The Future: Eighty-Six Years Of Perpetual Motion
"But some of us will survive. We're going to save as many people as we can. In the end, that's all we can do: Turn death into a fighting chance to live."
Hello, my rainbow warriors! Miss Dee Jay here. And... 2025 is close to complete, so let's get this year out of the way and go on to the next.
I remember 2019 being an absolute mess. That year was so stressful and difficult that I finally, after decades, reached my transition point, when I began the arduous process of transitioning in earnest. At the end of that year, I just wanted 2019 gone, and looked forward to a peaceful 2020.
.... Yeah. I'm still waiting for that peaceful year.
Some years are for thriving. Some years are for surviving. If you're reading this, you probably got through 2025. That's a heck of a badge of honor, all things considered.
So... to end this year, and to end my little dance of Ghosts of Christmas Wibbly-Wobbly, Timey Wimey Stuff... what do I have for the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?
The future, that Yet To Come, is tough to pin down. We've all seen days where it seems like the future is Star Trek bright. On the other hand, there are days where it seems like the future is crushed, dead. One of the things I teach my students is the degree to which the past reflects the present and, by extension, the future. When it comes to forecasting, we literally only have what has come before us to get some idea of the direction we are going. So what might sound like a reach into the future actually means a reach into the past to find our path.
I'll be honest; given this past year, I almost found myself selecting the bleak "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" from Les Miserables on this.
But... I found something else. Something I think better fits the future, better fits what's to come - not Star Trek ideal, but not absolute destruction, either. What I ultimately found was somewhere in between - a little bit of wisdom from the old pirate himself, Jimmy Buffett.
So... what could I select from Buffett's discography that so beautifully reflects the future? "Margaritaville"? "Cheeseburger In Paradise"? "Why Don't We Get Drunk"?
Buffett was a storyteller-songwriter, maybe the last of a breed of storyteller-songwriters that came out of the early 70s. "A Pirate Looks At Forty" could certainly fit... but there's another work of his that I think cuts to the heart of this dilemma: a little song called "He Went To Paris".
"He Went To Paris" was written early in Buffett's career, when he was still trying to break through in the music business. It tells the story of the twists and turns a particular person goes through from youth to old age, from going off to see the world as a young man to calm domestic life to losing his family to war to fishing in the Florida Keys in his eighties.
The point of all of this... the character of the song was a part of history. He affected parts of it with action; he was affected by parts of it. And he mourned those he lost, and went on, and ultimately found his contentment - and who he was - in his everyday life.
Recently a friend of mine said, "I never thought I would live through history." This friend went on to explain that it always seemed like history was something that happened to other times, other eras. She referenced her grandmother, who was clearly impacted by the Great Depression, at which point I thought of my own grandmother, who I mentioned in my previous post. My grandma was clearly scarred by those same times; she hated throwing anything out and reused everything, even things we'd consider disposable, such as plastic sandwich bags and tubs of whipped cream.
Something else about living through history, one of the curses of being a survivor: burying those we love. My grandmother outlived three of her children, and one of her grandchildren. As a young mother, she'd had to bury her own infant child; later in life, she'd had to bury her own infant grandchild.
With what's to come... we're going to be scarred by this. We're going to save as many people as we can, but we are going to be scarred by this. We've already received scars; those that couldn't transition until after our initial puberty bear the scars of that first puberty and the hormones we never wanted. Some of us will bear more immediate scars, the creation of violence. And all of us will bear the emotional scars from going through becoming an enemy of the state, and defending a people from the deprivations of fascists.
We're going to have to bury friends because of these monsters.
We're going to have to bury children.
Children.
We've already buried children because of these monsters.
But some of us will survive. We're going to save as many people as we can. In the end, that's all we can do: Turn death into a fighting chance to live.
Because of this, I have a homework assignment for you. I want you to picture that future, your version of "Now he lives in the islands, fishes the pilin's,
and drinks his Green Label each day." I like to imagine a coffeeshop somewhere; my current struggle with graying hair has long been lost, giving me tresses of iron-gray, and the years of my life can be read in the wrinkles on my face and hands. Around me are friends, fellow trans folks, men and women and enby souls who shared these years with me, who survived this horror show, and made it to the other side, talking, laughing, smiling softly. The scars are there; maybe wrinkles and worry lines, maybe a softness in the gaze, maybe a tremor as the coffee cup is held. But I'm there; I made it, and so many people I love made it.
That's my dream. Now... I want you to imagine your future. Maybe it's a coffeeshop like mine; maybe it's a comforting bar; maybe it's a park; maybe it's a wilderness. Maybe it's just doing nothing and enjoying each other's company; maybe it's some activity, anything from a tabletop RPG session to roller derby to cycling to fishing. Maybe it's with family, grown or found; maybe it's with friends; maybe it's alone. The point is that it's your dream, your ideal, your denouement.
Got that picture? Good. Document that picture, as well as you can and in what medium you prefer. Maybe it's writing it down, like I've done. Maybe it's creating some form of artwork. The point is this: create it in art, so that you can create it in life.
Take this. Remember it. And in those darkest moments... take it out, and remember why you are here, and what you are striving for. If you're going to reach that future, you need to picture it, imagine it. Make it in art or prose, then let that be your north star in your life, because having that ideal to strive for might be the one thing that keeps you alive in all this.
I don't know where my end is. Maybe 2026 will be my last year. Maybe I'll be like my grandmother, and make it to my 100th birthday. But wherever that ending is, please remember this - words true now, and words true always.
"Some of it's magic, some of it's tragic, but I had a good life all the way."
Have a happy new year, my lovelies. Seize the new year if you have to, but have a happy new year.
