seem to have a webpage") I'd like to hear it.
- Amy

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August 2017

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