not THAT different

Going for a record

2011-12-15T14:20:00.000-06:00

Since it was Valentine's Day when I last posted here, I wonder if I could go for a new non-posting record. Like maybe a year or something.

What? Oh, shit. OK, then ... starting NOW!

Sharing is caring

2011-02-14T22:26:00.001-06:00

This past weekend, Fireball and I were watching the movie "9". It's a very good movie and she was engrossed. She was also being gross - absorbed in the movie, she was putting her finger in her nose and then slowly moving it to her mouth.

So I gently prompted her to break this pattern by saying, "Do you know that you're unconsciously picking your nose and eating the boogers?"

Startled, she replied, "OH! I AM sorry! That is so impolite of me! I should have offered you some. Would you like one?"

"No. Thank you", I said. "I have some Raisenets."

"Where do you think those come from?"

Keep me in your prayers, please. She's nine years old and I'm afraid for what the future holds at our house.

The Good Old Days

2011-01-31T23:37:00.000-06:00

Want an instant trip back to the carefree innocence of childhood? Try opening a big box of crayons and breathing deep a couple of times. For me – and everyone I’ve talked to – the smell of crayons conjures up memories of times long past spent indulging in the largely solitary pleasure of coloring. My kids, now 9 and 15, still have two huge cigar boxes full of crayons, and I admit to occasionally joining them in coloring just to fleetingly re-experience a time when I didn’t have to worry about bills or the house or the cars or the kids’ health or any of the other myriad problems that occupy a good portion of my life today. Ah, the good old days.

But in hindsight I see that those days were good largely out of ignorance. I didn’t know about war and poverty then. I didn’t know about segregation or discrimination then or the fact that I would experience them first hand simply for being myself. A part of growing up is learning that the world is not automatically a good place … and not automatically a bad place, either. The good old days are really just what we want to remember from our history but if we’re honest we’ll admit that there were some bad old days, too.

OK, so what? Things have been bad and things have been good for us all, but I think things were more bad than good for most of us who identify ourselves as transgender. Some folks never really make it past the bad parts, but a bunch of us do. Those of us who find the courage to admit to ourselves who we are and then to realize that we are not inherently bad people because of that are the survivors. We have no way of knowing how many don’t make it this far, but there are more than a few of us who have survived. Thankfully, I think that circumstances are actually improving for transgender people today. Nowadays, most of the population has a general idea of what being transgender means. Also, it’s a lot easier to find resources and groups of others like us. The subject of transgender people and their lives is openly discussed today. We’ve come a long way but we still have a long way to go, and I think that the next generation will have it a lot easier.

Even at the age of three, my daughter had a beginning grasp of the concept of gender versus sex, or probably more appropriately, behavior versus appearance. She denoted someone’s sex by calling people “boys” or “girls” based on their obvious appearance. But she also used two other words to describe people: “boy-head” and “girl-head”, and those words weren’t related to appearance but more to behavior. I’m not sure what specific criteria she personally used to determine which category someone belongs in, but she realized (and still realizes today) that appearance is not the only way to categorize people. (I do know that with regard to appearance, she calls ‘em like she sees ‘em. For instance, people are not “black” or “white” to her; they are “brown” or “pink”.) A girl friend at daycare who was pushy and loud was still a girl but was a “boy-head”, while her brother was definitely a boy AND a boy-head. Back then and continuing to today, her mother and I encouraged her and her brother both to realize that everyone is different but that regardless of how different anyone might be, they are still more like them than they are different. And I don’t think we’re alone in teaching our kids that.

The next generation – my children’s generation – will grow up knowing a lot more about a number of things, including being transgender, than my generation did. Ignorance fosters fear while knowledge fosters acceptance; light dispels darkness. And while I don’t think that everything will ever be all sweetness and light (we’re talking about human beings, after all), I do believe that the really good old days are yet to come.

Halloween planning

2011-01-14T13:15:00.000-06:00

It occurred to me that if you were ever going to do someone in, rub them out, send them off for a dirt nap, etc., you should plan to do it right before Halloween. Then you could do all sorts of things with the body and just call them your Halloween decorations. Maybe just hang it up in a tree in the front yard. Especially if your neighbors already think you're kind of strange.

Planning ahead can pay off. Something to think about.

Here's lookin' at you, kid

2011-01-06T00:00:00.001-06:00

He held her hand as hard as he could, knowing that all his strength
now was but a feeble echo of what it used to be. He realized that his
grip was not to keep himself here but to keep her from going, to make
her stay and listen.

"Promise me," he whispered. "Promise me that you won't stop them from
taking this shell." He stopped speaking to try to pull enough air into
his weakened lungs to finish. "This shell I'm in now," he continued.
"Fucked over by that damned disease and then by the treatments that
were almost as bad. I'm ready to leave it and you don't need it but
maybe it will help them to figure out how to keep some other poor
son-of-a-bitch from going through this."

He felt her tears dropping slowly on his hand, and he paused to savor
the warm wet tracks they left across his wrist on their journey to the
sheet. He knew he only had a very short time left and wanted to get
done speaking before he got done breathing. Gathering the last of his
strength, he feebly went on.

"You know I love you. I've always loved you and I always will. I'll be
with you as long as you remember me. And I know you love me, but now
you have to let me go, to let go of this physical me, anyway. I'm
ready to be done with all this pain and bullshit, and I need you to
tell me that you will be OK with that when I do."

He felt her hand tighten on his as her tears continued to fall and
then he heard her quiet reply. "I promise. I love you, and I know it's
a good thing you're doing. You know I could never stop you from doing
a good deed and this is just one more."

"Good," he rasped. "I'm tired now, so you can go in just a minute
while I get some sleep." He smiled a little and finished in a barely
audible whisper, "Here's lookin' at you, kid."

She smiled a little through her tears and replied with her half of
their exchange, "We'll always have Vegas." His labored breathing faded
as did the remnants of his grip, and she knew that he had finally
left. She squeezed his now lifeless hand one last time as she looked
up at the doctor standing on the other side of the bed and nodded. She
had had months to prepare herself for this moment and although it
seemed vaguely familiar because of that, it was still heart-wrenching.
She stood and slowly turned to leave the room.

"If it's any comfort to you," the doctor said, "despite all he went
through, his corneas are still viable and we have a recipient here
that can use them."

Her smile got bigger and still facing the door she replied, "It's nice
to know that part of him will still be looking at someone." As she
walked out of the room she whispered again, "And we'll always have
Vegas."

What can go rong?

2010-12-27T15:57:00.001-06:00

I recently posted the steps I took to change my identification paperwork here in Texas. It was a fairly straightforward process, but that doesn't mean that it's not without its pitfalls. Here are some of the things that I learned while changing mine.

In general, I was not initially prepared to sit. and wait. and sit some more. and wait. and wait. There's a lot of nothing to do - court, government offices, etc. - so be ready for it. Use the restroom before starting your wait, just so you don't have to leave. You can't eat or drink in most waiting areas, so don't count on that distraction. And all government buildings are non-smoking facilities. In most courtrooms, you are not allowed to read or do much of anything besides just sit and wait. Cell phones are not allowed to be used at all in court, although you can sometimes sneak it in. However, phones MUST be silent.

COPY EVERYTHING YOU SEND IN OR TURN IN OR THAT'S GIVEN TO YOU! Then bring copies of all your paperwork with you regardless of where you're going or what you're doing. It's not a lot of paper to carry around and you never know when you might need something.

