All the wrong people hate themselves

There’s a meme, an adage for the modern age, that states: all the wrong people hate themselves, except me. I deserve it.

It’s a self-mocking thing borne of whole social groups of depressed nobodies trying to do well. We love each other, and don’t understand why our friends don’t like themselves! Until we realize, one by one: oh. Same jerkbrain.

For some of us, it gets channeled into betterment of ourselves or of the wider world. Some of my favorite people hate themselves, and channel it into activism or art or other tikkun olam work. And some of us stare at the wall and read half a book and feel sad about it.

I just want to know things, and make yarn, and turn yarn into fabric, and watch the trees bloom. I want fewer people to die before their time, whether that’s due to natural disasters or unaffordable medications or interpersonal violence at any scale.

I want a lot of things, and I want to be a better person, and I have a sneaking suspicion that some people I think of as "better people" hate themselves too, that their admirable acts are fueled by "maybe this will make up for my inadequacy" or "my mistakes" or "my past".

You don’t have to make up for anything. I do, though, of course. All the wrong people hate themselves except me.

Retaining agency in death

One Saturday in March, 1911, a New York factory full of recent immigrant workers—Irish and Jewish women, mostly—were working their shift, locked into the building as per usual. A fire broke out. They could not leave. They died.

Mayn Rue Platz was written in 1911 by someone who worked in sweatshops, about his family and friends who worked in sweatshops, after the triangle shirtwaist factory fire. A yiddish poem about death in sweatshop conditions, bodies left to burn up and be forgotten by all but their families. Its been put to music and sung multiple times, in multiple languages. My current favorite is Geoff Berner’s version available on Bandcamp.

The sweatshop workers did not have a choice about their post-death situation. Most bodies were unidentifiable, inseparable from the ruins of the factory—their final resting place.

I’ve been thinking a lot about agency after death. About whether people’s wishes are respected, and how particularly dehumanizing it is when they’re not.

Trans people are misgendered in death all too frequently. The deceased’s blood relations often end up making decisions of obituary wording and names used; if the person wasn’t out to their family, or had cut ties, or had bigoted family; if the family’s not in the picture, but the person hadn’t been able to update legal documentation of their name or gender; endless reasons, really. We slip through the cracks a lot.

It’s cultural violence when we are misgendered after our deaths.

James Miranda Barry, renowned surgeon and medical pioneer, was a man assigned female at birth. He was not widely out in life. He did have lovers, and bore at least one child, but he was a man and viewed as one until the day he died.

Once he passed away, not only did people find out he was trans, but his story began being told differently. Some now see him as a pioneering woman, in fact.

There is a cis woman writing a book about him, under this assumption. To her, Dr. Barry acted as and dressed as a man only to gain the social power and prestige men hold; to her, he was truly a woman all along.

How do we affirm someone's specific humanity in death? Are cultural practices recognized, or personal wishes, when the two conflict?

Are our bodies cleaned and prepared for burial, or unconsidered trash? Are we buried in marked or unmarked graves, or even at all? Are our requests about our bodies honored, if we even thought of having them?

What of fictionalization in a way that erases one’s true nature, or the struggles one faces?

The publisher has since said they are still publishing the book, announcing today (February 26, 2019) on twitter:

"In response to the discussions arising from the acquisition of the novel The Cape Doctor, Little, Brown publisher Reagan Arthur says, ‘As publishers, we support the freedom of writers to imagine any kind of life and situation, including ones based on historical people and events. E.J. Levy has written a novel that it [sic] is based on a real person, Dr. James Barry. it is a work of imagination, not a biography or a representation of fact.

‘Over the last week, we have listened carefully to members of the transgender community and their allies. We will work with E.J. Levy to publish her novel with sensitivity to the issues that have been raised, including the use of the proper pronouns to describe Dr. Barry’s embodiment. These are important issues that we take seriously, and we look forward to continuing this conversation as we bring The Cape Doctor into the world.’"

A true representation of trans life, and respect for trans death, may start at using the correct pronouns but it does not end there. I do not believe that the book that results will truly respect his legacy, or his life. No matter how many individual trans people serve as sensitivity readers, no matter if he/him pronouns are used in the book, the veneer of fictionalization has been spread by someone who sees Dr. Barry as a woman. It is a profound insult, a shame and a disrespect to a gentleman who lived a hell of a life, to treat him this way. I only hope that competing publishers are seeking out trans man authors to do his story justice.

