Candlelight Vigil

Last night's vigil was amazing and powerful. I had a bit of my facts wrong: this specific candlelight vigil was in honor of those in the transgender community who have been murdered. The organizers of the event at Portland State University did a compassionate job with everything -- sharing their words, passing out candles, and allowing us some moments of silence. I've always loved when people take turns lighting one another's candles -- so simple, so humane, so connecting. For anyone interested, check out rememberingourdead.org. And do your homework on Rita Hester, a woman who was killed for just being who she was, literally. She sparked much of this.

Funny the combination of feelings that sweep over one during such an event: the feelings of love and empathy; kind eyes lit by gentle candles; chilly bones in the night air; my dripping nose; guilty thoughts at wanting to be safe and warm at home, in my pajamas; hugging Karla and Steve; listening to that wonderful piece about owning our bodies, our hearts and souls, the power that comes with darkness and blending it into light, the idea that God doesn't "make mistakes" with transgendered people but gives them the bodies they were always meant to have -- God doesn't make mistakes, period. During the ceremony, I cupped my candle with alternating palms, sometimes held it in both hands and let the wind play with the flame, and during it all listened to the 17 pages worth of names read off of those killed for this specific hate crime from 1970 until today. Their names are now in my subconscious, webbed together in memory.