I don't consider myself a writer, but this story begged to be written. I've heard other writers have that feeling, that a story needed to be told. It was obsessive, almost a living thing. I felt more like a transcriptionist than a writer.
You can find it on Smashwords other booksellers like Banes & Noble.
Smashwords: Bobby the Aardvark
From the introduction to my story:
While this is a story about a little boy becoming an aardvark, it is not about a little boy becoming an aardvark.
Over the last several years, I have given a workshop about what it is like to be part of the transgender community. More specifically what it is like to be transsexual.
In my dealings with the straight and LGB communities I have found quite a similarity of opinions, impressions, and questions about what it feels like to be trans* and be in the trans community.
It inspired me to create a workshop called “Transgender 101 - Transgender Information for the Non-Trans Community.”
In the workshop I try to bypass the knee-jerk reaction many people have to words that have the letters S-E-X in them. Many people feel that being transsexual is somehow a clinical term for a sexual deviant. They have images of men in dresses prancing around on talk shows.
But in actuality, nothing could be further from the truth. Being transsexual is a lifelong quest to simply feel “normal”. Being transsexual has very little to do with sexuality, or sexual gratification, or genitalia.
In my workshop I try to convey that being transsexual is about not feeling normal, of how everything feels out of place. And while many say that they feel like they are “a man in a woman’s body” or vice versa, I relate it to feeling like you have your shoes on the wrong feet, but all over your body.
In my workshop I say “How would you feel if you woke up tomorrow and you were an aardvark? You looked like an aardvark, you smelled like an aardvark, and all the other aardvarks told you to just ‘aardvark up’ and get over it!” I used aardvark simply because it was a light-hearted reference devoid of any sexual connotations and, of course, it’s the first animal, and word, in the dictionary. Little did I know that I would be typing the word aardvark several hundred times in the creation of this story.
By using that imagery I attempt to convey that being trans* is like waking up in a completely alien environment. It is not about sex or sexual gratification. We don’t know how to be or how to act like the gender we were born, just like little Bobby has his problems trying to adjust to the aardvark world.
Also in the story I try to convey how humiliated we are made to feel because of our difference from mainstream society. And the way that society has often treated trans* people.
That then is the essence of this story. I have been this little boy. And I’ve spent quite a number of years in the world of “aardvarks”. And I too searched for a way home.
Showing posts with label Transgender Issues. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Transgender Issues. Show all posts
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Transgender Day of Remembrance 2010
Transgender Day of Remembrance 2010
I cannot fathom the depth of depravity that causes one human being to kill another in such a brutal way. Of particular note is a 16 MONTH OLD INFANT!
I am sitting at my keyboard and I have finished crying for now. I will attend the memorial service here in Chicago, and I encourage everyone to participate in remembrance events in your area as well.
I have compiled this list from the Transgender Remembrance website:
http://www.transgenderdor.org/?page_id=4
I have just posted the cause of death and not the names, because in some cases no identification could be made.
And this is not a complete list, of course. In many cases, violent death is not reported as a transgender related death.
Nor does it include the incredibly longer list of those who have been assaulted, but lived.
Nor does it show any female to male assaults and murders, such as being "raped straight".
Nor does it show the casual acceptance of discrimination and hate toward the trans community.
Cause of Death: Burned to death
Cause of Death:Shot in the head
Cause of Death: Blunt force trauma to the head.
Cause of Death: Shot in the chest and the forehead
Cause of Death: Wong had stab wounds in the right side of the stomach and left side of the chest plus bruises in the right hand.
Cause of Death: Many wounds and defensive bruises.
Cause of Death: Stabbed to death
Cause of Death: Stabbed 17 times
Cause of Death:Stabbed and left in roadside dump
Cause of Death: Strangled
Cause of Death: dismembered and mutilated
Cause of Death: Beheaded
Cause of Death: shot to death
Cause of Death: Stabbed to death
Cause of Death: Shot in the back of the head
Cause of Death: Shot in the head
Cause of Death: Raped and shot 3 times
Cause of Death: Strangled with an electrical cord
Cause of Death:Shot in the chest
Cause of Death: Punched repeatedly and grabbed by the neck
Date of Death: August 1, 2010
Roy was 16 Months old.
Note: 20 year old Pedro Jones told police he had struck the infant several times with a closed fist. Jones said he was “trying to make him act like a boy instead of a little girl.”
Cause of Death: shot
Cause of Death: shot to death
Cause of Death shot
Cause of Death shot in the head
Cause of Death shot in the head
Cause of Death Drowned in her apartment
Cause of Death unreported by police
Cause of Death Brutally tortured and burned
Cause of Death Brutally tortured and burned
We cannot forget. We can never forget. And if a time comes that this list has no entries, we will still remember.
I am sitting at my keyboard and I have finished crying for now. I will attend the memorial service here in Chicago, and I encourage everyone to participate in remembrance events in your area as well.
I have compiled this list from the Transgender Remembrance website:
http://www.transgenderdor.org/?page_id=4
I have just posted the cause of death and not the names, because in some cases no identification could be made.
And this is not a complete list, of course. In many cases, violent death is not reported as a transgender related death.
Nor does it include the incredibly longer list of those who have been assaulted, but lived.
Nor does it show any female to male assaults and murders, such as being "raped straight".
Nor does it show the casual acceptance of discrimination and hate toward the trans community.
Cause of Death: Burned to death
Cause of Death:Shot in the head
Cause of Death: Blunt force trauma to the head.
Cause of Death: Shot in the chest and the forehead
Cause of Death: Wong had stab wounds in the right side of the stomach and left side of the chest plus bruises in the right hand.
Cause of Death: Many wounds and defensive bruises.
Cause of Death: Stabbed to death
Cause of Death: Stabbed 17 times
Cause of Death:Stabbed and left in roadside dump
Cause of Death: Strangled
Cause of Death: dismembered and mutilated
Cause of Death: Beheaded
Cause of Death: shot to death
Cause of Death: Stabbed to death
Cause of Death: Shot in the back of the head
Cause of Death: Shot in the head
Cause of Death: Raped and shot 3 times
Cause of Death: Strangled with an electrical cord
Cause of Death:Shot in the chest
Cause of Death: Punched repeatedly and grabbed by the neck
Date of Death: August 1, 2010
Roy was 16 Months old.
Note: 20 year old Pedro Jones told police he had struck the infant several times with a closed fist. Jones said he was “trying to make him act like a boy instead of a little girl.”
Cause of Death: shot
Cause of Death: shot to death
Cause of Death shot
Cause of Death shot in the head
Cause of Death shot in the head
Cause of Death Drowned in her apartment
Cause of Death unreported by police
Cause of Death Brutally tortured and burned
Cause of Death Brutally tortured and burned
We cannot forget. We can never forget. And if a time comes that this list has no entries, we will still remember.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Christa
Christa
I have a daughter. Her name is Christa. We met a couple of years ago as I was finishing up my electrolysis appointments. I have not spoken of her to you before because I did not have her specific permission to write about her, though I have referred to her on occasion, and, to my mind, there was not anything out of the ordinary to talk about. In many ways she is simply your twenty something young woman. Struggling to make her way in the world like most of the rest of us.
