What We Forget
NOTE: I’ve been informed by Meghan Stabler of the HRC Business Council and now by Bil Browning that the “hacker attack” decribed below is by a group of skinhead professional Eastern Europeans who are not trans, and have done the same thing to at least one feminist blog: Shakespeare’s Sister, in the past year.
The gist of this blog remains, imo, valid. Whomever the attackers are they are morons and haven’t a clue about the free exchange of ideas. Nor do they appear to have any “real” lives other than showing their skills at disrupting others’ sites.
The blackout by these people extends to other LTBG web-sites that are affiliated with Bilerico. Bil says he’s hopeful that they can return to the Web by late-Friday, but there is a huge amount of work to be done to make that happen. Equipment’s been destroyed by the attackers and information will be hopefully retrieved in terms of archives and current posts.
My very best wishes and sympathies to Bil and all those at Bilerico.
And there is NO DOUBT in my mind that Lyssa has nothing at all to do with any of that. She’s too smart, too genuine, to be assocuated in any way with any of it. It ain’t her style, nor her wish, to try to have this crap escalate into something that she would wind up as the first victim of. Girl ain’t suicidal.
So anyone thinking she may be somehow in this? You are ignorant.
What we forget out here on the webz is that there are other people at the other end of these little paragraphs and sentences we write. What we forget is that a made-up identity is not an identity, it’s a pose. What we forget is that without communication, touching and holding, the crying of real tears, the echoes of real laughter, the smiles, frowns, moues, moans, shouts, whispers, lies and truths of real human beings attached to them that we are all alone.
Currently there’s a withering “hacker” attack ongoing at Bilerico. And I have no doubt who’s doing it: some or a group of “transsexuals” who believe that their spite, their false outrage, their ability to remain hidden and to be the arbiters of what people hear and see, read and think is more important than the real people and real lives beyond the screens.
They seem to think that the people at the Human Rights Campaign and Bil Browning are not real. That they are not flesh and blood people who get up in the morning, get dressed and feel and think and love and dislike just the same way those “hackers” do. They seem to think that destruction and fanning the flames of their own hatreds, flaws, fright and anger somehow justify their decisions of what is and is not worthy of being read and seen.
On Tuesday evening I published a blog piece that took Bilerico and Bil Browning to task for possibly the eventual jailing of a passionate and committed woman of color who’s also transsexual. There’s no doubt that women of color with transsexing histories bear a deep and difficult task to live their lives with dignity and respect. There’s no doubt in my mind that the jailing of such a woman could very well put her in danger of her physical integrity.
But, when all is said and done, she’s spoken her mind. Both on her own blog and she’s had others speak in support of her. Yet, is it possible that there are people of good will who believe differently? Is it possible that Samir Luther and Bil Browning are capable of being seen as human and important simply because they are human regardless of sexual orientation, skin color, beliefs?
Because, doncha see, if I manage to disregard that they are human and, so, worthy just because they are human of my respect and decency that I give up myself a very important aspect of my own humanity: the fact that I can empathize with almost anyone’s situation. Bil and Samir are not effigies to be burnt. Nor are their organizations, Bil’s blog and the Human Rights Campaign, somehow larger than the people who make them up, who care for them, who respond to them, who love them or even hate them?
What we have all-too-often forgotten in our cyber-driven world is that human touch remains our overriding need. The ability to associate with real, flesh-and-blood other human beings and share our ideas, our joys and sorrows with them is the sum total of being human. Human’s are social animals.
I cannot forget as I read her words on the web that Lyssa is a human being, out there somewhere, who sleeps and eats, walks and talks, loves, fears, and thinks just like me. I cannot forget that Samir Luther and Bil Browning are as well. No matter how much I agree or disagree with any of them, they remain human beings and have attached to them all the importance and worthiness of any other human being. Their ideas, their livelihoods, are just as important as are those of anyone else on the face of this planet, or any other planet.
But whomever has decided that she (yes, I have no doubt that the person responsible identifies herself as a woman, nor have I any doubt that her body has for most of her life been full of testosterone) should conduct a one-human attack against Bil’s website silence him, Alex Blaze, Tobi Hill-Meyers and the other bloggers at Bilerico is one extraordinarily callous and vituperative and utterly wrong-headed moron.
