Don't Get Me Started with Linda Sharp

When Logic Gets Flushed Down The Toilet

There is a subset of the population for whom Chicken Little is not simply a childhood story, but a guidebook to life.

They must always be afraid in order to feel alive.  They must always be on the lookout for boogeymen.  They must always have a target for their inner turmoil.  The sky must always be falling. 

Whether it be red cups at Starbucks daring to obliterate their holiday happiness; gay people compromising the sanctity of their third marriages by wanting equal rights and protections; or Syrian refugees infiltrating their safe suburbs, there must be a target in their quest for perpetual victimhood.

Here's the problem with the Chicken Little set, however ... at no point do they ever allow logic, facts, or common sense to temper their temper tantrums.

And that's a problem because in their never ending quest for the Iron Throne of supremacy, they must be fed a steady diet of human chum.  A constantly filled feeding trough containing whatever the latest "it" they have been told is out to get them.

Starbucks cups came and went.  That hysteria was put away when the twinkle lights came down.  Syrian refugees are SO four months ago.  Gay people triumphed and took away their legislated right to keep them from buying overpriced floral arrangements and fancy cake.  So what's an easily led, easily scared dimwit to do?

Gobble up the latest fare put in the trough by their legislators:  transgender people.

It is not just North Carolina that has brought the *gasp* horror of transgender people needing to pee to the fore.  State after dullardly, bigoted state has introduced their own bills to demean, marginalize, dehumanize, and criminalize a transgendered person's need to use the bathroom.

Look, I don't mind a person being uneducated about a subject.  There's a lot I don't know about in this world and I read constantly.  What I do mind is when a person digs in and takes pride in their lack of education, refusing to get up to speed lest it disrupt their inner narrative and make their soggy brains hurt.

Transgender people are PEOPLE.

There's the first thing you need to know.

They are not perverts, pedophiles, monsters.  Might there be some scattered through the demographic?  Of course.  Just as there are perverts, pedophiles and monsters scattered through every piece of the human pie.

But that is not what being transgendered is.  It is not some scary anomaly (at least not for the public - it is scary as hell for the trans who has to deal with the hateful, ugly public).  In point of fact, a transgender person is simply someone whose outside does not match their inside.  Bully for you!  You were born with a soul not "wearing" white shoes after Labor Day!  A trans person was born "wearing" the equivalent of stripes and plaids.  And all they want is to be able to live a life in which what they see you do with such ease, be something they may do as well.  Live an authentic life, a safe life, a life with love, grace, stability, friends.

Only the Chicken Littles of the world cannot have that.  They double down on their stupidity and support the legislators who know how easily led is their base.

Given the hysteria and glut of "bathroom bills" you would think transgender people just hatched out of eggs a month ago.  Scary!  Out to get us!  They want to infiltrate the bathroom and look at our pee pees!

No, no, and get the fuck out of here.

Transgender people want what you want in a bathroom break.  A place to pee or dump in private, peace, and safety.  That's it, that's all.

But noooooooooooooooo!!!, you cry.  Men will now dress up as women to gain entry to the ladies room and rape and pillage!

I see.  So you're actually not afraid of transgender people at all.  You are actually afraid of cis male rapists entering the ladies rooms.  As if that sign on the door has kept you safe all this time. 

Here's the truth - stay with me now - THERE HAS NEVER BEEN AN INCIDENT IN A BATHROOM INVOLVING A TRANSGENDER PERSON ATTACKING ANYONE.

NEVER.

Yet there you Chicken Littles are, threatening transgender people with violence, playing toilet vigilante, and letting mentally defective opportunists like Ted Cruz, Sarah Palin, NC Governor Pat McRory, Dan Patrick - Lieutenant Governor of Texas, et al - manipulate you into thinking the end is nigh because someone with conflicting genitals may be in the stall next to you.

New Flash, brain trust:  They have been there all along. 

Transgender people have been around as long as people have been around.  Minding their business, taking your orders, answering your phone calls, fixing your cars, serving your drink on airplanes, cashing your checks for you at the bank, selling you stamps at the post office, firing up your Half Caf Steamed at Starbucks, helping you pick out an outfit at DIllards, and yes, PEEING BESIDE YOU IN BATHROOMS.

Ed-u-cate yourselves.

A transgender person, regardless of where they are on their path of transition - actually, let me stop here for a moment to educate you further...

Transitioning is a long process.  It is a very long road.  As it should be.  Thoughtful, deliberate, many doctors involved.  Hoops to jump through, appointments, therapy - it is not something you just wake up one morning, say "I'm trans" and hop over to the Urgent Care for hormone therapy.  This is not some capricious, fad type adventure someone embarks on on a lark.  It takes time, bravery - SO MUCH BRAVERY - support, care.  With the quest being to simply align the outside as much as possible with the person they have always known themselves to be inside.

Think of it this way - let's scoop up beer gutted Bubba from outside any Texas Sonic on a Friday night  (Shut up - I live here, I see it, it's real.)  Now, against his will, let's make him up, limit his wardrobe to dresses (nothing camo, sorry, Bubba, you are now Barbra), and let's go even further - knock him out, and give him breast implants.  Lookin' purty there, Barbra.

Now, to the outside world, Barbra is looking like a woman.  Being treated and addressed as a woman.  Is Bubba still in there?  OF COURSE HE IS.  Because Bubba knows WHO he is inside.  Mismatching his outsides does not change Bubba's inner truth, his authentic self.  And I guarantee Bubba will be begging, seeking help, looking high and low for doctors to make his outsides match his insides.

