Full Circle: The Octeaux Twines Around the Tines of a Forklift

HAPPY NEW YEAR FRIENDS:

How are you? I am fine.

Well, I’ve been meaning to stop in here and make some profound statements about how transformed I am by the madness that was 2017. How scared I was at this time last year, and how much stronger I feel now. 

So, YES, I am transformed, but I can’t even begin to put it into words. Yet. (I know—some writer I am). 

When I say I almost did not survive 2017 I’m not exaggerating in the slightest. Someday I may tell that story, but I’m not ready to visit it yet. Let’s just say that nothing went as expected—on both the microscopic & macroscopic levels. The Trump presidency didn’t play out in quite the technicolor splendor I had envisioned, but it was bad enough to ruin each & every day in some fashion. I’ve never called/written more Senators in my life. In the past I’ve voted, protested, spraypainted, boycotted, zined, blogged and otherwise stood up to the Powers in a creative, independent way. But there was no room to be creative or subtle in standing up to the Trump admin’s BS. I’m not one who likes such a direct, pragmatic approach but… I got some practice doing it this year.

The Obligatory Portrait of Alters 2017

As for my own personal goals in ’17? None of them worked out quite the way I envisioned either—

Publishing? After a streak of good luck in ’15-’16 I got zero (0) submissions published in ’17. I had a manuscript shortlisted at two (2) small presses all summer but, days apart in Oct, they both sent rejections. Then all the single submissions I sent out in defiance of that were rejected too. So I spent the whole holiday break revising my idea of what kind of writer I want to be. Do I want to be a famous internet poet? There are already a lot of those (who are admittedly more exciting than me).

I’ve decided I’m going to go back to automatic writing for awhile. I really feel the need for it. I know it’s not a respectable form of WRITING, but it’s what I do. And I’m considering ditching poetry for fiction. And POSSIBLY returning to my old screenplay (which I’ll remind you of later. Though I did just read of an alleged ‘L Word’ reboot in the works. Why all the reboots?)

Anyway, one amazing terrific thing that happened on the publishing front—that I had no idea would happen at the beginning of ’17 —was that The Octopus went indie! I was so inspired by the contemporary poetry scene I found online and wanted to become more a part of it. So I sent out a call for submissions, thinking I would be ignored & overlooked (as usual :)) but NO!! I got so much response from such a great group of people. I was stoked to share the words & images of so many talented people right here in my humble slice of the internet.

You all can look forward to the Winter issue of The Octopus Review coming out any day now—just waiting for those artist submissions to straggle in!

One of the best things that happened in '17? A bunny showed up on our doorstep & lived w/ us for a few days (until s/he went to live w/ our friends who are bunny experts)

Another thing I planned for at the beginning of ’17 was to do a run (either a 1K or 5K) by the end of the year. My mom & I were training in Jan & Feb, then in Mar I broke my foot and couldn’t run for 12 weeks. So that kinda broke my momentum, and I never quite regained it. We’ll see if I ever find it again, but so far I have no plans to do a run this year.

At the start of ’17 I was pretty depressed because I’d been on T(estosterone) for a year and was still not passing AT ALL. In fact I was getting called ‘ma’am’ more than ever (probably because I look really old now). I was seriously doubting my ability, and my very right, to be doing a transition like this. I know that sounds transphobic, but all my doubts & fears are about MY transition, not yours. 

Because I was so discouraged, Moonchild & I decided to do a dining out venture where I could experiment with my appearance & presentation and find out what was working & what wasn’t. I work at home and don’t get out around people much, so I was a bit clueless about how to present “masculinely.”  I spent so much effort “feminizing” myself in my 30s, so it’s kinda like knocking over a jenga tower and rebuilding.

We had a hurricane

When we started our dining adventures, I got ma’amed no matter what I wore or how my hair was styled. It was demoralizing but I knew I needed the honest feedback. About 3 months in, I started getting gendered correctly some of the time (not quite half). It was like that for a few more months, but finally at the end of ’17 I started getting called “him” or “gentleman” or “sir” everywhere I went. I walked into the shoe store the other day & the woman at the counter said “Welcome to Acme Shoes, sir.”  I don’t think it’s my fundamental physical appearance that’s changed so much as I’ve learned how to carry myself & dress more guyishly.

[And just as an aside—why does “ma’am” seem like a veiled insult (no matter your gender identity) while “sir” seems like a title of respect?]

Eloise died...

WHAT ELSE? What else went on in ’17? Oh yeah — Adventures in Ethereality

I had a big crisis of faith this year. That was no secret. I wrote all about it & bored the shit out of you and made you think I was even crazier than I really am.  But the fun thing about spiritual crises is that you grow from them. Like a gorgeous tulip, my spiritual awareness has bloomed again after being dormant for quite awhile.

I always thought of myself as a spiritual person, even when I wasn’t actively pursuing or practicing anything spiritual. I had a wake up call regarding this assumption—beginning with a tree limb that almost fell on my head, and ending with me coming out as a mystic. (are mystics even more hated than trans people? Well, mystics are FEARED, trans people are HATED. Does this mean I’m intersectional now?)

