Sleep Well, Cerise

The trans community was stunned this morning by the announcement that Dr. Cerise Richards had passed.  She had been battling leukemia for 18 years, and it resurfaced, taking her quickly.

Her FB Profile Pic

I met Cerise many times.  And every time she took the time to talk with me.  She read this blog and seemed to know everything going on in my life.  She had an amazing memory.

Cerise was a chief of urology at Georgetown University Hospital, but she also was passionate about proving the theory that TGs have female brains.  In fact, she gave speeches at conferences (several times at the Keystone Conference, for example) on the topic of brain gender.  As this area is also one of my particular interests, we spoke in depth about it.  She was even kind enough to send me her presentation slides which were very full (over full?) of information.

She was very giving of her time and advice.  Many times at Keystone, I would have the makeover appointment after her with Amanda Richards.  (And was she ever picky about her appearance!  Just ask Amanda!)  I'd be waiting sometimes an hour, but the time flew by as Cerise talked to me about my life and about how others dealt with my situations.  She knew everybody.

And everybody knew her.

Her contributions to the TG World are endless.  She was a columnist at TG Forum, where I also have a column.  She was a patron of the Keystone Conference.  She started TG clubs.  She mentored.  She laughed.

I can't begin to list everything she's done.

Anything I write will not be enough to cover this woman's greatness.  Her passing has left a huge hole in many people's lives.

I have lost a friend and mentor.  The TG community has lost a Giant.

Sleep well, dear friend.  May the four winds blow you safely home.

Seeing Daughter

I don't write about Wife and Daughter much, as I like to keep that part of my life private.

What I can say is that I see them sporadically.  I will go weeks without seeing them, then see them a few times in a week.  I see my dog, Nittany, even less.

Belly Scratch time!

I still love Wife.  I really wish we weren't in the situation that we find ourselves.  But we are.

Today I took my daughter to a playground.  We ran around a bit.  Well, she ran around- I sat in the shade as much as I could.  I did roll down a hill though.  As we were walking to the car to leave, she said "You're the best dad ever!"

Cue "me melting."  I didn't cry though.

Happy Dad

I saw Wife today as well.  We had lunch and drove around a bit.  Today, she, Daughter and MIL returned from a couple of days at Hershey Park.  I wasn't invited, of course, but I'm used to that.  If MIL is there, I won't be.  A couple of weeks ago, they flew down to Myrtle Beach, SC to visit Wife's youngest brother, who now owns a veterinary practice there.  I wasn't invited on that either (duh.)

The fact is that it bothers me a bit.  I understand the WHY of it, but it doesn't make it hurt less.  There's really nothing I can do about it.  In the end, I had no choice but to transition.  If not...

Well, you know.

I've been tired of late.  I wonder if I'm sinking back into depression.  I feel lethargic.  Seeing Wife, Daughter, and (briefly) Nittany today brought me joy.  So few things do anymore.

Being myself brings me Peace, not Joy.  And Peace is a lot more then I've had most of my life.  Joy?  That comes from seeing my family.  But it's a double edged sword as that also brings me Pain.  It reminds me of all I lost.

Loss.  Why does Transition have to be about Loss?

Interlude in Rehoboth

On Monday August 11, both my roomie Linda Lewis and I woke up before dawn to shower (separately- she's taken) and put on our faces.  The plan was to drive the few hours south to southern Delaware.  Initially, we were going to meet my dear friend Ally Raymond but medical issues prevented that.  So plans changed.  We would meet another wonderful friend, Kira, in Rehoboth Beach, then go visit my parents, who retired down that way.

Got all that?

Right.  So we made it down in good time, and were both really hungry.  When I was a child, my parents would occasionally take my brother and I into Rehoboth on our shore trips, and we always went to Nicola Pizza.  I remember liking their pizza (I HATE Grottos!) and suggested eating there.  And so we did, having budgeted for lunch.  And the pizza was better than I remembered.  I had my usual pepperoni, while Linda had everything (except anchovies.)  Her pizza looked more like a mound o' nachos!

