2019 I am ready for you
After a Christmas of deadnaming, trans-shaming and get-in-the-car-quick confidence-maiming, I am back, like a fist through a million-dollar painting.
I am adult enough now to disregard what's not important, as I survey the field before me. I am unlikely to romance or murder anyone. I'm also not planning to die. I will work hard and complete my PhD, while taking tutorials effectively and preparing efficiently (remember, Gina, you're paid for only one hour of prep-time). I will ensure the conference Transgender: Intersectional / International will be a success come May.
By the next New Year's Eve, I will be the last figure standing in a sodden field, axe dripping with the pain of my enemies (self-hate; insecurity; procrastination – if you're asking). I will sling that axe against my shoulder and trudge off the field, knowing I gave everything – and kicked arse. But dear reader, don't be put off by such violent imagery: it's all about me and my own underworld. As Freud famously either said or didn't say: where the id was, the ego shall be. I shall tame the internal chaotic doubts that cripple and distract me. I have turned myself into Gina already, no small thing. This year sees me becoming Gina Plus. Uber Gina; a combination of Nietzsche and the Care Bears. Be kind to others. Be kind to yourself. Exist within rainbows.
My biggest disappointment this Christmas was watching the 10am Christmas morning service on TV. I'm not a Christian but it had started to become a Christmas morning ritual for me to watch the Archbishop of Canterbury (the quietly impressive Justin Welby) address everyone listening about reaching out, whatever your denomination. But this time, it was some other bloke, at a church in Oldham, talking narrowly about Jesus Christ and the miracle of his/His birth and Isn't Jesus Great. It felt like naval gazing, a missed opportunity. Most people are not Christians, but everyone needs to hear about compassion. I live in a country that's racist and treats rich people like idols. We don't talk about humanity or death; we don't even talk about climate change. We talk about property portfolios and immigration. We talk about austerity.
So 2019 is about me, but it's also about us. Austerity is a choice fuelled by greed, manipulation, and dehumanization. Compassion and solidarity are forever, while the amount of time each of us have on Earth is limited. This isn't what the priest talked about on Christmas morning and it's not what the politicians and the media are discussing but they are my final words as I enter the fray of utopian/dystopian 2019 as it lies glistening with early morning dew before me. Good luck, everyone.