I am still offering FREE TAROT READINGS for this year, or until I feel I am worthy of the going mystic rate. I’ve done exactly one (1) reading since I made that offer and I think it went pretty well. This is another thing I hadn’t planned on for ’17. I had no mystical ambitions in Jan, but I had one of those subconscious breakthroughs with The Cards, where you achieve a next level of understanding through dreaming about something.

So please hit me up if you want a reading. Don’t be AFRAID. I know I said in my last blog that I may be able to do this over the technology (Skype, phone) but I really prefer to do it in person.

I did the first episode of Shelter Cat & Trust Fund Baby. I should reprint it & then do the next one!

*******************SO?????????****************************

What’s up for ’18????????

I really don’t know. I’m hesitant to have too many predetermined goals. Still gunshy from last year. In fact, 2014 —17 have been so busy, noisy & exciting, I would be thrilled if ’18 is BORING AS FUCK!

When I was writing the Distressica Prequel, I found an Adventure in Reality I started in early ’17 about Trump & Putin trading shit to destroy the world with. I abandoned it about 3/4 of the way through because it seemed too dumb & juvenile for the current situation. But I think I’ll revisit it, and do some art to go with it.

[I did a lot of “art therapy” in ’17. I anticipate more to come in ’18.]

Okay, I know my life is boring as shit & I have no right to bore the crap out of you —oh wait—I DO have the right to bore the crap out of you HERE in The Octopus Diary!!! You have the right not to read. And please don’t “hate read.” That’s so 2013. When I do my end-of-year blogs I always feel like that relative who sends out the Xmas Newsletter—detailing what their family has been up to all year!!—and everyone groans & makes fun, but I secretly love the newsletter & wish we were all required to do a sort of year-end life-report and send it out to our respective social circles. 

(laughter. laughter. snort. laughs)

All right. No matter what’s going on in the macro, I hope everyone’s micro is just scopacetic.

FOR PIT PAT, SLAIN BY TRANS FRANCES

Hey Girls (this includes you too, guys!)

You’ll be happy to know I’m almost done w/ Shelter Cat & Trust Fund Baby. I had wanted to be done today, but it just wasn’t happening. I’ll give you my laundry list of excuses for the delay later.

I want to address something else today, and that is the sinking feeling I have in my chest cavity every day now. Despite the fact that my life is a slice of peach pie on a gingham joy rag, I feel throughout the day that awful vertigo, that elevator lurch of oncoming dread. And I’m not even on an elevator most of the time.

For awhile, the world seemed to be expanding in its sociological scope and this brought me a peace I hadn’t known before in my life. 

But then the Current Era happened, the New World Order, the Ninth Tentacle, whatever you want to call it… and all the bigots who’d felt obliged to tone down their prejudices during the era of social enlightenment have emerged from their cognitive sinkholes—oh the president says we don’t have to be politickul currekt anymore?? Hallelujah!!! 

Now, I know never to read the “comments thread” on any site, but something rolled by my eyes on Facebook the other day and I had to roll it back and have a closer look. Here is what I found—

******************TRANS FRANCES THE DOLL THAT’S GONNA WARP YOUR KID’S GOD-GIVEN HETERONORMATIVE BIRTHRIGHT INTO A JOHN WATERS MOVIE MARATHON**************************

These comments were in response to an article about a “transgender doll.” I don’t even know if this is a real toy or if it’s just more fake news. I could care less about a “transgender doll”—any doll can be transgender if you want it to be—but perhaps marketing dolls to transgender children is where we’re at now. 

When I was a kid all baby dolls were girls. Then, when I was about 8, they marketed a boy doll (complete with penis!) and that caused all sorts of uproar. How inappropriate! Our neutered little girls should not be exposed to that! 

My only question at the time was, if the boy doll has a penis why do none of my girl dolls have vaginas? [Back in the ’70s vaginas were so taboo we didn’t even speak of them, medically or otherwise. I think that’s how it was so easy to molest girls back then; we couldn’t even say the words.]

But anyway…now we have this “transgender doll” who I’m guessing is genital-free but is dressed as a girl (we can only assume she has a penis under that skirt!) No word on whether they’re working on a FTM doll.

And this is what the Being Conservative flock posted in response:

“This is disturbing to me. Gender identity crisis is a serious disorder that seems to cause people a lot of pain and suffering. I think mainstreaming it is making light of a serious situation and will confuse kids. If a kid has this disorder it will usually be obvious from a young age but making suggestions about it to a child that shows no signs of it prior could lead to a misdiagnosis. Children are so impressionable. I mean should we make an OCD barbie or a depressed barbie or an anorexic barbie? I think children should just be taught to respect everyone even if they are different than them and some people go through tough things, but that doesn't mean we have to explain disorders in depth to children and make toys that have them I think that is going overboard.”

[^^^I like this woman because she is trying to understand. But she’s missing the mark so hard I’ve gotta chime in: Yes children are impressionable, but *not talking* about things often leaves a bigger impression than talking openly about them. I don’t know of any parent who would suggest to their child that they “give trans a try.” But they would say, hey trans children exist. Check them out. Embrace them. And hey, if you ARE trans, that’s okay too!

