Stories For The Soul

This is about me. How I understand myself. How I understand the world and the people in it. I love you all.

[breadandviolets]

I think I've been lucky (in comparison to other people who have spent some portion of their life perceived as female including cis and trans women, trans men, and many non-binary people regardless of "which way" they are transitioning, for lack of a better term) in that men crossing my boundaries has been infrequent, not as severe as others, and not when I was a child.

The less serious cases first. I've had multiple cases of much older men (like 40 years old) asking me out at work when I was younger (in one case I had LITERALLY JUST turned 18). These men asked persistently even after being rejected, but never physically did anything so that's good. I've also had similarly persistent behaviour from peers my age, but they're typically even pushier, for example, continuing to argue why I should stay after I explicitly and repeatedly say I want to leave.

Then there's the landlord. I was living on my own, for the first time, and was subletting from an older man. I didn't even have a lock on my door. On my 19th birthday (legal drinking age in our jurisdiction), he offered me booze after I came home from my shift. Then he groped me and kissed me. I went upstairs to me room but couldn't sleep because I was watching the door because it didn't lock and I thought he would come in. I slept in the bathroom. The next day, instead of going to work, I left town with almost nothing. The last thing he said to me as I left was "I never touched you". I was also lucky in that I had family nearby I could stay with. Eventually I went back to work but I couldn't focus. I kept seeing and hearing him. I got hurt, and later I lost that job.

It's insane men get to do this and get away with it. It's insane they at least pretend to feel no remorse. That they've done nothing wrong. That they didn't touch you. Didn't hurt you. Didn't refuse to listen to you. They did. And it's important to beleive people when they tell you that they did.

Solidarity,

Bread and Violets, stories for the soul

[breadandviolets]

What i learned in school textbooks was a nation-building myth similar to most other countries. This is a simplified version of what's taught as important between the ages of like 8 and 16.

1. ⁠Samuel Champlain and other colonizers showed up and taught the natives to be Christians (yes it really is taught like that, and this would've been in the 2010s)

2. ⁠Presumably some other stuff happened for like 100 years (the fur trade probably, the Hudson's Bay Company, and we do learn about smallpox blankets)

3. ⁠The Quebec Act (so ig the 7 year war as well). This is cited as a cause of the American Revolution. The American Revolution means the loyalists come up here.

4. ⁠There's some kind of conflict where the Québécois set a lot of stuff on fire. I don't remember why but this is definitely treated as important. There's a guy named Lord Durham involved. This is where we are introduced to the goal of parliament: "Peace, Order, and Good Government".

5. ⁠A corrupt racist asshole, his French friend, and a bunch of other rich idiots get drunk and sign to form a country. This is somewhat in reaction to America (somehow?) Part of this deal is to build a rail line from coast to coast. This story is told many times from "great hero story" to seeming a bit silly to being incredibly corrupt and racist (corrupt: there were some conflicts of interest that lead to our first PM, the asshole from earlier, losing office, but he came back later; racist: one of the first uses of this rail line was to put down a Métis uprising, and their leader ended up getting hung)

6. ⁠The Indian residential "school" system started around this time, and the Indian Act was passed.

6.5. WWI

7. In the 20s and 30s we gained increasing control over both domestic and foreign affairs and various examples are given.

7.5. WWII (yes, we had Japanese internment camps)

8. Modern history. Some terrorists in Quebec kidnapped a politician and an ambassador in 1970. There were two referendums on Quebec independence (one in the 80s and one in the 90s). Draft dodgers from the US came here in the 70s. The constitution was passed in 1982. The last residential school closes in the 90s ('96, iirc). One thing we are not taught about that i kind of wish we were is a unionist movement called "operation solidarity" that happened here in BC in the 80s.

We are also, obviously, taught about other countries. These lessons are what i would categorize as part of our nation building myth, especially confederation (5).