Cash is king! I found it easier to just get the money I needed rather than worry about whether a given facility takes plastic or checks or money orders. Plus, oftentimes the credit card or check you have to use is in the name you're trying to change. Avoid the confusion. Find out in advance how much you'll need for a given transaction and then get that amount, plus a little extra, in cash from the bank. Do I need to tell you to make sure you get a receipt? Didn't think so.

Changing my name was easy. Changing gender, not so much. I had to go to court several times to get my gender changed. Texas law says you have to go to court in the county where you live, although there are ways to get around this. I don't know how to do that because I didn't have to do that. However, because I live in two different counties (Travis during the week, Fort Bend on weekends), I could go to two different courts, and I did - once in Fort Bend and twice in Travis. The judge in Fort Bend County, who had granted me my name change earlier, told me that he didn't think he had the authority to change my gender identifier when I returned to his court, so he refused my petition. After talking with the court clerk in Austin who had volunteered to assist with gender changes (HI SYLVA!), I then refiled an updated petition in Travis County, to the tune of another 250 bucks. The first judge there said that he didn't like some of the wording in my petition, but rather than refuse it, he simply took no action and told me to come back with an amended petition. I found out after my court appearance that the session I was in was that judge's final one in court; he had been voted out of office. But I updated my petition like he wanted and went back to court yet again. The third judge (in Travis county) was very nice, looked over my petition and wished me luck after signing the gender change order. If I could have kissed her, I would have! So, be aware that judges are human and are therefore all different and may not all be ready to immediately grant a gender change petition.

Official documentation is one thing, but we carry a bunch of other documentation with us, also - specifically, credit and bank cards. We also probably have other accounts (bank, grocery, frequent flyer, insurance, utilities, etc.). All of those will have to be updated to your new name and gender, too, and that can be a tedious process. I recommend making a list of every account you have with all of the pertinent information for each, such as your account number and name on the account. If there is an email or snail mail address to send account changes to, put that on your list. Then create a form letter to send to each account detailing as simply as possible that you have changed your gender and name, listing both, and requesting that your account be updated accordingly. Include your account number and the name currently on the account, as well as the court orders supporting the requested changes and your current contact information. Some places will make the change without any hassle, some will come back and ask more questions. Be patient with all of them. I actually had to go in in person to get my bank acounts and electric bill changed over. If you DO have to go in, take ALL your change paperwork with you, just in case.

Finally, don't count on getting your actual documentation immediately. The federal government actually came through the fastest with my passport and Social Security card in a couple of weeks. Maybe I was just lucky and got in during a slow spot. The state was fairly quick with my voter registration card but took almost 7 weeks to get my driver's license to me. Your actual mileage may vary.

Finish the report

2010-12-14T11:13:00.000-06:00

SHIT, it's been really cold lately! OK, not here where I am but most other places. OK, not REALLY cold here but tolerable. Because I HATE the cold!

When I first moved to Connecticut while in the Navy long, long ago, one of the problems I had was with the winter weather forecast there. Coming from the Gulf coast of Texas, the Connecticut winter report always sounded to me like it was getting cut off.

Weather reporter: "The high today will be nine." And in my head, I kept thinking "Nine what? NineTY one? NineTY eight? Where's the rest of the damned number?"

I HATE the cold! I sweat a whole lot better than I shiver. And while cold will make your nipples bigger (until they fall off from frostbite) sweat is Nature's lube. Yes, it is. Stay hot, y'all.

A brief exchange

2010-12-10T23:25:00.000-06:00

Redheaded Spouse: "I think I'm going to take advantage of the warm weather and go outside and do some weeding tomorrow."

Pink Guy: "You gonna do some witing and withmetic, too, while you're out there?"

I LOVE my smart-ass kids!

Documentation Change 101

2010-12-09T18:10:00.003-06:00

When changing your gender, sooner or later you will need to change your documentation. This is how I did it. The caveats: I did this in Texas, and I have no idea how that translates into getting it done in any other state. I did not change my birth certificate because at the time of my changeover, doing so in Texas was a tough process that involved using an attorney. Now it's much easier and can be done with the same court order changing your gender (see below) and a state form VS-170 available on the on Texas Vital Statistics website. However, I did change my name, my gender identifier, my passport, my driver’s license and my Social Security card. I am not an attorney and what follows here is NOT legal advice, only how I went about doing it. I did not use an attorney, but only because I couldn’t afford one. For those who can afford an attorney, call Phyllis Frye in Houston, Texas. Her office number is 713-227-1717. She has a set rate for changing all the documentation for transgendered clients, normally in the several thousands of dollars range. If you have that kind of money, stop reading now and call Phyllis to set up an appointment. You’ve got enough to deal with without taking on any more hassles. Finally, I’m operating on the assumption that you already have the documentation listed above and wish to change it. That’s what I did and therefore that’s all I can tell you about.

This is the order that I followed in getting my documentation changed:

1. Name change

2. Passport

3. Gender identifier change

4. Driver’s license

5. Social Security

Here are the reasons I recommend this order: To change your driver’s license or birth certificate, you now need the official name and gender changes. These are done via court order. To change your SS card, you need an official name change and either a new passport or official gender change. To get a gender identifier change, it is highly recommended to have a name change and new passport. To get a passport change, you need a name change. And all of these require a doctor’s letter.

The entire process took several months for me but that was only because of my schedule, funds availability and having to sometimes wait for governmental machinery to slowly grind on. Depending upon the speed of the U.S. Department of State and the State of Texas, it could conceivably take weeks instead of months. Regardless, allow yourself time and don’t get frustrated when things seem to drag on forever. You’ll ultimately get ‘er done. Or get ‘im done, whichever.

Here are the things you will need to gather to complete this entire process:

1. Doctor’s letter

2. Petitions and orders

3. Fingerprint card

4. Applications

5. Money

Details about each of these are below. And for all the paperwork and applications you fill out and/or complete and/or receive, MAKE A COPY for yourself! There’s no telling when you just might need it later on.

Doctor’s Letter

The most important piece of paper you will need is a letter from the doctor overseeing your transition. With the exception of your name change, everything else depends on that document; if you don’t have one, you won’t get anywhere. The doctor can be any specialty but it carries more weight if the doctor is an internist, endocrinologist, gynecologist, urologist or psychiatrist. The letter needs to be on the physician’s letterhead, which must contain the physician’s full name, address and telephone number. The letter or letterhead also must contain the doctor’s medical license/certificate number, the issuing state of the license/certificate and the doctor’s DEA registration number. The following form should be used for the body of the letter, as it contains the information needed to certify that you really are changing your gender. Substitute the appropriate data for the underlined portions. Your name in this letter should be the name you want to have post-transition -your new name. Some doctors may want to write their own letter, but the verbiage here must be in the letter in some manner. Be advised that the more extra stuff that is in the letter, the more it may distract from the main message, which is that the doctor is verifying that you are actually changing your gender.

Date

To whom it may concern:

I, Doctor Harley Areal Dock, M.D., a practicing physician specializing in gynecology, certify that Ms. Wanda B Femm with the DOB xx/xx/19xx and SSN of xxx-xx-xxxx and Texas Driver’s License number xxxxxxxx is transgender and is a patient of mine currently under my treatment at my clinic for the neuroendocrinological condition commonly referred to as transsexualism. She has received the proper clinical and irreversible medical treatment for transition to her new female gender, and I currently continue to serve as her physician overseeing her care and treatment.

