Dear Guy Who Arrived Late to the Live Show, Sat in the Front Row, Pulled Out His Phone, Asked Repeated Questions About Whether We Subscribe to Identity Politics, Then Stormed Out,
Jay here. I answered your questions in the episode, but I also want to take a minute to talk about some things I haven’t previously mentioned on the podcast:
My kid has never seen the city where I grew up.
They have never visited my parents’ house.
See, if we go there, I can’t use public restrooms that align with my gender identity and presentation. If I have a medical emergency, doctors can refuse to treat me because I’m trans. If my child has a medical emergency, the police can take them away; again, because I’m trans.
Do I subscribe to identity politics?
I would love for my identity to be apolitical, random guy. I would love it if my very existence weren’t treated by lawmakers as tantamount to public pornography. I would love it if my access to necessary medical care—not just gender-affirming care, but any medical care—weren’t subject to public approval of my gender identity. I would love it if the current administration weren’t doing its level best to erase people like me from both history and existence.
Do I subscribe to identity politics?
Last December, someone filed a malicious report to CPS about my family. Why? We don’t know. Fortunately, the caseworkers who showed up were sympathetic; fortunately, the claim was something immediately and definitively disprovable; but I would love to live in a world where I didn’t have to wonder if it was because my spouse or I disagreed with someone on the Internet while openly queer—and in my case, openly trans.
Do I subscribe to identity politics?
When we started this show, I still identified as female. The majority of the criticism we got during those years was of my voice and appearance.
Do I subscribe to identity politics?
As I said when you first asked, I believe that when lawmakers and public figures politicize specific identities, those identities become—without the consent of the people who carry them—political.
When some identities and relationships but not others are treated as pornographic, publicly acknowledging those identities and relationships becomes a political act.
When your government is attempting to erase you, continuing to live honestly becomes a political act.
And here you come, strolling into my space with your phone and your bad-faith questions, ignoring our answers because they don’t align with your petty agenda, storming out like a displeased toddler when the rest of the crowd increasingly clearly demonstrates that they’re not on your side.
Do I subscribe to identity politics?
Motherfucker, I subscribe to reality.
