Apparently in her crowd's eyes I was worthless, even though few had ever put their life on the chopping block and got arrested fighting for any principles. I’d come up against a small lesbian mafia in the '80s, they made out I was the one who had crossed them and my name was mud in certain circles across the city. (Thankfully some dykes were supportive of me way back when, Julie, Digby, Virginia, Egg and Christine in particular were very kind to me and I'll never forget their compassionate humanity.)
I did meet her a few years later, still a mover and shaker, and I wished her well, all strength to her. She was sincerely aghast at my story, it having never reached her ears, even though I'd told many politicos in attempting to get help, such is the faux concern of the pseudo lefties that parade around as working-class saviors. In reality they were middle-class careerists, only seeing me as competition, and I was existentially alone. Always alone, boo hoo hoo. My heart aching, my spirit forlorn, still I felt some fight left in me; if I was to find any succor I’d have to create it myself. Surviving and ever productive is an achievement in itself.