After we ate, we walked to the beach, where we walked along the waterline and discussed our current situation.  You see, we have a two bedroom apartment, and our other roomie never moved in, so we're in a jam for the rent.  We discussed what could be sold on ebay to make up the shortfall, and, more importantly, where we could find another roomie.

After walking for a while, we stopped on the boardwalk to rinse off our feet at a shower station.  This station had three shower heads:  one low, one middle and one high.  There were also three buttons, aligned like a vertical stoplight.  So I pressed the lower one, which activated the lower shower head and I rinsed off my feet.  The middle one was more for washing legs, so I pressed the middle button (thinking logically)...

And the top shower soaked me.  Was that enough?  Oh no, of course not.  Did I press the wrong button?  So I pressed the middle button again...  SPLOOSH!

Linda found this extremely amusing, as you can guess.

Well, there I was, dripping wet on a hot day.  Linda suggested we walk along the boardwalk, which we did, eventually ending up at the Greene Turtle, where we stopped for some ice water and a rest.

I'm still wet in this picture, imitating a Price is Right model

We then walked around for a bit longer, ending up at an alternative bookstore (Pride?) which was quite fun.  More wandering, then we arrived at the Purple Parrot, which is where we were to meet Kira.

We waited a bit, then some guy comes up to us.  It was Kira in disguise!  (In drab is a better description, which is why I will be posting mo pics of her at her request.)

The bar at the Purple Parrot

Kira sat and we spoke of her long trip from Northeast Pa.  I met Kira at the Renaissance Christmas party the previous December and liked her immediately.  She's intelligent, well spoken, and FUNNY!  

 Linda enjoys an ice water

Kira was hungry and proceeded to order half the menu (just kidding- she ordered crab soup and a salad, as well as some nachos for all of us to share.)

Menu, garcon? 

And so we talked.  We talked about mutual friends.  We talked about what it means to be Transgender, and what it means to go full time.  Kira is making the opening moves toward that.  We spoke of our jobs and how they were/could be affected by this.

Sophie Selfie

And we ate!  The nachos were a massive pile o' food, and the three of us worked on them as we spoke.  I drank water and some cokes (one of which had a little extra flavoring.)  I've been drinking a lot more water lately in an attempt to lose weight and save money (maybe not in that order.)

Kira very generously picked up the check, despite Linda and my offering to pay our share.  We parted ways so she could check into her hotel.  Ally would join her the following day.  Initial reports from Rehoboth are that the two of them had an amazing time and that the populace may eventually recover from their visit.

From there, Linda and I went to visit my parents, who live in a small town on the north bank of the Indian River Bay.  With summer traffic, a normally twenty minute drive was more like forty.  We arrived, and we talked a bit.  I caught up on the extended family and helped my mum get back on facialbook.  My parents sprung for a chicken dinner that was very well appreciated.  Yes, I ate a LOT that day, as did Linda.

Linda is amused on my parents' pier

After visiting for a couple of hours, we took our leave.  Linda had work VERY early the next morning so we had to get back north.  The trip seemed eternal.  I was tired and traffic was heavy and at times it seemed like we'd never get make it back to PA.  But we did, and Linda went to bed immediately.  And actually, I wasn't far behind as I was exhausted, despite the heavy doses of caffeine that day.

So ended our long but fun day.  We both were a little sunburned, but not too badly.  I returned to work the next day with aching legs and heavy heart, as on the way home I had learned about Robin Williams' death.

At the Purple Parrot, it seems to be a tradition to write ones name on the seats.  It's a fun tradition, so I followed suit.  The only indication or semi-permanent reminder that I was ever there is now on a stool in the Parrot, written in sharpie.  But the day was good, the friends even better, and for one day, all was right with the world.

Be Well, everyone!

Et Tu, Robin Williams?

In case you haven't heard, Robin Williams is dead.  Yes, really.  Hung himself with a belt.  So passes one of the greatest comic minds of all time.

I never met Robin Williams, but I know people who have.  You see, I used to work for a company called Games Workshop, and Robin Williams played our games (as does Billy Crystal, I'm told.)  He would come into our stores to play against people who would actually try to beat him.

