Most of the questions at Greenbelt were friendly, but the last woman to speak compared us to people with body dysmorphia or BIID. I wonder why- to engender disgust with us, perhaps. We should not be indulged, because what we want is repulsive- to save us from ourselves or to save others from going the same way. Tina found the comparison repellent.
Anyone who likes the world nice and neat, with simple comprehensive categories, may need me to “be a woman” before they can tolerate me. The first response, never having come across us before, might be Yuck. Oh, says a wise friend, that’s a trans woman. She’s a woman born in a man’s body. Or, she’s born that way. She is mostly harmless. And the person who likes the world to be explicable accepts the explanation. Or the friend says, he’s like body dysmorphics, one of the bad people. Yuck is appropriate.
I can tolerate a certain amount of disapproval. I just have to. Some people think my way of being ridiculous or disgusting, and as long as enough people accept me I sort of rub along. My view is that body dysmorphic people are doing their best under difficult circumstances. I hold the liberal view that they should be allowed to do what they want if it does not harm others, because they should be trusted to make their own decisions for their own flourishing.
I feel I benefit from an atmosphere of general tolerance more than a categorisation as among the Acceptable kinds of weirdo. Body dysmorphics bad. “Trans women- women, really- and therefore acceptable” is subject to argument. “Person who is in part inexplicable, just like every single other human being” is not. Let us rub along as best we may.
After, we were surrounded by people wanting further encouragement; then we went for a drink, and to The Canopy to hear Lorraine Bowen. Her songs should not work, being not sophisticated at all, but they are joyous. Much of the crowd danced the actions to the Crumble Song:
Everybody’s good at cooking something- mime stirring pots
I’m good at cooking- both hands to chest indicating self
Crumble!- Hands in the air like a gymnast at the end of their routine
In fact, I’ve got one in the oven- bending down miming taking it out
Would you like some?- Mime offering it.
I think it’s intended as a double meaning for a bun in the oven, or pregnancy. It seems innocent and ridiculous to me. We liked it, a joyous crowd not concerned with how we appear. The freedom of silliness. How we appear is a terrible tyrant.
-Oh, I’m not sure I could do that one at Greenbelt.
-Dill Pickle! Dill Pickle!