As for anorexic/OCD/depressed Barbie? Yes, maybe we should have those too! Teenagers deal with anorexia, OCD, depression and other illnesses all the time. Barbie is such a joke of a positive role model they’ve been trying to make her more realistic for decades. I’m sure regular Barbie is responsible for more anorexia than Trans Frances would be responsible for “turning kids trans.” Kids don’t “turn” trans by suggestion. If your child is really trans you will know by how much it distresses them to identify as their “biological sex.”]

“American Girl made a boy doll. Nothing wrong with that at all. But a transgender doll is ridiculous.”

[Nothing wrong with a boy doll as long as it’s just a boy, wearing boy clothes, no penis or anything, just externally a boy-identified doll. Could it possibly be a trans boy then? NO!!!!]

“It's not the doll that is disgusting. It's the indoctrination of kids that is. Leave them alone!”

[I used to think only left wing people believed in conspiracy theories : )) Well, most left wing conspiracies revolve around secret government operations; right wing conspiracies seem to focus on personal agendas. Conservatives generally dislike independent thought. I see the word “indoctrination” used an awful lot these days. Especially by the right. Oh, those liberal cucks are trying to indoctrinate us with all their perversions and inclusions. Isn’t indoctrinating what you do when you bring your child into a church and teach them from an early age all the moralistic bullshit that steers them far away from independent thought?

There are people in my family who have chosen to raise their children like this. And they do it not to protect the children from…what? I’m not sure…perverts?…but to protect themselves from having to deal with stuff that makes them uncomfortable. They don’t want to have to answer the hard questions. Because the hard questions about being human can lead to big questions about God & Jesus. And whether they are real or not.]

“The Devil is the author of confusion. Young minds are being overloaded.”

[Of course I don’t think the author of this comment meant “the devil” metaphorically. Look, it’s even capitalized — The Devil! That devil has been fact-checked and he’s coming to get your kids, meanwhile…

… all the medical/social/mental health research from the scientific community can’t convince you that being transgender is a real phenomenon. i know it seems like the whole phenomenon just came spiraling into your midst with no warning…

…but transgender people have been in your midst for ages. Watching you and your bizarre heteronormative antics. Your binary tragedy. How many times was I told girls don’t this, boys don’t that, men are superior to women but they belong together in holy union, superior & inferior bound together for life, no cheating! Yes, that sounds heavenly. 

Remember, more Conservatives have been caught doing crimes in the bathroom than any transgender person, ever. Because a lot of people who were indoctrinated with scripture from a young age are afraid to confront their own homosexuality and end up doing “perverted” things later, on the sly, in restrooms and motels. Dishonestly. Covertly. 

When someone dares to confront their own gayness or gender identity, it looks like the flaunting of a perversion to the indoctrinated Conservative. 

But golly, I’ve always thought of the church as kind of perverse. Any teaching that excludes women the way religion does reeks of ancient covert pederasty to me.]

“When it comes to brainwashing children, you bet we have a problem. Leave kids alone. You want to be transgender? Have at it. But, that is your problem. Not mine nor societies.”

[Oh, I’m so happy when nasty sentiments like this are misspelled because I get a glimpse of the ignorance behind them.

Man (or lady), no one wants to be transgender. Or at least no one did when it was considered the most laughable of the mental illnesses.

Nowadays, who knows. Maybe some kids DO want to be transgender. I’ve heard the word “transtrendering” which is so hard for me to take—I would be the first to be contemptuous of those who would adopt trans as some kind of fashion statement.

After all the years I hid in my hyper-feminine costume so no one would ever have a clue that i was living in a Twilight Zone episode?? 

But wait—have we come so far that kids…actually…want…to be transgender?? That’s great! Let’s celebrate!

When we celebrate being trans instead of denying it or punishing it, there is no problem! Not for you, not for society!]

“A well thought out comment about the dangers of pushing complex adult issues on children. There is nothing wrong with being transgendered but this doll is just ridiculous.”

{^^^another person who’s trying to understand and be an adult. Still a ways to go…but there is effort in this sentiment. Thank you.]

“I and most of America disagree, there's a whole lot wrong with being transgender.”

[^^^^ there’s a whole lot wrong with being ignorant too. If you haven’t had your eyes open to some of the smart talented transgender folks in the world, please wake up.

It does suck to be born in the wrong body, it hurts to be told that you are sick because you feel bad about the gender you were assigned, it can cause depression, it can make you suicidal, it can get you killed—yes, those are things that are wrong with being transgender.

But by that logic there’s a whole lot wrong with being autistic, or obese, or black, or red-headed, or having phocomelia, or diabetes or a heart murmur. There’s a lot wrong with being human for that matter. We aren’t that great.

But I think when the commenter says I and most of America disagree, I think he means it’s not okay to be transgender because it is perverted. There’s something inherently perverse about it because it has to do with sex/gender.] 

“BS!!! if you have a problem deciding what you are, you need to be in a mental institution period.”

[Transgender isn’t a ‘decision’ one makes. Haven’t we been through this already with homosexuality? Don’t we all get that being gay isn’t a ‘choice’? Well, it’s the same for being transgender, geniuses.

