This story begins in LGBTI+ Pride month and ends in Lesbian Visibility month.
Emblematic to think that, in the year 2020, the two worst months of my life were between these two very important dates for the celebration of the rights conquered by the LGBTI+ community.
Human rights that I didn't feel I had when the attacks on me and my girlfriend started as soon as she moved into my apartment , where I had lived alone for 3 years. But when her car no longer left the garage full of cars rendered useless by the pandemic, the violence began.
In singleness with Shane de L Word rising, bringing crushes home almost nightly, I didn't suffer any prejudice. But when L7 records started to play frequently on vinyl, so did the calls on our intercom in the middle of the night .
When the Courtney Love painting was tucked into its little spot on our wall, our apartment door locks were glued together with Super Bonder. They tried in vain to lock us once more in an imaginary closet.
We were once again prevented from loving by someone who thought he had the right to wake us up in the middle of the night, distilling his inability to deal with other people's happiness. At home, we stayed up through the night completely weakened by the inability to defend ourselves against attacks.
The building was one of those old ones, no security cameras, no call tracker on the intercom. At the Person Protection Police Station, they asked us for the names of suspects, evidence of homophobia, something that could be used along with the newly born equalization of LGBTIphobia to the Racism Law (Law 7.716/1989). But that was done by the attendant, they never passed it on to the police chief, not even to the investigator responsible for homophobic crimes. We couldn't get in touch with anyone, just at the police station responsible for protecting us. We were invisible.
Friends asked us, “put surveillance cameras in the hallway”, but even internally the bureaucracy defended the other side. Only those who live in this situation understand how fragile we are when we don't have security in our own home.
Could you sleep knowing that someone might be at your door in the middle of the night? Would you be okay with seeing your cats stop OUT OF NOTHING and stare at a fixed point? I prefer a wandering spirit than a physical body, present and intolerant.
You know when they say that an empty bag doesn't stand up? Yeah, in my case, the bag that doesn't sleep well can't fight against disrespect and intolerance to different sexual orientations.
I've been fighting for years in various organizations that defend LGBTI+ rights, such as Grupo Dignidade and Coletivo Cássia in Curitiba, and I found myself with no way out, I felt like running away: running away to have peace, running away to sleep safe, running away so I wouldn't be waiting for, in addition to our mental health, the aggressor also robs us of our physical health.
We change because we are not obligated.
We moved to a building where the manager told us with a smile: “Welcome!” And there we seemed to exist again. A building where my next-door neighbor brings us corn cake at the end of Sunday to “have it with coffee”, and sends her a kiss with the loving hand of a grandmother that everyone wanted to have. A sunny apartment, with a waxed wooden block, with Belchior vinyl playing, with calm cats and (vi)adam ribs decorating, a cliché dyke. A great privilege to be able to leave a situation of violence, right? Can you imagine the thousands of people who cannot move?
In the month of lesbian visibility, we finally rest from this personal struggle, but we continue to fight so that more and more spaces are safe for all women who love women, and that living in society provides us with all the opportunities to live a dignified life and happy.
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Thatiana Tucci
Co-founder of Coletivo Cássia. Public Relations, teacher, translator and head of operations at PEITA.
Text originally published on the Coletivo Cássia blog.
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