(I'm going to abbreviate his name to RW for the rest of the entry for speed sake.)

As far as his comedy, he was the wellspring of my own comic style.  I define it as "lightning fast and WTF."  People who know me personally will attest that my jokes follow this pattern and are quite annoying.  But I learned it from him.

Obviously, he was better at it than I am.

He was also an amazing dramatic actor.  My favorite of his dramatic roles is actually from this little art house film called Dead Again where he is uncredited as a psychiatrist who now works at a grocery store.  he has the best line of the movie, as he fixes his eyes on Kenneth Branaugh and says "Why do women do anything?"

I discuss the Darkness often in this blog.  The Darkness is my name for suicidal thought.  And I've noticed other people have begun picking up on the phrase.  Good.  Call it by name.  Obviously, RW was no stranger to the Darkness.  You could hear it in his humor and see it in some of his roles.  One Hour Photo, anyone?

We who have walked in the Darkness know how hard it is to pull away from it.  RW couldn't, for whatever reason.  This man who brought laughter to millions... died alone.

Sad, isn't it?

But that's how we die too.  In the end, he was no different than us.  Strip away the millions, the mansion, etc, and he was a soul in pain.  Like so many of us.

And like any of us, he couldn't pull out of it alone.  No one can.  If you feel the Darkness coming, PLEASE, please please call someone- anyone- and talk about it.

My dear sister Lisa killed herself nearly a year ago, and I know first hand the devastation suicide leaves in it's wake.

If you need help, get it.

You can't do it alone, but with friends, you CAN pull out of it.  I'm living proof.

Be well.  And may the four winds blow you safely home, Robin.

Lisa Empanada's Party: an Anniversary

A Year Ago.

One year ago, I attended a party in Baltimore in a soggy backyard.  I was there at Lisa Empanada's invitation.  You see, it was her Affirmation party, and I was one of very few people invited to represent the community to her assembled family.  She told me she considered me family.

With Lisa that day 

Tents against the drizzle

That is something her widow, Sandy, has since echoed several times.

This is the first of what will be multiple Lisa related anniversaries.  The Affirmation Party.  Her Death.  Her Funeral.  All of them, One Year.  And I'll address her suicide more as that one year anniversary comes.

For me, my life as a transwoman has been in relatively well defined stages.  The current "stage" started on March 25, 2013, when I went full time as a woman.  But August 3, 2013 was a major turning point as well.  On that day, I saw what the love of Family can mean.  Acceptance.  And on that day, I absolutely KNEW, beyond a doubt, that I was going to transition.  I've also spoken in depth about what the party meant to me in a previous entry.

That stage lasted a little more than a month until September 16th, when Lisa committed suicide.  Then began a stage of spiraling depression.  I documented that in the blog as well.  

So the anniversary.  What do I do about it?  My first instinct is that Lisa's birthday is going to be a rough day for Sandy, and as such I want to be there to support her.  So with that in mind, I signed off of work that day so I could travel to Baltimore.  I made arraignments for what she wanted to do that day.  I enjoy spending time with Sandy, and, despite everything else, I loved seeing her and Hayden today.

August 3, 2014 dawned cloudy and gray, just like a year ago.  I re-watched a video that Sandy had posted, and cried my makeup off.  After re-doing my makeup, it was the two hour trek south to Baltimore.

I made it almost on time.  After a few preliminaries, myself, Hayden, and Sandy headed north in Sandy's car to the site where Lisa died.  Sandy was dressed in a beautiful orange dress, and around her neck she wore the "Lisa" necklace that she'd given Lisa for Christmas.

The one Lisa was wearing when she died.

Sandy and Hayden brought flowers and balloons.  I didn't get flowers, opting instead to donate to a suicide prevention organization.  Sandy gave my these neat little butterflies on sticks to place.

We arrived.  We stood next to the spot looking for a bit.  Sandy told Hayden a few things about the site, as he had never been there.  We then stood silently for a bit.  I started to silently cry.  Then the two of them placed the flowers, and I, the butterflies.  Hayden gathered up remnants of previous flower placements, and placed them with these flowers.

