Showing posts with label Emily Maguire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Emily Maguire. Show all posts

Monday, 26 August 2019

Several Shades of T – Unity within Diversity


A few months ago Anne Yarwood, a close friend of Sally and I asked if I would be editor of the month for the web site that she has produced - The Imagination Acts.
The result was a collection pf pictures and words with a theme of Several Shades of T – Unity within Diversity




It reads as follows - please see The Imagination Acts web site for the pictures.

Several Shades of T – Unity within Diversity
There is a human tendency towards classification and categorisation. To assign labels. To generalise. Male. Female. Straight. Lesbian. Gay. Bi. Trans.
Classification has its uses, but also limitations.
We can use labels to form alliances and to define borders. To stereotype. To marginalise.
It challenges me that I sometimes construct borderlines as a way of self defence and preservation and fail to see the bigger picture. It is possible to value the things that hold us together. To uphold each other. And to celebrate our distinctiveness.
After more than half a lifetime of denial I gave up a battle with myself and began to accept myself as the person that I am. This came with the label “trans”. As time passes, I need to regularly remind myself of the inadequacy of this label. To see that no label defines who I am. Or who you are. There is a much bigger story to your life and to mine.

The Borderline
Cos what is love – a word, the feeling of you ?
Something we dream or the things that we do ?
And who am I – these thoughts, this feeling, my views
A fragile form or a dreamer like you ?
Are we so different, defined ?
Where is the borderline ?

When we are like water, like trees
We have a name, an illusion of identity
Of boundaries, of borderlines
But my dreams are yours and your fears are mine
I hope we wake up from this dream of being different, defined
When we are only space and time
Emily Maguire (https://emilymaguire.com/biog/) is a singer-song writer, poet and composer. The International Society for Bipolar Disorders awarded her the 2019 Mogens Schou Award for Public Service and Advocacy.
Several Shades of T
The storyline that I’m thinking of opened with L and G.
After a while they were joined by B.
And then T.
LGBT.
More recently a large selection of the rest of the alphabet has joined in. Some of them more than once.
LGBTQQIAAPOG …
Lesbian. Gay. Bisexual. Trans. Queer. Questioning. Intersex. Asexual. Ally. Pansexual. Other. Genderfluid. …
Sometimes the newcomers all get represented by just a +.
LGBT+.
But the story isn’t about the alphabet.
It’s about people.
It began long before the alphabet got involved.
And like all stories about people, whilst there are still people the story will continue.
Some people are intimately involved in the story. Others are more on the periphery. We can all be involved. In some ways, we all are involved.
There is a truth in that different people read the same story in different ways.
Some see a collection of different letters of the alphabet. They don’t identify with any of the letters. The story is a threat. An anathema. An abomination. They want to put an end to it. But the story is about people and not the alphabet. Ending it involves blood. And even then, whilst there are people the story will continue.
Some claim a letter as their own. They hold it close. They know it and understand it. Looking at the other letters they aren’t so sure. Not all letters are equal. Some of them are frauds. Dangerous. Threatening. They need to be restricted. Controlled.
Some don’t consciously read the story at all. But by words, silences, actions and inactions they take part.
Over the years I’ve come across people that read the story in these ways. And of people that read it in many, many other ways.
My own take on it has changed. Is still changing.
I’ve discovered that I have letters in this story.
I know other people that have the same letters.
But sharing the same letters in a story doesn’t make us the same people. We have our own thoughts, feelings, preferences. And we can even read the same story in different ways.
I know other people with other letters.
But I know no one for whom a letter, or even an entire alphabet, provides an adequate definition of who they are.
In all of this I identify as T and G – that is a Trans person that is Genderfluid.
So, what does that mean? And does it matter.
The term trans is often defined as something like this: an umbrella term for all people who cross traditional gender boundaries – whether that is permanently or periodically (https://www.nhs.uk/livewell/transhealth/documents/livingmylife.pdf.
And then there’s the term genderfluid. You could say that genderfluid individuals have different gender identities at different times. A genderfluid individual’s gender identity could be multiple genders at once and then switch to none at all, or move between single gender identities, or some other combination therein. For some genderfluid people, these changes happen as often as several times a day and for others, monthly, or less often. Some genderfluid people regularly move between only a few specific genders, perhaps as few as two (which could also fit under the label bigender), whereas other genderfluid people never know what they’ll feel like next (See HERE  – wiki/Genderfluid).
However, the definitions certainly have their limitations.
I’ve come across some trans people who don’t like to stand under the same umbrella as other trans people. Which might add another letter to the story to accommodate them.
Some people don’t believe that T has the right to be included along with LG or B.
Sometimes, people begin to talk trans and then focus more upon pronouns, lavatories, changing rooms and restrooms than they do on people.
Sometimes people say and do things that are much worse.
Trans people face many challenges. All people face many challenges.
What special rights should trans people have?
Perhaps nothing more special than things that I believe should be given to all people.
Things like kindness, compassion, respect and understanding.
Ultimately, what every trans person that I know wishes for, is to simply be themselves.
It’s not about special treatment or privileges.
Of course, that’s the beginning of a story more than it is the end of one. Pronouns, restrooms, changing rooms and safe spaces matter.
Safety matters.
People are capable of pretending to be someone that they are not.
There are challenges.
But in working out solutions to these challenges let’s remember that behind every acronym and label there are real people. That even when people share the same label, they are different from each other. That there is no single voice that fully represents any label. That it is possible to disagree with someone else and yet to do that with respect and kindness. That there are times when the ability to reach a compromise is a strength. That it is better to listen to and talk with each other than it is to write about each other. That whispers sometimes speak more loudly than yells.
The acronyms are complicated. People are complex. But there is something special when people that pick up different labels are able to move beyond the things that make them different. To see diversity as a thing that can enrich and strengthen rather than something that weakens and destroys.
And of course, just like you, I have lots of other letters of the alphabet in lots of other stories. And we’re all involved in each of these stories in one way or another. Some stories touch us closely. Others seem to be more distant. But we are involved. What we say and do has an effect. Our inactions and silences also have an effect. And all the separate stories are, in reality, parts of a single bigger story.
Martin Niemöller (first-they-came-for-the-socialists) is remembered for saying:
First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a socialist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out – because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me – and there was no one left to speak for me.

