I need a fine arts credit to fulfill all of the gen ed requirements for a bachelor’s degree from this tiny liberal arts college in the middle of nowhere.

By the time I get around to registering for classes, the only fine arts class with an open seat is Theatre History II.

This was the second day of classes.

My professor is openly making fun of the Catholic church for banning cross dressing in theatre troops in the Spanish golden age. The church also tried to ban women in theater troops, because – of course they did. This effectively created an evolutionary pressure and we just – ended up with a whole bunch of particularly definant theatre troops in the spanish golden age. Which is excellent.

I am cracking up in the back of the classroom. I make eye contact with the professor and it becomes clear that they’re laughing too.

We split off into groups to work on a project and make introductions.

I asked everyone in my group if they went by any pronouns in particular, because I need this to be a normal conversation.

There were three different people who asked for different words, all in one small corner of a room. Three.

The church found it necessary to ban cross dressing in theatre troops in the 1600s. I suspect this has been a thing for a long time. But even a handful of years ago, I suspect that a safe conversation about a small collection of words would not have been a thing. Not in this part of the world.

That moment felt – basically safe and okay. I don’t think that it always has been. I think that in many places it still isn’t.

Bless all the people who went first. All the way back through the years, across generations. Bless all the ghosts of the people who couldn’t.

Thank you.

You are not unloved.