Sandy places the flowers.

We stood for a bit, giving Sandy her space and time.  She then walked over to us, tears streaming down her face.  I hugged her and cried with her.

The Flowers and Balloons

We lingered a little bit more, then re-entered the car and drove away, quietly.

Lisa parked the van where the flowers are located

None of us had eaten, so Sandy directed me (I was driving Sandy's car) to an Applebees that had been one of she and Lisa's frequent stops.  We had a nice lunch, if a bit quiet.  Sandy insisted on paying, despite my wanting to pay my share.

Yummy

After lunch, we went back to Sandy's.  I coaxed them into going to the Angle Inn for a round on me.  While there a friend of Sandy's talked her ear off.  We eventually went outside to the patio, where Hayden brought me up to speed on current events.  Hayden then showed me a place that Sandy owns that she was renting to someone, and that someone wrecked it.  The place stunk badly, and while I could see that a lot had been done, there was still a lot to do to clean that place.  When we returned to Sandy's real home, she asked what I thought of the other house.  I said "Nuke the site from orbit.  it's the only way to be sure."

I spent a couple more hours with Hayden and Sandy, petting Lisa's dogs, and, yes, crying a little.

I left a bit early as I had two stops I wanted to make.

The first was back to the site of Lisa's death.  You see, the other times I visited, I spoke to her, out loud, but not this day.  I went back to talk to her.  I gave her a piece of my mind again, asking her if she was happy about the damage she'd done to the three of us, especially to Sandy.  Yes, there were MANY others affected by her death, but I spoke only of the three who had visited that day.  After that, I squatted down and sobbed.  I told her about my life as it is, and then I took my leave

My second stop was Red Brick Station.  I've written of this place before this. There I met an old friend from my Baltimore days, whom I shall call Chrissy.  Chrissy dated one of my coworkers, but we clicked so after that relationship ended, she and I stayed in touch.  We had a couple of drinks.  My head was still spinning with grief, so I fear I wasn't the best company, but Chrissy could make Shleprock smile- she's that fun.

Chrissy and I

We hung out for a while, catching up, then I headed back north towards home.  When I arrived, Linda was already asleep, as she had awoken VERY early in the morning for work, and will do so again tomorrow.

I'll tell you plain- this day was Brutal.

I cried a LOT for Lisa today.  And I cried for Sandy.  The three of us should've been out with Lisa today, happily celebrating her 53rd birthday, or at the very least she and Sandy should have.  But instead the three of us were sticking flowers and balloons into the ground in a remote farmer's field on a somber gray day.  All because Lisa's strength failed her.

I understand the Darkness, and the way it distorts a person's thinking.  On my way down to Baltimore, the Darkness tried to break into my thoughts.  I began composing the front page to what would be a series of letters to those dear to me, trying to explain Why I died.  But I realized those thoughts for what they were, and immediately shifted my thoughts to the Who CD I had playing.

Lisa wasn't in her right mind when she died.  That's what the Darkness does.  Had she reached out to anyone, she'd still be alive today.  But no- she was so focused on dying...

I'm back.  I stopped typing to cry a bit.  Welcome to my world: where some nights I sit alone and cry.  Especially when there's a reason.

A year ago tonight I was trying to process one of the best days of my life.  On that day, I met Lisa's family, ate well, and met Ally, who is now one of my dearest friends.

Me, Lisa, Ally: one year ago.

On the video Hayden made for Sandy, we see pictures of Lisa.  In some of them, I appear.  In others I am cropped out.  But the highlight is a piece of Lisa dancing at Blue Pacific one distant night during Laptop Lounge.  It's dark, but there she is, bopping and bouncing.  This is the Lisa most people know, and how I wish I could remember her.

I do remember Happy-go-lucky Lisa.  But I remember her deeper and darker moments as well.  I wish I could've made many more memories with her and Sandy.  Today's memories were of standing on a bleak day placing flowers as if on her grave.