She has allowed me to speak about this in hopes that her experience could be of some use to others. It is her way of paying it forward.
Christa was presented to me as an electrology student where I was getting my face cleared. It was the policy of the electrologist to offer students to her regular clients in exchange for a break in the hourly price. Just as an aside, Christa is the best electrologist I have ever met, and I'm not saying that as motherly pride. She really is that good.
And from our first moments together, we were simpatico. Our appointments were gab fests, girl talk, laughing until we cried, and motherly advice all rolled into one. And all the while she would be pulling hairs out of my face without missing a beat. I told you she was good!
A couple of months into our sessions, through happenstance and accident she was in an immediate, desperate need of housing. Since we got along so well, I offered to put her up in my house until such time as she could find a place of her own. She slept on the couch, much to the annoyance of the cats who usually slept there. They came to accepted her as simply part of the furniture and slept on top of her, much to the annoyance of her sinuses.
She got along wonderfully with everyone in the family, and she and my oldest granddaughter became best buds.
After looking for apartments for a couple of weeks, she confessed to me that moving out and being alone frightened her, but she would do it if she had to.
With a smile, I confessed that our house would be much less joyfully chaotic if she moved out, but I would bear it if I had to as well.
We smiled, hugged and started making plans for her full moving in. We reorganized my office/spare bedroom and moved her bed and most crucial items in there. She put the rest of her stuff in storage.
She had immigrated from a far off land called Cincinnati, Ohio, USA. Home of Skyline chili, and world famous as the location for a sit-com “WKRP in Cincinnati”. ( Best line from the show: “As God as my witness, I swear I though turkeys could fly...”)
She is a transwoman and while completely transitioned, was pre-surgical when we met. And also while a very smart person, was not completely aware of all the issues in her new life.
Early on in my transition, I longed to be a mentor, to pay forward the debt that I owe for my smooth transition from male to female. To make the transition for someone else easier. To help illuminate the path that they must walk.
I got everything I wished for, and more. I became more than a mentor, I became a Mom.
I am Christa's Mom-away-from-Mom. We share everything, except clothes. She is a size 0, where as I am like She-Hulk. I hate her... but in a good way.
And she has a wonderful natal mother back in her far off land. Christa's mom and I exchange letters regularly and have met on a few occasions. Her mom is a warm and witty person who definitely sees the glass as half-full. She feels that her newly minted daughter is in a safe and loving place and loves Christa without reservation. In our letters I try to keep her up to date on how her daughter is doing and explain the things in Christa's life that drove her to this point and how it affects her, and how her mom can come to terms with the changes that are occurring. Her mom in turn, gives me information and stories from Christa's childhood and insight into their family dynamic. In other words, much to her chagrin, Christa cannot pull the wool over either of her mom's eyes.
Christa and I talk about everything. Clothes, life, surgery, and boys. A lot about boys. She is one of the straightest women I have ever met.
And while with me I have watched her grow into her new life and in many ways mature from a teenage girl into a young, and beautiful, woman. It's something that we all must go through in our transition and she has graduated with honors.
I was her support person following her FFS/BA. I tended her while she recovered from her physically traumatic experience.
Her mom, who is a registered nurse, felt that Christa could not have been taken care of any better even if she were in the hospital with her mom by Christa's side.
Christa and my family have spent a great deal of time together. She is charming, warm and friendly, and completely trustworthy. I love her as dearly as I do my other daughters.
Last night, though, I had to do something that I thought I would never have to do. Something I thought that I, as a newly minted female myself, would never be able to do. We had a mother-daughter chat.
Unfortunately, not the one were mom talks about her pre-pubescent girls maturing body and prepares her for some of the changes that are about to occur and the things she needs to start carrying in her purse. Obviously, no need.
Nor was it about how to dress nice without looking trashy. We've already had that one.
It was about boys. More specifically, about men and how women have to develop a sixth sense about them, and situations, and always keeping a route of escape.
Christa is a natural beauty. Small framed and light skinned, with an infectious smile and a lilting manner of speech that is disarming. And her FFS/BA has accentuated her positive features and has given her a confidence that she previously lacked. Think of Deborah Ann Woll, the actress who plays the character Jessica on “True Blood”. The characters' speech, mannerisms and overall body image is very similar to Christa's. Without the fangs, of course.
But her strengths have also proven to be her weakness. In her transition period, she has rarely been read. And while she has had some very nasty encounters and physical violence done to her, she has not had to developed the thick skin that some of us less statuesque women have had to grow.
The other evening, I came downstairs and found her lying on the rec room couch staring at the tube, not really watching it.
“What's wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing” she says. I pull up a hassock and sit next to her.
“You say that just like a girl.”
“I don't want to talk about it.” Her tone of voice says that she really does want to talk about it, but it hurts too much.
I know my daughters well enough to know when I should pry a little bit and when I should just drop it.
“I'm going outside for a cigarette, do you want one?”
“No.” Oh dear, this was serious!
“Well, how about you come outside anyway and you can sit with me.”
“Alright...” Her voice trails off in a tone that tells me she would rather come outside with me than be badgered anymore.
We go outside and sit on the stoop. Night has fallen, I light two cigarettes and hand her one.
“So what's going on?”
She had gone out earlier to one of the bars that Pat and I frequent. Pat brought me there to help introduce me back into the “straight” life, but this time as a woman.
It is a red necked kind of bar, a little sleazy, a little rough, but Pat has been going there for years and everyone know her and she is friends with just about everyone. It's a little bit of a biker bar and it is not unusual to see two or three hawgs parked out front. And the bikers may be boisterous but usually well behaved.
I was terrified the first time I went. I never hung out with that kind of clientele in my previous life because I was always fearful of getting into some kind of alpha male confrontation.
Pat introduced me to all her friends there and I soon lost my hesitations going there. By now most of the regulars there know about me but accept me because Pat and I are partners. It is sometimes a hoot to watch some newcomer as Pat and I kiss at the bar. They really get a charge out of the “lezzy” action. Some of the regulars have asked inappropriate questions, and some have hit on me. It is flattering in one respect, but I am a “4-drink girl”* to most of these guys, so I don't let it go to my head.
* 4-drink girl – A girl who only looks good after four or more strong drinks.
Pat and I started taking Christa to the bar soon after she moved in as part of her integration into society. Both Christa and I had visited gay bars during our transitions and the acceptance there, of course, is no problem, but going out into the straight world is something quite different.