And trust me, I was threatened with mental institutionalization. Oh, and not just threatened with it—I did end up in the hospital after a suicide attempt (I drank Drano and was in the hospital for 2 weeks then I had to go into a mental hospital for another week.) I didn’t drink Drano and get put in the hospital because I was transgender. That all happened because I was NOT ALLOWED TO BE transgender.]

“Yes there is something wrong with being transgender you freaking moron”

[No, there’s something wrong with you ^^^ Plain and simple. Moron.]

“I believe it falls in the category of OCD type of disorders. Many people in the world suffer from some sort of disorder but unless they are trying to harm themselves or someone else due to the disorder putting them in a mental institution is not usually necessary. I mean would you be mean to an anorexic person or an OCD person? I believe gender identity disorder is something similar to that because from a young age the person obsessively believes they are in the wrong body and I have watched documentaries about it where some children have mutilated themselves, which has then presented the need for inpatient care. I think the person is already feeling enough anguish I think it's better to be a little more sensitive. I think (name) is trying to say society shouldn't ostracize people who suffer from disorders not necessarily that there is nothing wrong because if you think you are in the wrong body there is something wrong.”

[^^^This is from the same woman who posted the first comment. I really do appreciate her trying to reason with her sheeple-people, even though she herself doesn’t fully understand. She at least gets that this is a real disorder that needs compassionate care, not judgment and scorn. And that it’s nothing to be AFRAID of, we’re not going to come into your restroom and stick our fingers up your bum or pull your daughter’s innocent face into our forked crotches. We don’t have forked crotches. 

We just have human anatomy. You don’t even have to wonder about it, or ask if we’ve had the surgery. Because it doesn’t matter.] 

“I think we need some custom doll/toy shops where people can get toys tailored to their children. That would be nice so the child dealing with something can be comforted but all the children that aren't, aren't confused by it. Plus it could be something really special between the parents and their child. and not some ploy from the left to indoctrinate children.”  

[Same woman. Nice attempt to compromise with unreasonable folks. But just one more thing:

Being trans is not a left wing ploy. Trans children exist inside Conservative families—I know some of them. That precious little miracle you’re holding might announce they’re trans one day! Trying to get our children to accept those who are different is a progressive social idea, not an evil ploy. It’s called evolving and moving forward. Just because you have chosen to cling to notions that were founded in fear and ignorance doesn’t mean the rest of the world can’t PROGRESS. Forward. Expansion. Inclusion.]

*********************

Me being feminine

Well, that was a lot of heavy shit. That’s okay, it needs to be said. When I was reading all this the first time around, my instinct was to jump in and attack everyone’s ignorance.

But I wanted to look at these comments again. Quietly, alone. I want to understand those who don’t understand me. 

I understand how questioning one’s gender identity could be confusing. Could make people uncomfortable—it is a big concept to grasp! But I’ll never understand religious, moral objections to social, scientific or medical progress. 

And now, we are entering what looks like a Dark Age. A time of moralistic oppression, separatism, “law” & “order”(aka dismantling and disorder). It is scary for me. I’ve just begun to unravel from my oppressive cocoon and I’m fighting the urge to ravel myself back in.

I know the people in this comment thread would love it if I did. And so I can’t.

'Twas the Day Before the Election

Hey Friends,

I want to take you back to the day before the election. Mon Nov 7, 2016 was a rather strange day for me. I'm usually a peaceful little hobbit minding my own business at home & rarely do I seek the noise of "out there." But every once in awhile a day takes a wrong turn and you find yourself walking far, far from home to get away from the ominous drone in your head.

Drone of one's own sudden locomotive urge and a sense that something is so wrong in the world you may kill yourself if you don't walk out the front door & keep going til you reach the sanctuary of your youth…

…the place where you spent so many hours trying to feel like the sun & the trees & the stars & even the blood that ran through you belonged as much to you as to the people who claimed it all freely & loudly w/out ever questioning whether it was theirs….

…the place that's undergone its own drastic transition since you last took refuge there in your 20s….

I walked an hour to get there, among the people and the beautiful banyans…and I continued to feel "weird"--no words for it--not my occasional T rage, not the excruciating anxiety of 2015, nor the overflowing sadness of '14---but a sickening combo of all that plus a dollop of some new ingredient I didn't recognize.

Of course now I recognize it as that psychic ailment I get when big weird things are just around the corner.

