Remembering Will

Over the last week or so there have been emails and postings on Facebook and other places. Each one of us reaching out to another in ways that show generosity and kindness. One person writing that she didn’t see eye to eye with another, that other writing back saying that she didn’t see things her way, but then both agreeing to work it out. To work it through to make a memorial for Will. Another writes that Will was about building bridges. It seems everyone who knew Will decided to go ahead and extend a hand across differences to remember what it is we’re doing here.

Waiting for my friends from SU in front of Dorie’s so I could show them where we were going, I got to thinking about when Will and I went up to SU for the “Transgender Teach-In” event organized by the wonderful Adrea L. Jaehnig, Director, Syracuse University LGBT Resource Center and Co-Chair, Consortium of Higher Education LGBT Resource Professionals. As usual Will said something that made me irritated, like that he “hated labels” which always drives a social scientist crazy. “Okay, you hate labels,” I thought, “So what should we call ourselves. People? Just plain people?” But it wasn’t that easy. You said that you were in the “In-between space” and that was difficult. Neither here nor there but moving somewhere. Where? Yes, the in-between space. Transgender spaces that meet the spaces of race and ethnicities and histories that don’t fit neatly anywhere anymore.

I see the SU friends in the rearview mirror and pull out into Main Street. We park in front of Main Building and the SU folks emerge from the car. One by one we greet each other across introductions. “Where are you from?” Alejandro asks me. “Puerto Rico.” “Ah, eres Boricua.” “Si.” “And you where are you from?” “Colonized Mexico.” I say, “Which state?” “Texas.” We walk toward the chapel slowly.

Alejandro and Adrea say beautiful words about Will. Leigh brings sandwiches and her courage to run a race later that day with “Will” written on her leg. “Running right beside me” Leigh says. People remember stories of Will and their connections with him. There is the laughter of recognition. Yes, he was like that. We remember. He had a big heart. Lee reminds everyone that it is time to talk about what being transgender means at Wells and not wait for someone to die. “Will was lost here,” Lee says. The memorial service which was student organized is abruptly cut short by a Dean just when we were getting started to talk about how not to lose each other. Out of grief, no one protests. Out of respect the ceremony ends. But it doesn’t end there. Let’s not lose each other, mi gente, in this in-between space. Through our transitions we will find each other and recognize each other in all the spaces we occupy. I hope we can find a way to remember Will in ways that continue the work.

Photo credit: S. Bear Bergman