Christa loves to go to this bar, or did, because they have a pool table and she is a natural to be chatted up for a game of pool and suds. She dresses down a bit (read skanky) because she likes to show off a little.
I sometimes feel that we have thrown her into the deep end of the pool by introducing her to such a rough crowd, but we keep an eye on her and everyone plays nice. One of the bartenders is friends with her and she will throw anyone out who trash talks Christa.
But usually we go as a group. I don't go there alone, because I have a family history of alcoholism and try to never drink alone. So it is usually the two or three of us that go.
Christa, in her previous life, really had no problem going into these types of bars because she was, and still is a biker. She has a Harley which she takes loving care of and is an excellent rider. She has been riding motorcycles since she was sixteen and has been a member of several clubs. She feels comfortable in the presence of bikers, feeling that there is a biker brotherhood that she belongs to. She has been to Sturgis and Daytona, as female, and kind of enjoys that rough and tumble crowd.
That night, she rode her bike up to that bar, alone.
Outside the bar, there were three other bikes parked there. She walked in wearing her skin tight leather chaps and a tight leather vest with her Harley logo emblazoned on the back.
She said that as she was drinking her beer, one of the bikers, a short thin man who Christa towered over in her high heeled leather boots, came up to her and started chatting her up.
(From her description, I recognized this fellow as someone who chatted Pat and I up the previous week and tried his best to stick his tongue down my throat. Later, as I smoked a cigarette outside, he came out and asked when I had done my transformation. I told him I had always been a woman and there was nothing to transform. I knew he had read me, but if this dork couldn't get his terms right, I wasn't about to educate him.)
He he was hitting on Christa pretty hard, probably like he came on to me. After a while he started getting texts from his two other buddies of “Dude Looks Like a Lady!” (I hate that song and think Aerosmith should be rename “Cheap Trick”).
The skinny one shows Christa the text and she tells him that she is appalled that he would think that.
Things start going downhill when the bikers start calling her names. Bad names. Her bartender friend isn't there that night and no one else in the bar comes to her defense. She started to worry for her safety and puts on her helmet and leaves the bar. The catcalls and insults get intense as she leaves.
As she is pulling out she noticed that one of the bikers has come out and tries to follow her. She couldn't tell which one it was, but she didn't really care to be caught by him.
That is when Christa and her baby became one. She has taken very good care of her bike and has personally added many performance options. She gunned the throttle and that clowns headlight faded into the distance. Her Sportster is no match for any but the most high performance bikes.
She rode around for a while using her skills as a rider and expert mechanic to put a lot of rode between her and that knuckle dragger.
She came home later after riding her adrenaline rush off.
“Honey, I'm so sorry that happened to you! I'm glad that you are safe.”
“I feel so betrayed”
“What? Why?”
“I'm not completely innocent, but I have always been comfortable with bikers, I always felt like I was one of them, that we had a bond. If a biker is stranded by the side of the rode, just about any biker will stop to help. It's that code that holds them together.”
I told her, “But you have to think about what you were doing. You were a single woman in a rough bar with a bunch of half drunk homophobic bikers and you got read. Are you surprised by how they reacted? Guys think with their gonads first and their brains second, you know that. And when that guy was hitting on you got told, he probably was feeling like his manhood had been tromped on and he felt he had to retaliate to regain his balls. It's a good thing you got out of there when you did, you could have been beaten up or killed!”
“Yeah, but they were fellow bikers! I thought I knew them. We have a code!”
“The “code” stops where the penis begins! Listen girl, every November there is a ceremony to honor the memory of the trans people who have been killed that year. It's too damn long as it is, and I don't want to be the one that reads your name on that list! Dammit girl! You have to be careful out there! It's goddamned dangerous! You have to watch yourself every moment! Have you ever heard of Angie Zapata?”
“You're a woman now and every woman has to watch every guy evey time. We are physically weaker so we have to watch out for ourselves. Watch every man in the room, pick out the ones who are looking from the ones who are imagining you as a conquest. Keep a special eye on the droolers. And always keep a path to the door. You have a target on your back now. You have to think like that, really. The vast majority of guys aren't neanderthals but enough are to put your life at risk.
“And as trans woman we are doubly at risk. It's bad enough to get mugged or raped, but then to have some homophobe read you, you have another risk.” I was so terrified for her after the fact that I was having a hard time not yelling or crying.
“It shouldn't be that way, Sandy. I just let my guard down.”
“No, life shouldn't be that way, but it is. And you can never really let your guard down. This is the life we signed up for when we transitioned. This is how our lives will be from now on. There will always be those who fear and hate us.”
I lean over to hug her, but she pulls away. “No, please, I'm still to frightened and angry. Not now.”
“Ok, honey, whenever you are ready, I always have hugs.” She goes in to finish looking at the movie she wasn't watching.
“Good night, hon. Please be careful, ok?”
“Ok, mom”
-Sandy
She has allowed me to speak about this in hopes that her experience could be of some use to others. It is her way of paying it forward.
Christa was presented to me as an electrology student where I was getting my face cleared. It was the policy of the electrologist to offer students to her regular clients in exchange for a break in the hourly price. Just as an aside, Christa is the best electrologist I have ever met, and I'm not saying that as motherly pride. She really is that good.
And from our first moments together, we were simpatico. Our appointments were gab fests, girl talk, laughing until we cried, and motherly advice all rolled into one. And all the while she would be pulling hairs out of my face without missing a beat. I told you she was good!
A couple of months into our sessions, through happenstance and accident she was in an immediate, desperate need of housing. Since we got along so well, I offered to put her up in my house until such time as she could find a place of her own. She slept on the couch, much to the annoyance of the cats who usually slept there. They came to accepted her as simply part of the furniture and slept on top of her, much to the annoyance of her sinuses.
She got along wonderfully with everyone in the family, and she and my oldest granddaughter became best buds.
After looking for apartments for a couple of weeks, she confessed to me that moving out and being alone frightened her, but she would do it if she had to.
With a smile, I confessed that our house would be much less joyfully chaotic if she moved out, but I would bear it if I had to as well.
We smiled, hugged and started making plans for her full moving in. We reorganized my office/spare bedroom and moved her bed and most crucial items in there. She put the rest of her stuff in storage.
She had immigrated from a far off land called Cincinnati, Ohio, USA. Home of Skyline chili, and world famous as the location for a sit-com “WKRP in Cincinnati”. ( Best line from the show: “As God as my witness, I swear I though turkeys could fly...”)
She is a transwoman and while completely transitioned, was pre-surgical when we met. And also while a very smart person, was not completely aware of all the issues in her new life.
Early on in my transition, I longed to be a mentor, to pay forward the debt that I owe for my smooth transition from male to female. To make the transition for someone else easier. To help illuminate the path that they must walk.
I got everything I wished for, and more. I became more than a mentor, I became a Mom.