Here's a …..poem…..I wrote while out of my hobbitzone

************

Not the infinite coda of worry

Premature electorate

Orange death rattle softens to static

White noise left over from all races

Popcorn hisses & licorice whacks

I had to leave the house today

AWOL from my hermit stronghold

Painfully detached from self, others, breakdown, recovery

All that work to piece my stained glass facets into a parable

Worth a new gospel, grown up coloring book wax on shrieking alabaster

White house of padded worship, isolationism

I volunteered to be a one-way sensory overload; a listener for life

All around the thrust of voices, pistons striking my whole organic amphitheater temple

No congregation shall be powered by

Sick children

Nail polish bitch bishops taking over private homo church

And its secretly sick adults

Sports w/ balls or politics

Poker Pokemon Pox VOX POP

Broken A/C rescue dog nipping sick sad children under vestments

Histrionic bitemark appears to be a somatic apparition deacon

Banyan canopy above my picnic

So I walked

Far from all those memories of WHY

Why I remain a) alive  b) alone  c) unable to reach my closest primate relatives without plugging into

Streaky blue small talk chakra / direct current here but alternating in afterlife transactions 

My larynx smashed against my jawbone

The dragonfly thought it was a dog  I begged it to heal my flattened heart

I begged for its contempt but it smiled and went to have drinks w/ a helicopter

International airport lifts the lonely cat-free child-heavy crowd so I can pass

Now I practice

Giving no shits "HELLO!" I shout at the rough hewn mister whose home is in the permanent sun

Or was red from crying at a severed phone service, or who just paid a boy still fuzzy & equine for a

Right swipe reach around in Starbuck's upstairs shit pantry.

Not overthinking his precondition how "HELLO" will hit him

Like I always overthink a thing and end up unfriendly

Most words never make it past my teeth and flow through my fingers instead

But I shoved my voice in his face

Like all voices & opinions are shoveled at me faster than I can

Dig out of my reverie 

Of course I got no response which flicked the

Sarcasm on/off on/off on/off til it caught fire & I belted at the grey-collars

Driving their golf cart down the sidewalk "Get the fuck outta the way!" aka "Punch me!"

I never would've begged for rape's pink slip

But I'll put in a request for a black eye

Who the fuck is my new hormone boss?

Stuporvise me. I enter the newly gated & scaffolded Xingxing Xxxxxm Grxxnds where 

I once freely walked & sat & sketched & danced & fantasized & kissed the naked rears of statues 

But where I am accosted by elderly wXmXn more afraid than I of home's resounding hive-silence

Telling me I need to check in at the desk before I can sit or walk or sketch 

"WHAT FOR??" I say w/out over or underthinking or caring or worrying how it will reflect on my upbringing or if anyone will want to hurt me for it

"We need you to leave your zipcode at the desk"

"THIS HAS BEEN MY ZIP CODE FOR FORTY YEARS, BEFORE THE DESK WAS EVER HERE"

I proceed right to the outdoors and no one volunteers to stop me.

Octopus colony of banyans beyond rose garden thorned with babies & sunlight. I try benches for thrones, picnic tables like a fairy princess. I am not at home. The world reeks of oysters but not my own.

Moment of clarity: I'm not so separate from others as I am from my own greatness.

I never met that clone. When you see no end to loneliness your sleight of overthought comes to the rescue

My privilege to be lonely for no common you's & they's could corrupt my program

Crude as a lite brite, future spirograph flower more angelic than 011110010110100101110000

The lips that drip like hoses, the faces unzipped for every needling notion

Too patterned for my wild genius

Right. No one flowers after eons of clarity lead only to

Regression

Intellect w/ no angelic emotional oversight

You haven't clenched that moment and stretched it into a terminal masterpiece

Your claw-machine loosens its grip

On that fuzzy little chicken-beats-egg thesis 

Lost to sick kids, dogs

Broken hunger nail polish chipped window enamel rectangle hacked

A great oboe-blast of wind and children barking me away to a new spot where i write, pelicans splash,

German tourists drag their sandals What would Hitler say? 

Fussen auf! Marz! 

More children drawn to my angry genderless personal space

I offer a gentlemanly 'hi' to the boy in glasses

Who hovers like a mosquito too close to my nerves

And like a charm my acknowledgement disperses him

A flock of tiny molecules who need their mother

More than a sweaty stranger on a harsh covalence of bench

[I need liquid. But which restroom will I use?]

I could feel Satan within a 10 mile radius

So I ended up in the men's room first time since over saturating news w/ potty mouth debate

Made me a glaring error  A room for emperors w/ no mirror

To watch your plastic lunchmeat genitals leak

I almost hoped for a run-in w/ a gender nazi

A sausage inquisitor or heart-attackable G-pa

But I was alone in there with all my power

IMPOSE

DECLARE

ENFORCE

PROCLAIM

INFLICT

DICTATE

11-7-16

*******************

All right. That was a poem about my Hobbity little adventure before the election. I'm sure there will be more days like that one…I can feel it in the air, oh lord. But I'm ready for whatever comes, whatever I have to do to survive it. I found the courage to use the men's room unironically, but now I'm back to being scared again. I wish bravery was something I had all the time, but no…I only get it when I'm jacked up on adrenaline and cortisol and metabolized T.

I'll be back sometime w/ more adventures.

I Hate The Word "Cisgender" Too

[I never even heard the term 'cisgender' until I started following Gendermom's blog. I'm pretty sure the term was coined by doctors/therapists to communicate with their transgender clients, to distinguish between folks who align with their gender and those who are afflicted by their gender.

I thought the "cis" stood for something--"cool in skin" perhaps.

But no, it's just a dumb word that somehow leaked past enclosed doctor/patient circles. It has now permeated our homes and high school hallways and Facebook pages like a unicorn fart.

I absolutely believe that people who *are* aligned with their gender should be allowed to choose their own label.]