I declare under penalty of perjury under the laws of the United States that the forgoing is true and correct.

Doctor’s Signature, M.D.

Doctor Harley Areal Dock, M.D.

To add a bit of authenticity, have the doctor’s signature notarized if it’s possible, although that’s not a firm requirement. If the doctor is willing to sign two identical original letters, do it, if only as insurance against loss or damage to the only original.

Petitions and Orders

In order to change your name or your gender identifier, you must file a petition with the court (usually the state district court) clerk’s office in the county where you live. The petition asks the court’s judge to issue an order granting you the change you petitioned for. This is normally done on the court’s uncontested docket, although you will have to check on what the details are in your county. You will give the judge your petition and the order you wish to be signed. The judge can modify the order you submit but normally doesn’t. Once the judge signs your order, you file it at the county clerk’s (NOT the court clerk's) office and it becomes official. Which court you will go to will depend on the rules in your county, also, but in most counties it's the state district court. You’ll probably be in court with a bunch of other folks petitioning for other things. The most common is divorce followed closely by name changes. It is entirely possible to ask for more than one thing in a single petition, such as a simultaneous divorce and name change. It is possible to file for a name and gender identifier change in the same petition, but I found that it worked out better for me to do them separately. Doing it that way costs more though because you have to pay twice to file two petitions, but it’s less hassle in the long run.

Name changes are very common. You don’t really need any more reason to change your name other than “Because I want to”, but the reason you use in your petition should reference the fact that you will be changing your gender. Something like: “I am undertaking a new life in the female gender and wish to change my name to match my new gender.” (Use “male” gender if that’s the direction you’re heading.) Everything else that goes into the name change petition is self-explanatory. There are a number of websites that take you through the process of changing your name, including filling out and filing the petition, so I’m not going to detail those steps. You can Google “Name change Texas” and get a number of hits, but one of the sites I recommend is TexasLawHelp.org

The Petition and Order forms for name change are also on the above site but are Adobe PDF files that can’t be changed. You can print them and fill them out by hand, but if you want to type your entries for a more professional appearance, send me an email and I’ll send you the form templates in Word document format.

Changing your gender identifier is the same basic process as changing your name: fill out your petition, submit the petition to the clerk, go to court with your paperwork, get a signed order from the judge, you’re done. Follow the steps detailed on the website above for that process. However, the gender change is not nearly as commonplace as the name change, and if you’re reading this, you’re probably well aware of the negativity that can sometimes surround anything you do related to changing your gender. Judges and court personnel aren’t immune to that negativity, although I will say that 95% of the people I dealt with didn’t show me anything but respect and courtesy, and some were downright enthusiastic and more than willing to help. Be aware that although Texas Civil Statutes do specify a process for name changes, they do not directly address changing gender. Most judges have simply extended the name documentation change to include gender, also. However, rather than refuse to issue a gender change order, some judges will tell you that they can't change gender because they do not have the authority to do so. At that point ask them if prior action by other judges would establish a precedent, because a majority of judges have issued such orders over the years. All I can tell you is to turn in your petition and hope for the best. I have the forms in Word document format for the gender change Petition and Order that I’ll be happy to send to you if you email me asking for them.

When you submit your petition for gender change, bring the originals of all your other change paperwork. You will have to show them to the court clerk but they will most likely copy them and return the originals to you. You will need to submit a copy of your doctor’s letter. If you have completed your name change, submit a copy of that order. If you have completed changing your passport, submit a copy of the ID page in your new passport. You may need to submit a copy of your driver’s license. Even if the court clerk’s representative doesn’t specifically tell you to turn in the above copies, it’s not going to hurt to do so. It’s all just more evidence that you’re serious about all this. And it’s one of the reasons I recommend getting the name change and new passport before going after the gender identifier change. Finally, when you get your name change and gender identifier change orders, get at least two certified copies made of each when you file the order at the county clerk’s (not court clerk’s) office. The copies are usually $1 per page.

Fingerprint card

Both a name change and gender identifier change require you to submit a copy of your fingerprints. Many law enforcement agencies and some passport and security agencies will do this for you for a nominal sum. I’d recommend Googling “Fingerprint services” for your city/county or calling the sheriff’s department in your county. If the sheriff’s office doesn’t do it, they can usually tell you who does. If you submit your name and gender change petitions separately, you will need two fingerprint cards.

Applications / Forms

In addition to the forms for the court Petition and Order, you can also obtain the forms for changing your Social Security card and Passport online.

To obtain a new passport with your new name and gender, if your current passport is more than a year old, you will need to fill out a Department of State Form DS-11, which is the original application for a new passport, even if you already have a passport. The form to change your passport, DS-5504, can only be used if your current passport is less than one year old. (NOTE: The links to all government forms can change, but the following should at least get you in the ballpark.) The Department of State’s rules on filling out and submitting a passport application are here:

http://travel.state.gov/passport/get/first/first_830.html

The new rules on transitioning gender change for passports are here:

http://travel.state.gov/content/passports/en/passports/information/gender.html

The DS-11 form, along with instructions on filling it out and submitting it, are here:

http://travel.state.gov/passport/forms/ds11/ds11_842.html

Basically, you need to provide the Department of State with the DS-11, two pictures (be sure to read and follow their rules about the pictures), your name change order and your doctor’s letter. Send in the originals of the order and letter. They will be returned with the passport. It took me about two weeks to get my passport with normal processing. Your actual mileage may vary.

The DS-5504 form and instructions are here:

http://travel.state.gov/passport/forms/ds5504/ds5504_2663.html

The Social Security application form (SS-5) is here:

http://www.ssa.gov/online/ss-5.pdf

When you open it you will see that it’s a PDF file but data can be entered into it and it can be printed or saved. Fill it out, print it and take it to your closest Social Security office along with your new passport and name change and gender identifier change orders. You can find the office nearest you here:

https://secure.ssa.gov/apps6z/FOLO/fo001.jsp

Be prepared to wait. Bring a book or something else to do to pass the time.

The form to change your driver’s license will be handed to you to fill out at the license office. It will take about a minute to complete it. At a minimum, you will need to bring the originals of your name and gender change orders. The clerk will copy them and give you back the originals. It wouldn’t hurt to bring your doctor’s letter and new passport, too. They will be taking your picture for your new license, so look nice when you go. You can also change your voter registration while changing your driver’s license. Check the box on the form and all your new license data is transferred to your voter registration card. Also, waits at the driver’s license offices can vary from none to a couple of hours. Come prepared to spend some time. You will get a temporary paper license with a black-and-white copy of your new picture when you leave the office. Your actual new license with the color photo will take about 6 weeks to arrive in the mail. If you changed your voter registration, it will take about one week to arrive. If you don’t know where the closest driver’s license office is, you can find it here:

http://www.txdps.state.tx.us/administration/driver_licensing_control/rolodex/search.asp

Money

Now for the bad news: only one of the processes above is free. You won’t have to spend any money to get your Social Security card changed, but you will have to invest some time. I waited at the SS office for an hour and a half to get to see someone to process my paperwork. The actual processing of my paperwork took 5 minutes.

Not including notary fees (because most banks will notarize for their customers for free) or copying or postage or gas or parking expenses, here are the costs:

Filing the petition: approx. $250 (varies by county) per petition.