I am Christa's Mom-away-from-Mom. We share everything, except clothes. She is a size 0, where as I am like She-Hulk. I hate her... but in a good way.
And she has a wonderful natal mother back in her far off land. Christa's mom and I exchange letters regularly and have met on a few occasions. Her mom is a warm and witty person who definitely sees the glass as half-full. She feels that her newly minted daughter is in a safe and loving place and loves Christa without reservation. In our letters I try to keep her up to date on how her daughter is doing and explain the things in Christa's life that drove her to this point and how it affects her, and how her mom can come to terms with the changes that are occurring. Her mom in turn, gives me information and stories from Christa's childhood and insight into their family dynamic. In other words, much to her chagrin, Christa cannot pull the wool over either of her mom's eyes.
Christa and I talk about everything. Clothes, life, surgery, and boys. A lot about boys. She is one of the straightest women I have ever met.
And while with me I have watched her grow into her new life and in many ways mature from a teenage girl into a young, and beautiful, woman. It's something that we all must go through in our transition and she has graduated with honors.
I was her support person following her FFS/BA. I tended her while she recovered from her physically traumatic experience.
Her mom, who is a registered nurse, felt that Christa could not have been taken care of any better even if she were in the hospital with her mom by Christa's side.
Christa and my family have spent a great deal of time together. She is charming, warm and friendly, and completely trustworthy. I love her as dearly as I do my other daughters.
Last night, though, I had to do something that I thought I would never have to do. Something I thought that I, as a newly minted female myself, would never be able to do. We had a mother-daughter chat.
Unfortunately, not the one were mom talks about her pre-pubescent girls maturing body and prepares her for some of the changes that are about to occur and the things she needs to start carrying in her purse. Obviously, no need.
Nor was it about how to dress nice without looking trashy. We've already had that one.
It was about boys. More specifically, about men and how women have to develop a sixth sense about them, and situations, and always keeping a route of escape.
Christa is a natural beauty. Small framed and light skinned, with an infectious smile and a lilting manner of speech that is disarming. And her FFS/BA has accentuated her positive features and has given her a confidence that she previously lacked. Think of Deborah Ann Woll, the actress who plays the character Jessica on “True Blood”. The characters' speech, mannerisms and overall body image is very similar to Christa's. Without the fangs, of course.
But her strengths have also proven to be her weakness. In her transition period, she has rarely been read. And while she has had some very nasty encounters and physical violence done to her, she has not had to developed the thick skin that some of us less statuesque women have had to grow.
The other evening, I came downstairs and found her lying on the rec room couch staring at the tube, not really watching it.
“What's wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing” she says. I pull up a hassock and sit next to her.
“You say that just like a girl.”
“I don't want to talk about it.” Her tone of voice says that she really does want to talk about it, but it hurts too much.
I know my daughters well enough to know when I should pry a little bit and when I should just drop it.
“I'm going outside for a cigarette, do you want one?”
“No.” Oh dear, this was serious!
“Well, how about you come outside anyway and you can sit with me.”
“Alright...” Her voice trails off in a tone that tells me she would rather come outside with me than be badgered anymore.
We go outside and sit on the stoop. Night has fallen, I light two cigarettes and hand her one.
“So what's going on?”
She had gone out earlier to one of the bars that Pat and I frequent. Pat brought me there to help introduce me back into the “straight” life, but this time as a woman.
It is a red necked kind of bar, a little sleazy, a little rough, but Pat has been going there for years and everyone know her and she is friends with just about everyone. It's a little bit of a biker bar and it is not unusual to see two or three hawgs parked out front. And the bikers may be boisterous but usually well behaved.
I was terrified the first time I went. I never hung out with that kind of clientele in my previous life because I was always fearful of getting into some kind of alpha male confrontation.
Pat introduced me to all her friends there and I soon lost my hesitations going there. By now most of the regulars there know about me but accept me because Pat and I are partners. It is sometimes a hoot to watch some newcomer as Pat and I kiss at the bar. They really get a charge out of the “lezzy” action. Some of the regulars have asked inappropriate questions, and some have hit on me. It is flattering in one respect, but I am a “4-drink girl”* to most of these guys, so I don't let it go to my head.
* 4-drink girl – A girl who only looks good after four or more strong drinks.
Pat and I started taking Christa to the bar soon after she moved in as part of her integration into society. Both Christa and I had visited gay bars during our transitions and the acceptance there, of course, is no problem, but going out into the straight world is something quite different.
Christa loves to go to this bar, or did, because they have a pool table and she is a natural to be chatted up for a game of pool and suds. She dresses down a bit (read skanky) because she likes to show off a little.
I sometimes feel that we have thrown her into the deep end of the pool by introducing her to such a rough crowd, but we keep an eye on her and everyone plays nice. One of the bartenders is friends with her and she will throw anyone out who trash talks Christa.
But usually we go as a group. I don't go there alone, because I have a family history of alcoholism and try to never drink alone. So it is usually the two or three of us that go.
Christa, in her previous life, really had no problem going into these types of bars because she was, and still is a biker. She has a Harley which she takes loving care of and is an excellent rider. She has been riding motorcycles since she was sixteen and has been a member of several clubs. She feels comfortable in the presence of bikers, feeling that there is a biker brotherhood that she belongs to. She has been to Sturgis and Daytona, as female, and kind of enjoys that rough and tumble crowd.
That night, she rode her bike up to that bar, alone.
Outside the bar, there were three other bikes parked there. She walked in wearing her skin tight leather chaps and a tight leather vest with her Harley logo emblazoned on the back.
She said that as she was drinking her beer, one of the bikers, a short thin man who Christa towered over in her high heeled leather boots, came up to her and started chatting her up.
(From her description, I recognized this fellow as someone who chatted Pat and I up the previous week and tried his best to stick his tongue down my throat. Later, as I smoked a cigarette outside, he came out and asked when I had done my transformation. I told him I had always been a woman and there was nothing to transform. I knew he had read me, but if this dork couldn't get his terms right, I wasn't about to educate him.)
He he was hitting on Christa pretty hard, probably like he came on to me. After a while he started getting texts from his two other buddies of “Dude Looks Like a Lady!” (I hate that song and think Aerosmith should be rename “Cheap Trick”).
The skinny one shows Christa the text and she tells him that she is appalled that he would think that.
Things start going downhill when the bikers start calling her names. Bad names. Her bartender friend isn't there that night and no one else in the bar comes to her defense. She started to worry for her safety and puts on her helmet and leaves the bar. The catcalls and insults get intense as she leaves.
As she is pulling out she noticed that one of the bikers has come out and tries to follow her. She couldn't tell which one it was, but she didn't really care to be caught by him.
That is when Christa and her baby became one. She has taken very good care of her bike and has personally added many performance options. She gunned the throttle and that clowns headlight faded into the distance. Her Sportster is no match for any but the most high performance bikes.