Surely we can teach children in a way that honours the humanity of those killed for sake of queen and country and condemns imperialism.

Solidarity,

Bread and Violets, stories for the soul

[breadandviolets]

When I was in elementary school, the luitenent governor visited. She represents the crown or maybe the monarch or something like that. Her job is to nod at laws. Anyhow, for her visit, we learned "God Save the Queen", which is not regularly sung by any organization I have participated in in Canada, though I have seen clips of conservatives singing it specifically to piss off people who have been hurt by representatives of the crown (fuck those damn conservatives, and the crown). I knew the anthem in both languages, and my education into the national myth making had started years before (if I haven't posted about that yet I will I actually have a whole thing pre-written). I liked it. I actually learned like 6 verses (which was very unnecessary). In high school, some of my teachers had up pictures of the queen in their classrooms (though this was again not the rule where I grew up). At some point in high school, maybe precipitated by those first 215 children found in Kamloops though I don't remember exactly, I became very sceptical of the country and of the Queen. I began purposefully replacing nationalist imagery with the red flag and nationalist songs with socialist and internationalist ones. I remember exactly where I was when the Queen died, and I didn't give a damn for her or her family. I posted something on discord that actually got me banned from that server just minutes after learning.

God save the guillotine

'Till England's king and queen

Her power prove

'Till each appointed knob

Affords a clipping job

Let no vile halter rob

The guillotine

Death to the parasites, all power to the workers.

Solidarity,

Bread and Violets, stories for the soul

[breadandviolets]

My Dad helped me through a very rough time. He helped me find a new place to stay when the place I had been staying became unsafe. I often wish he'd simply taken me home instead, though I don't really want to live with my parents now. However, one of the first things he told my new landlady was this: "she went to university, became a vegetarian, and changed her name". This is not how I would describe it.

When I was in elementary school, our names would be called by the teacher, and we would each respond that we are present. "Present" is one of those words which has an audible gender. That is, from the age of 3 (I went to preschool) I had adults telling me what my gender is. I was corrected, I was marked down. Adults do a lot of silly things though, and it didn't bother me much. If adults asked me to do something I didn't want to, I refused. If they insisted, I usually ran away (I was diagnosed with autism at age 11). However, around grade 5, gender began to be something also enforced by other kids. Usually in the form of girls talking about boys or about makeup, and boys talking about sports. I was never good at or interested in sports, but I wished I was, so I could play with the boys. I did things, my whole childhood, simply because I was told that's what boys do or that girls couldn't/shouldn't do them. I also never liked bras.

When I was choosing classes for grade 8, I was horrified to learn they separated boys and girls gym (which is also where they taught sex-ed and some of the anti-drug programs). I opted into a basketball class to get a gym credit specifically because it was co-ed. I was the shortest by a lot and generally uncoordinated, though I can run pretty fast at least. I was also in summer swimming, and I quickly learned there that gender is binary, permanent, and strictly policed. I knew about trans people by that time, but I also knew that the swimmers and our coaches constantly joked about how ridiculous a trans person existing would be. Funny.

In grade 11, I asked one of my teachers to call me by a shortened (gender-neutral) version of my name. I didn't say anything about pronouns because I had literally spent my entire life being corrected on my gender for the sake of "grammar". I didn't trust even this teacher to think respect might be more important. Besides, changing pronouns is something people only seemed to do in English. That summer, I told some (queer) friends about how I felt. They respected me (and accidentally told my siblings, who promptly either ignored or forgot that information). Since that had gone well, I tried to tell my mom, who also seemed to either ignore or forget, so that's good. My grade 12 year, I asked, multiple times, if I could wear a suit to prom. I was bought a dress.

So yes, when I went to university, where almost everyone did not know me, I showed up under a different identity than the one given to me by parents and enforced by every adult around me. I also became a vegetarian because I had wanted to for a long time and such things are easier when a cafeteria provides vegetarian options. But I did not "go to university, [change] [my] name, and [become] a vegetarian". And my Dad would have known that if he bothered to listen. If he had seen me, as a child, as a full person. I expressed many times to him that I was not a girl, and did not want girl things. He insisted that I was and did, and adults always win.

