Arizona | Eris DeJarnett

Road to a Name Change: Part 5

Hi, everyone. With everything going on in Texas and Ukraine right now, I haven’t been able to update as regularly. Sorry about that! (We’re also approaching midterms week, which means my life is messy currently.) Because I want to be able to come back to this in more depth later on, I’ll be taking you through a little of my announcement week and my hearing today, but the actual changing of a name does not end when you get the piece of paper granting it. A lot of that process is still ongoing for me, and I’ll probably opt from here to post an update at maybe the six-month and one-year marks to explain how a lot of that shakes out moving forward. (If you’re not aware, an Order Changing Name doesn’t actually make anyone swap anything for you; it just gives you the Certified Piece Of Paper that you then submit to everywhere you’ve ever existed and hope they agree to change it. More on that in the coming months.)

I’ve largely blocked out announcement week in my mind—it was mostly a blur as it happened—but there were a few crucial items of business remaining. First, I had some last-minute troubleshooting on my website to figure out, which I sorted over a period of several days with the help of a handful of trusted friends. I’d already changed my Twitter handle and name, since I tend to preload things on there more in advance, but in the two days before December 1, I had to change my name on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and a whole bunch of other places. (I didn’t get to sort Snapchat, which I thankfully only use for about ten people, until this past week!) Going through and finalizing my name change on socials meant I also had to lay low for the rest of November; I stopped posting and stayed out of conversations, even when I desperately wanted to jump into them. Even though it was only a couple days, I was nervous that someone would notice before I’d announced and . . . I don’t know . . . be extra transphobic in my direction, I guess. That didn’t happen, but the pressure was mounting.

Road to a Name Change: Part 4

As November 2021 rolled around, I had a hearing date. I had a list of documents I needed to submit prior to my hearing. I had a growing pile of scores with my new name on them, and I was drafting the email that would accompany them on their journeys to commissioners and past purchasers.…

Road to a Name Change: Part 3

By the time I submitted my name change petition, it had only been two or three weeks since I realized I’d need to move on it quickly. That haste turned out to…

Road to a Name Change: Part 2

When I decided to commit to publicly changing my name, I knew the right decision for me would be to legally change it as well. Not everyone who changes their name (for any reason) makes…

Road to a Name Change: Part 1

When we leave Arizona this summer, I don’t want to be carrying my deadname around with me. I’ve known that for quite some time; because a new home in a new state will mean applying to jobs and starting over in the workplace, I pretty quickly realized I didn’t want to put myself in a whole new set of situations where my name would get me misgendered likely before I even had a chance to properly introduce myself. Particularly after the absolute barrage of anti-trans bills introduced across the U.S. in 2021 (and in light of the several dozen filed in over fifteen states in the first half of January 2022!), I decided that in part for my own protection and in part to more easily navigate new relationships of all types, my birth name needed to be gone by the time we started seriously preparing for our next destination.

Once I’d articulated all of that to myself, I started working backwards. What else would I need to do for this to work? On a personal level, the answer was pretty much just “update my socials.” Irritatingly complicated sometimes, but no biggie. Professionally, though, things were more complicated:

To The People Telling Us To “VOTE.”

To the men who are my peers and colleagues (and plenty of other people in my spaces):

I’ve seen a lot of “VOTE.” lately, especially since RBG died. While I’m excited you’re all (theoretically) taking your civic duty seriously, I also know that for some of you, this is what constitutes activism. For some of you, this is how you check that little mental box of being a good feminist or an activist or someone who’s doing the work.

I’ve seen a lot of “VOTE.” lately, and it’s easy to understand why. When you’re used to the system working in your favor, when you’re used to your requests being granted, it’s easy to assume the best way you can help the people around you is to reach upward and ask. But if that’s how you think the marginalized get rights in this country, by asking politely and waiting for the system to work, you might want to go refresh yourself on some history. Go back and look at how suffragettes and Civil Rights leaders and rioters at Stonewall were treated at the time. Go back and see how reluctant everyone was to give up power.