She rode around for a while using her skills as a rider and expert mechanic to put a lot of rode between her and that knuckle dragger.
She came home later after riding her adrenaline rush off.
“Honey, I'm so sorry that happened to you! I'm glad that you are safe.”
“I feel so betrayed”
“What? Why?”
“I'm not completely innocent, but I have always been comfortable with bikers, I always felt like I was one of them, that we had a bond. If a biker is stranded by the side of the rode, just about any biker will stop to help. It's that code that holds them together.”
I told her, “But you have to think about what you were doing. You were a single woman in a rough bar with a bunch of half drunk homophobic bikers and you got read. Are you surprised by how they reacted? Guys think with their gonads first and their brains second, you know that. And when that guy was hitting on you got told, he probably was feeling like his manhood had been tromped on and he felt he had to retaliate to regain his balls. It's a good thing you got out of there when you did, you could have been beaten up or killed!”
“Yeah, but they were fellow bikers! I thought I knew them. We have a code!”
“The “code” stops where the penis begins! Listen girl, every November there is a ceremony to honor the memory of the trans people who have been killed that year. It's too damn long as it is, and I don't want to be the one that reads your name on that list! Dammit girl! You have to be careful out there! It's goddamned dangerous! You have to watch yourself every moment! Have you ever heard of Angie Zapata?”
“You're a woman now and every woman has to watch every guy evey time. We are physically weaker so we have to watch out for ourselves. Watch every man in the room, pick out the ones who are looking from the ones who are imagining you as a conquest. Keep a special eye on the droolers. And always keep a path to the door. You have a target on your back now. You have to think like that, really. The vast majority of guys aren't neanderthals but enough are to put your life at risk.
“And as trans woman we are doubly at risk. It's bad enough to get mugged or raped, but then to have some homophobe read you, you have another risk.” I was so terrified for her after the fact that I was having a hard time not yelling or crying.
“It shouldn't be that way, Sandy. I just let my guard down.”
“No, life shouldn't be that way, but it is. And you can never really let your guard down. This is the life we signed up for when we transitioned. This is how our lives will be from now on. There will always be those who fear and hate us.”
I lean over to hug her, but she pulls away. “No, please, I'm still to frightened and angry. Not now.”
“Ok, honey, whenever you are ready, I always have hugs.” She goes in to finish looking at the movie she wasn't watching.
“Good night, hon. Please be careful, ok?”
“Ok, mom”
-Sandy
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
That look.
It's interesting how sometimes life sometimes throws you a curve.
I've been full time for over three years now. My confidence and self esteem are pretty solid. While I may feel completely normal now, and think life is wonderful, I never take my transition for granted. I can feel the chest band of my bra supporting my breasts and no longer fear sitting down and landing on my prolapsed vaginal too hard. This gives me an almost constant reminder of the progress I have made. And it feels completely, wonderfully, normal.
Just this morning I was getting my morning coffee and muffin at the office cafe and approached the cashier. Past the cashier and in the cafe were others from the office. Some I knew, others less so.
There was a table of three guys that I have seen often there, but rarely interacted with. One of them looked up and saw me and gave me “That Look”. You know what I mean. Someone who has read you and is going over you like an x-ray machine. He whispers something to his colleagues and they turn and give me the once over also. They chat amongst themselves and then turn and look me over again. I can't tell if they laughed or not, but I did see one of them smile. Then apparently turn back to their previous conversation. I try not to read too much into other people, but I can imagine what the conversation was like. Perhaps it contained adjectives that others here are all too familiar with.
The first individual continues to glance at me while I am standing in line. I think to myself how far I've come. I had just then been thinking how “old news” I was. How I had almost faded into the general stream of people going about their business. And here I was read again, for what seemed to be the umpteenth time.
I finished paying for my things gathered up my purse and headed for the napkins and condiments. All the time walking with my head held proudly and a slight smile on my lips. I picked up a few napkins then headed out of the cafe, walking past these guys, the heels of my shoes making a comforting clicking sound as I waked. My now feminized body now has some appreciable curves and my walk gives a distinct sway to my backside.
There was a time that these types of events would shake my confidence and send my down the rabbit hole. But not now. Being and presenting as a woman is only a small part of who I am. I am Sandy first, an individual who is a guru level systems person with decades of experience with computers of all varieties. I am a grandmother of two darling little girls who love me dearly. I am a member of a business resource group that gives advice for marketing and philanthropy to our community. I am friend and adviser to others here and elsewhere who are looking for support along our journey. I have been on a lifelong spiritual quest for enlightenment and insight into the great unknown. I am more at peace now than I have ever been in my life. And, oh yeah, I happen to be female.
I could feel their eyes on me as I walked past.
I hope they enjoyed the show.
-Sandy(I know I did)
Sunday, December 23, 2007
My life and loving it!
This has been a tumultuous year for me. But now it appears that my life may be less tumultuous going forward.
I am a woman with a transsexual condition, and I just started living full time in my true gender as of April of this year. My transition from male to female is all but complete. I have one more surgery left to complete my physical transition and I will be done. That surgery is scheduled for March of 2008. To the masses it is *the surgery*. But for me and other transsexuals like me, it is just the cherry on top of the hot fudge sundae. I won't say it is no big deal, because it really is. But I am much more fulfilled living as a woman full time. Society completely accepts me as a woman and I am absolutely ecstatic about that.
Once I have the Gender Reassignment Surgery, my position in society won't change by one iota. But internally I will know that I am complete, or at least as complete as modern science and surgery can make me. Every time I go to the 'loo or take a shower I'll know I am complete and that will make the smile on my face just a bit wider.
So what is the point of this blog?
I've posted my transition up to this point on www.susans.org, in the blog section called "Sandy's Transition". Catchy title, huh? Located there is the information that describes in tedious detail the major aspects of being a transsexual, living (or dying) as a transsexual, and those details that would be beneficial to other transsexuals. Don't look there, or here for that matter, for hot sexy shemale love or any crap like that. If that is your taste, then google is just chocked full of websites that will cater to your interests. Living my life as a transsexual has been devastating in many respects but a glorious blessing in other respects.
I posted at susans so that other transsexuals can find help and solace for dealing with their condition. But transitions are, by definition, temporary conditions. My transition is nearly complete and I only anticipate posting about my surgery.
But here, I will talk about my life, now. Not the life of a post-operative transsexual, but life of a woman in society. Just another gal in the workforce. And as such can be real boring to someone looking for information about pre-surgical life.
So here is my life now. I am happier than I have ever been in my life. Living a life that is filled with joy and beauty. I walk around with a smile on my face nearly all the time. I am proud of who I am which is something that I have never experienced before. So, yeah, I am a happy girl.
It wasn't easy getting here and I very nearly didn't live through it, but I did, and I am glad I did!