I moved to America to get an easier prescription for testosterone! Which I got at planned parenthood on the dime of the government of California. I do not live there now, but would rather die then go off hormones, which I can and will keep acquiring by any means necessary. I wish the same access for anyone who needs them.

When my dad found out I'd been going by a different name at school for over a year, he told me it was dangerous. He doesn't always get it, but he helps me. He loves me and cares for me. Whether or not that is or will be true of your parents, it will get better. You will find people and places that are safe, even if everyone seems to tell you otherwise.

Solidarity,

Bread and Roses, stories for the soul

[breadandviolets]

What is the responsibility of being alive?

I had a friend, a comrade, a dyke. We met under somewhat stressful circumstances and remained friends well after. She and I, and many others, said a lot of things. One of the things we said is "Mir veln zey iberlebn", or, in English, "We will outlive them". The story of this phrase is that Nazi officers were insisting some Jews they'd kidnapped sing and dance for them, and beating those who refused. So they started to sing "Mir veln zey iberlebn". My friend died. Months after I learned this I was remembering her, remembering this song we had sung together, and was, irrationally, mad at her for dying. We were meant to outlive them together. And I had been left alone.

Avi Lewis was recently elected leader of the NDP. His father and grandfather had both been important figures within the party. His father has since died. When he gave his first speech as NDP leader, he said his grandfather has told his father, and his father had told him, "Not in my lifetime, maybe in yours". Then he said "Dad, I refuse to tell that to my kid. We can't wait another generation. We need to start winning now!". There's an implication of the passing of the torch, if you will permit me to be a bit poetic, that the living carry on the work of the dead. That we have a responsibility to do so for those who come after.

It is not a crime to die, but while we are here, we should spend the time for those who can't. That is how we outlive them.

Solidarity,

Bread and Violets, stories for the soul

[breadandviolets]

When I was a child I was aware of "the law". A rule tells you not to steal cookies from the kitchen cabinet. A law tells you not to steal cookies from a store shelf. I was also aware these special rules were not followed. There were laws against running across the street, fetching a frisbee from the neighbour's yard, downloading a movie, hopping a fence, playing with your dog at a school on the weekend, teenagers drinking/smoking/vaping/using/gambling, parking for more than 2 hours most places, being on the phone while driving, driving fast, passenger restrictions on new drivers, fireworks, drawing on a wall or a sign or a desk, and a billion other things I did, saw other kids do, or saw adults do literally daily.

It was very rare that I saw any of these laws were enforced. Which is another way they can be similar to school or house rules. A rule is only broken if you're caught and the enforcer cares. I was also aware who enforced laws. My elementary school did not have a regular police presence, but they did come to the school for various presentations. They said they taught their dogs to bite. I haven't trusted a police dog since. My high school, on the other hand, did have a regular police presence. They found drugs and ran anti-drug workshops. They trained their dogs (then puppies) in the field behind my high school. Often, I saw them at protests. They did traffic control, mostly.

I read a memoir of a Ben Swankey as a teenager. He said he had come to Vancouver by train (without paying) during the Great Depression. There, at a rally, the cops beat the crowd with batons. It was in this context I learned of police as something more dangerous than traffic control with violent dogs. They were strikebreakers. They serve the purpose of protecting industry from community (so C-IRG was an appropriate name).

There was a tent city in my home town for a time. I did not in particular like the residents there I interacted with, but I certainly wouldn't wish violence on them. Most adults did. And they were moved, mostly by police. From my perspective, it was quiet. One day they were there, then they weren't. People disappearing. People who I had been giving water and other drinks to in advance of a massive heatwave simply couldn't be found. I don't know what came of those people specifically but I do know hundreds died that summer. I'm certain for a good many of those fatalities, the cops helped kill them.