And so passed the first of the anniversaries.  Still to come will be the last day I saw her alive, and the day she died.  I will be there for Sandy on the latter, as she will need support.  As will we all.

I realize this hasn't been the most pleasant of entries.  But for this I do not apologize.  My blog is what it needs to be.  And today, it needs to be this.

Happy 53rd birthday my dear sister Lisa.  I will always love and miss you.  Always.

Detransition?

Detransition.

It's a word that isn't in the dictionary.  But Google it, and you'll find many entries.   We in the Trans community know exactly what it means.

To return to the way one was before changing.  In my case, to return to my male life.

I must admit, the thought has crossed my mind.  And I know some people who have done it- who, after going full time, have decided that this life was not for them.

Take Me as I am

But please join me as I think this through.

What do I miss most about my life as a man?  That's easy- there's really only two things I miss- and that's my Wife and daughter.  I miss the day to day life.  I miss my daughter's smile.

If I detransitioned, would they take me back?  Would I get to go back to living with them as a family?  Would all be forgiven?

Nope.  None of that would happen.

No, I could detransition today, get a double mastectomy, burn all my feminine clothes, fall to my knees and beg to return, and I wouldn't be taken back.  Why?  Well that's simple.  Wife isn't the one who threw me out.  That was MIL, and she isn't the type to forgive.  Nor would I ask to return.  No, Wife would have to move, and she's already demonstrated that she's unwilling to do that.

So if I can't get back with Wife and Daughter, why would I do it?  Today I have peace.  I am who I was born to be.  Today, I may live precariously, wondering how I'm going to meet next month's rent.  I am often very lonely, wanting the company of my Wife and daughter.  But I am without the Anger and Pain that ruled my life until recently.

I am four months full time.  I can't go back now.  Even if I wished to do so.

And I do not wish to do so.

Costumes at Work

The sultry days of July are a far cry from the crisp nights of late October, yet there I was, driving to work in a costume.  In my Mary Marvel costume at that.  Why?

Up, Up and aw... wait a second

The bookstore has a chain wide promotion starting, and Saturday July 19th, 2014 was part of the kickoff.  Technically, Friday was the first day.  Our dress code was changed for the weekend so we could wear "pop culture t-shirts, jean, etc" if we wished.  I wore my "Batman Year One" t-shirt, a black skirt (suggesting a cape) and a black belt.  It was a fun and functional outfit.

Batwoman

Pop Culture: That's the theme of this three week long promotion.

So Saturday was the "big day" of the "Preview weekend" as it was called.  There was a costume contest, both for customers and employees.  As the contests were nationwide, my chances of winning weren't awesome, but what the hell?  I polled my facialbook friends on what, if any, costume I should wear.  Most people made selections, but one person dissented.  Donna Rose suggested that I may wish to decline- not wear a costume.  Her point was that I probably want to "fly under the radar" and not draw attention to myself.

But instead of heeding this advice, I decided to wear my super heroine costume.

Posing in the Breakroom Saturday

And guess what?  Donna was right.

Allow me to share the "greatest hits."  These weren't the only comments; no, not by far; but the best of three days.  Because one day of abuse wasn't enough.  No, I had promised to wear the costume on Wednesday, which was chain wide "Batman day."

Saturday:
"You look like a complete idiot."

Wednesday:
"(to son) Thank the man...woman... (to me) what are you anyway?"

Another customer Wednesday complained to a fellow that my outfit was "inappropriate" and "beneath a bookstore."  But she was nice as can be to my face when I helped her find a book.

With a coworker Wednesday

So today, Thursday, I was greeting people. And elderly "man" came in and said "Did you see that monster woman they had here yesterday? Man was she ugly and she had on this crazy red outfit..."

I said "That was me."

"Oh" he said, "I didn't recognize you" and then walked away giggling to himself.

Thursday

So Donna, you were right.  I was spotted as trans left, right, and center while in costume.  I don't get read half as much in regular clothes.  Yes, I still get "sir" about once a day, (including twice today) but most of the customers address me by my proper gender.

