[News reports on the murders of trans women are transmisogynist as they are rife with misgendering, using the wrong name, and stating the killers’ claims of what happened as if they were fact. I have rewritten the news report of the Christmas Eve death of a Kansas City trans woman, found here, to correct these biases.]
Late on Christmas Eve night, the body of Dee Dee Pearson, 31, was found fatally shot inside an apartment in the 1000 block of East 43rd Street of Kansas City, Missouri. Sergeant Stacey Graves of the Kansas City Police said police were dispatched shortly before 11:30pm on report of a shooting.
Kenyan E Jones, 26, also of Kansas City has been charged with second-degree murder and armed criminal action by the Jackson County Prosecutor’s Office. Prosecutors are seeking a $250,000 cash only bond.
According to court documents, Jones told police he paid to have sexual relations with Ms Pearson, believing her to be a cis woman, but hours after having sex with her, discovered she was not. Angry by what he considered to be a deception, he got a 9mm-caliber handgun, found Ms Pearson, chased her three blocks to her front door, and killed her there. There has been no independent verification that Ms Pearson was a sex worker or that Jones’ story is otherwise true.
Catherine Tronnes, a neighbour reported hearing a single gunshot, a pause, and then five or six more gunshots in an interview with a local television station.
Court documents further indicate that witnesses identified Jones as a man who was seen in the area.
Investigators recovered Jones’ cell phone on which he had recorded some of his encounter with the victim, according to court reports.
Court reports also indicated that Jones has a history of drug-related offences.
At the doorway to Dee Dee Pearson’s apartment, where police believe the shooting took place, a memorial has sprung up. Included among the flowers and messages is a card that reads, “Dee Dee, You will always be alive to me as long as I breathe”.
There was no information on when or where a memorial service or funeral for Ms Pearson will be taking place.
“Try standing at a party of queer friends and charting all the histories, sexual and nonsexual, among the people in the room. (In some circles this is a common party sport already). You will realize that only a fine and rapidly shifting line separates sexual culture from many other relations of durability and care. The impoverished vocabulary of straight culture tells us that people should either be husbands and wives or (nonsexual) friends. Marriage marks that line. It is not the way many queers live. If there is such a thing as a gay way of life, it consists in these relations, a welter of intimacies outside the framework of professions and institutions and ordinary social obligations … Queers should be insisting on teaching these lessons”.”—Michael Warner (1999) The Trouble with Normal (via jadedfucker)
This is one of my favorite Sleater Kinney songs from my favorite Sleater Kinney album (The Woods) which happens to be in my top ten albums of all freaking time.
Let’s Call it Love is about eleven minutes of raw power. It’s a fitting wind-down to the career of SK - it’s the second to last song on their very last album - in that the whole thing plays out like a big fuck you to anyone who ever thought the band was nothing but grrrl rock.
Here, you’ve got eleven minutes and two seconds of bombasity (which was not a word until right now). SK pulls strength and power from 70s metal, invoking Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin along the way, then adds doses of psychedelia layered over modern rock strung together with power vocals and a six minute hyperbolic jam that leaves you breathless and wanting to know what else Sleater Kinney would have had in store for us if The Woods was not their curtain call.
If you don’t have eleven minutes to spare then go about 2:50 in and listen for a full minute and I’m telling you, you will be powerless but to listen to the rest of the song. More than once. Jesus Christ, if that opening riff doesn’t do it for you on it’s own, if pulsating vocals and the drum fills worthy of some hard rock superband don’t pull you in, you just don’t understand what rock and roll is or that this is one of the finest examples of it. This is eleven minutes of a band pouring everything they have into their very finite existence.
When you’re done listening to this - and you will listen - you should do yourself and your soul a huge favor and listen to the entirety of The Woods because that album isn’t just an album of music. It’s an entity. It’s alive. The Fox and Jumpers and Modern Girl and the whole of it; it’s just a beautiful, all-encompassing thing that takes your emotions and wrings them out, every last drop of anything stirring inside you is poured out into a glass and choked down like a shot of whiskey that’s going to burn your insides forever.
The Woods is full of sound and fury, signifying everything. It explores the depths of every genre of rock and roll and throws back its findings at you in a wall of sound that leaves your nerves shaking. It’s an angry yet resigned diary of Sleater Kinney that signs its last page with a flourished fuck off.
Yea, I might love this album a lot.
Ten minutes of pure bliss
Just listen to the part where Corin sings “let’s call it my royal flush/I can show you what to do with it”
Sex. You should be out of breath by the time this song is over.