Danger calculations.
A story about summoning bravery in an era of emboldened hatred.
He came into my yard with a friendly "yoo hoo! I'm looking for Grover." Considering that I was alone in my backyard, I was glad for the audible heads up.
"Hey there, I'm Grover. Are you here about the yard?"
His ear-length blonde hair bounced tidily as his long gait covered the distance to where I was fiddling with my small battery-operated hand mower. I took his outstretched hand for a shake as he approached, close enough for me to read the white text on his t-shirt. I froze.
The shirt was transphobic. It stated that I and every other trans and nonbinary person are mentally ill. So it was also ableist. I won't repeat its content here, but be sure: there is literally no other way to interpret this shirt.
As he was explaining how he would go about doing the estimate for the mowing job, I was running through calculations in my head. Not math calculations: danger calculations.
This man doesn't respect me and my people. He wears propaganda that makes life more dangerous for us.
In fact, he spends $18.99 on the Shop app to have a t-shirt like that delivered to his house and thinks it's a good idea to put it on when going to work for the day.
I am alone in this yard.
My wife is in the basement working.
My children are not in this yard.
No one appears to be armed.
He is alone.
I am in this yard, and this yard will remain here, and he will know where I live.
I know, even before I calculate, that this man is not getting my money. But how am I going to do this?
In the fight, flight, freeze, and fawn spectrum of responses, I was in freeze, but I didn't have to stay there. In past eras I've regularly had to use appeasement1 and fleeing strategies; walking away quietly, vigilantly fearing reprisal for my refusal to pretend they're right and my presence is wrong. Any attempt to fight — with words or fists — wouldn't do anything to make me safe nor would it produce any real consequences for him. I could fawn for now and pretend we're having a perfectly normal interaction then text him to say we went with another company. That would be the safest way for me personally, and I would have made that choice many times in my life.
Fascists use the people's money to enact their hateful violent regimes. My tax dollars are being used in this way right now. I itch with this knowing. And more locally, in the majority-white suburban/rural region I live in, straight white men are usually the only option for home repair contractors despite it being a queer, lesbian, and trans-centered bubble. In general, these local tradespeople make good money and they use their generally stable, land-owning, multi-generational-resident lives to shape the communities we live in through seats on town councils, public communications,2 and their role in shaping local institutions. Some of these cis straight white guys have been awesome! Some have had bad vibes in a way that I ask my wife to come upstairs to be near me for safety reasons. Some have been weird about my gender the whole time, which is exhausting in my own home, but generally were fine. Some have done a shitty job — because they're bad at their job? Out of spite? The thing about discrimination is I'll probably never know.
One time, when I was living in a half-MAGA small town, a contractor who’d kindly helped my wife and I a number of times cautiously offered up that we should never work with X contractor. “Other people, they’d be fine. But not you.” We asked — why? He said one time he gave an estimate to a lesbian couple for some septic work. Then, he got busy with other jobs and the couple ended up working with X dude. But when the house was built, it was hundreds of yards back from the original site. They had to re-draw their building plans, extend their utility lines, and build the house at the back of the lot. When our looking-out-for-you buddy eventually ran into X contractor, he asked why the house got sited all the way back there, knowing that the soil near the road was just fine for a septic field. X guy said "Oh, I told them the soil wasn't good up there because nobody should have to look at that from the road. It's disgusting."
He told this couple they had to move their house to the back of the lot to the tune of many thousands of dollars because he didn't want to see lesbians. He took their money. Thousands of 77 cents to the dollar that white women make compared to white men3 poured into that man's pocket. He profited from hate while shaping other people’s lives around his own hateful vision of the town. Maybe five people know about it and he experienced no consequences.
We are in an era when being hateful is emboldened, celebrated, and further commercialized. As someone who came out in rural midwestern US in the 90's, it's giving 90's rural queer life vibes in A VERY BAD WAY. And in many ways, it's worse, because the hateful power of an almost unchecked executive office is unleashed in all directions, deploying the military on cities, snatching our neighbors, and crafting policy to further isolate queer and trans kids. You know. I know you have your own list of fears that are directly proportional to the size of your love for other people and yourself.
I just finished reading Rebecca Solnit's memoir, Recollections of my Nonexistence, which is a memoir that unpacks all the ways that violence and the threat of murder undergirds the sexism that structured her life. It resonated deeply.
"You can forget your own tender depths of how much life that matters takes place here beneath the surface and the surfaces. It’s still easy to be the armor. We die all the time to avoid being killed."4
In past eras, I've not had legally-recognized decision making power over a space when standing face-to-face with a proud transphobe. There's no guarantee what will happen, even when standing on a yard paid for with a mortgage with my name on it, if I stick up for myself and refuse to ignore the degrading description of my own existence standing there in front of my face. I am alone in this yard but it is MY YARD. I live in a state where a LESBIAN IS THE GOVERNOR as are both of my statehouse representatives. I literally could not have imagined that when I was coming out. I have health insurance! And whatever economic, political, and social power I've gained in the 30 years since I was standing afraid in one small town and now another, I'm using it to stick up for myself and to stick up for us, even if it puts me at risk of retaliation.
So I said to him: "I'm gonna stop you right there. Your t-shirt is really offensive. I'm nonbinary and trans, people who come to my home are trans, and it's clear you don't respect us. So I'm not going to work with you."
"Oh…." he looked puzzled. "I'm sorry."
"Okay," I said. "Well, what you put out into the world has consequences. So, please leave my yard now."
He shrugged, slowly turned, and walked out of my yard.
Later, I told the neighbor who referred him to me about the shirt and why I wouldn't be working with him. She fired his company that week and told him why. He said "the t-shirt did not represent any official opinion of the company." He is the owner of the company. He wore it to a meet with a client. She reminded him of that. Now we are hiring a local high school kid to mow our lawns while we are away.
Everywhere hatred greets us, we must pull out our calculators and summon up our bravery5. He's a young man, and I hope that when another opportunity comes for him to step away from the hateful fascist death cult that's swallowed him up, he'll join us. But that doesn't mean I need to pay him any of my money. As much as I can help it, these fascists and their supporters are not getting any more of my money.
Bravery is contagious.
Right now my heart is with people in LA, San Diego and many other cities who have been standing up to ICE and immigrants who go about their lives in this country in the face of immense risks. So many people are being brave every day. How have you been brave lately? It's not bragging if I ask you directly! I'm asking you directly — will you share a time when you’ve summoned up your bravery in the comments?
The "fawn" response is appeasement — going along to get along to escape danger.
A dude at the end of my street owns multiple houses. He hangs a rotating cast of misogynist, foul-mouthed anti-Biden and Harris signs from some of them.
Rebecca Solnit, Recollections of my nonexistence. p. 68
Yes, I know this is a story about white trans middle-aged, middle-class bravery. It’s one story, not the whole story, not the most important story.
Beautifully handled. Thanks for your bravery and for sharing your story. We all have to be brave now and it’s hard.
Nova shared this post, which is how I came to read it, so thank you for writing that. I read it after waking up with a lot of anxiety this morning, and reading this made me feel a bit better. My bravery recently is taking medical leave for my mental health, saying it’s okay for me to take time to take care of me, and that my work will continue on without me. The amount of time I spent just worrying about how my workplace will function without me was what took me so long to take leave to begin with. I finally decided that my well-being is more important and whatever is on my desk can wait. Thank you for giving the space to share, and for sharing your bravery. ♥️