Yes folks, welcome to my life.  My C cup breasts, long hair, makeup, and feminine attire obviously are not good enough for me to completely pass.  

So.  Has it been all bad?  No.  I had MANY compliments on the outfit, and management was glad I wore it, as I was the only one in costume.  And... yes...

I had fun.

So, does it balance out?  Not really.  I am human and have feelings and those people's comments hurt- especially today's.  No one likes being called a Monster.

Do I regret my decision to go full time?  Never.  I am alive, and I am living as the person I was meant to be.  Linda and I are living on the edge of ruin (hopefully that will be sorted out soon) but I am at Peace.

You can't buy Peace.  For any price.

So, lesson learned.  No more costumes at work.  Under the radar.  Subtle.

Me?  Subtle?  Yeah right.  But I'll do my best not to be a Monster.

Rash Decisions in Richmond

On July 3, 2014, Linda Lewis and I hopped into my car and drove south.  We drove straight to Richmond, Virginia.  It took quite some time due to traffic, but we made it eventually.  During the ride, my left ankle itched.  I scratched it occasionally and thought nothing of it.

Ready for Richmond!

The day was hot, and we were fairly tired.  However, seeing my dear friend Ally immediately brought Linda and I back to life.  Ally suggested lunch at a local Irish pub, O'Tooles.  As I love Irish pubs, I was happy to go.  There were maybe a dozen people in the place, and the three of us sat at the back half of the bar.  We weren't there five minutes before an older guy came over and gave us all his business card.  he flirted very hard with Ally while doing so.  I think that of the three of us, I'm the only one who still has his card.  Why, I have no idea.  I kind of think it's funny I guess.

Three Vanity Club sisters having a serious conversation at O'Tooles

That night, we went to Karaoke at a hotel restaurant called Nacho Mamas (not to be confused with the Baltimore institution).  The place was small with an oddly shaped bar, kind of triangular with fully half of it walled off.  The karaoke was behind the bar with views of the people down two sides of the triangle.

Ready to Sing!

We found a table near the back, and I put in to sing the Grateful Dead's Friend of the Devil, one of my usual songs.  As I sang, half of the crowd were busy texting or otherwise not giving a damn.  So I guess i was less than riveting.

Friend of the Devil

Later, I sang the Beatles "I've Just Seen a Face."  As I took the microphone, a heavy set African American woman called over to me "Girl, you'd better sing!"  Well, my reception on my second song was as indifferent as my first, so I gave up.  A couple of songs later, Ally stood and beautifully sang a Stevie Wonder song.

Ally sings; hearts break

Soon after, our night ended.  Everyone was very tired, so we returned to Ally's house, and went to bed.

The next morning was July 4th, which dawned hot, bright, and beautiful.  I thought a bit while showering, and wrote my thoughts in a quick blog entry.  Some people sing in the shower- I think.  The night before cured me of my singing bug for a bit.

I noticed little bumps above my eye, on my left ankle, and on a finger.  What in the world?  Hives?  What are they?  I threw makeup over the face bumps and got ready.  I didn't want to be a party pooper, and there was a pig roast to attend! 

LtoR:  Random guest, Me, Linda Lewis, Ally

The party was in a nice Richmond neighborhood, and was open to all the neighbors as well.  There was quite a good turnout.  The hosts were very genial, and had a wicked sense of humor, as evidenced by the signs all over the house.

Snobby Cat

The food was wonderful, and a couple hours after we arrived, the pig was ready.  The hosts chopped the meat into barbecue and everyone feasted.  It was SO GOOD!

Roast Pig

Chop Chop

While there, I met many people, including someone who works at a Richmond location of the book store where I am employed.  We compared notes.  He was a very pleasant person.  I also met a couple who were extremely nice.  He was legally blind and she was all but deaf.  As she said, the deaf was leading the blind!  

After a long afternoon of eating far too much, laughing a lot and, yes, drinking a bit much, we went back to Ally's house.  We were all thoroughly exhausted.  That's when I removed my makeup and saw what the itching was all about.

