Read Between the Lines

"Step 1: Continue committing the forbidden act..."

I’m in a mood this morning.

This has been a weird time, thinking through it all, calculating, updating what it means that the foundations of our government are being destroyed.

I’m annoyed because I just painted my nails and I chose a color I do not love. I bought this stuff because I was trying out different brands, looking for a polish that dries faster. The color is close to the purple I like, but it’s too dark, like there’s a trace of day-old avocado in it so it looks slightly spoiled. Maybe the glitter particles are made of ground-up old car parts.

It’s a refreshingly stupid problem to have.

It was minus-9 degrees when I woke up this morning. Later, I’ll see how these nails stand up to bringing in a load of firewood. They’ve already made it through grinding beans and brewing coffee.

I’m listening to a recap of the week’s news. We’re being flooded with orders that threaten to re-shape the world overnight. Instead of claiming a position, gaining consensus and pushing legislation, the president is in dictator mode, setting everything up as if it has all been decided, and daring us to make him take it down.

I’m trying to look ahead to wherever these orders will take us. It’s been a long time since the government dictated to me what I was allowed to look like. They shaved my head and put me in a uniform, once, because I had joined the military and signed a contract waiving my right to choose what I wear.

Having that right taken from me as a private citizen is a different deal.

There’s a lot to figure out about it. Like, how far back in my career as a troublemaker do I need to reach for the right way to respond to this shit? Seventh grade? Maybe sixth?

I’ve got this procedure I developed through years of immaturity and civil disobedience. Like throwing a tantrum, but more coordinated, more focused on outcomes.

Step 1: Continue committing the forbidden act, as if you are unaware of the rule, until someone tries to stop you.

Step 2: Demand to know why you’re being stopped, under whose authority, the exact wording of the rule, etc.

Step 3: Mercilessly, but cheerfully, attack and undermine any premise offered in Step 2.

Example: “No chewing gum!” — “I’m not chewing it. I’m rolling it around in my mouth with my tongue.”

Step 4: Look for technical forms of compliance that do not satisfy the spirit of the rule.

Example: “No gum? No problem, friend. Would you like one of these extra rubbery breath mints?”

Step 5: Repeat until one of you is exhausted and gives up.

It’s a highly effective system. My parents would vouch for it. I call it the Purple-Avocado-Glitter Guide to Civil Disobedience.

Except, these people aren’t my parents. They’re an angry, violent mob that has seized control of the federal government. They have the nation’s law enforcement industry and a for-profit prison system at their disposal. They’re canceling free speech and installing a fundamentalist religious oligarchy. I have friends who are leaving the country for fear of what’s coming.

The transgender ban dictates that all “government-issued identification documents” shall “accurately reflect the holder’s sex.” What if I go on a trip and get stopped at the border because my passport has a feminine name? I might argue that my name was legal under US law at the time the passport was issued, but would that matter to a border agent? And what if I’m traveling with my child? I try to do my civil disobedience and my parenting on different days, you know, so my kiddo doesn’t end up in police custody.

There was another order, to exclude transgender people from serving in the military, that puts it more bluntly. It refers to gender transition as “a man’s assertion that he is a woman,” which it says is dishonest and “conflicts with a soldier’s commitment to an honorable, truthful, and disciplined lifestyle.” It directs transgender service members to cease using pronouns that “inaccurately reflect an individual’s sex.”

So, it looks like we’re going back to Don’t-Ask-Don’t-Tell… to protect soldiers’ commitments to “truthful” service.

Ok, fine. So I’ll just change all my documents to match my birth certificate, since birth certificates are so damn important to these people. Name, social, driver’s license number. They’re just random government codes issued to me decades ago. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna change my clothes. I’m not gonna introduce myself by that name. They can force me to put it on my documents, but all that accomplishes is to have a “man running around in women’s clothing,” which is the thing these fools really hate.

Question is, will I go optimistically into the world, looking forward to opportunity and adventure, or will I shrug down into stoicism, drag my old pea coat outta moth balls, turn up the collar?

I brought in the firewood.

Nails are intact, but I admit, I cheated and wore gloves. It’s possible to damage fresh nail polish wearing gloves, but I didn’t and these nails are smooth and shiny. Avocado is glistening.

Maybe I can find this brand in a better shade—bright pink with hints of motor oil—'cause I’m gonna keep wearing nail polish no matter what they make me call myself. In fact, I’m gonna wear more nail polish than I would have if they hadn’t made the rule. That’s the Purple-Avocado-Glitter Guide in action!

A reassuring thought is the irony of this president’s long and well established history of failure and demonstrated incompetence. There’s evidence that these orders of his were written by AI. He’s declared the Constitution unconstitutional. His order “to restore biological truth” didn’t even get the biology right; he’s technically declared us all female. Any of you fellas wanna snap up a “women’s only” education or small business grant? Now’s the time to apply. Boss man says you're eligible. (That’s a Step 4 Glitter strategy.)

He’s pushing random buttons on a machine he doesn’t know how to operate, like someone gave their crazy MAGA grandpa the keys to the country and he’s out there crashing it into everything. Most of the changes he’s ordering are illegal, and in time will be reversed.

So won’t it be hilarious when he manages to accomplish the opposite of everything he sets out to do?

Like, what if a government-mandated sex assignment for all citizens causes people to regard their sex/gender the way they regard their social security number? What if that cold ambivalence for our personhood frees people up to explore style and manner of being without any regard to “gender restrictions,” and suddenly a post-gender world of total gender fluidity begins to emerge?

The military ban says transgender people are too broken and afflicted with health problems to serve in the military. Which is funny, because the president’s problem with transgender people in sports is that they are too capable, too undefeatable. So if this decree—from this Commander-in-Chief of biological truthfulness in his orange makeup and shoe lifts—performs according to his usual record, we should end up with a robust, precedent-setting endorsement by the U.S. government that transgender individuals are decidedly fit for military service.

That would be badass, from a military readiness standpoint, because transgender people are tough. They’ve been through it. Their lives make them warriors, and there are currently 15,000 of them doing their part to make “the world’s most lethal and effective fighting force” what it is.

The government recognizing and honoring their service would also be an endorsement that transgender people are fit for society, and deserve to be treated as sound and serious individuals.

Photos by Budka Damdinsuren and Sander Sammy