Queen Anne branch

Hi! Been a while, but I’m back to going on these library adventures. More or less. Most recent one was after we got all that snow, when everyone was getting all stir-crazy and outside looked really gross.

Anyway, the Queen Anne SPL branch opened on January 1 1914, originally. It was renovated in 2007 and then again in 2018. They put in some great stained glass in the 2007 renovation. Apparently it’s listed on the register of historic places. It’s another Carnegie library building, nice architecture (besides the relatively large number of stairs) and windows allowing what little sunlight there is to help out, and all that.

There’s three whole named spaces; I’m in the Linda Larson and Gerry Johnson Family Reading Area, as I write this. The children’ area also has a name, as does the meeting room that i accidentally walked through on my way in where tax help is happening.

I don’t know how many of the Seven Classic Whatevers mixed media pieces I’ve seen, but I’m guessing about four? There was one here.

I ended up sitting adjacent to the YA/teen sections, which wasn’t a dedicated zone or anything but just where the books are. I really liked that they explained simple things like this in ways that meant you didn’t have to talk to anyone.

Also, the bathrooms are locked, but at least one of them is nongendered and the key just hangs out right by the door. If you gotta lock a bathroom, might as well have this be the way.

I love dogs. I've always loved dogs.

Ok so: if you don’t like Jupiter Ascending that’s fine. I don’t wanna hear about how it’s trash or whatever. I am specifically stopping myself from writing apologies or excuses for bad parts of the movie. Here’s why I love it, spoilers included.

Jupiter Ascending is the story a million little girls grew up wanting. Jupiter’s an undocumented immigrant who cleans toilets for a living. She eats dinner every night with her large obnoxious family, including a sketchy cousin, then finds out she’s set to inherit a fuckin’ SPACE EMPIRE. She’s not great at things all the time either—actually yells and clings to Mr. Handsome Eyeliner when flying uncontrollably! uses the sticky side of a pad to try to absorb blood from a wound!—and I for one am charmed.

Anyway, the villains are a trio of siblings that hate and/or want to seduce each other. The movie toys with themes of genetic destiny, of rebirth, of the rich literally killing the poor so they can live longer more beautiful lives. There's gorgeous dresses and fascinating hair choices and confusing dramatic reveals and not-quite-hidden anticapitalism. It’s a movie built from the secret imaginary worlds we sometimes take too far and into weird places and what if they were real, you know?

Plus, Jupiter's got a mysterious sexy wingéd werewolf boyfriend with rocket boots. Will he gain the redemption he desires? Will he re-learn how to get along with his partially-bee ex in time for them to save the day?

For every hundred adolescent-boy-fantasy movies, there’s maybe five little girl fantasy films, and maybe one of those gets to be weird. This is a truly bizarre-ass movie that feels like it fell out of someone’s imagination wholesale and I love it deeply and wholly.

Tu Bishvat Seder

Tu Bishvat is the new year of the trees! The "tu" in the holiday’s name means 15; the month is Shevat; B’ means of. So: Tu Bishvat. Most of the traditions for the holiday involve fruit. Some eat a new-to-them fruit; some make a point to find and eat carob/St John’s Bread; some just eat any particular fruit for the first time that year.

Kabalist Arizal (R. Isaac Luria) started some of the traditions for Tu Bishvat, including the seder itself organized around the sefirot, attributes of god, and mystical levels of reality.

R’ Luria had a tradition of eating 15 different types of fruit, which sounds like a fun challenge, so that’s what we’re going with. We’ll be eating these in a few stages, but if you need to snack obviously go ahead and do so, just don’t finish up anything we haven’t gotten to yet.

My least favorite thing about Tu Bishvat is what the zionists have done with it, centering the whole thing around the contemporary state of israel and fruit from/of there and its colonialist green-the-desert ecology. Fuck that shit. Let’s practice some diaspora-centered earth-friendly traditional hippie judaism.

There are four glasses of wine or nonalcoholic alternative, like at Pesach, but this time forming a gradient from light to dark. These correspond with the four worlds, ABiYA, each of which has connections to Gdly attributes.

Let us begin.

Pour a glass of white wine. Don’t drink it yet.

Azilut is emanation. It is where the infinite light of Gd still exists and is connected to its source. It is a dimensionless point, both fixed and diffuse.

