“We’re all a little queer here,” said the barista at the coffee shop near our Airbnb. I’d asked if it was an all-woman-owned shop. Everyone behind the counter was indeed female—I could see that with my own eyes. Two plus two still equals four in my crazy world. And the name of the shop had a decidedly feminine ring. But to call them women. I’d somehow said something…off, like soured milk. And so I stood corrected. They weren’t female, those three behind the counter, with their female breast tissue, slight stature and pesky DNA. They were queer, like the rest of that woke dump, aka Toronto.
I really wanted to get a shot of the “progress” flag flying over the city but I didn’t get my phone out in time. It was enormous, the biggest I’ve ever seen. To make up for it, here’s a photo of Trudeau walking in the Montreal Pride Parade in 2019, which I snapped the last time the Millers crossed the northern border.
Montreal in ‘19 was a Miller vacation success. Back then, Miss Miller identified merely as a lesbian, a typical stop along the pipeline towards trans.
Her high school had yet to change her name and pronouns behind my back. I hadn’t yet been dismissed and ignored by her teachers, counselor, principal, superintendent and the school board. Mr. Miller hadn’t yet refused to join me in my fight, leaving me to fend for myself. Miller Jr. hadn’t yet articulated that he was afraid he would hate me one day because I’d started listening to Jordan Peterson. Things were effortlessly harmonious back then.
But now, in 2023, with my departure from the woke left, our Toronto trip was an #epicfail. Since I had the most terrible time, the blame lay squarely at my feet. I’m still trying to figure out why I didn’t veto our chosen destinations. Why didn’t I insist we try and find somewhere else? I didn’t want to go to Ithaca or Toronto but for some reason, I didn’t refuse. I kept going along, and going along, like driving over a cliff in slow motion, until I was throwing ugly tantrums every other day, feeling as misunderstood and enraged as a teenager. Drinking didn’t help. Listening to relatable podcasts didn’t help. They only magnified my alienation and secured my spot at the bottom of the barrel—the official family burden.
I have become a very inconvenient woman.
Please God, who I almost believe in, let something good come of this.
🙏🏼
I know how you feel. We need to start a support group...the Gender Critical Wet Blanket Society. (GCWBS! See, we can have fun unpronounceable acronyms too!) We're always spoiling everyone's queer old time with our pesky reality! I get told to look the other way and ignore things that bother me, and I even make an effort to try those methods...but it is just not my nature. I am disappointed in everyone around me--not because they don't unequivocally agree with me, but because they are either blithely unaware or just completely unbothered. With so much at stake and so much evidence all around...how????
If I may... Obviously I don't know ms Miller but based on what you said about her and her being related to a smart person like yourself , I am going to hazard a guess that Ms Miller is smart. Which means there is a good chance the trip is not a fail. Sooner or later a smart teen will see first how commercial the whole thing is , then how mainstream, then how self-absorbed . She may feel slight pangs of embarrassment during this trip, some ... Hey... is that what I look like? So, honestly it is unlikely that it was like Disneyland for a 5 y.o. for her.