We are all such complex creatures, neither wholly good nor wholly evil. As I learned teaching in an all black high school, where a favorite "game" was to draw swastikas on papers turned in to my fellow teacher who had spent time in a concentration camp, sometimes rather than uniting we "others" find someone more an "other" than ourselves to marginalize. Adrienne Rich was not only marginalized, her "others" were people like my dearest friend who is a transwoman.
So, from some trans friends:
Imagine how different poetry and the women’s movement would be if cisgender women like Adrienne Rich had stood up and said, “Trans women are our sisters, and they are welcome in my womanspace, and if you don’t like it, you can piss off.” Imagine what a difference it would have made for trans women who wanted to be part of the community of women, and were instead shunned and vilified. I am vastly sad that Adrienne Rich is gone, but I wish her legacy were pure, untainted by transphobia and transmisogyny. As they say, With great power comes great responsibility. She should have used hers better.
http://rafeposey.wordpress.com/2012/03/29/my-complicated-mourning-rip-adrienne-rich/and another:
Not mourning isn’t the same as celebrating or diminishing her death, however. I feel nothing positive in her death, no smug dismissal of her. What I feel is sadness. The sadness I feel when I hear of any human being dying. But also the sadness that someone otherwise so talented and insightful could hold the position that who I am is not valid or real, and worthy of such scorn and derision. The belief that I am delusional and an assault on women’s space merely by my presence. Even if someone contributed 95% of their work to positive, affirming efforts, that last 5% is still pretty much impossible to shake if you’re the one in the sights.
http://gudbuytjane.wordpress.com/2012/03/29/my-complicated-mourning-of-adrienne-rich/
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