Paying Your Dues (and other bullshit)

Let’s talk about Paying Your Dues and irresponsible gatekeeping, particularly in the Phoenix jazz community. Buckle up; this is a long one.

Since moving back to Phoenix, one phrase (besides “it’s better now”) has begun to permeate my consciousness—and weigh on my mind—more than it ever did while I was in California. I absolutely spoiled any chance at a surprise with my title, so yes, that phrase is “paying your dues.” Despite all the time I’ve spent wandering through various genres and fields of music, it’s never quite rung true to me. This is, I think, partly because of how intentionally nonspecific it is and partly because of the conditions under which I make music and move through the world at large. The depths of this issue are murky, and from here it’s difficult to see the bottom, but if I had to take a stab at a thesis, it’d be this: the gatekeeping, favoritism, and institutional bias that create the foundation of “paying your dues” stifle creativity, discourage participation, alienate newcomers, and serve the white patriarchy.

Wow, that’s a lot to unpack. So let’s take it a bite at a time, shall we?

Before we get into it, I’m not sure why this didn’t come up a lot while I was in Los Angeles, but the answer is probably partly regional and partly cultural. A wise jazz musician once pointed out to me that the prevalence and outward manifestation of misogyny varies drastically by location. Generally, New York and LA are noticeably different (though not necessarily less misogynist) than most of the rest of the country. And while this “paying your dues” thing can undoubtedly play into that, I think another part of the equation is that mindless playing-for-the-paycheck work isn’t as looked down on in LA as it sometimes is in some pockets of Phoenix—in part because gigs are a step up from the carousel of day jobs, plural, needed to pay Los Angeles rent.

The other part of this, I suppose, is that I wasn’t told to pay my dues in LA; I was told to put in the work. While both phrases carry similar weight, there’s a lot more flexibility to the latter. My friends and teachers saw me making angry assault music and counted that as “doing the work.” They saw me advocating for student life improvements and institutional change and counted that as “doing the work.” They see me blogging about the need for better treatment across the board and count that as “doing the work.” But regardless of the details, I didn’t hear or talk about or think about “paying my dues” much in California, and I do in Arizona, so it’s time to break down some concepts.

Choosing Music (and/or Money)

I distinctly remember when I started telling people I planned to go into music.
It wasn’t fun.

I distinctly remember when I started telling people I planned to go into music.

It wasn’t some grand announcement—I mean, I was a junior in high school—but the way people reacted, you would’ve thought I’d just proclaimed I was going to major in winning the presidency.

Who I Am and Who I’ve Been (I Won’t Apologize For Either)

When I started college, I was more porcelain than steel. That’s not the case anymore.

Four years ago, I was a very different person.

If you’d seen me at my college orientation, you would have encountered a girl feeling the keen edge of homesickness, shielding herself with a smile and throwing herself into social life in an effort to find some friends—any friends—to fill the gap between her and those she’d left behind. You would have met a girl who had a lot to say to the right people but who found that there weren’t many of those individuals cloistered within the walls of her fancy new dorm. So she remained quiet, because that was what she could do with who she had.

That girl didn’t last long; though she made the occasional reappearance, the woman she became found it far easier present the world with honesty and attitude in the hope of inciting genuine responses. And to a degree, that’s worked pretty well.

The Pursuit of Relaxation: Brianne Borden on Music, Yoga, and Balance

Yoga and trumpet playing? Staying calm during a doctoral degree? Brianne Borden’s got it covered.

Mornings start early in the Arizona desert. Though summer and fall are by far the most torturous, runners, cyclists, and the athletically-inclined start going out before dawn as early as March in order to avoid heat stroke. It’s part of the state’s culture—get up early, be outside, then retreat to the depths of air-conditioned buildings until it’s safe to set foot outdoors again.

Brianne Borden’s mornings start early no matter how warm it is (or isn’t).

Tag: Arizona