My old enemy Poison Ivy was back with a vengeance... and this time it was on my face.  My ankle was also covered, and it had a large blister filled with oil.  Ally had calamine lotion, which I used.  I still had medication from last summer, but it was back in Pennsylvania.

I slept uneasily, my face and ankle oozing oil and covered with tissues.  

The Beginning

The next morning both my face and ankle were far worse.  I decided that I should head back to PA to get the meds.  Ally, Linda and I had planned to bop about Richmond for the day, but the rash was severe enough to scare me.  I remembered last summer when I had the rash all summer long, and was worried that this would scar my face as the rash scarred my legs the previous year.  So, reluctantly, Linda and I bid Ally and Jay goodbye and headed north.

During the previous day, I'd been texting with the amazing Jenny North, a Vanity Club sister from Alexandria, Virginia area.  She was the one who'd made my session at Keystone so memorable.  She said she's love to see us as we drove past her area, so we stopped for lunch in beautiful downtown Alexandria.  Jenny met us and led us to an Irish pub called Murphy's.  The inside was crowded with people watching a World Cup match. 

We had a wonderful time with Jenny, who was a great hostess.  Soon it was time to go, but we stopped in a drug store so I could get some cortisone creme for my rash, which was oozing a river of oil.

With the Beautiful Jenny North

Back on the road until Baltimore.  Sandy Empanada was busy with family, so we couldn't see her.  I decided I'd stop at the site of Lisa's death.  So, on a hot sunny late afternoon, I pulled off the road next to where Lisa had parked the van all those months ago.  And just as I did the last time I'd passed by, I said a prayer for her.  I also updated her on my life, and cried fairly hard.  Linda waited in the car to give me privacy.

The rest of the trip back was uneventful.  I stopped at MIL's place so I could pick up the prescription creme.  I had given it to Wife to combat a case of poison Ivy she had a month prior.

The rash kept getting steadily worse. It was crusted over with hardened yellow puss.  On Monday, I called out of work and went to see a doctor.  She prescribed prednisone, and I kept using the creme.  To date, nearly two weeks later, the rash on my face is gone without scars, but the rash on my ankle is still healing.  At the peak, I counted 44 blisters on my ankle, all of which eventually popped and are finally healing.  

I really wanted to stay the full time in Richmond, but couldn't.  Ally and Jay were amazing hosts again, and Linda seemed to enjoy her time there as well.  I still have no idea from where the rash came, but that's kind of a moot point right now.  It's healing.

Since then, it's been back to work.  Linda is still looking for a job.  Without it, even if our third person moves in, we are sunk.  And as that third person hasn't told us when she is moving in yet, we may be sunk already.

So I've been a bit depressed.  Money woes will do that.  Hopefully Linda will find a job soon, and A will move in so we can keep the apartment.  If not, well, we're homeless.

Not a cheery thought to end the blog entry, but there it is. I've brought it all up to date.

Thoughts from Richmond on July 4

I'm sitting here at the computer of my dear friend Ally Raymond.  Linda Lewis and I are her guests for a few days here in Richmond, Virginia.

A few thoughts at random as those two get ready.  We are going to a Pig Roast block party sort of thing.  It's going to be a hot day, but a fun one.

This one gets a little preachy folks.

Today is American Independence Day.  Today, Americans like me celebrate our independence from England.  Never mind that the Declaration was actually signed on July 2- those are niggling details.  We celebrate on July 4.

I was thinking about this last night.  Jefferson wrote one hell of a document back in 1776.  The most oft quoted part is as follows.  And many Americans can quote this from memory.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Never mind that Americans held slaves for decades after this document, and that true equality between the sexes has yet to be reached (Hobby Lobby anyone?)  More niggling details.

Never mind that rights for Transpeople are still lagging far behind... oh wait, that's my point.

July 3, Richmond.

We Americans like to say we live in the land of the Free.  But freedom truly only exists for one protected class:  White Males.  So it was in 1776- so it is in 2014.

And THAT is NOT a niggling detail.

I have been asked by online people "why would you give up being male?  You are top of the heap- a white male.  Why join a repressed group?"

