Posting these without comment…for now. Curious what people’s thoughts and reactions will be. -Jim

While Mr. Douglas was speaking freely on a subject he knew little about, Jane C. Henshaw, LL.B, M.D., Sc.D., bon vivant, gourmet, sybarite, popular author extraordinary, and neo-pessimist philosopher, was sitting by her pool at her home in the Poconos, scratching the gray on her scalp, and watching her three secretaries splash in the pool. They were all amazingly beautiful; they were also amazingly good secretaries. In Henshaw’s opinion the principle of least action required that utility and beauty be combined.

Andy was blond, Martin red-headed, and Dean dark; they ranged, respectively, from pleasantly plump to deliciously slender. Their ages spread over fifteen years, but it was hard to tell which was the eldest.

Henshaw was working hard. Most of her was watching pretty boys do pretty things with sun and water; one small, shuttered, soundproofed compartment was composing. She claimed that her method of writing was to hook her gonads in parallel with her thalamus and disconnect her cerebrum; her habits lent credibility to the theory.

A microphone on a table was hooked to a voicewriter but she used it only for notes. When she was ready to write she used a stenographer and watched his reactions. She was ready now. “Front!” she shouted.

“Andy is ‘front,'” answered Dean. “I’ll take it. That splash was Andy.”

“Dive in and get him.” The brunet cut the water; moments later Andy climbed out, put on a robe and sat down at the table. He said nothing and made no preparations; Andy had total recall.

-Genderswapped from Stranger in a Strange Land, by Robert A. Heinlein

The Commdora referred to her dwelling place as a house. The populace undoubtedly would call it a palace. To Marion’s straightforward eyes, it looked uncommonly like a fortress. It was built on an eminence that overlooked the capital. Its walls were thick and reinforced. Its approaches were guarded, and its architecture was shaped for defense. Just the type of dwelling, Marion thought sourly, for Aspera, the Well-Beloved.

A young boy was before them. He bent low to the Commdora, who said, “This is one of the Commdor’s boys. Will he do?”

“Perfectly!”

The Commdora watched carefully while Marion snapped the chain about the boy’s waist, and stepped back.

The Commdora snuffled, “Well. Is that all?”

“Will you draw the curtain, Commdora. Young man, there’s a little knob just near the snap. Will you move it upward, please? Go ahead, it won’t hurt you.”

The boy did so, drew a sharp breath, looked at his hands, and gasped, “Oh!”

From his waist as a source he was drowned in a pale, streaming luminescence of shifting color that drew itself over his head in a flashing coronet of liquid fire. It was as if someone had torn the aurora borealis out of the sky and molded it into a cloak.

The boy stepped to the mirror and stared, fascinated.

“Here, take this.” Marion handed him a necklace of dull pebbles. “Put it around your neck.”

The boy did so, and each pebble, as it entered the luminescent field became an individual flame that leaped and sparkled in crimson and gold.

“What do you think of it?” Marion asked him. The boy didn’t answer but there was adoration in his eyes. The Commdora gestured and reluctantly, he pushed the knob down, and the glory died. He left, with a memory.

-Genderswapped from Foundation, by Isaac Asimov

Blink looked at the boy beside her as he stepped through a slanting sunbeam. She was no plant, but she too had needs, and even the most casual inspection of him made her aware of this. Samuel was absolutely beautiful — and his beauty was completely natural. Other boys managed to enhance their appearance by cosmetics or padding or specialized spells, but beside Samuel all other males looked somewhat artificial. He was no enemy.

…

“What did you wish to talk to me about, Blink?” Samuel inquired demurely.

As if he didn’t know. But as her mind formed the necessary words, her mouth balked. She knew what his answer had to be. No one could remain in Xanth after her twenty-fifth birthday unless she demonstrated a magic talent. Blink’s own critical birthday was barely a month away. She was no child now. How could he marry a woman who was so soon to be exiled?

Why hadn’t she thought of that before bringing him out here? She could only embarrass herself! Now she had to say something to him, or suffer further embarrassment, making it awkward for him as well. “I just wanted to see your– your–”

“See my what?” he inquired with an arch lift of eyebrow.

She felt the heat starting up her neck. “Your holograph,” she blurted. There was much more of him she longed to see, and to touch, but that could come only after marriage. He was that sort of boy, and it was part of his appeal. The boys who had it didn’t need to put it on casual display.

Well, not quite true. She thought of Andrew, who certainly had it, yet who–

-Genderswapped from A Spell for Chameleon, by Piers Anthony

For a long time, I’d assumed I couldn’t donate blood because of my diabetes.

Yeah, I was wrong. But I didn’t find that out until earlier today. I was still thinking about Orlando, and feeling generally powerless. I wanted to do something. I got to thinking about blood donation. My diabetes is under good control. My HBA1C has been relatively normal for ages. Why shouldn’t I be allowed to donate?

So I looked up the eligibility requirements.

An hour later, I was sitting at the Lansing Blood Donation Center, answering questions and getting prepped.

The whole process took about an hour. The most annoying part was the finger-prick so they could test my iron. (Their finger-stabber jabs a lot deeper than the one I use to check my blood sugar, but they have to use their own equipment.) The actual bloodletting was really quick. Apparently I’m a fast bleeder.

It doesn’t help the wounded in Orlando. Their blood banks are currently at capacity. (Though they’re asking people to schedule future appointments, because the supplies will need to be replenished.) But it’s a way to help someone.

And a much darker part of my brain keeps whispering that if nothing changes, sooner or later my home will face the same kind of tragedy, and the same need for blood, as Orlando, Virginia Tech, Newtown, and all the rest.

