Goroyesque

[cw: brief mention of s*i /d**th] Before anything else, this is particularly emotional to me because the person I was kissing for this action is Emily Voukelatou, not only a dear friend, but also an incredibly perceptive and necessary intersectional feminist that is now long dead. Before writing this, I was devouring the first pages of Max Porter's 'Grief is the thing with feathers', and 'tis the season to mark transitions, and converse with those dearly loved and also gone . Her femifesto-of-exiting included these words now forever haunting a deep layer of the building blocks of values and duty: "there is no place [not even] within the LGBTQI community for people utterly destroyed by violence."  There is no place .  I clumsily but vulnerably lament about her here . About our shared internalised death drive: about the duty to stay, and about the duty to forgive those who don't. Here is a video capturing the action, and I am also talking a bit about it on...