And so, even though I am not L or G or B, I still speak out. We are all neighbours (www.biblegateway.com/passage).
Last year I discovered the music of Emily Maguire (https://emilymaguire.com/ ) and was especially touched when listening to a song of hers called The Borderline which speaks to me of the way it can be so easy to concentrate on things that divide us rather than the things that hold us together. You can listen to it  HERE  and  HERE.
The words are:
The Borderline
[E.Maguire]

Where is the borderline
The boundary between your tribe and mine
Are we the rain, the river, the cloud and the sea
If we are like water then which drop is me

And what is time – the fast blink of an eye
A circle so vast that we think it’s a line
And what is space – the air, the silence we breathe
A place of our own and the ghosts we don’t see
Is it the boundary, the borderline
Between you and I, your mind and mine

Is fire the spark, the fuel, the air or the heat
The smoke in your eyes or the ash at your feet
Are trees the root, the branch, the wood or the leaves
The forest we burn or the broom that we keep
Beneath the stairs, the stars, the space in a jar. The air outside is that where you are
Is that the borderline, the boundary
Between you and I, between your tribe and mine

But isn’t fear the dark shadow of hope
The things that we want and the things that we don’t
And so we cling and close the eyes that look in,
The soul we don’t see under the skin
Cos that’s a boundary, the borderline
Between you and I, between your tribe and mine

But we both were born and both will die
And in between will doubt and dream
Of a better life than life before
A meaning or a reason for
This feeling of being different, defined
When we are only dreaming of boundaries and borderlines
I hope we wake up

Cos what is love – a word, the feeling of you
Something we dream or the things that we do
And who am I – these thoughts, this feeling, my views
A fragile form or a dreamer like you
Are we so different, defined
Where is the borderline?

When we are like water, like trees
We have a name, an illusion of identity
Of boundaries, of borderlines
But my dreams are yours and your fears are mine
I hope we wake up from this dream of being different, defined
When we are only space and time


And yes, I too hope that we wake up.



Wednesday, 12 December 2018

More than music

A little while ago I mentioned the music of Emily Maguire.

After listening to Emily's music quite a lot and watching her play at The Slaughtered Lamb in London :

we booked tickets to a gig at the Sakya Buddhist Centre in Bristol on Saturday December 8 2018.

The day didn't go completely as planned.

The Andrea plan ran something like this:

  • 14:50 to 16:20 - do the makeup
  • 16:20 to 18:00 - drive to Bristol and find somewhere to eat
  • 18:00 to 19:30 - eat somewhere in Bristol - Gloucester Road maybe?
  • 19:30 to 19:45 - get to the venue
  • 19:45 to 20:00 - mingle and wait around at the venue
  • 20:00 to ??:?? (whenever things wind up) - enjoy the poetry and music
  • ??:?? to ??:?? + 94 minutes - drive home

At 15:00 all is well. The makeup doesn't really take 90 minutes to apply. There is certainly more to life than makeup.

Denim skirt + blouse + cardigan? Or dress and shawl?