-Sandy (Silly, grinning, fool)
I am a woman with a transsexual condition, and I just started living full time in my true gender as of April of this year. My transition from male to female is all but complete. I have one more surgery left to complete my physical transition and I will be done. That surgery is scheduled for March of 2008. To the masses it is *the surgery*. But for me and other transsexuals like me, it is just the cherry on top of the hot fudge sundae. I won't say it is no big deal, because it really is. But I am much more fulfilled living as a woman full time. Society completely accepts me as a woman and I am absolutely ecstatic about that.
Once I have the Gender Reassignment Surgery, my position in society won't change by one iota. But internally I will know that I am complete, or at least as complete as modern science and surgery can make me. Every time I go to the 'loo or take a shower I'll know I am complete and that will make the smile on my face just a bit wider.
So what is the point of this blog?
I've posted my transition up to this point on www.susans.org, in the blog section called "Sandy's Transition". Catchy title, huh? Located there is the information that describes in tedious detail the major aspects of being a transsexual, living (or dying) as a transsexual, and those details that would be beneficial to other transsexuals. Don't look there, or here for that matter, for hot sexy shemale love or any crap like that. If that is your taste, then google is just chocked full of websites that will cater to your interests. Living my life as a transsexual has been devastating in many respects but a glorious blessing in other respects.
I posted at susans so that other transsexuals can find help and solace for dealing with their condition. But transitions are, by definition, temporary conditions. My transition is nearly complete and I only anticipate posting about my surgery.
But here, I will talk about my life, now. Not the life of a post-operative transsexual, but life of a woman in society. Just another gal in the workforce. And as such can be real boring to someone looking for information about pre-surgical life.
So here is my life now. I am happier than I have ever been in my life. Living a life that is filled with joy and beauty. I walk around with a smile on my face nearly all the time. I am proud of who I am which is something that I have never experienced before. So, yeah, I am a happy girl.
It wasn't easy getting here and I very nearly didn't live through it, but I did, and I am glad I did!
-Sandy (Silly, grinning, fool)
Monday, June 4, 2007
Sandra Goes to Be-All
Sandra Goes to Be-All
Dr Zukowski graciously offered me two days at Be-All as a thank you for signing up for my FFS/BA, which is 47 days from now.
For those who are unfamiliar, Be-All is the largest CD/TV/TS convention in Chicago. People come from all over to attend. It was my first convention of this type that I ever attended.
I have to admit that it was an eye opening experience. I've been to other meetings but this was much larger.
I attended several seminars. Mostly dealing with cosmetics, skin care, and transsexual issues.
I attended Dr. Zukowski's session where he spoke about his skills and services in the area of facial feminization and breast augmentation. He had a very good presentation with many pictures. Also in attendance were many "Z" girl alumni. Being able to speak with women who have already undergone various facial feminization surgeries and in a wide range of post-op was very informative and comforting.
For example, there was one lady who had her surgery in late March of this year. Her skin was still showing a few dark remnants of bruising but all of the surgical scars were well healed. And there were others who were a year or more post operative. Their skin was not only clear of all noticeable surgeries, their faces had firmed up over the implants and bone shaping that was done and all soft tissue had settled back into place. What was quite apparent is that it takes a long time to completely recover from such traumatic procedures. But in the end the results are well worth the effort and in many cases these women are strikingly beautiful. While I would love to be as beautiful as some of these ladies, there is only so much that can be done. Not only are these women good looking now, they also have very petite frames so that their now, very, feminine faces accentuate their body. I have used many adjectives to describe myself, but petite is not one of them (I sometimes feel Sasquatch is a more appropriate term). I will be more than happy to end up with a face and body that combined makes an attractive package. The good doctor has assured me that he could easily accomplish that.
More to the point, what I am hoping for is that Dr Zukowski will be not only my surgeon, but my sculptor as well. A sculptor who will chip away at the shell of me and reveal the woman that has lived within for such a long time.
Also seeing all these beautiful women has made me very anxious for my surgery. I'll be posting more about that as my time grows nearer.
Another seminar that I attended was Dr. Marci Bowers from Trinidad, Colorado. Dr Bowers is one of the preeminate surgeons today in the field of GRS. She has performed over 450 GRS surgeries so far. She was a skilled surgeon well before coming to Trinidad and has been personally instructed by Dr Biber, a pioneer in the field of GRS. Dr Biber passed away in January of last year and Dr Bowers has taken up from Dr Biber. While Dr Bowers specializes in GRS, she also performs breast augmentations, and tracheal shaves.
Dr Bowers also had an impressive presentation. Not only did she show the results of her work, she also showed the repair work she performed on women who had GRS from other surgeons.
I will have GRS, but for now it is still in the future for me. But being able to talk with the doctor and one or two of her patients did give me more information to mull over. I will either go to Dr Bowers or Dr Broussard in Toronto. I will not go overseas or out of country like Mexico or Thailand. In the state of Illinois, where I live, in order to get your birth records properly amended to reflect your true gender, the doctor who performed the surgery must submit a notarized form describing the surgery performed and this doctor must be certified to operate in the United States. Both Dr. Bowers and Dr Broussard have these credentials.
Dr Bowers, in her presentation, described GRS as Genital Reassignment Surgery instead of Gender Reassignment Surgery or Sex Reassignment Surgery. Her intention is to reduce the emphasis about sex these labels have. She feels that this is not about sex or gender but a matter of identity. I can certainly agree with that! As most other people who are post-op, the primary reason for going through this whole process and spending these incredible sums was to bring out who we are. This isn't about what we do, it is about who we ARE! And that is primarily why I want to do this. To finally become who I am.
I found to Dr Bowers, who is herself a post op trans woman, to be sensitive, witty and very compassionate. Also Trinidad, Colorado is a very beautiful area. A wonderful setting to start recovery.
Susan Stanton was a keynote speaker at the gathering but I was unable to make her presentation. I am a little disappointed in that. CNN was at the convention also centering in on her specifically.
Saturday night was the gala ball. It was an opportunity for all the ladies to show off their finest clothes. I had a cream chiffon gown for just the occasion. Julie was my fashion consultant in picking out my outfit and I felt truly beautiful in it. Thanks again, Julie! It was held off site and we had limos to transport us to the event. As we stepped out of the limo, we walked up a red carpet and had video and photos taken of us. It was a movie star moment for me. Later we all climbed on risers for a group photo.
The evening had a wonderful dinner and dancing afterward. It was a wonderful time.
After the event, Dr Z. hosted a hospitality suite back at the hotel. The "Z" girls and everyone else was invited. Now I haven't touched alcohol in more than a decade, but I still was persuaded to sing bad karaoke to old '80s songs, in my gown no less! I must have been a site! But the fun was infectious.
During the course of the time I was there I saw many friends, and made many new ones. I really hadn't expected the depth of warmth and love that everyone exhibited. It was beyond mere acceptance. It was truly love for each other. That's the way it should be!