Copies of orders: approx. $10 for 2 copies of both orders.

Fingerprint card: approx. $15 per card.

Passport pictures: approx. $20

Passport: $135

Driver’s license: $11

If you change your name and your gender identifier separately, your total cost should be under $750. And you can spread that out over time instead of coming up with it in a big lump sum up front.

So, that’s it. Hopefully this will help you in getting your documentation to match your new gender. If you have questions about my experience, I’ll be happy to answer them. If you have legal questions, I can’t really be of much help. I can point you to the following website where you will find a current copy of the Texas Constitution and the Texas Statutes.

http://www.statutes.legis.state.tx.us/

Name changes are covered in Chapter 45, Subchapter B, Sections 45.101 – 45.106 of the Family Code.

If you need to contact me, my email is JamiWard@weirdness.com. I will be happy to send you the templates for both the name and gender change petitions and court orders.

UPDATE: I have a further post on this topic here.
In addition, there is now a commercial online service (not a state agency) that can help with changing a birth certificate. You can find them here.

Good Luck!

All Done - for now

2010-12-07T22:39:00.001-06:00

This morning I shook a presiding judge's hand in court. I only shook her hand because hugging and kissing her would not have been ... judgely. Why did I want to hug her? Because she signed the order officially changing my gender from male to female. That was the final piece of paper I needed to complete my documentation transition. Because I did this all myself - without an attorney - it's been kind of an arduous journey to get my name and gender officially changed. But now my driver's license, passport, Social Security card, ATM card, credit card, etc. - my paper identity - match the identity between my ears. So, this part of my journey is over. And the rest of the journey lies ahead.

[For those who are reading this and would like to know what to do to change your name and gender identifier - IN TEXAS - stay tuned. I'll be putting up the instructions on how I did it soon.]

Karma

2010-12-05T01:43:00.000-06:00

Three weeks ago, Baxter, our middle dog, ran off. Redheaded Spouse was walking him in the morning and he charged off after a squirrel, jerking the leash out of her hand. When he missed the squirrel - as he always does - he just kept going. And disappeared.

You have to understand that we live out in the sticks. Yes, we live in something of a subdivision but it has 25 houses in over 90 acres surrounded on all sides by farms and ranch land. And creeks. And ponds and lakes. And woods. So when I say he disappeared, I mean he ran fast enough to round some corners and disappear from RS's sight.

This was not the first time that Baxter had taken off and he's always come back home within an hour or so. Not this time. When Fireball got home from school and found out that he wasn't back, she went door-to-door to our neighbors and asked them to keep an eye out for him. When he didn't come back by dark, serious worry set in. The kids went with RS and they drove around in the dark with our big floodlight looking for him and calling his name. And yes, looking for him as roadkill, too. No luck. No Baxter.

I got home the following day and cruised our area looking for him again. I submitted his description to the county Animal Control website. I put an ad in the newspaper. I made up signs with his picture and posted them at major intersections where people around us would be sure to see them. I walked the creek behind our house for several miles in either direction. I scanned fields. No luck. No Baxter. The weather turned very cold. It rained. We worried. We looked further and further away from home, but there were many places we simply couldn't get to so we couldn't look everywhere. We checked with Animal Control daily. No Baxter.

After days and days of no Baxter, some of us in our family began to give up hope. He hadn't turned up at the pound, no one had seen him and it was logical to believe that one of the packs of coyotes had gotten him or a big rig had gotten him or the weather had gotten him or he had managed to get the leash caught in the woods and thirst had gotten him.

But one of us never gave up hope. Redheaded Spouse KNEW that Baxter was still out there somewhere. So we all kept at it, but with most of us knowing it was likely a futile waste of time. But last Wednesday, she found a diamond ring on the ground near Fireball's school while looking for Baxter in the playground. The ring was gold with a number of diamonds and she handed it in at school the following morning, Thursday. They knew exactly who it belonged to: it turned out to be Fireball's teacher's 20th anniversary ring, and she was VERY grateful it had been found. RS turned down a reward.

Yesterday, Friday, was a gorgeous day. After seeing the kids off to school and walking the remaining two dogs, RS decided to get a cup of coffee and sit out on the back porch and enjoy the weather. And as she opened the back door, there sat Baxter. He still had the leash on his collar and was a little skinnier and a lot stinkier but in good shape. And now he's home again.

So, don't forget that while karma can be a bitch, you can make it your bitch. Good deeds are repaid.

Not that kind of person.

2010-11-24T21:41:00.002-06:00

Getting in the car today, a lady bug landed on Fireball's hand. She got in the car and announced that she was counting the spots on the bug's back. Because? According to a world-renowned expert on the link between insect pigmentation and fertility (a Doctor Fyrebal, I believe), if a lady bug lands on a young woman before she reaches puberty, the number of spots on said bug is a direct indicator of the number of children said woman will have in the course of her lifetime. After puberty, I assume. The count? An even dozen spots.

"Wow. I don't think I want more than like, maybe, two kids."

"Then don't have more than two. Do we need to have that talk again?"

"Please! I know where babies come from. And how they get there to start with."

"Just checking. So, let's just think of the dozen kids as an absolute maximum. How's that?"

"I'm thinking that maybe a fourth of the dozen would be a better maximum."

"Good work with the fractions there. And yeah, that's probably a better max. Now how about opening the window and letting the lady bug out?"

I'm trying but it doesn't want to fly off."

"Can you just flick it off?"

"Well, I could. But I'm not that kind of person."

"What kind of person?"

"You know - the kind of person who just goes around flicking people off. Unless it's my brother, of course. Because he deserves to get flicked off for picking on me. Oh, the lady bug just flew off."

(And yes, she knew exactly what she was saying. )

I WON!

2010-11-24T21:08:00.002-06:00

I WON THESE EARRINGS that Lori had as the prize on this month's giveaway on Project: Purse and Boots. I am totally thrilled because I really love these earrings from Danielle at Swoon Gems. And now? They're mine, ALL MINE!! (not to gloat or anything)

So, next time Lori has a giveaway, you should SO put your name in because you, too, could win something awesomely gorgeously cool! Like MY earrings.

Not yet

2010-11-18T13:53:00.000-06:00

A number of people have asked me when I'm going to write the book about my life. (No, really!) OK, a book mostly about my transition but my whole life figures into that. Some other people have not asked but told me outright that I have to write the book. Other people have told me that if I'm not going to write the book, I need to write a blog entry about it. Or a series of entries about it. Or about parts of it. Sure. And while I'm at it, maybe I should see if I can fit Queen Victoria's biography into a few blog entries, too? Bottom line? Ain't none of that happening - yet. And the Queen Victoria biography won't ever happen. I'm not doing it, anyway.

I'm truly flattered and surprised that people want to know a lot about me. Or maybe they're just nosy about strange or transgender or brown-eyed people. But see - here's the deal. The entirety of what's happened to me in my 60-plus years, or even in the last third of that time, is more than I can quite get my head around now. And if I can't get my head around it, I can't break it down into chunks that I can break down into sentences made up of words that mean anything when strung together into sentences. See the problem?

Then there's the additional issue of not knowing what the ending is - not of my whole life but the transition part of it, anyway - and this is one story I need to know the end of before I can start to tell it. But soon I will know the end and I will be able to get my head around it. Or at least enough of it to make sense of it. And then I'll tell you the story. Or maybe a couple of stories. But not yet. You'll just have to be patient.