FRIENDS,

I write this blog in response to an essay titled The Sacred Androgen*, published in the Antioch Review earlier this year by one Daniel Harris.

The only thing Harris and I might agree on is how stupid the word "cisgender" is. Otherwise I found his essay pretty disturbing and lacking in focus, fact, or tact.

He makes the statement that he supports peoples' decisions to be or become whatever they choose. But in the same paragraph states that he sees the "transgender phenomenon" as a "mass delusion."

This is a public opinion that I, as a closeted transgender person for almost 4 decades, have always feared facing. I know I was deemed delusional when I told my mom at age 3 that I was a boy and I would not be putting on any dresses or behaving like a sugar-frosted princess.

Ohhhh, I was so delusional in 1973. I was shamed and punished and sent to psychiatrists who forced dolls into my arms. I was forced into dresses and made to smile in photographs when I really wanted to scream "I am not a fucking girl!!!"

Being seen as delusional is something I have fought against in my personal life, and now that Transgender is everywhere, I feel like I must fight on behalf of all transgender people.

But hey!!! I can see why Mr. Harris might be critical of this neo-exodus of OUT, LOUD, PROUD trans people making demands (gasp!) about pronouns & bathrooms. I am still shaking in my boots about revealing myself as trans. I am trying to be as confident and positive about it as possible, because that is the tone the "trans community" has asked me to use re: "my journey."

The media practically demands that we ALL embrace trans-ness. How brave we are! How happy we all must be for the person who has finally made this "decision" to become his/herself! Get on board or risk being on the wrong side of history!

And while I heave a sigh of relief that I am at last allowed to speak the words "I am transgender" I am not really feeling the "OUT & PROUD." I still carry a lot of guilt and shame; I still feel like I don't deserve to be the boy/man I always felt I was because my soul is covered in female body parts.

I still struggle to find the exact words to describe the transgender predicament. Because, people, what is missing from the public discourse on transgender visibility & civil rights is---

the sad stuff!! The acute mental agony of having to exist in a body that defines you as something you are not. The fact that this mental agony is strong enough to make one harm one's self and possibly others. That it is strong enough to cause permanent mental illness if not treated properly.

I'm not exactly sure who is responsible for this current slant in the media, but I feel a mix of triumph and hesitation.

I don't feel entitled to demand people suddenly use masculine pronouns when talking to/about me. Would I love for that to happen immediately, overnight? Sure. But do I realize that I still look like "she" and that my friends of 20+ years will have a tough time adjusting to the New Me? Sure.

One thing Mr. Harris really got wrong in his essay is the pathological understanding of gender dysphoria. He speaks of transitioning more as a "decision" or a trend. He writes about children "starting hormone treatment as young as age 4" and parents who pressure children to transition at the first sign of effeminate or tomboyish leanings. 

I call BULLSHIT on that. No one starts hormone treatment at 4 years old. Why would they? Puberty starts at 10 or 12. At that age, MAYBE children will begin hormone blockers, and at 16 they may begin hormone therapy. 

I have been following Gendermom's blog (which Mr. Harris uses as a source for his claims that mothers are pushing their children to be trans) since 2013. Gendermom's daughter was 5 then; she is now 8. This woman is not "forcing" anything on her daughter. She is a mother who is carefully, painstakingly navigating the uncharted waters of raising a severely dysphoric child as the gender she identifies with--female. The child is NOT on hormone blockers yet.

Mr. Harris cited one single blog post & then cried "parental enabling!" 

Another disturbing twist in this essay is Mr. Harris's assessment that trans women are self-loathing gay men who just want to be heterosexuals. While this may be true of a small percentage of trans women, particularly those who exist within the drag culture (where Harris himself spent some time), I'm going to have to call bullshit on this too.

Trans women and drag queens are not synonymous. Does this really need to be explained again? Not all trans women are models of the "dystopian pre-feminist temptress or gold-digger" as Harris describes. I might suggest he follow Jennifer Finney Boylan on Facebook and learn a thing or two about educated, feminist, self-supporting trans women.

Harris also cites (improperly) a study done at the University of Toronto that claims a large percentage of effeminate boys who chose to live as girls for awhile eventually came to their senses and returned to living as males.

More bullshit. While many people do experiment with gender, especially at the adolescent, college-y age, a truly gender dysphoric child does not "change his or her mind" about his/her identity.

I never did. Even in the years I was trying, trying, trying so damn hard to "accept" being female, to take the body I was given and do the very best with it, to be thankful for my health and physical abilities despite my femaleness--even in that time I was bursting at the seams with gender dysphoria.**

And that gender dysphoria played out in many demonic forms throughout my life even as I tried desperately to keep it hidden. I had ANGER*** issues that were at least "unbecoming & unfeminine," at most dangerous and incendiary. I was a raging alcoholic for many years. I sliced my flesh up because I could barely tolerate looking at it. I was Baker Acted at 18 for self mutilation. And when I was 19 I drank Drano and spent 2 weeks in the hospital + an additional week in the mental hospital.

All because I could not simply go to a doctor and say Hey listen, I have a really bad case of gender dysphoria, can you give me a shot?