The Gdly attribute associated with azilut is chochma, or wisdom. Chochma means a lot of things, including that first inspiration moment where an idea exists without limitations. This plane of existence is beyond even the highest angels; it is part of the concealed world, along with the next world/level we will explore.

Remember back to the perfection of summer, lying on the beach and listening to the water, being part of something bigger than yourself. Unquestionable good, if you believe in that sort of thing.

Wine blessing:
ברוך אתה ה' אלהינו מלך העולם בורא פרי הגפן
Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu, melech ha-olam, borei p'ri ha-gafen.
Blessed be You, who creates the fruit of the vine.
Traditionally, we eat the fruits and nuts where the outside is inedible but the inside you can eat. I’d like us to take a fruit from the most local source available and eat it. Fruit! Right here! In January! It’s very cool.

Fruit blessing:
ברוך אתה ה' אלהינו מלך העולם בורא פרי העץ
Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu, melech ha-olam, borei p'ri ha-eits.
Blessed be You, who creates the fruit of the tree.

Pour a glass of white wine, but leave room for a couple drops of red. Or pour a glass of rosé.

The second world we visit tonight is beriya, the world of creation. Here, things exist, but without form. The Gdly attribute for this world is bina, or understanding. Self-awareness begins, the separation of other organisms from Gd.

In Autumn, we eat apples and crunch leaves and begin to worry about the cold creeping in. The world increases in complexity and we have some FOMO for summer fun.

Wine blessing:
ברוך אתה ה' אלהינו מלך העולם בורא פרי הגפן
Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu, melech ha-olam, borei p'ri ha-gafen.
Blessed be You, who creates the fruit of the vine.
Here we eat fruits with a pit and no shell: soft edible outside interrupted by hard inedible inside. Olives, dates, cherries and other stone fruits. Jewdas suggests fruits that are edible due to a combination of human ingenuity and nature, which is pretty much all fruits as far as I’m concerned, but let’s eat olives and celebrate.

Fruit blessing:
ברוך אתה ה' אלהינו מלך העולם בורא פרי העץ
Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu, melech ha-olam, borei p'ri ha-eits.
Blessed be You, who creates the fruit of the tree.

Pour a glass that is half red half white.

The previous two worlds are part of the concealed world. As autumn becomes winter and we pass from the concealed to the revealed world, we progress closer to the world we inhabit.

The third world is yetzirah, or formation. Beyonce’s here, probably, along with the rest of the angels.

The Gdly attributes here are the six at the branches of the tree of life: the emotions. Shit gets increasingly complicated, as we get closer to the material world.

There is Chesed, lovingkindness; Gevurah, discipline/severity; Tiferet, beauty/symmetry/balance; Netzach, endurance/eternity; Hod, sincerity/surrender/splendor; and Yesod, foundation, which we use to cohere ideas fully. It’s a different kind of incomprehensible than before; we’ve moved from difficult-to-conceptualize pure good to figuring out how to center ourselves, let alone counter too-close-to-home evil.

In the dark of winter, a deep part of our hindbrain is afraid the sun is gone forever. We hunker down and try not to panic, remembering that survival is work worth doing. We try not to think too hard about the futility of the actions we can take to minimize the destruction of our environment. We push back against impending fascist doom knowing that success, should it happen, will not quite reach our hopes. We push anyway, but it’s harder than it has any right to be.

Wine blessing:
ברוך אתה ה' אלהינו מלך העולם בורא פרי הגפן
Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu, melech ha-olam, borei p'ri ha-gafen.
Blessed be You, who creates the fruit of the vine.
Let this be the end of the hopelessness of winter, sweet and bitter and sour joining together to see us through. Here, we focus on fruits where the entire thing is edible. Grapes, figs, berries. Kumquats, probably.

Fruit blessing:
ברוך אתה ה' אלהינו מלך העולם בורא פרי העץ
Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu, melech ha-olam, borei p'ri ha-eits.
Blessed be You, who creates the fruit of the tree.

Pour a glass of red wine, with a drop of white in it.

The fourth world is our material realm, Asiyah. The physical plane, in all its complexity.

The Gdly attribute associated with Asiya is malchut, or kingship. Asiyah means action; I like to think of this combination as a call to activism. It’s on us now. We are stewards of the earth and must take action.

I think of Mrs. Which in A Wrinkle In Time, announcing: "weeeeee aaaaare heeeeeere".

It is spring. The sap is rising in the trees; soon they will begin to bud, then flower, then fruit. It is not a perfect world, or a perfect situation. But we have survived the hardest part of the year. I hear a wise man once said that the long arc bends towards justice. With a little help, we can push this to happen.