Pour Your Heart Out: Fitting In

2010-11-17T15:56:00.006-06:00

Do you ever feel pressure to do something or act a certain way to fit in?
That was the question posed by Shell at Things I Can't Say for this week's "Pour Your Heart Out" linky list at her place. Wow. That question was a total body blow for me - a major impact hit. How about "Yes - but only for most of my fucking life!" as an answer to that question? Here are some of the details of that answer:

We all learn very early on in our growing up that there are certain modes of behavior and ways to look and talk and act that are expected of us, based on nothing more than what our genitals look like. Even children raised by parents who strive to do so in a gender-neutral way are exposed to all the subtle yet overwhelming influences of society at large with regard to what's appropriate behavior or appearance for boys and girls. All these delineations are based on the fact that if the child has a penis, the child is masculine, a boy, and if the child has a vulva, the child is feminine, a girl. And that's usually not a problem because the child feels masculine or feminine and that feeling is congruent with their genitals and is not based on how they act or dress. Gender identity is established at almost the same time as identity itself. By the time a child is 3, he or she knows that they exist as an independent entity and also that they are a boy or a girl.

But every now and then, a child comes along who doesn't fit that "penis equals boy, vulva equals girl" equation. A child like me. I knew early on that I was different because I had a penis, but I was probably 8 or 9 before it started to really dawn on me that I wasn’t a girl. My friends were all girls, I didn’t like to do a lot of (but not all) “boy” things, and I had never thought of myself as anything but female. But I finally realized that people who had called me a boy were right and that my solitary imaginings – which included flying a personal rocket ship and growing up to be a beautiful woman like my mother - weren’t really going to come to be. I struggled with that realization and sadly came to understand that that’s just how the world operated and I was powerless to change it. No rocket ship, no breasts, no dresses for me. Then I hit puberty, sex reared its head and I realized that I was sexually attracted to both boys and girls. And I truly learned to lie. I lied about wanting to kiss boys, and I lied about the fact that “wanting to get into her pants” had another entirely different meaning for me. I lied to the world and mostly to myself for a long time about my being anything other than a red-blooded juvenile delinquent boy who chased girls. But deep down, I was just a girl putting on an act to fit in.

I’m now convinced that transgender people are the best liars because they have not only learned how to lie to themselves but also to make themselves believe it. Other people are easy to lie to once you master that. And so, I lived with the knowledge that what I was doing was simply succumbing to the pressures of my world to "be a man". When what I really felt like was a woman who was just butching it up. And all that time, the pressure to keep up the front and to lie and to BE someone that I wasn't mounted. Until finally, I just couldn't deal with the lying about who I really was and I couldn't continue the act. It was either stop lying or stop living. So I stopped lying. And I stopped acting and being someone I wasn't solely to fit in with everyone else's definition of who I was supposed to be.

Now, I'm me and I'm free and I'm an infinitely happier person. I can devote my energies to things that matter, like my kids or my health or my community or my friends, rather than putting my energy into maintaining a mask with every waking moment and worrying about whether or not the mask is slipping. And I've found that once I stopped trying so hard to fit into the wrong role, it was very easy to fit into the right one. Which is how I know it's the right one.

A letter

2010-11-17T11:30:00.000-06:00

(The following letter was sent to TrueChild for general dissemination. I'm disseminating.)

Dear Family and Friends:

As we approach the holidays, sadly, some kids will never get to celebrate them because they have been harassed and bullied so much that they decided their only way out of this life was to end it. A couple of days ago, I sent an email to many of you expressing my heart-break over the recent string of gay teen suicides.

Let’s get real; you can’t talk about resolving the bullying issue without talking about gender stereotypes and institutionalized homophobia in this country. 95% of all bullying is directed at those who are perceived as “different” – and the main point of difference is the adherence to gender stereotypes, that a little boy is not “masculine” enough or a little girl is not “feminine” enough. In fact the three classes of kids who are bullied the most are boys who are not masculine enough, girls who are not feminine enough, and girls whose bodies develop sooner than their peers.

Dr. Michael Kimmel, one of the nation’s leading experts on masculinity and renowned author, notes that every time we see a teen suicide or a school shooting, it’s always some dweeby, introspective, outsider kid who’s gotten harassed daily, beaten up, pushed around, called “faggot” and “queer” and “bitch” and it’s almost always a boy.

In fact, GLSEN says that 90% of boys report having been called “fag” at some point. If only 10-15% of boys are gay, that means up to 85% of this kind of bullying is directed at kids who are straight. It just makes me want to shout, “It’s their gender, stupid!”

We need to have a new kind of dialogue in this country that goes beyond just talking about homophobia to talking about masculinity and femininity and breaking down the gender labels that often provoke bullying, anti-gay rhetoric and whole host of social issues.

My cousin Mike has two twin boys, Kevin and David, who came out six years ago in 10th grade at the age of 15. Mike was bold enough to share his story with me. His honest portrayal of the psychological road he and his wife, Teena, traveled down with their two sons after learning they were gay was really eye-opening and just goes to show that even those of us who think we are “open and accepting” have to fight the societal pressures and stereotypes so deeply ingrained into our psyche and social fabric of our society.

The gay social stigma and bullying will end when we start to address gender stereotypes head on. It just takes one person to save a despondent kid from feeling like they have absolutely no other alternative than to commit suicide because they’re taunted, pushed around and bullied after school for not “manning up” and/or not fitting the definition of masculinity. So I challenge all of you to:

• Have a discussion with your own kids about true tolerance and acceptance of people who are different than they are; teach them to celebrate differences instead of crucify them.

• Step in when you see a child being bullied/ridiculed and called “sissy,” “faggot,” or any other slew of derogatory terms, even if that child is not yours.

• Make sure your school has a 0% tolerance policy for bullying, an anti-bullying curriculum (which all students must take part in), and standard operating procedures for handling bullying situations.

• Support non-profit organizations like TrueChild whose primary mission is to dispel gender stereotypes in our society, often the underpinning cause of bullying and homophobia.

As you can see, this issue is near and dear to me for the very reason why it resonates with so many people – everyone has been affected by bullying in some form or fashion, and the repercussions of bullying as we have witnessed lately can be devastating and deadly.

So this holiday season, in lieu of gifts, please join me in donating to TrueChild, which works tirelessly to redefine what it means to be a “man” or a “woman” in today’s society and to get rid of those old labels that not only give bullying a platform to exist but hold all kids back from achieving their full potential.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Love,
Bill Arthur
Miami, Florida

Wash your hands

2010-11-15T11:36:00.002-06:00

One afternoon, almost-15-year-old Pink Guy was sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop, chatting on Facebook and eating slices of ham without any utensils when he dropped part of a slice on the keyboard.

"Dammit," he exclaimed. "I dropped my meat!"

"You know you wouldn't get in trouble like that if you weren't fingering your meat at the table", one of his parents said.

"Oh, it's OK. I always wash my hands before I finger my meat," he replied.

"Well, if your meat was smaller, you could probably hold on to it better", the parent said.

"Shut up", he said.

---- a day passes -----

Pink Guy is sitting on the couch holding a plate with several pieces of ham.

"Are you fingering your meat any better tonight?"

"Shut up."

"Maybe it's harder to handle since it's cold from being in the fridge."