I consult my fashion adviser (aka Sally). The dress wins - though the shawl isn't so popular an item.

Shaving takes way longer than on a non-Andrea day.

And then there's all the other stuff.

Cleansing lotion with cotton wool.

Moisturiser with fingers.

Primer with fingers.

Pause. Panties. Tights. Bra. Falsies.

Red door.

Image result for red door perfume

Lipstick with a concealer brush around my mouth. It acts like a concealer to hide the inevitable pre-bristly grey shadow that asserts itself as time passes.

Foundation with a foundation brush.

Powder. On with a powder puff. Off with a brush.

Shadow with a shadow brush. More shadow with a shadow brush.

Liner under the eyes with a stick. Ober the eyes with a pen.

Mascara with the spiky thing that mascara comes provided with.

Blush with a blush brush.

Lipstick with an applicator.

Dress.

Shawl.

Necklace.

Hair.

Earrings.

Watch.

Rings.

Bracelet.

Lip gloss.

Flat shoes - for driving.

Andrea pops her house keys into the handbag. "I've got the keys" she calls out as Sally puts her coat on.

Andrea checks that the tickets are there.

Her purse - complete with money, credit cards, drivers licence.

Bits and pieces of makeup.

Phone.

The kind of things that belong in a handbag.

Pitter patter raindrops lead her to collect an umbrella.

And pick up her coat.

Some not so flat shoes, which have nothing much to do with the weather but look nicer than the flat ones.

She opens the rear door of the car and unloads her arms onto the seat.

Sally closes the house door. Climbs into the passenger seat.

The new TomTom is pre-programmed. She speaks with the computer-voice of Serena.

Off they go.

Innocently unaware that the tits-up experience is only minutes away.

Serena doesn't seem to be traffic-aware. Andrea decides it's time for a pep-talk.

It goes something like this - with contributions from Andrea, Serena and Sally.

"Hello Tom-Tom."

Silence.

Louder than before: "Hello Tom-Tom"

"Hello. I'm listening."

Beep.

"Activate phone."

"No phone is connected."

A pause.

"Hello Tom-Tom."

"Hello. I'm listening."

Beep.

"Activate phone."

"No phone is connected."

A longer pause.

"Please can you check my phone. In my handbag on the back seat."

"I can't find it".

"It should be there."

"I can't find it."

Andrea pulls over and parks.

"Let me see".

Beside the shoes? Beside the umbrella? Under the coat? On the floor? Under the seats?

No. No. No. No. No.

"Oh. Maybe it dropped onto the driveway?"

Inside a thought bubble: "I hope".

Five minutes driving.

Serena suggests that a U-turn would be a good idea.

The driveway is bare.

Andrea begins to wonder.

"When I picked up my coat, the umbrella and my shoes - what happened top the handbag."

Well - maybe it didn't get as far as the car.

Sally is amazingly at peace.

He handbag is complete with phone.

Unfortunately it has no keys.

Andrea was pretty clear that she had them.

In her handbag.

Unfortunately.

Andrea doesn't have her handbag.

Time for a chat with Google.

"I'm locked out of my house."

"Locksmiths - 24 hour callout."

17:00 the locksmiths are called.

"We can have someone with you in 60 to 90 minutes."

Tesco sandwiches rather than a Gloucester Road restaurant.

17:30 the pone rings.

"We should be with you in an hour."

BP provides some diesel.

17:57

"We'll be about 30 minutes."

Serena is connected.

"Oh ...".

The alarm is false. Bluetooth is capable of reaching through the front door and shaking hands with Andrea's phone.

"Hello TomTom".

"Hello. I'm listening.

Beep.

"Activate phone."

"Phone activated."

Beep.

"Mmm."

Sally phones Andrea.

Serena rings.

Serena is turned off.

Sally phones Andrea.

The sound comes from the hall table.

Sally and Andrea are amazed that they didn't try this a long time ago.

But it would have made no difference.

18:28 the cavalry arrive.

Andrea explains the position.

The locksmith bats no eyelids and sets to work.

18:35 the door is open. Handbag and it's goodies are retrieved. The papers are signed.

Andrea has keys.

Sally has keys.

18:45 journey recommences.

"Only Andrea would have done that."

"What?"

"Left home without a key."

Andrea ponders on this. Maybe its a shortage of pockets and an excess of handbags?

Serena is exceptionally helpful.

It rains. And rains. And rains some more.

20:08 arrival.

20:12 The room is pretty full, Sally apologises for being late.

"Emily hasn't come down yes."

At that moment, Emily comes down the stairs and heads for the microphone where Christian, complete with double bass, awaits her.

