The best part of any conference happens between the workshops.
So I’m at Momentum surrounded by fabulous, sex-positive, smart, savvy, sexy activisty people. I love this conference. I love these people.
And the best part of this morning happened on the elevator.
I’m running late. I squeeze into a downward-bound box full of families and soccer moms and baby boomers. And one conference attendee. We smile sympathetically as the doors close. But I’m facing IN, toward the people, and as we take off the woman I’m facing grabs my hand.
“What is this conference about?” She’s leaned in, eyes bright, excited.
I steal a reply I heard yesterday in the elevator, going up: “It’s a conference about feminism and sexuality.”
I’m braced for the face to close, the hand to be withdrawn. It doesn’t happen.
“Oh! And do you work for abortion rights, too, for the rest of us, for those of us who get pregnant?”
Ohhh. I relax. I smile. “Feminism and sexuality isn’t just about being queer. It’s about everyone.”
She throws her arms around me. “Thank you! Thank you. We (she points to her friends) were in the class of ’63. A classmate of ours died from a bad abortion.”
I hold her hand. “You should come check the rest of us out. We’re all running around with these nametags on.”
“Thank you,” she says. “Thank you for the work that you do. It’s wonderful.”
And she’s gone.
Education, change, and solidarity. Unexpected people and places. One at a time.