"Shut up, or I'm going to start fingering my meat the next time we're in a restaurant."

"Well as long as you wash your hands, and you're not fingering anything belonging to anyone else ..."

"Shut up."

I'm now thinking that "fingering your meat" just might get a lot more mileage at our house. Yes, I know how that sounds. Shut up.

One Last Time

2010-11-10T11:37:00.001-06:00

This is the text of the invitation (because I can't find the invitation itself) I got back in April to the going away / memorial / wake / celebration / party for my dear, dear friend and neighbor shortly after she died. The original invitation was in a maroon (her favorite color) script with cherubs (she loved hearts and angels) at the top of the page and flowers (she LOVED flowers) all down both sides. She held a similar celebration several years ago when her husband died, and that was the most fun I've ever had at a party where I also cried a lot.

| - - | - - | - - | - - | - - | - - | - - | - - | - - | - - | - - | - - |

Sherril A-- B-----

Please join us for the
Celebration of a Full and Wonderful Life
Saturday, April 17th, 2010
4:00 p.m. until way past our bedtime
xxx xxxxx xxxxx
Richmond, Texas

As part of this celebration we will all be made to wear and share Sherril’s big, bodacious, bright, gaudy jewelry, whether we want to or not. Well, maybe not all of us.

Also part of this day you will always have a part of Sherril’s heart by taking with you any hearts you may have given her through the years, located in the hall baño, plus, lots of Christmas ornaments, and knick knacks for your taking that will not be located in the hall baño.

Also part of this gathering, a video cam will be set up for your talking pleasure, to share any memories you may have of Sherril, for her family to watch over and over again.

And last but not least, the dance train around the kitchen island!
YES, ONE LAST TIME!!

Barbeque will be served but please bring what you will be drinking and if you would like to bring a dessert or hors d’oeuvres please contact L--------.

See you all on the 17th!

| - - | - - | - - | - - | - - | - - | - - | - - | - - | - - | - - | - - |

My emailed response to her sister was:

Yes, you will! I'm bringing a bottle of wine, a pan of lemon squares and a roll of paper towels for my tears ... or in case I spill a glass of wine later in the evening.

My friend Sherril was a truly unique and beautiful individual. She had been a neighbor of mine for 20 years and during that time she became a sister-friend. To me, she was the epitome of an intelligent, awesome, independent, tech-savvy woman. She was outgoing to a fault, swore like a sailor and hated oppression and discrimination against anyone. She was crazy but in a perfectly normal way that fit exactly with my own craziness. We could sit at the island in her kitchen and drink coffee or beer or wine (or all of them) and talk about anything and everything for hours. She had survived lung cancer, her husband's Alzheimer's and death, larynx cancer (and it's removal), her mother's death and a heart attack and had done so with grace and good spirits. She was one of the first people outside my family that I ever told about my being transgendered. She responded by giving me a gift of red underwear - bra and panties - to "welcome me to the sorority". She and I shared a love of all things lemon and used each other to taste-test new recipes. She loved hearts and angels and good porn and dirty jokes. And flowers. Oh, how she LOVED flowers! She WAS the Blossom Diva.

And then she got sick and she died. She was 75.

All of us who loved her went to the going-away party that the invitation above heralded. Of course, I wore my red undies in her honor. It was a perfect good-bye and memorial and it's the kind of send-off I'd like to think I'd get. We - her family and friends - talked and told Sherril stories and drank wine and beer and cried and laughed. A lot. We all wore her big flashy costume jewelry, including most of the guys. (I had on a necklace, earrings and 3 bracelets. I still have them.) We ate lemon everything and barbecue and cake and cookies and laughed and cried some more. We went out in her back yard and sang "Happy Birthday" as loudly and as badly as we could - not because it was any particular person's birthday but because Sherril had said that it was always someone's birthday somewhere. Besides, that's what we always did at one of her parties. And when we sang that night, an owl in the big pecan tree in the middle of her yard sang along with us. It was either her spirit, or we were all drunk. Or both.

And then we danced! Oh, did we ever dance! The biggest tradition at her parties was, late in the evening when everyone was all loosened up, to crank the Motown tunes up to 11 and then just dance like crazy people around the big island in the center of her kitchen. There was no wrong way to dance around that island, and the dancing might spread to other adjacent rooms if it got too crowded, but there was always by-fucking-god DANCING. That night we had a conga line, line dancing, salsa dancing, crazy dancing, twisting, jiving, jumping and everybody sang along and WE DANCED OUR ASSES OFF! One last time. And I know Sherril danced with us.

But finally, when everyone was cried out and sung out and talked out and danced out and sore from laughing, we took our souvenirs of Sherril and we went home. She is greatly missed by everyone but we have the solace of knowing that we sent her on her way with the happiness and craziness and exuberance that made up her life. And because of that, I know we took a bigger piece of her with us when we left than just her souvenirs and our memories.

Today, the souvenirs of Sherril (3 hearts, 1 angel) that I took home are touchstones for me. When things aren't going right or I seem to be sliding downhill, I look at them and I can hear her saying, "WHAT THE FUCK! Just what. the. fuck. woman? Just get off your ass and start moving. It's the moving that's important! The goddamned direction will take care of itself, but you have to DO it. So get the hell out of here and start. And when you get to wherever you're going, you better bring your ass back here and tell me about the trip." And I do. Every time.

A tattoo? Who? You? True - I do.

2010-11-09T14:55:00.000-06:00

Like many people, I have a tattoo. Mine is relatively recent. It's not nearly as exciting as centaurs fucking or a flaming skeleton wrestling a shark (and yes, I know two people who have those particular tattoos), but like most body art, my tattoo is highly personal. The centaurs and the skeleton both have special meaning to the people who wear them. That only makes sense, since a tattoo is generally with you for eternity, so aside from the occasional drunken dare tattoo, most tattoos have a very personal and intimate meaning to the people who wear them. I believe that every tattoo, in addition to its permanence and physical intimacy, is a form of spiritual expression. If you don’t have any body art, ask someone who does; I’m going to bet they’ll agree with that assessment. If you do have a tat, I can see you nodding.

For those who haven't seen the pictures of my tattoo that I posted on Facebook, here they are:

See? Not very exciting. But while Facebook got the pictures first, they didn't get the story. Here's that:

I’ve written before about how the events that have occurred during my transition have shown me that I should listen to the Universe (and yeah, yeah, one day I’ll write THAT book). One of the times that I truly did listen, I heard about my tattoos. Now, at my advanced post-60 age, I had never really had any desire to have a tattoo, even after 9 years in the Navy. But one day last spring I literally woke up knowing that I HAD to have not one, but two of them. Upon actually scrutinizing this new knowledge, I found that one of these tattoos was pretty much fully formed and the other was only a concept. The fully-formed one is the one that’s here. The other one is a completely different story that doesn’t have an ending yet. That tattoo doesn’t exist anywhere except on a piece of paper and in my mind and the artist’s, so it’s not an issue for discussion – yet. I’ll only say that to go from the knowledge I had upon awaking that day to the piece of paper it now occupies took a major effort on my part. This tattoo, the one I now have, has always just … been.