Andrea and Sally sit on cushions on the floor and enjoy the music and the poetry.

It's especially nice to hear some of the history behind how the book of poetry came into existence and how some of the songs came to be written.

If I'm remembering this correctly, Emily said that before writing The Borderline she'd gone through a long period where she hadn't been able to write anything. It was suggested she try waking  very early sometime, spend some time meditating and then see what happened. And this, The Borderline was born. At the moment it's a song that is very special to me.

The music is more than just music. The poetry is more than just words.

After the music is all over Andrea says thank you to Emily. Buys a book complete with autograph. A small glass of red wine. A chat. A thank you to Christian.

And the journey home ... with a renewed commitment to making sure that there is always a key available somewhere for the next time.

Friday, 7 December 2018

Documentaries, Café Rouge and more documentaries

Things have been busy over the past few weeks.

On Sunday November 25th there was a Surrey Swans meeting where we were visited by Nate, Harri, Alex,Terrell, Evie and Elisha from the University for Creative Arts who were putting together a documentary as part of a project for the course that they are studying.


P1100012_688x600_thumb[1]

P1100015_800x600_thumb[1]

On Monday December 3rd I spent a lovely evening with Tina, Susie and Chloe at Café Rouge in Windsor. It’s always lovely to meet up. And here we are … Chloe, Andrea, Susie and Tina:


CafeRouge 031218


Part way through the evening we talked about identity and who we are. Susie shared a simple and yet profound truth. She said that really, she is just herself. She’s not a label. And that is true. It really is.

On Wednesday December 5th I visited UCA in Farnham as a follow up to the documentary. It involved some filming and chatting with people involved with the Trans society there. I found that to be really helpful for me. It was really special to share some thoughts and feelings with younger Trans people. It reminded me a bit of Emily Maguires Song, The Borderline in that we each knew that the borderlines are things that people invent and that really each of us is just a person. The fact that we are trans is an incidental thing. Mainly, we are just people.

Wednesday, 28 November 2018

Emily Maguire and Borderlines

Earlier this year whilst driving home from work I was listening to a programme on Radio 4 presented by Cherylee Houston that included an interview with Emily Maguire. You can listen to it here:

I found the interview itself really interesting and was captivated by Emily's music.

Sally and I went along to a concert of Emily's at the Slaughtered Lamb, a pub in London. It was great.

Recently I've been challenged by my own attitude towards the concepts of LGBT (maybe with a Q and an I) and TRANS (maybe with a *) and myself ... as illustrated a bit by this post that I made.

Then back in September I mentioned a questionnaire that was part of a study that is “interested in what might encourage LGBTQIA people to help groups under the umbrella that they are not necessarily a part of.”

A short while after writing that I first listened to an (old) song by Emily Maguire. The title is The Borderline. It's here:

And the words are here.

The Borderline
[E.Maguire]

Where is the borderline
The boundary between your tribe and mine
Are we the rain, the river, the cloud and the sea
If we are like water then which drop is me

And what is time – the fast blink of an eye
A circle so vast that we think it’s a line
And what is space – the air, the silence we breathe
A place of our own and the ghosts we don’t see Is it the boundary, the borderline
Between you and I, your mind and mine

Is fire the spark, the fuel, the air or the heat
The smoke in your eyes or the ash at your feet
Are trees the root, the branch, the wood or the leaves
The forest we burn or the broom that we keep
Beneath the stairs, the stars, the space in a jar The air outside is that where you are
Is that the borderline, the boundary
Between you and I, between your tribe and mine

But isn’t fear the dark shadow of hope
The things that we want and the things that we don’t
And so we cling and close the eyes that look in,
The soul we don’t see under the skin
Cos that’s a boundary, the borderline
Between you and I, between your tribe and mine

But we both were born and both will die
And in between will doubt and dream
Of a better life than life before
A meaning or a reason for
This feeling of being different, defined
When we are only dreaming of boundaries and borderlines
I hope we wake up

Cos what is love – a word, the feeling of you
Something we dream or the things that we do
And who am I – these thoughts, this feeling, my views
A fragile form or a dreamer like you
Are we so different, defined
Where is the borderline?

When we are like water, like trees
We have a name, an illusion of identity
Of boundaries, of borderlines
But my dreams are yours and your fears are mine
I hope we wake up from this dream of being different, defined
When we are only space and time

I love the music and the lyrics. The emphasis on things we have in common. The way that it quietly discredits the kind of tribalism that can lead to conflict.

It challenges me.

In December Sally and I are aiming to be in Bristol for one of the events of Emily's "Meditation Mind" Poetry & Song tour which we're looking forwards to a lot. I'm especially looking forwards to hearing The Borderline live.