I'll be posting pictures soon. And maybe a new avatar as well. One of the things I purchased was a new wig and I feel like showing it off. Stay tuned!
-Sandy (-30-)
For those who are unfamiliar, Be-All is the largest CD/TV/TS convention in Chicago. People come from all over to attend. It was my first convention of this type that I ever attended.
I have to admit that it was an eye opening experience. I've been to other meetings but this was much larger.
I attended several seminars. Mostly dealing with cosmetics, skin care, and transsexual issues.
I attended Dr. Zukowski's session where he spoke about his skills and services in the area of facial feminization and breast augmentation. He had a very good presentation with many pictures. Also in attendance were many "Z" girl alumni. Being able to speak with women who have already undergone various facial feminization surgeries and in a wide range of post-op was very informative and comforting.
For example, there was one lady who had her surgery in late March of this year. Her skin was still showing a few dark remnants of bruising but all of the surgical scars were well healed. And there were others who were a year or more post operative. Their skin was not only clear of all noticeable surgeries, their faces had firmed up over the implants and bone shaping that was done and all soft tissue had settled back into place. What was quite apparent is that it takes a long time to completely recover from such traumatic procedures. But in the end the results are well worth the effort and in many cases these women are strikingly beautiful. While I would love to be as beautiful as some of these ladies, there is only so much that can be done. Not only are these women good looking now, they also have very petite frames so that their now, very, feminine faces accentuate their body. I have used many adjectives to describe myself, but petite is not one of them (I sometimes feel Sasquatch is a more appropriate term). I will be more than happy to end up with a face and body that combined makes an attractive package. The good doctor has assured me that he could easily accomplish that.
More to the point, what I am hoping for is that Dr Zukowski will be not only my surgeon, but my sculptor as well. A sculptor who will chip away at the shell of me and reveal the woman that has lived within for such a long time.
Also seeing all these beautiful women has made me very anxious for my surgery. I'll be posting more about that as my time grows nearer.
Another seminar that I attended was Dr. Marci Bowers from Trinidad, Colorado. Dr Bowers is one of the preeminate surgeons today in the field of GRS. She has performed over 450 GRS surgeries so far. She was a skilled surgeon well before coming to Trinidad and has been personally instructed by Dr Biber, a pioneer in the field of GRS. Dr Biber passed away in January of last year and Dr Bowers has taken up from Dr Biber. While Dr Bowers specializes in GRS, she also performs breast augmentations, and tracheal shaves.
Dr Bowers also had an impressive presentation. Not only did she show the results of her work, she also showed the repair work she performed on women who had GRS from other surgeons.
I will have GRS, but for now it is still in the future for me. But being able to talk with the doctor and one or two of her patients did give me more information to mull over. I will either go to Dr Bowers or Dr Broussard in Toronto. I will not go overseas or out of country like Mexico or Thailand. In the state of Illinois, where I live, in order to get your birth records properly amended to reflect your true gender, the doctor who performed the surgery must submit a notarized form describing the surgery performed and this doctor must be certified to operate in the United States. Both Dr. Bowers and Dr Broussard have these credentials.
Dr Bowers, in her presentation, described GRS as Genital Reassignment Surgery instead of Gender Reassignment Surgery or Sex Reassignment Surgery. Her intention is to reduce the emphasis about sex these labels have. She feels that this is not about sex or gender but a matter of identity. I can certainly agree with that! As most other people who are post-op, the primary reason for going through this whole process and spending these incredible sums was to bring out who we are. This isn't about what we do, it is about who we ARE! And that is primarily why I want to do this. To finally become who I am.
I found to Dr Bowers, who is herself a post op trans woman, to be sensitive, witty and very compassionate. Also Trinidad, Colorado is a very beautiful area. A wonderful setting to start recovery.
Susan Stanton was a keynote speaker at the gathering but I was unable to make her presentation. I am a little disappointed in that. CNN was at the convention also centering in on her specifically.
Saturday night was the gala ball. It was an opportunity for all the ladies to show off their finest clothes. I had a cream chiffon gown for just the occasion. Julie was my fashion consultant in picking out my outfit and I felt truly beautiful in it. Thanks again, Julie! It was held off site and we had limos to transport us to the event. As we stepped out of the limo, we walked up a red carpet and had video and photos taken of us. It was a movie star moment for me. Later we all climbed on risers for a group photo.
The evening had a wonderful dinner and dancing afterward. It was a wonderful time.
After the event, Dr Z. hosted a hospitality suite back at the hotel. The "Z" girls and everyone else was invited. Now I haven't touched alcohol in more than a decade, but I still was persuaded to sing bad karaoke to old '80s songs, in my gown no less! I must have been a site! But the fun was infectious.
During the course of the time I was there I saw many friends, and made many new ones. I really hadn't expected the depth of warmth and love that everyone exhibited. It was beyond mere acceptance. It was truly love for each other. That's the way it should be!
I'll be posting pictures soon. And maybe a new avatar as well. One of the things I purchased was a new wig and I feel like showing it off. Stay tuned!
-Sandy (-30-)
Monday, March 19, 2007
We are all daughters of Christine Jorgensen
We are all daughters of Christine Jorgensen
I was just thinking that today.
All of us who are in whatever state of transition, pre/post/non-op, all have a direct connection to her.
Without her groundbreaking appearance and quite notable arrival, I would still be barry. You would still be who you are.
Now Christine was not the absolute first transsexual to transition in modern society. However, she was the first to use HRT.
Also she was the first to be vocal in the describing transsexuality as something that wasn't a perversion and something that needed to be addressed. In other words she blew the door off the closet when she came out!
Because of her, I am becoming who I was always supposed to be. I will start living my life and stop dieing in a lie.
We cannot hope to repay that debt that she and other transsexuals are owed. The only other thing to do then is to pay it forward.
I have been blessed with an almost painless transition at work and in society because of her actions.
I cannot take these blessed gifts and not attempt to pass them on.
I choose to become an advocate much like Christine and others have done. In some way be a roll model for others to show that transitioning *is* a miracle and there is real life after transitioning.
I hope that in some small way, what I do will help someone else.
That is the only way I can help repay that debt.
And in that way earn the right to call myself a daughter.
Of Christine Jorgensen
-Sandy
All of us who are in whatever state of transition, pre/post/non-op, all have a direct connection to her.
Without her groundbreaking appearance and quite notable arrival, I would still be barry. You would still be who you are.
Now Christine was not the absolute first transsexual to transition in modern society. However, she was the first to use HRT.
Also she was the first to be vocal in the describing transsexuality as something that wasn't a perversion and something that needed to be addressed. In other words she blew the door off the closet when she came out!
Because of her, I am becoming who I was always supposed to be. I will start living my life and stop dieing in a lie.
We cannot hope to repay that debt that she and other transsexuals are owed. The only other thing to do then is to pay it forward.
