hello again

It's been a while, hasn't it? I'll explain why later, but I want to start off by mentioning that Washington state is apparently going to have a vote on their domestic partnerships that eerily parallels Prop. 8 -- potentially taking away the rights granted to the GLB people of Washington by their legislature last year. The most telling part of this? From the article:
The newest version [of the law being challenged] adds registered domestic partners to all remaining areas of state law that presently apply only to married couples.
Translation: these are the "just civil unions" that all but the most extreme anti-gay people allege to support. They're not called marriages, they're separate from religion; they're just legally equivalent. And the good people of Washington are going to vote on whether to take them away anyway. Because, as I think I've mentioned before, anti-gay activists are liars.

As to why I was away, I spent mid-June to mid-July traveling, the time I got back through the present being sick, and the time before that, well....

Mid-May I was going about my normal academic process on campus and saw a sign advertising GLBT activist/community events, and a sense of overwhelming frustration and hopelessness overcame me as the words oh, what's the point raced through my head in three-foot letters of fire, and I became so angry and confused that I knew I had to get help. I ran over to the student health center and made an appointment to get counseling. Turned out to be the same day the court upheld Prop. 8. So I basically got out of math class, feeling pretty good (we got a test back; I got 100%, so I remember that) but scared, called home, asked my dad for the results, got them, thanked him, and stumbled off to wait for my appointment. Had it, made an appointment for another one with another counselor, went to the rally downtown.

The reason all of this interfered with my blogging is that, well, when you're having a breakdown, when something that personal is that wrong -- well, it doesn't lend itself to activism so much. I mean, it does -- I had wild impulses to write my protest on every blank wall I came to, tear down the Yes On 8 yard sign I had to see every day on the bus and stand there until the cops came, parade around with "GIVE ME BACK MY RIGHTS" scrawled on my bare chest (not downtown, though, as female toplessness is legal there), or chain myself to something -- but the sort of actions it inspires don't include coherent blog posts. All I would've produced would've been blind rage and grief and repetitions of they're lying, I'm hurting, this is wrong that would have left me more frustrated.

I'm back, though, and next summer I will be out collecting signatures to overturn this thing. Because I was reminded, when I rewatched Milk with my family, that we don't have that guy any more; we have to inspire ourselves, and keep on fighting whatever the odds. So, hi. My name is Phoenix. You stole my civil rights. Prepare to be defeated. I'm here to recruit you.

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