I’m writing this from the shady terrace of my parents’ garden in England on a perfect June day, where I’m surrounded by the scent of my father’s roses, the sound of a song thrush and a wood pigeon trying to out-warble each other, and dozens of bumble bees, dragonflies and butterflies competing to prove that if you turn the landscape over to organic farming the bugs will come back. The house is so full of spiders my daughters are too afraid to use the downstairs loo (we counted at least a dozen of them in there yesterday) and when I woke this morning there was a very majestic hare sitting in the middle of the lawn. It’s blissful escapism, temporary but welcome.
What I’m (temporarily) trying to escape from is the state of trans rights, which is utterly grim right now. Almost harder than the endless updates about which piece of anti trans legislation has been passed on any given day, or which of our rights has been rescinded, is the realization that public opinion is slowly turning against us, in particular against trans women and kids. I’m an optimist by default, and assumed that things would go on getting progressively better for queer and trans people, but over the last couple of years that optimism has been severely tested by the reality that we’re being pushed farther and farther into the margins. Even people in whose allyship I had absolute belief are now starting to let us down.
And yet… here I am, sitting in the garden of a house I once thought I might not be welcome in anymore once I revealed my queer identity, surrounded by more love than I know what to do with. If you’ve read my memoir you’ll know I was terrified about coming out to my parents, but to say they surprised me—and have gone on surprising me ever since—is an understatement. Not only did they accept me, but they were determined everyone else should too, and have been continuing to advocate for trans rights around the English home counties for the last fifteen years, in an equal-parts admirable and adorable attempt to change the world one upper-middle-class English white person at a time. They’ve been so effective that when my father hosted his own mini-book launch for the UK edition of Frighten the Horses last year, over forty of his friends showed up, which is definitely not something I could ever have predicted. I can’t abandon all hope when I have family like this: people who were raised in a white, colonial, racist, homophobic, transphobic society and have managed to overcome all their prejudices simply because they loved one of their children enough to do the necessary work. If they can do it, anyone can, and I will take that belief with me to my grave.
I wrote the first half of the poem in the video above in 2011 as a sort of thank-you to my parents for their support, since my mother was getting fed up by all of her friends telling her how terribly sorry they were that I turned out to be gay. I’ve been meaning to write the second part ever since, but never found good reason to sit down and put pen to paper (too preoccupied with the *serious* work of trying to write a novel) until the fabulous Ariel Martinez asked me to read something new at her queer monthly reading event, Perfume Is Gay, which was just the excuse I needed.
My parents celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary this year, so it seems fitting that I dedicate my Pride newsletter to them, in gratitude for their love and commitment to each other, to me, and to trans rights. The poem is written/performed in the voice of “Lady Fitz-Waterford” (a composite character) FaceTiming one of her friends with the latest gossip.
Disclaimer: I AM NOT A POET. There is no Transition-with-Dr-Seuss style book in the pipeline. This is the one and only time you will ever be subjected to a poem written by me, I promise.
Love, Oliver
I’d like to keep these posts free for everyone, but if you’d like to support my work as a writer, please consider upgrading to a paid membership, or buy a copy of my memoir, FRIGHTEN THE HORSES—an Oprah Daily Best Book of Fall—which is out now in paperback with Roxane Gay Books in the US and Grove Press in the UK.