All because I couldn't go to my mother and say Hey listen, I need you to understand this about me…

Me at age 2. With my anger management pal, Huckleberry Hound

There was no understanding or accepting that the gender your genes & chromosomes churned out was not the correct one. It was a monstrous burden & it was up to me to keep it hidden, secret, and unspoken. Better to be an angry alcoholic psychopathic bitch than be a man trapped in a woman's body.

One thing I really want people to understand -- and I'm talkin' to you Mr. Daniel Harris --is that gender dysphoria is NOT this casual, frivolous thing the media has been painting for you. It is not just about pronouns or genitalia. It is life threatening. It is NOT a first world problem.

I'm willing to bet that there are five or ten Syrian refugees who have gender dysphoria. And that gender dysphoria does not go away just because "oh, something much worse has happened--I've been bombed out of my home & my country, so who cares about gender anymore?" No. They have been bombed out of their homes & countries AND they still have gender dysphoria. That's how it works, folks. The gender dysphoria is ALWAYS there, sitting like a cherry on top of whatever else comes out of life's soda fountain.

When I officially came out as trans last year, I felt I was up to the task of calmly educating the public about the whole transgender experience. I really want for the world to understand this. But all I have is my own story to tell.

And I have hesitated telling my own story to this younger generation of trans kids, not just because they are young & cute & I want them to be happy & protected from all the things I had to go through, but because I know if I tell my story I am going to OFFEND someone.

My story will definitely offend feminists, and possibly women in general, including trans women, because I describe my femaleness as a deformity.

I will seem "ableist" if I tell my story, because I describe my femaleness as an amputation.

I may seem too white & privileged because I am able to get the medical care I need. Trans people of color are often so marginalized & living in such poverty that they have no option to medically transition.

But I also feel the need to tell my TRUTH. It may not be the sanitized OUT & PROUD narrative we've all been asked to tell. But I'm done hiding yet more things about "my journey" because they don't conform to the media's slant. Or because I don't use the current terminology to describe things that happened to me in the 1970's or 80s.

Gender dysphoria is not some glamorous game of dress-up. Instagram & Tumblr may make it look that way, but you know what the memes say-- "A picture hides a thousand lies."

If you want to know how debilitating gender dysphoria can be--ask my mother. Ask my husband. Ask the loved ones of other transgender people.

Well…I'm tired & don't know if i've hit on all the facets of transgender/dysphoria because there are so goddamn many, but hopefully this all made sense, and maybe Daniel Harris will Google his name & stumble upon this and find answers to some of the questions he posed in his article. He is apparently a gay man who struggles with traces of his own self-loathing; I draw the conclusion that he grew up around the same time I did. 

Daniel, my friend, people don't resort to surgeries, needles, scrutiny from the medical community and ridicule from the public because they are delusional--they do it because they'd rather die than live another minute in the wrong body.

FOOTNOTES--

[HEY!!!!!!! I don't know any other trans guys who, like me, are married to a male partner. Are there any gay trans guys in the 941 area code??? Hit me up, GTGs. I'm lonely in my demographic here.]

*Did he mean Androgyne? Androgen is just a male hormone. But maybe that IS what he was referring to as sacred? Who knows?

**Gender is everywhere in our society. Try being gender neutral for a day. It won't happen, even if you force the issue. Gender is something even bigger than a body part or a biological fact. It is like God, an invisible yet ubiquitous force that controls so much of our lives we can't conceive of it unless we break it into bits & parts of our physical beings.

***ANGER is enough of a reason to seek help for anything. When you are humiliated by your gender (or race or size or shape) it is easy to become very ANGRY. It always made me so damn sad to be so angry. I didn't want to be angry.  I have since learned to manage my anger but I still do not own a firearm, or drive a motor vehicle, or spend too much time out & about among people. 

(I'm happy to say though, all of this has been improving since starting T -- I do drive a little bit now, and have been spending more time out of my house.)

The 7th Sense (In The 21st Century)

Funny Little Friends,

How are ya all? I am fine. I mean, I'm not really fine…but I know that's what you expect me to say. That's all you can handle, because YOU'RE not fine & you don't even want to deal w/ how unfine I am.

So now that we got that formality out of the way, let's talk…about The Senses. There are 7 of them:

1. Sight

2. Hearing

3. Taste

4. Smell

5. Touch

6. The Sixth Sense (clairvoyance, ya know)

7. Sense of Humor

As I age I've noticed I'm losing ground with Sight & Hearing. That's to be expected. But I also think that I'm losing my Sense of Humor!

This scares me, because along with music, art & literature, Humor has always been a cherished survival tool for me. One of the things that scared me about "adulting" was that it seemed like to be a proper adult you had to stop laughing. And I was against that.

I always wanted to see the silly, the ironic, the cartoonish side of life. And I think I still do…but it doesn't seem as funny anymore.

But I also wonder, is it ME or is it THE WORLD? Has the world gotten so ugly, are there just so many people fighting to be heard & treated fairly that irony & cartoonishness have gone by the wayside?