Well, like I had a choice?  It was either transition or blow my head off.

Then there's this Emma Lazarus once wrote "Until we are all free, we are none of us free."

So. taking that as a Truth (and a self evident one at that), we can say that as long as Transpeople are not free... as long as Women are not truly free, then none of us are free.

Life.  Liberty.  The Pursuit of Happiness.  These truths are not JUST self evident, but they come at a price.  Millions of soldiers over the years have paid the dues for us.  Many NON soldiers serve humanity as well, every day- in shelters, classrooms, everywhere.

So on this July 4, I think about what I have done lately.  Yes, I'm a Former paramedic.  Yes, I was on the picket lines against Reagan, W, and the Iraq War.  But what have I done LATELY, especially for the trans cause?

For my brothers and sisters.

For whom our truths may be self evident to US, but not to the public at large.  They see as as freaks or worse- to, at times, be denied Life and Liberty.

Do we dissolve our bonds with those people, or do we educate them?  Well, I have a Masters in Education, so guess what I answer?  

And so I shall.

Many holidays have no True meaning.  But some do.  Memorial Day and Veterans Day we salute those who fought and continue to fight for us. Thanksgiving is about Family... those which with we are born and those we choose later in life.  Then there are religious holidays.

Independence day is more about Fireworks and a pig roast.  It's about celebrating where we come from, and who we are.  And it's about re-committing ourselves to the cause of Independence for ALL.  

Today I am in the former capitol of a political entity that existed to keep people in bondage, and I celebrate Freedom here.  And here I re-commit myself to the cause.

Preachy?  Maybe.  But it's how this woman from Philadelphia, birthplace of Freedom, feels today. 

In Richmond, Virginia.

On the fourth of July.

"Trans Panic" A Rant

It's been a while since I did a political jawn on this blog.  It's long overdue.  This one is gonna get partisan, dear readers, so if that's not your cup of meat, well, you've been warned.

First, read THIS.

Synopsis:  Cincinatti Transwoman murdered.  Body dumped.  Relatives saying "oh it wasn't hate... HE shouldn't be pretending to be a woman."  Media:  ummm well... (analysis mine)

Then there's THIS, a little closer to home for me.

Synopsis:  Philadelphia Transwoman murdered: stabbed, dismembered, body dumped.  Media:  well, she shouldn't have been posing as a woman (analysis mine).

So.  Word around Philly is that the Philly murderer will use "Trans panic defense," and I wouldn't be surprised if the Ohio guy does as well.

What is "trans panic?"  Well the LGBT Bar explains it this way:

Gay and trans “panic” defense tactics ask a jury to find that a victim’s sexual orientation or gender identity is to blame for the defendant’s excessively violent reaction. The perpetrator claims that the victim’s sexual orientation or gender identity not only explain – but excuse – their loss of self-control and subsequent assault of an LGBT individual.   (Citation HERE.)

So.  Two murders.  Two out of many.  What do these murders have in common?  A "so called liberal media" demonizing the victims is one.  The violence of the act is another.

Hmmm let's examine something else.  Ohio's state government is top to bottom solidly GOP.  So is Pennsylvania's.  Neither are too welcoming to LGBT.  Pennsylvania recently started allowing same sex marraiges due to a court decision, and Governor Corbett, facing poor poll numbers in an election year, decided to throw a bone to the "liberals" and not pursue it.  Ohio bans same sex marraige in its constitution and by statute. 

Neither states have many legal protections, if any for Transpeople.  Some localities, like Philadelphia do, but in general it's hostile.

I'm not saying these murders are the GOP's fault.  Far from.  However their intolerance at the top breeds the example.  Pin headed Fox News fanatics are shown, not told: SHOWN, that it's ok to hate.  And so they do.  Why?

It's easier to hate than to love.

I woke up this morning to see an editorial by activist extraordinaire Kristin Beck on this same topic.  Her point is that FOUR transwomen have been murdered in the past month.  She admonishes us all to be safe.

I echo this.  Be safe.  They HATE us for being who we are.

We Are Trans.  We were born this way.

Me: July 2, 2014