Wine blessing:
ברוך אתה ה' אלהינו מלך העולם בורא פרי הגפן
Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu, melech ha-olam, borei p'ri ha-gafen.
Blessed be You, who creates the fruit of the vine.
Take in the essence of some tree or another. Maple syrup, cinnamon, bay leaf, cedar. Enjoy the sweet smells and build hope for the future.

Sweet-smelling tree blessing:
ברוך אתה ה' אלהינומלך העולם בורא עֲצֵי בְשָמִים
Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu, melekh ha-olam, borei atzei b’samim
Blessed be You, who creates sweet-smelling trees.

This is where we honor Rev Dr Martin Luther King, Jr and all others who fight for justice. This is where we face the complexity of being humans who fucked over this earth using our small power to prevent further destruction.

I do not know what is next, but we are here to build it together.

Let’s close with the traditional bracha, blessing, used in the first Tu Bishvat seder by R’ Luria, translated by R’ Wikipedia: "May all the sparks scattered by our hands, or by the hands of our ancestors, or by the sin of the first human against the fruit of the tree, be returned and included in the majestic might of the tree of life."

This Tu Bishvat seder was cobbled together from various sources, including, Wikipedia, and the Jewdas 2019 Tu Bishvat seder. Traditions vary, including when to eat which fruits; I did my best to merge them coherently.

Ben Grimm And Other Jewish Things

"I don't talk it up, is all. Figure there's enough trouble in this world without people thinkin' Jews are all monsters like me." —Ben Grimm (The Thing)

The Fantastic Four are elemental, both in the fire air earth water way and that they are foundational to superheroes as we know them today. Basics, classic features of the marvel universe are sourced in their very first issues; they open the door to the weirder cosmic Marvel with shapeshifting skrulls and evil autocrat rival scientist Dr. Doom.

It’s a known fact to most Jewish people that when we go out into the world, we represent all Jews. It’s in a subtler way than for other racialized groups, and arguably we’re not as confined by it, but Jewish respectability politics do exist.

A popular view of Judaism, both from outside and within, is that we have a choice between Orthodox jewish practice or assimilating into mainstream culture.

Maybe you stand from the goyim, but do your best to fit in at shul; marry young, have a big family, do as many of the the right things as possible, while still fitting into your community. This is not the environment I grew up in, so I have less to say about it; but it is stifling in ways I don’t know how to interact with, and being a genderqueer individual facing a highly gendered space I don’t intend to start now.

The one I am more familiar with: you don’t stand out, or call attention to yourself for jewishness. You send your kids to hebrew school and go to shul on the high holy days (if you don’t have to work, or if your boss is tolerant), but otherwise you dress and act and look like everyone else. Maybe you light shabbas candles at home, but you assimilate, or you hide in pursuit of safety.

In either case, there is often not room for misfits to be our true selves in Jewish community. You show off the nice boys and kind girls and beautiful babies and smart doctors and suburban families. You’re kinda embarrassed about the older singles and the gays and the rock monster who moonlights as a hero.

I understand the role of safety in choosing to assimilate. But when respectability politics run roughshod over which Jewish people are allowed to represent judaism, what it teaches the rest of us is this:

Judaism does not want us; judaism does not have space for us; judaism is only for picturesque white straight nuclear families who form promptly and produce children.

But—Judaism has always been an evolving and changing religion of weirdos. It has always been a space where it is difficult to be us, where we are chosen to live eternally in covenant with Hashem, where we are responsible for doing the work and keeping community with each other. It is not just for the nice jewish boys and girls, for the abled until old age, for the ones who agree with the rabbi week after week; it is not for Americans who ignore local politics and choose instead to send funds to the israeli military.

It is for cripples, and it is for queers, and it is for all of us messy people and monsters and the people who love us.

I still struggle, when I talk about Judaism, when to get my politics and embarrassing lumps and clarifications out of the way. Whether I am going to be a Model Jewish Person this time or a Proper Leftist With The Correct Palestine Politics or a Nice Jewish NotQuiteGirlOkCloseEnough. How am I representing my people? How much of an embarrassment am I?

My grandmother was obsessed with propriety, and how things looked, but she loved my weirdo self fully. She clearly didn’t always understand, and I will have her slightly distraught "oh, Meli" as a soundbite in my head for the rest of time.