Hey, girl, your sense of justice is the same as any band of lynch-mobbers sense of justice. What you do isn’t brave or worthy: it’s the sign of the abject bankruptcy of your mind and heart. It’s the visible sign of your own emptiness and exile. It shows, beyond any doubt, that you have no ability to feel for anyone except yourself. And so, you abdicate any real sense that you are a woman, a man, or much of anything other than a quaking and lonely shell of a human being.
It’s too easy in our cyber-world to forget the most important thing about it: that it’s a tool that can be used to enrich, to mobilize, to enact in real life the touchings of millions of fingertips and the holding of a thousand hands to meet a goal of providing human recognition and human embrace to one another. It’s not simply some play tool where you get to enact your spite in disregard of anyone else at all. Now, grow up and get one clue. You ain’t no she-roe. You ain’t the center of the Universe, although you could be if you’d realize that sitting in front of a flickering screen is not life.
Up in Canada there was another blog written about this overnight. Mercedes Allen has gone through, recently, one of those inane and frankly dangerous experiences of having some person, and I can imagine who they may be, at least their cyber-name, decide that her, Mercedes,’ life is of as little importance as a button on a web-page. Mercedes’ ideas should be eradicated because this so-called “true-transsexual” cannot attend to the fact that behind a written notion are real human beings.
In being unable to make that distinction, this shadow-queen who may well in her actual non-internet life be just another person who’s lonely and alienated, gives away willingly, gleefully, her right to be part of human community. Instead she wants to make an attempt to assert that ideas somehow trump human being. What a shame and disgrace.
The promise of internet is that we can somehow touch other human beings, human beings we could never have had the opportunity to appreciate, to work with, and to organize with without the instantaneous communication of the medium. Alas, I fear that Mercedes is exactly spot-on: there is no community. There is only a withering conglomeration of egoistic fools who manage to conflate their all-encompassing senses of irrationality and reaction with a world and human beings.
It’s all just too sad, just too hopelessly foolish. And what’s more is all-too-often the perps themselves abdicate their own humanity and try to deprive the rest of us of ours.
Look-it, I ain’t repsonsible for your lack of having lives and being able to be alive human beings. Neither are Bil, Mercedes, Lyssa, Samir and a host of others you all wantonly incorporate into your fantasies of “realness.” That’s the “realness” of pixels and electricity that you are too ignorant, exiled, lonely and fearful of recognizing.
There is still this real world in which I sit as I write this. It’s a world where mist hangs over the Delaware in the early morning sunlight and the glow is something akin to what St. John described as the glow of Heaven’s walls of jasper, shining with the light of deity and millions of saints and angels.
What is real is the kiss of my partner and the squirm of my son this morning under the ministrations of my icy hands after I had seen that glow. What’s real are the songs of the songbirds that have returned across this suburban landscape in which I write. What’s real are the touches of other human hands, their hugs and their laughter and tears. What’s real is that we must find ways to exorcize the demons of our own insecurities and allow the voice of a disabled gay male in Indiana to be available once more on the web, just because he has something to say, something that even you, whomever you are, may find benefits you if you’re able to actually embrace your life and live it.
The real, the flesh and blood, the laughter and forgetting, the terror and the peace, the touch of other human hands and hearts, the embrace of those we love and those we are just meeting, and the discussions we have with them, the joy and sorrow we share with them, are our true heritage.
It’s way past time for us to see and hold to that. It’s time to understand that our joke, our hyperbole, our vindictive small-heartedness and fear may well be avenues to incite the exact same feelings in others. It’s time to understand that with putting my thoughts and words out there comes the responsibility to take into account the lives and hearts of others when I do. My rashness shouldn’t ever be an excuse to demonize and make a wasteland where there was a garden and call it “right.”
Am I my bother’s keeper? No, he has his own life and keeps himself. But I am his sister and if I ever get the chance to shake his hand and exchange conversation with him through human contact I will be blessed for having done so. I will feel his warmth, watch the turnings of his mind and heart and those will bring me joy. For in doing so, I will get, once more and in the only heaven there is, the opportunity to realize that I am not alone and bereft. For he is with me.A Life, Blogging, Communicating, Connection, Hearts and Minds, Humans, Inclusion, Relationship, Social Relations
This entry was posted on March 27, 2009 at 8:16 am and is filed under A Life, Blogging, Communicating, Connection, Hearts and Minds, Humans, Inclusion, Relationship, Social Relations. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
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