vixel's reblogs stash

so many responses of “its nice that you’re privileged enough to be able to steal from Target willy nilly!” and that’s not at all what this is about. like, yeah, shoplifting and loitering and graffiti and breaking the rules is, obviously, part of “do crime”. but they’re not parts you have to do.

would you help someone get an abortion where it was illegal?

would you help a trans friend get healthcare that had been criminalized?

would you shelter someone fleeing persecution, even if the law said not to?

would you help a gay couple stay together when the state decided their relationship was unlawful?

instead, would you report someone else for breaking the law? will you snitch on your hungry neighbors for stealing food? on your homeless neighbors for sleeping where they’re able?

up until that point, during the day lily continued to dress in masculine clothing and even attended galleries showing gottlieb’s paintings of her. which was kind of iconic. she got to stand in a room full of people who were marveling her beauty, not knowing she was right next to them. it must have been such a cute little secret for them as a couple.

here’s gerda and lilly together

not to mention that for most people there is no real “after” to a transition. especially for these trans historical figures who had to balance identity and safety at all times.

i think having a wife paint these portraits must have felt really amazing for lily. to be able to see herself through the eyes of someone who loved her. i’m very much seconding op on the getting teary eyed.

here are some of my favorite gottleib lily paintings

Once I had someone do the whole "that seems so hard, you must be so patient" standard routine. I ask her, "why's that?" You know, why do I need to be some kind of virtuous martyr to watch 90s cartoons with other disabled people for $30 an hour?

And she says to me, with full seriousness and a look of utter dread on her face,

"All the biting."

OK mate. What do you mean. What biting. What are you on about.

"The biting," she repeats, as if it's obvious and I ought to intuitively know what she means. Then she kind of snaps her teeth to demonstrate. "You know?"

No I don't know. What do you mean biting.

"They bite," she says. Eyes wide, dead serious. "The, um, the Slow People. They bite."