She taught me that we all find our family members embarrassing sometimes, but you can be a little embarrassed while also being proud of a person. You don’t have to hide what you don’t understand, even if you’re not looking forward to explaining to your charity board friends that your granddaughter has purple hair now and maybe you wish she’d waited until after the annual luncheon.

You don’t have to "get it" to support it. And maybe that’s what we need to be about, instead of black-and-white correct ways of being Jewish, so our current-day Ben Grimms aren’t embarrassed into hiding their jewishness.

The Movement Doesn't Need...

…more pretty young white girls with invisible disabilities
…more white people writing about disability
…more bi queer women with boyfriends
…more white AFAB nonbinary people
…more people like me.

But: the cool part of writing on the internet is the space is, theoretically, infinite. I am not taking anyone’s paycheck by putting up blog entries. I am not headlining conferences or publishing books or taking up (rare!) paid disability rights work, and if I were that wouldn’t be the worst thing either as long as long as I remember two things: I am not the only person with important things to say; and I’m sometimes not the right person to say them.

There is more than enough space for all of us, and there is always going to be more justice work than we can do. The real work is outside what pays, always.

University Branch

This branch has a gorgeous building! Unfortunately I didn’t take any pictures of the outside—it was rainy and chilly and I was achey so I wanted to get in and sit down.

The university branch has a long history; the building was built in 1910, and is a historic landmark. I’m glad I’m doing this project now—reading between the lines, accessibility was not great prior to the 2016 renovation, which involved redoing the entryways and adding better handrails.
As I write this, I’m in the David R. Davis Reading Area. I love libraries, and it would make me happy to someday have a nice cozy accessible reading room named after me. Doesn’t seem too likely, since my income’s unlikely to support that size of a gift and I intend to keep giving chunks of it to individuals, but it’d be nice.

The electrical outlet situation isn’t bad, since apparently in the 2007 renovation they added a bunch, but it does feel a little thrown together—there’s powerstrips plugged into the floor and wrapped around table legs.

The library branches I’ve been to either have two single-user all-gender bathrooms, or two one-gender multi-user bathrooms. As a nonbinary person, I much prefer the single-user all-gender bathrooms, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.

Beacon Hill branch

There’s a really cool kinetic boat sculpture outside! Inside, it’s airy and open-feeling. There’s a Madeline L’Engle quote behind the front desk: "A book, too, can be a star, a living fire to lighten the darkness."

Before I visited, I took a look at the SPL’s webpage about the branch. Here’s some things I learned:
  • They have weekly storytime in Mandarin and Spanish as well as english
  • The current building opened in 2004, and was refurbished in 2017
  • Most interesting history note: "In 1968, fire destroyed a neighboring store, but heavy rain kept the library from burning." It’s magical!
  • size: 10,400 sq ft
  • I’m guessing the meeting rooms are high demand. They ask patrons to call at least a week in advance to reserve a study room, where on most branch pages it just says first come first serve.
While at the library, I looked through a few books. One of them is about Asian pickle recipes and have Ideas now. I don’t know if there are quite enough tables for people to sit at—pretty much all of them were in use, and I went on a weekday. But they do have power outlets embedded in them.
All in all, a solid frequently used library branch. I wish the signing from the main road was a little better. I walked there from the transit station and I wasn’t entirely sure the building I was walking towards was the library until I got there.

Northeast Branch

It was another rainy day on Friday, so I did a trek out to the Northeast Branch. The parking situation wasn’t great—a few angled spots behind the building, and signage wasn’t very obvious on the building. Book drops by the parking area were cute though.

I don’t have many pictures of the library’s interior either, but it’s for a good reason. I try to photograph parts of the library without people in them, because I don’t wanna be That Creep, and there were a ton of people there! Some were reading, many were using computers, small children were filling out this branch’s coloring book page in the kids section; there were just a lot of people around. It was really nice.

I sat in the magazine section and read Jewish in Seattle, which shouted out the queer Talmud class I’m a student in. The vertical pieces in between magazine shelves are heating vents.

The teen section contained resources on free showers and also graphic novels, which seems like a correct selection of things for teens.

It was a cute little nook in general, and just outside this picture’s section there were a few computers reserved for teen use during certain hours.

There didn’t seem to be much art hanging if any in this branch, which is backed up by the lack of an art section on the library branch’s highlights page. It’s still a wonderful library facility that gets a lot of use, but would have been nice to see some of that funding channeled into art too.