I have been blessed with an almost painless transition at work and in society because of her actions.
I cannot take these blessed gifts and not attempt to pass them on.
I choose to become an advocate much like Christine and others have done. In some way be a roll model for others to show that transitioning *is* a miracle and there is real life after transitioning.
I hope that in some small way, what I do will help someone else.
That is the only way I can help repay that debt.
And in that way earn the right to call myself a daughter.
Of Christine Jorgensen
-Sandy
Friday, March 9, 2007
The Stanton Mess - UPDATED
The Stanton Mess - UPDATED
I was actually starting to believe the press about me. Some people I knew had been calling me brave because of my impending transition at work. For a little bit I thought that maybe I was a little bit brave...
I'm a poser.
I just got done watching all the videos and reading all the stories about his transition. And there he sits taking full force all the fury the trans/homo phobic cretins can throw at him with a look of detached calm.
Then there is that reverend butt-head who without having to read any supporting medical literature is not only convinced that Jesus himself would have lead the charge for Steve's dismissal but is absolutely convinced that he can save him simply by quoting from the bible. His claim to have cured sinning homosexuals implies a track record that he could probably save all those godless Islamics as well. Just think of all the money I'll save not having to go through surgery! All I have to do is read reverend BH's patented, never-fail, cure for homosexuality, transsexuality, and heartburn.
It's times like this I wish being transsexual WAS contagious. I'd be sure to sneeze on this Nimrod every chance I could get.
And there he sat, implacably calm. I'm sure that on the inside and in private he may be seething. But on the outside, a quiet peacefulness that could anesthetize a charging bull.
He is one class act.
And now unemployed. The board voted to fire him.
If there is anyone who embodies all the qualifications of "following his bliss" it must be Steve. I'm sure he'll land on his feet. I can't imagine those "invisible hands" doing anything that wouldn't lead him deeper into his field of bliss.
My list of transsexual roll models just got longer by one. A big one.
Here I was thinking I was brave because everyone at my shop was falling all over themselves to help me transition because on some basic level they fear a lawsuit. Absolutely they do care about me, but they also care about the company.
I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth by any means.
But if I ever start thinking I'm brave again, all I have to do is look at Steve's quiet, peaceful face and there I'll see *real* bravery!
-Sandy
UPDATE
I've read that Mr Stanton chooses use the male pronoun until such time as he makes his official change to female. And other support sites are also referring to him in the male mode. His wishes are that he be referred to in the gender he is presenting.
I can certainly understand and accept his wishes. To that end I've made appropriate changes in this post as well.
But it changes nothing...
He is still a class act.
I am still a poser.
And reverend BH is still...
I'm a poser.
I just got done watching all the videos and reading all the stories about his transition. And there he sits taking full force all the fury the trans/homo phobic cretins can throw at him with a look of detached calm.
Then there is that reverend butt-head who without having to read any supporting medical literature is not only convinced that Jesus himself would have lead the charge for Steve's dismissal but is absolutely convinced that he can save him simply by quoting from the bible. His claim to have cured sinning homosexuals implies a track record that he could probably save all those godless Islamics as well. Just think of all the money I'll save not having to go through surgery! All I have to do is read reverend BH's patented, never-fail, cure for homosexuality, transsexuality, and heartburn.
It's times like this I wish being transsexual WAS contagious. I'd be sure to sneeze on this Nimrod every chance I could get.
And there he sat, implacably calm. I'm sure that on the inside and in private he may be seething. But on the outside, a quiet peacefulness that could anesthetize a charging bull.
He is one class act.
And now unemployed. The board voted to fire him.
If there is anyone who embodies all the qualifications of "following his bliss" it must be Steve. I'm sure he'll land on his feet. I can't imagine those "invisible hands" doing anything that wouldn't lead him deeper into his field of bliss.
My list of transsexual roll models just got longer by one. A big one.
Here I was thinking I was brave because everyone at my shop was falling all over themselves to help me transition because on some basic level they fear a lawsuit. Absolutely they do care about me, but they also care about the company.
I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth by any means.
But if I ever start thinking I'm brave again, all I have to do is look at Steve's quiet, peaceful face and there I'll see *real* bravery!
-Sandy
UPDATE
I've read that Mr Stanton chooses use the male pronoun until such time as he makes his official change to female. And other support sites are also referring to him in the male mode. His wishes are that he be referred to in the gender he is presenting.
I can certainly understand and accept his wishes. To that end I've made appropriate changes in this post as well.
But it changes nothing...
He is still a class act.
I am still a poser.
And reverend BH is still...
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
I want to burn the bridge.
I want to burn the bridge.
It's a little odd. Over the last few weeks I've become so impatient with myself and my progress. Now, I know I've been shot out of a cannon, or as Julie likes to say I'm FedEx'ing my transition. I know there are so many who take so much longer. So I know I am truly blessed at all my good fortune to be where I am at. And I truly believe that! I'm currently 24x7-40. My wardrobe is growing with every swipe of the credit card (poor thing is severely bruised).
I'm actively pursuing my transition at work with HR and management. It will happen. But not tomorrow. The same with my body. Like a pre-pubescent girl I look at myself in the mirror and just cry sometimes! I feel like nothing is happening. But of course I know (intellectually) that there is. There has been some really dramatic changes in my body over the last few months. And I really appreciate them. It's just that sometimes I feel frustrated.
Not that I'd fly out to Thailand or bypass the SOC, but I just want to be out of these bloody guy clothes! I want to be transitioned! I want my legal name change completed!
What I really want is to do something irreversible. Something that will prevent me from ever being able to go back and pretend to be a guy ever again. Every step in the SOC is designed to put off the irreversible steps as long as possible to allow for buyers remorse and allow the patient the maximum amount time to make a thorough, well thought out decision.
Well I've been thinking about it for 50 years, doesn't that count? I've thought it over, and being a guy really sucks. It's as simple as that.
-Sandy
I'm actively pursuing my transition at work with HR and management. It will happen. But not tomorrow. The same with my body. Like a pre-pubescent girl I look at myself in the mirror and just cry sometimes! I feel like nothing is happening. But of course I know (intellectually) that there is. There has been some really dramatic changes in my body over the last few months. And I really appreciate them. It's just that sometimes I feel frustrated.
Not that I'd fly out to Thailand or bypass the SOC, but I just want to be out of these bloody guy clothes! I want to be transitioned! I want my legal name change completed!
What I really want is to do something irreversible. Something that will prevent me from ever being able to go back and pretend to be a guy ever again. Every step in the SOC is designed to put off the irreversible steps as long as possible to allow for buyers remorse and allow the patient the maximum amount time to make a thorough, well thought out decision.
Well I've been thinking about it for 50 years, doesn't that count? I've thought it over, and being a guy really sucks. It's as simple as that.
-Sandy
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