This tattoo is of hedera rhombea, Japanese ivy. I didn’t know that or anything else when I started, only what it looked like; I knew that because I walk under this ivy every day. It cascades from the tree outside the front door of my apartment and shades my front window. I also knew that I didn’t care what the tattoo actually looked like as long as it was representative of this plant. I would trust the artist to render it. I knew the ivy would start at the base of my spine, right above my butt, and would grow up my spine. I would never be able to directly see this tattoo and that was OK. And finally, I knew that this tattoo would never be finished. It would start with ten leaves – one for every year since 2000, when I started transition – and would continue to grow at the rate of one leaf a year, probably added on my birthday. There is a baby leaf at the top that will be transformed into a full-grown leaf as another new baby comes into existence above it. As long as I’m alive, I will continue to grow because the ivy will continue to grow. The older portions won’t be touched and they’ll age and fade, and that will remind me of my own past and my own age as I grow. If I make it another 15 or 20 years and the ivy reaches my neck, it will then turn and grow across my left shoulder for maybe another 10 years and then down the back of my left arm. If it makes it down to my left wrist, I’ll figure out then where it will go after that.

That’s what I knew before I started. But then I did some investigating and found out more. That knowledge only reinforced my feeling that this tattoo was meant to be. Japanese Ivy is the (translated) title of the autobiography of a 14th century Japanese Zen master. Japanese ivy is a symbol of eternity because it essentially doesn’t die. It is also a symbol of protection. It is being researched for its pharmacological properties including antibiotic, anti-inflammatory, analgesic and anti-cancer compounds. It grows naturally in Asia but is rarely is found wild in this hemisphere. Yet it grows outside my apartment, but only there and nowhere else in the vicinity.

Some time after I realized that I would have tattoos, I found an artist to do the work, Karen of Spellbound Studio. She has been voted the Best Tattoo Artist in Austin for six years in a row. She’s a Reiki master and a very spiritual person. She uses only vegan inks. We connected. She was perfect. She drew up the ivy. Perfectly. But then I had to use some of my tattoo funds for an emergency and could only afford to get one tattoo. Again, I KNEW the ivy would be first; so it was. And the night before I finally went to get my living ivy art applied to my body, I had a dream of Karen working on applying yet another leaf in the vine to my shoulder at the top of my arm.

The ivy became real several months ago, so the art work is all healed now. I’ve seen it in the mirror and in pictures but I’ve never seen it directly. I never will. But despite that, I know intimately what it looks like because I can feel it there. And I know that in some way, it protects me. That may simply be that its existence spurs me to not stagnate, to grow, or it may be something more, something spiritual. And it may just be that I like the pun of knowing that something will always have my back. Because I revel in my self and my weirdness.

Another day, another haiku

2010-11-09T01:18:00.002-06:00

Just so everyone doesn't think I've been a total slacker during the time I wasn't here, I have been writing one haiku a day since January 19 over at Wiffledust, a creative blog co-operative. My current haiku count is 293 (but may be more by the time you read this) and I'm on target to get all 365 done. If you're curious, you can start at the beginning and click your way through all of them. They're short and some are quite good, if I do say so myself.

Some Lessons

2010-11-08T15:23:00.000-06:00

Being a parent teaches you lessons about life. OK, I don't really know about YOU but it has certainly taught me a lot of things.

I used to be leery of touching "nasty" things. After spending an hour standing naked under a warm shower and simply holding my explosively diarrheaic 8-month old son while he evacuated everything he had eaten since the beginning of his life all over the two of us, that's gone. I now know that skin is pretty much immune to anything that comes out of a living body.

I used to be totally skeeved out by fuzzy caterpillars. After responding to a number of "GET IT OFF ME!" calls, I've learned that I can pick up any bug. Even though the fuzzy caterpillars still skeeve me out.

I used to think that children didn't develop personalities and senses of humor until they got to be somewhere around high school age. Having had too much exposure to my own two's smart-ass remarks, I've learned that kids can be funny individuals starting about the time they figure out the difference between "me" and "the world".

I used to believe that there was no punishment too harsh for someone who was murderous, cruel, totally depraved and insensitive to the rest of humanity. Watching my 2-year-old daughter almost die while in a coma taught me that the loss of a child is a punishment that I could not wish upon another human being regardless of the circumstances. I simply can't wish that kind of mental and emotional agony upon someone else. Hell, I don't even want someone to go through what I did, and my daughter is perfectly fine today.

Kids teach us a lot, including infinite patience and perpetual love and untainted truth but the largest lesson my kids have taught me is that positive changes not only can happen but must happen if we are to continue to grow after we become adults.

The Red Dress

2010-11-05T17:45:00.011-05:00

At the end of May this year, Jenny the Bloggess initiated a project on her blog which she called The Traveling Red Dress. In that blog post, Jenny wrote

"… this week the red dress will begin a journey, traveling from city to city so that other people can wear it and love it and feel as special and vivid and dynamic as they already are. Because sometimes we all need a little red dress to remind us of that.”

(You can read Jenny's whole post here). And I knew that I had to be one of the women who wore that dress and had the pictures to prove it. I’m not sure why I knew that but I know it was related to all the changes that were taking place in my life.

Sometime back in the spring, about three months before the Red Dress came to be, I realized that it was time for me to move on and finish the transition to womanhood that I had started ten years ago. I won’t go into details here about how that happened or what transpired or what it meant because while it’s an amazing ongoing story, it’s not this story. The only reason I mention it at all is because a number of profound and enlightening things occurred in my life between that moment of realization and my reading about Jenny’s Red Dress, things that made me realize that the Universe speaks to us all if we will only listen. I was (and still am) learning to listen, and one of the things that I “heard” was that I should wear the dress.

So I wrote to Jenny and gave her a rough idea of why I wanted to wear the Red Dress. I said:

“I feel like I'm putting on my own red dress a little at a time now as I move forward with finally finishing my transition to womanhood over the next year or so. I finally figured out that I AM worth the effort of no longer lying about who I am, and I AM worth the effort of having a skin that fits the me on the inside. No, I didn't feel guilty about deciding to move forward with my true life - and I'd made that decision months and months ago - but your post somehow has given substance to the whole rightness of what I'm doing to finally achieve the life I have wanted for so long and that I believe that I deserve. In the end, I think it's all about self-confidence and self-worth: we need to have a very well developed sense of both of those things in order to be truly happy. And that it's OK to do things that make you happy.”

Her entire response was: “I love this! And I think we need to get you in that dress.” I've learned that Jenny doesn’t believe in wasting words in her emails.

And that’s where things sat for months. We both had other commitments and then it got too hot to be outside in a red formal gown taking pictures in the Texas summer and then she moved and I got hurt skating (again) and the Red Dress was still a concept for me and not yet a reality. However, my transition continued to move forward and some more amazing things happened. Again, that’s not this story and it’s only pertinent because one of the amazing things that happened during that time was that I stopped seeing a guy in my mirror. When I lost that last internal image of masculinity, other people noticed it, too. I was asked more than once if I’d cut my hair or was wearing my makeup different or had gotten a facelift or something because all those people saw me as looking better. And affairs concerning us getting together remained on hold until a couple of weeks ago, when Jenny and I finally managed to solidify plans as to a place and a date and a time for me to finally wear the Red Dress.

