It’s fair to say, I’m no fan of London. I’m not in to big noisy cities at all. I hate places that are crowded and where manners are considered a rumour of an ancient past. Conflict, even the threat of it, see’s me frozen in fear. It would take something really special, nay extraordinary, to see me making that trip down south anytime soon. To be brave enough to feel the fear and do it anyway. And, so it was.
On the 21st October 2021 such a miracle occurred. I did indeed wake up in London, having stayed overnight in Wood Green. I had woken, readied myself and then taken the tube to arrive in the political heart of our country at Westminster. There was an inevitable threat of conflict, as another section of our society didn’t want the likes of me congregating with others similar to me, and wished to make their objections perfectly clear. The utter madness and insanity of the preceding 4 years I’d witnessed meant that I no longer cared about my dislikes of big cities or my fears of conflict; I had to be right there in central London, on this day, regardless.
With a quick stop at the statue of Millicent Garrett Fawcett for a selfie en route, where I was reminded that “Courage calls to Courage Everywhere”, I arrived at the Queen Elizabeth II Conference Centre to represent the B of the LGB Alliances inaugural conference. The big scary counter demonstration at 8am consisted of one trans-identified-male lurking behind a tree, and two men dressed head to toe in black with a black mourning veil covering their faces, who believed themselves to represent the mourning of us gathering solely as the LGB, with no attached T. It was both disappointing and terribly dramatic all at once.