Cops get to know you. They follow you, they watch you. And any information they know about you they'll use against you. A friend of mine was arrested at a rally after attempting to take a microphone from a transphobe. The police have been deadnaming and harassing them publicly since. I know people who the city cops have called by camp names / noms de guerre when they've never interacted with cops in that city before. They bully anyone and everyone using whatever power they have over you.

They might well kill you directly too, especially if you're indigenous. Starlight tours are still known to happen.

As an adult, I gained a slightly different view of the law than the one I learned as a teenager. It's actually closer to the perspective I had as a little kid. At some point, I had been convinced at some point that the law wasn't something that could be opposed. You could only advocate (legally) to change it. I think the best way to unlearn that is to oppose the law. You might not win, but what you will learn is the reason they don't enforce the law is because they can't. There's more of us than there are of them. They're big mean bullies with guns yes, but not all powerful. I'll leave it there for tonight.

Solidarity,

Bread and Violets, stories for the soul

[breadandviolets]

When I was in 10th grade, I had a mandatory class called "Career Life Education". One day, a representative from the BC Federation of Labour came in to give us programming aimed at workers under the age of 25. It's called "Alive After 5" and its aim is to inform us of our right to refuse unsafe work. From the age of 16, or often earlier, with a parent's permission, we are exposed to situations where we have little power and our safety is mostly mediated by state regulations. Why should we not have a say in them? Teenagers deserve the right to vote. This education was not for nothing. Some might claim what the BC Fed teaches is ancient history, but employers frequently denied myself and my classmates our rights. I knew people who worked 6 hours or longer without a break. People who did unpaid work. Multiple times I was asked to perform tasks other employees had been hurt attempting. Your employer could not care less whether you're alive after 5 (or more often later for teenagers that work after school but you get the point). The BC Fed does. You should. Care whether you live. Care whether your friends live. Protecting yourself in this sense requires protecting everyone else too. We aren't free until we're all free.

Solidarity,

Bread and Violets, stories for the soul

[breadandviolets]

I knew five songs as a child. I've known all of them as long as I can remember. Certainly, I knew them before I knew the national anthem, before I knew of the nation.

Three of them were probably quite commonly known by kids of my age at the time: The Hug Bug, the Barney theme song, and Baby Beluga. I'm sure I also knew lullabies and such but these I sang with my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, etc. during the day.

The other two were (and are) known in specific circles composed almost entirely of adults. These songs were Union Maid, and Casey Jones Union Scab.

I learned several messages from these songs.

1. Stand up to cops

2. Women can be heroes

3. There is dignity in work

4. It's ok to murder scabs

My great grandfather was a communist. The kind they used to lock you up for being, and he was locked up. My Baba grew up scared he would be executed like the Rosenbergs. He died when I was 7, of old age. I don't think I'd describe anyone I know in my family today as a communist. Some reject that label in favour of another, some reject any label whatsoever, and a few still claim it, but don't seem to believe it. What my family does remember is the messages I shared above. The ones they pass in song.

These days, I'm in a different city than most of my family. I watch the mainstream news but that's not where my information comes from. There's some things you can only learn in the streets, in the fields, in the forests. Those people sing too. Some of them have children, and the children know the songs. It's good to know that some children learn Solidarity Forever before they learn the national anthem. That some children walk a picket before they know of the state that would break them.

But when you do know violence it's even more important to learn the songs, to remember them and to teach them. There's great joy in it. Have you seen the face of a postal worker, stumbling through the words of There Is Power in a Union, only to confidently belt out the phrase "Money speaks for money, the devil for his own"? I have. People don't always know the old songs, and I'm certainly not against writing new ones, but what they know to be true they want to communicate. We drink together, we break bread together, we sing together. That's how we learn to fight together.

Solidarity,

Bread and Violets, stories for the soul