That’s why last Wednesday, October 27, shortly after 9:00 AM, Jenny and I met in Gruene (pronounced "Green", y'all), Texas a small touristy town on the outskirts of the Texas Hill Country. She brought the Red Dress and a rose from her garden; I brought eagerness. We ended up going to the general store to use their restroom because in addition to changing clothes, I also had to pee. Which I did. Then Jenny handed me the enormous airy mound of red fabric that was the dress, and I could almost feel the warmth and the special magic of it while simply holding it. I took the dress into the restroom, stripped off my jeans and blouse and I. Put. It. On. This was it! I felt my face light up in big smile as I pulled the dress up and managed to fasten the top hook in the back of its corset top. It was beautiful and it made me beautiful. I could feel it.

Jenny had to fasten up the rest of the hooks in back and when she was done, I was actually wearing THE Red Dress! It fit me as if it had been made specifically for me. It was perfect. It was magical. I gathered up my discarded jeans and blouse and with the long voluminous skirt of the dress draped over my arm, we proceeded to parade back through downtown Gruene to our cars. I put my clothes in my car, Jenny got her camera out of hers and we proceeded to take pictures of me wearing the Red Dress in several places in Gruene. One of them is above, and if you're interested, the rest of the pictures are online and in my Photos on Facebook and they’re great, but the important thing about them to my mind is the happiness I felt that shows through in each of them.

I cannot tell you how amazingly awesomely fantastic it was to wear that dress! It made me a powerful and beautiful woman, and it gave me something I'm not even sure I knew that I needed - a sense of my own personal femininity and the knowledge that I've joined the sorority of women. It's just another example of the Universe showing me that I need to trust in what is happening in my life. This was not a feeling of confidence, because that’s something I’ve never really lacked; this was a feeling of arrival and belonging. If I had worn the dress back in May, I don't think that sense of my belonging to womanhood would have happened because I still saw a vestige of the boy I was raised as in the mirror. But by last Wednesday, the boy had been gone for a while; there's no more "guy" in my mirror. And putting on the dress just helped to cement that actuality into place in my psyche. I don't know how many other women have worn the dress and had their pictures taken, but I'm pretty sure that for all of us it was magical to do so. I know Jenny tells everyone that they're beautiful in the dress, and I know that we all felt exactly that way - beautiful – when wearing that dress and hearing her say it. Because we were and we are.

Ultimately it had to end, and I sadly took off the dress. I actually changed clothes standing next to my car in the parking lot (HI, GRUENE!) but even after I got back into my jeans and blouse, I could still feel the dress on me. If I stop and feel for a moment, it’s still there now. Magic abides. We ended the morning having coffee and muffins and talking for a while afterward. I’ll admit that I did most of the talking (a bad habit that friends can attest to) and to her credit, Jenny looked like she was listening to most of what I said. I don’t think I saw her eyes glaze over or anything. We finally hugged good-bye and went our separate ways but the dress, the morning, the feeling and most especially, Jenny who made it all possible, will always be with me. Every experience we have changes us, sometimes subtly, sometimes greatly. This experience was a big one for me, and it will forever be a part of me because it served its purpose: it let me recall just how special a person, a woman, I am.

Thank you, Jenny.

UPDATE: The Traveling Red Dress is now a movement! It's a Flickr group and in Forbes and on Facebook. Women everywhere are sending other women their own Red Dress to wear and photograph and pass along. I've sent the only red formal gown I owned (and the first long formal I ever wore out in public) to a beautiful woman in Minnesota who will ultimately pass it along to someone else. You can read all about the continuing saga of the Red Dresses here.

Bullies

2010-11-03T11:04:00.000-05:00

This is a story that only one other person has ever heard, and she only heard it recently. I'm telling it publicly now, but it's not a typical story about being bullied. As a tall, skinny, effeminate kid in elementary school, I had a few problems but nothing I couldn't handle by being an outgoing, funny, smart ass. Then in 4th grade when I was 9, a genuine bully entered my world, and I was his primary target. I took his abuse, physical and verbal, and no one came to help me because this kid was bigger than all the other kids and intimidated everyone. I was ashamed because I knew he was right - that I was different and girly and deserved to get hit - and I never told an adult about his abuse. But finally, after about 3 months of being a target, I got tired of taking it and at recess one day I snapped and ambushed the kid with a bag full of books. Out of anger, I hit him hard and took him down and yes, I beat him up. He never picked on anyone at our school again. And, as if some kind of magical aura surrounded me thereafter, no one ever bullied or picked on me again. In the over 50 years since then, the worst thing that has ever happened to me was to once be called a "faggot" by a drunken teenager in a hotel bar in Pennsylvania. But I never told anyone what I did because to this day I feel guilty about hurting that kid because although he was an asshole, he was still only a kid like me. And I've never forgotten what anger can do to anyone - even a nice, funny, effeminate kid - when it's channeled in a destructive, physical direction. That guilt and that lesson have been major factors in how I've tried to live my life.

Having done volunteer work in a shelter for abused women and children, I know that bullies quite often grow up to become domestic abusers. Yes, we need a zero tolerance policy towards bullying in our schools (and society in general), and we need to protect all our kids. However, I think that until we treat EVERYONE with the same respect and dignity - and more importantly, teach our own children to do so, not just with words but also by our own example - that this problem of bullying will not go away. We need to ALL be truly aware of our shared humanity and not be distracted by our minor differences in order to get past treating those who are different as "things" not worthy of our respect. We need to wear purple in our hearts every day.

Creative criticism

2010-11-02T15:02:00.001-05:00

Creating something is hard. Creating is essentially using the power of the mind to turn nothing into something - a painting, a story, a computer program, a dance, a movie, a building – something, anything. All these beautiful things truly began as nothing more than a thought and ultimately became something through a process of hard work, mental or physical (or both), and often involving an emotional and spiritual investment of effort, too. Creativity is the force of beauty expressed through humans.

Tearing something down is easy. Burning a book, slashing a painting, hacking a program can all destroy those things but destructively criticizing a creation is the fundamental tearing down of a construct. It requires no creativity, no hard work, to let loose an inner two-year-old or rabid pit bull to simply wreak havoc on a creation. It amounts to being selfish and being angry simply because you cannot have things your way. Those critics are ultimately of no use.

However, constructive criticism is not wholesale destruction. Constructive criticism involves both understanding and creativity. Creative criticism is knowing what a creation is and then seeing a way to potentially make it better than it is. Because our creations are inherently imperfect because they come from humans, there’s always room for improvement. Critics who offer advice, critics who can see ways to tear down but then build back and can explain why the change makes a thing better, are an inherent force in pushing a creative endeavor to evolve. That’s why those who can offer constructive criticism are often also the most creative individuals. Those critics are essential.

I write. I paint. I program. I build. I turn ideas into tangible things. But the greatest thing I’ve ever created is me. I created the woman I am from the idea of who I should be. As a part of that process, I’ve learned to ignore the destructive critics who ridiculed my doing that, and I’ve learned to incorporate the advice of those constructive critics who pointed out the errors in my creation. Because I’m a work in progress, I’ll continue to listen to my critics when they have something meaningful to say. We should never be so rigid that our ears are frozen to hearing constructive criticism that might just make us – or the other things we create - better.

Totally inappropriate (You've been warned!)

2010-06-11T09:44:00.003-05:00

I'm not sure I understand the big taboo about cannibalism. Most Christian churches obviously condone it, since eating Jesus's body every Sunday is OK. And apparently vampirism is also OK since there's that drinking the blood thing, too. And now I'm wondering: if you swallow after a blowjob, is that like a cannibalism hors d-oeuvre?