Welcome back to Eight Years a Washingtonian, a series where I talk about what I’ve learned since I moved here in 2016. That year was consequential for not just me but the region and the so-called country I live in, so I am, in a way, treating this like I’ve hit a whole decade here and I’m looking back. because it’s felt like a whole decade. You can read the entire series and get more insight into what my goal with it was here. 

I’m running a little behind on getting this series up, so I’ve decided to combine my Part 4 and 5 reflections on being part of a bigger African diaspora and having unfettered access to gendering myself however I see fit and loving whomever TF I want to love. Also, I’ve been trying to make companion YouTube videos, but I think I just want to get the words out, so between now and Election Day, I’m going to hit you up with some reading distractions until we get there. Oh and yes, the title is a reference to the 2007 Common song.

So I’ve arrived in this Chocolate Rainbow Mecca. Why do I feel so sad and lost though?

I’m not going to lie, I did expect the Black head nod when I got here. I also expected to find more like-minded Black radicals with a dash of care and concern and Black southern hospitality. Basically, I was told that a lot of my cousins were here, so I should be able to fit in and not have to change too much. However, I’ve barely seen my actual cousins here, because this area is so vast, it’s easy to get into your groove. Oh, and my cousins and I have a lot of differing views and I tend to be more radical in more ways than one.

In the last part, I talked about how much the federal government’s presence really shapes everything. Still, I want to go even deeper and talk about what it means to be in a metropolitan area where every form of Blackness is represented. There’s no universal Blackness, while we still contend with this being a settler colony. Still, only half of us were enslaved in said colony and the other half were either enslaved elsewhere or seen as an equal colonizing force.

Now I also adore how many cultures and cuisines are here. But I have noticed that no matter what, people are so tied to doing the “right thing” and the status quo, that some of those unique flavors are muted out.

And, yes, I’ll say it, all this affluence and falling in line makes people change. If you’re straight, middle-class and above, and able-bodied, this is a gilded age. If you don’t care about being near Metro, plenty of neighborhoods will happily house you and your children. If you don’t care about working for a company that bombs parts of your homeland, they are happy to have you sign on the dotted line and write a six-figure check.

But sadly if you and your children are too poor, queer, and/or disabled, you will hear about how much more you need to do and how you might be failing or “not networking” right.

But in the meantime, it’s great to see what it would be like to live in a land where Black folks don’t have as many barriers based on our race, leaving us to just battle ableism, queer antagonism, and classism.

Real talk, I would have never come out as a nonbinary genderfluid polyamorous pansexual as soon as I did in North Carolina. Ok, maybe I would have found a Les somewhere else, say on UNCG or Guilford’s campus, or milling about downtown Durham, or in the mountains enveloping Asheville, but she wouldn’t be my Les.

Plus, the law allows us so many options to not only protect who we are in all of our uniqueness, but we have been able to be in the same hospital room for years, I can be legally partnered with her here in the District without losing future disability benefits eligibility, and I can find plenty others who are also delightfully quirky and queer.

Now, let me be clear, I can love a bunch of people at once, but I’m not looking for anybody else. Living here has exposed me to so much gender practice, not just theory and not just confined to where whatever liberal arts college is in town. I know I would have made it to this point in Greensboro, but now, I have more legal support at my job, and in public spaces and there are affirming Black churches here so I can even pray as a nonbinary genderfluid polyamorous pansexual without being threatened with a hell.
 
But as I said at the start of this newsletter, that does vary within our affluent suburban communities. businesses, organizations, and individuals can still find loopholes to treat you terribly without recourse. Queer and disability respectability and class politics still show up and show up hard in a land where no one cares what color or shape you are, as long as you serve the goals of the empire, good or bad.

As many of you know, Greensboro is an island for many in North Carolina. In fact, I miss so many of my friends and comrades who would be ready for me with a plate of calabash seafood and possibly even a drive to the beach.

This gets us to our next part, where I’m going to talk about how my lack of good food, is balanced out by the abundance of water access here in the DMV. And how when I do feel lost, there’s a will and a way. Because after all, forever does begin.

Until next time,

Kristen

PS. The spookiest thing I think we can do at this moment is not vote for anything, especially those local and state races that affect our direct material conditions, along with pushing this raggedy Congress to do right. Don’t forget to turn over your ballot like I did and go to votesaveamerica.com to see what’s on your ballot and make a voting plan.