yonmei

05:39 pm: Memorial Day: Kaija Seifert
I'm just reminded: today's a day to remember Kaija Seifert, a US soldier who was killed in Iraq.

"Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, is a day of remembrance for those who have died in our nation's service." - www.usmemorialday.org.

This month a federal appeals court has reinstated the legal challenge made by Margaret Witt (formerly of the USAF) to the constitutionality of the U.S. military's Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy. Too late for Kaija Seifert, and for others who died in the closet. But a hopeful sign, nonetheless.

Tags: evil american politics, howls of rage, kaija seifert, powerful speech vs. powerless silence, war

06:23 pm: Remembering Kaija Seifert
Today I went to a seminar for employers and service providers to discuss how best to oppose transphobia and anti-trans discrimination.

It was a good day, and I hope a productive one.

It ended with two people, Jo Clifford, whose name used to be John Clifford, a Scottish playwright, who got up and talked passionately about the wonderful changes since she was a 15-year-old who knew she was a boy who wanted to be a girl and didn't have a name for what that was: and Nick Laird, who works for Fair for All NHS, talking about his experience as a trans man - Nick is younger than Jo, and came out/grew up/transitioned in a more supportive environment, but still had those moments.

I was thinking, as you do, about gender identity: Nick told a story about a small boy - an utterly innocent small boy - asking him, back when he was living as an uncomfortable teenage girl who knew she wanted to transition - "Are you a boy or a girl?" and Nick not knowing what to answer, and finally answering with what his birth certificate said then, and how he was living then: "I'm a girl." And the wee boy asking, in all innocence "Are you sure?"

( Read more... )

Tags: being queer, feminism, hair hair hair, i am an angry feminist, kaija seifert

09:30 pm: For Kaija Seifert: Intrepid Fallen Hero
A girl was killed the other day, a girl I knew: an invisible girl, a girl behind a mask, a girl who never got to be a girl.

She was killed. She was a soldier, serving in Iraq: an American soldier, in a war zone: over three thousand soldiers had been killed already, a million Iraqi dead.

We all wear masks on the Internet. Some of us wear masks in real life too, and Kaija wore more masks than most.

She was a soldier serving in the US army, due to complete her term of enlistment this year, looking forward to the day she wouldn't be a soldier: she could get to be a girl.

I knew Kaija. Not well: we exchanged a few e-mails, a few months ago, because I was the only out lesbian she knew, and she needed to know where a girl like her, a girl who wore a man's name and M as her official gender, could go when got out of the army. She didn't want to lose her pension: she didn't want to be dishonourably discharged: she wanted to go to Iraq, with her comrades, and do her duty. She wanted to complete her promised term of service. I didn't know her well, but I knew her well enough to know that she was the kind of person who keeps her promises.

So she died. Someone killed her. Over a million people have died already, blown up, shot, run over, bludgeoned, skulls exploded - but Kaija's the first one who died I knew personally, and Kaija died unacknowledged, unmourned, utterly alone. No one in the army knew Kaija existed: most of her family didn't know: the last I heard Kaija's wife, who loved the man who was Kaija's closest mask, the man who was Kaija, couldn't believe in Kaija: couldn't believe the man she loved, who loved her, was a woman.

Kaija wrote under masks, as we all do: many people knew and mourn the man they knew behind the masks.

If I am the only person in the world to weep, right now, because Kaija died, the girl no one knew, the girl who never got to be a girl, the girl who was just tapping at her chrysalis, hoping this year would be the year she could fly -

Oh, Kaija. You go, girl.

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Memorial for Kaija

I was trying to figure out, after Kaija died, how to create a public memorial for someone who never publicly existed. She had a blog (Who is She?) which will last for a while. Other than that, I don't believe she ever had an online presence.

( Memorial for Kaija )

Inside the lj-cut are details about donating to a US military charity to create a memorial: I would actively rather people not donate there if they prefer not to donate to an American or military charity, and please not to donate at all if things are financially tight. Kaija wouldn't have wanted that, and nor do I. I don't believe in any afterlife, except as people are remembered. Please, remember Kaija: thank you for reading about her: thank you for remembering her.

Tags: kaija seifert