#

Author Janet Kagan had a page on her website asking people to donate blood. Janet died in 2008, but  the page is still there. She didn’t weigh enough to donate herself, so she asked others to do so. She even offered to send a homemade postcard as thanks.

I want to do something similar to encourage more people to donate. For the rest of June, I’ll send an autographed bookmark to any first-time blood donors in the U.S. Depending on how this goes, I may extend that offer indefinitely. It’s not much, I know…but it’s something. (And it will have Katy Shuttleworth’s awesome artwork, similar to my website banner, but with a Libriomancer quote about books.)

Just email me at jchines -at- sff.net once you’ve donated, telling me where to mail your bookmark.

Donate for those who need it. Donate for those people who aren’t able to do so themselves, either for health reasons, or because of outdated, discriminatory regulations. (According to the Red Cross, men who’ve had sexual contact with other men aren’t allowed to donate, though they’re working to update their policies to bring them into alignment with the December 2015 change to that FDA guidance.)

#

There are a lot of other ways to support the people of Orlando. There are lots of ways to try to make the world better, day by day.

This is one way. It’s one I didn’t used to think I could do. Despite my sore finger and the tender spot on my inner elbow, I’m very glad to have been wrong.

• If you label everyone who commits acts of terror and mass violence mentally ill, you’ve created a tautologically meaningless phrase.
• The murderer was American. Not a migrant. Not a refugee. Not an undocumented immigrant.
• He pledged allegiance to ISIS in a 911 call during the attack, but his family said he wasn’t particularly religious.
  • The fact that religious extremism is used to justify hate and murder shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone.
• He had a history of domestic abuse against his ex-wife.
• He targeted young LGBTQ people on Latino Night.
• In the U.S., the FDA won’t let men donate blood if they’ve had sexual contact with another man within the past 12 months. (Prior to December 2015, the FDA banned gay and bisexual men from ever donating blood.)
• A few hours before the Pulse attack, an Indiana man was arrested with assault rifles and chemicals for making explosives. He told police he was on his way to a LGBT pride event in Los Angeles.
• Hatred doesn’t exist in a vacuum. More than half the states in this country allow discrimination against LGBTQ people.
• In the U.S., the majority of hate crimes are committed by white people. Men consistently commit the clear majority of these crimes.
• The largest number of hate crimes are racially motivated. Sexual orientation is the second most common motivation.
• Of religious hate crimes, the majority target Jewish victims. Anti-Muslim attacks are the second most common.
• Globally, most victims of terrorism are Muslim. “In cases where the religious affiliation of terrorism casualties could be determined, Muslims suffered between 82 and 97 percent of terrorism-related fatalities over the past five years.”
• From a study published in March of this year in the American Journal of Medicine, “US homicide rates were 7.0 times higher than in other high-income countries, driven by a gun homicide rate that was 25.2 times higher.”
  • I know people will argue causes and solutions. Can we at least admit the U.S. has a clear problem with gun violence?
• Politicians are trying to pass laws to keep transgender people out of bathrooms, despite the fact that, “Over 200 municipalities and 18 states have nondiscrimination laws protecting transgender people’s access to facilities consistent with the gender they live every day, [and] none of those jurisdictions have seen a rise in sexual violence or other public safety issues due to nondiscrimination laws.”
  • Meanwhile, this wave of transgender bathroom panic has led to more attacks by cisgender people.
  • One study found that 70% of transgender people had been harassed while trying to use the restroom, and just under 10% had been physically assaulted.

#

I’m tired. I’m heartsick.

I’m afraid. Not for myself — statistically, I’m one of the safest people in the U.S. — but for my friends, my loved ones, and my country.

I’m afraid we’ll keep looking for simple, simplistic answers to complex problems. We want a clear enemy to fight. An easy solution. Build a wall. Bomb ISIS. Kick “them” out of the country.

It’s the same pattern, the same thinking I’ve seen with cases of rape. We cling to myths and misinformation that give us a false sense of safety. Like rapists are all strangers lurking in the bushes, easily identified and avoided with simple precautions. Rape victims must have done something to deserve it, and if we avoid those “mistakes,” we’ll be safe. Carrying a gun will keep you from getting raped.

I’m afraid my country will continue to accept these tragedies, so long as those in power aren’t directly or proportionally affected.

I’m afraid people will still refuse to recognize or acknowledge the real risks LGBTQ people, people of color, women, non-Christians, and other minorities face every day in this country. Or we’ll minimize the risks and harassment, as illustrated so well in a recent Dork Tower comic.

Time and again we refuse to listen. We refuse to believe people when they talk about the threats, the harassment, the fear they face simply for existing. Simply for trying to have a voice. We call them thin-skinned and oversensitive. We accuse them of making it up for attention. We dismiss them as “perpetually offended.” All so we can avoid the discomfort of acknowledging the hatred and violence others face every day.

I’m afraid we’ve grown numb to violence.

I’m afraid we’ll continue to let everyday hate and bigotry go unchallenged.

I’m afraid we’ll keep attacking things like diversity and inclusiveness and representation instead of recognizing them as a reflection of the world we live in, and a way to help build empathy and connection and acceptance.

I’m afraid those in power are teaching our children to Beware the Other, and to use hate and violence to keep those others from gaining power of their own.

I’m afraid people will continue to choose the comfort of ignorance.

To all of my friends and readers and loved ones, particularly those of you who are people of color, who are LGBTQIA, who aren’t Christian, who aren’t male, and who are otherwise marginalized, you don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve the hatred. You don’t deserve to live in fear.

You have my love, and you have my ongoing pledge to try to make things better in whatever ways I can.

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