I write this on the post-cusp of Robin Williams' suicide anniversary (& the pre-cusp of Joan Rivers' negligent plastic surgery death). I write this as Bill Cosby stands accused of drugging & raping women throughout the 60s, 70, 80s. I write this one week after John Stewart's retirement from The Daily Show. I write this at a time when comedians are refusing to perform on college campuses because students are so easily offended, especially by social issues & the jokes that may arise around those issues.

This is disturbing to me. First of all freedom of speech is important to me, and I believe in using that great gift to keep social justice alive and well, and I believe comedy is a great vehicle for keeping social issues in the ear-canals & brain centers of the Universe.

I realize that comedians sometimes cross the line or cut to the very edge of serious issues to make their points. And that is okay--I can usually take it. I usually understand where the zings & zaps are coming from & that they are meant to make us sting, think & evolve.

It is rumored (I wouldn't know for sure)-- that the generation called 'Millennials' are so coddled & padded & blindered from the jagged edges of this world that anything reeking of satire is perceived as taunting, mocking, bullying…

…thus the reluctance of comedians to perform on campuses.

But I find I too have become over-sensitive to certain types of humor. There is much rancor between genders & races (particularly black & white) right now. So I am very sensitive to any humor that slams women (or men). And I have gotten a little bristly when I hear about how horrible white (or black) people are--even if presented in a comedic context. I kind of wish we were past such "obvious" joking-points.

But we aren't--there are still a lot of layers around gender & race to unpeel before we get to the real equality at the center of the onion.

One thing that does suck when social issues are too touchy to joke about is--we resort to the lowest forms of humor. NO I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT PUNS. I mean colon/bladder humor and of course, dick jokes.

I said it before, penis jokes are fine on occasion, fart jokes are definitely funny especially when well-timed. Penises & farts are pretty funny! Noises that come from your butt--hahahaha! Spongy, mushroomy flaps of flesh that harden up & look like Darth Vader made of liverwurst**? Hilarious.

OCCASIONALLY.

But…I really do get sick of old unattractive white guys (like John Oliver & Bill Maher & Ellen deGeneres) using their dicks as metaphor for all matters from corporate greed to invasions of privacy (& invasions of countries) to gun violence to dentists killing endangered lions in Africa… 

Ie, EVERYTHING. [Also, do you see what I did there? ^^^ I added Ellen to the list of dick-jokers because it's totally ridiculous on one level, yet makes sense on another level--Ellen does kinda look like an old white guy & she does make (non-political) dick-jokes on occasion]. I just learned that type of humor is called PARAPROSDOKIAN. And I like it.

[And I hope I have offended no lesbians born between 1987 & 2001].

So…what kind of humor DO I enjoy now???

When I'm not being slapped in the brain by bologna-dicks, or being fed boring stereotypes---"Black people be like this" "White people be like that" "Bitches be like…" "Dudes be like…" 

I always appreciate clever word-play and punnery (sorry I don't find that to be low-humor at all), 

I like good delivery better than raunchy content. Clean humor can be hilarious is if it is cleverly packaged (oh no--I said "package")

I love the twisted & the surreal--shit that's just outrageous & probably inspired by drug use : ))) Aqua Teen Hunger Force, TV Funhouse, Absolutely Fabulous, Uncle Grandpa….ADVENTURES IN REALITY!!!!!

I love animals-doing-human-things humor. My new favorite is BoJack Horseman, which features animals & humans co-existing as if they are all the same species. It is an animated satire on the very essence of Hollywood, the Bizness. It balances the crude & the intelligent with finesse. And …did I mention Animals Doing Human Stuff???

(And even though I do love Animals-as-People humor, I absolutely hate…HATE…that movie TED. Ughhh…that is a FAIL in my favorite genre. I would like to beat the stuffing out of that bear's head & then menstruate all over it.)

Oh! Speaking of menstruating --which I hardly ever do anymore-- Vagina Humor was fun for a moment (if only because it was a welcome relief from Penis Humor). But it really is difficult to make vaginas funny. They do all the hard work in this world & get little credit for it.

(Tee-hee…I said vaginas do all the "hard" work. That's ironic!!) But I do think vag's could be used in that metaphorical way that dicks are used by Oliver, Maher, et al…if any women hosted political satire shows on cable. Maybe someday…but, I'll admit I was getting pretty sick of vag humor too, before it went underground like a good little beaver.

OKAY. I'm tired & need to eat lunch. This has been a good discussion about humor & sensitivitiy & the Seven Senses. One of the things that made me laugh the longest this year was a line from Orange Is The New Black, when Pennsatucky was talking about her favorite ice cream flavor--Double Fudge Chocolate--and she said, "I don't get it. How can you take chocolate…and then fudge it…and then double it?"

ROTFLMAO.

?????????????? I don't know why. It was just too silly.

**************

I hope you noticed the artwork I've included in this post. I force myself to draw something--anything--each day, even if I don't feel like it. This is kind of an experiment to see if I could actually "be an artist for a living" with assignments & deadlines & such. As you can see, some days I can't quite get inspired : )))

Hermaphrodite Skeleton wearing eye-phones & saying Orange

** If it is a white dick. Black dicks just look like Darth Vader. (oh no…I just made a too-obvious race/gender joke…sigh…I'm so offended)