That is what a transgender person lives with.  Knowing who they are inside - some from a very young age, some finding the words in young adulthood for why everything has always been different.  Just dying to live authentically.  Literally dying to live authentically.  A 41% suicide attempt rate because society cannot muster the strength to open a book, Google some information, display some empathy for other human beings.

So, back to the path of transition.  The beginning is passing.  Trying to begin matching their appearance to their hearts, their souls, their minds.  Hormones, surgeries - they come far later.  But passing is crucial in this process.  It is the first step to feeling even a little normal. 

So a FTM (female to male) going into a men's room is because they ARE male.  And they will go in a stall, do their business, wash their hands and leave.  A FTM is not standing at a urinal checking out your dick.

A MTF (male to female) going into a ladies room is because they ARE female.  And they will go in a stall, do their business, wash their hands and leave.  A MTF is not at a urinal - there are none in a ladies room - or standing on the toilet looking over at you taking a dump. 

They simply wish to pass as who they know themselves to be, get safely in, safely out.  Might you take a second glance?  Sure, but I promise you they are passing as best they can for the time in the transition they happen to be.

Further down the road of transitioning, when there have been hormones, perhaps surgery, you will notice them not at all. 

Which is why these bathroom bills are such utter and complete bullshit, and the epitome of how easily led the Chicken Littles are.

You have been going to the bathroom with transgender people all your life.  You simply have not known.  But now some legislators have decided to point you this direction and it is all you can think about.  Which is pretty sad.  You are hyperfocusing on someone else's genitals, turning taking a shit into a sexual thing.  (And while I know there is a kink for every vibe out there, if you find yourself in a Target bathroom taking a poo, I highly doubt you are thinking about sex.)

Look at yourself in a mirror.  Could YOU be mistaken for a short haired man?  Does your girth swallow up your boobs, ladies, making you look more like Bubba than Barbra?  And guys?  How about that ponytail you rock?  That lithe frame you may have.  Many of you could be mistaken for Barbra, not Bubba.  May we do a genital check on you?

What's that?  NO?  Why not?  I need to be sure that Fred, with his tiny ass and split end pony isn't a woman entering the men's room intent on looking at Rudy's penis.  Or that the tall girl with the pixie cut isn't really a man intent on raping my daughter.

Here's the bottom line:  This has never been an issue.  NEVER.  I shall repeat it again.  THERE HAS NEVER BEEN AN INCIDENT IN A BATHROOM INVOLVING A TRANSGENDER PERSON ATTACKING ANYONE.

You are safe.  As safe as you have ever been.  So keep doing what you have done till now.  Pee in pairs.  Don't let your child go in alone. Be aware of your surroundings.

Because transgender people are not the threat.  The threat is your continual insistence that the sky is falling, and your willingness to flush logic down the crapper.

Reflections On Half A Century

I turned 50 today.

And it's ok.  No fanfare, no big party, no panic.  Just me, my quiet house, my cats.  I did not look in the mirror harder this morning.  I did not move slower getting out of bed.  Today is just another Sunday, and I am glad to be alive in it.

I have never been a crisis kind of gal.  Not given to lamenting some arbitrary number.  I did not panic at 30.  40 was just another busy day.  And now here I sit, at the outpost of half a century, and I honestly could not care less.

Life is about transitions, growth, letting go, learning more, and in my opinion, facing forward, moving forward.

I guess that is why I did not have the expected breakdown over the empty nest.  It simply was the next transition.  My kids all growing up and moving on did not rob me of my identity because I have always been very careful to cultivate an identity beyond being a mother.

I have never been broken by my marriage being lived across the miles.  Just another choice and transition.  And for all the times I have been asked the inevitable question, "How do you do it?"   The answer has never changed.  I just do it.

And to elaborate on that?  I just returned from a 7 night cruise with Rudy.  While on the boat we realized we have never had that much time alone together.  There has always been work, cross schedules, an unpredictable and demanding business, children, soccer, moves, and separations.  Even when we have vacationed, we have had kids with us, or we sneak in a couple nights here and there.  Seven whole days.  Here is what I can tell you - falling in love all over again feels just as amazing at 49, 50, 58, as it does at 16, 20, 25.  We spent 7 days holding hands, exploring, talking, laughing, taking "naps."  And leaving him in LA yesterday was painful.  My advice in this regard?  If you have a weakened, compromised, or simply stale marriage?  Step up.  Both of you.  Rediscover one another.  Let down your guard, tear down the walls, and find each other again.  You are alive - don't waste your chances.

Life, regardless of your current circumstances, is a gift.  If you are breathing, you are living.  How you live is the choice.  Unhappy, bitchy, victimy?  Or positive, hopeful, energized?

None of us get out of this life alive.  There's the only guarantee.

As the years have rolled on, what I have loved the most is that I continue having a desire to learn.  I read voraciously.  Everything.  About politics, religions, world events, regions, conflicts, strife, victories, histories, and people.  What I find by doing this is that it makes it hard to stay in one tiny little mindset.  Replacing preconceived notions with facts is liberating because it not only makes you more well rounded as a person, it makes it harder to be afraid of people not like you.

Because in the end, we ARE so very much alike.  How many other people in this world turned 50 today?  Tens of thousands?  Hundreds of thousands?  We are all connected not just by entering this world on the same date, but by flesh, blood, empathy, longing, fear, joy.  We experience the same things - just in different places, different languages, climates, environments. 

I find, too, that my tolerance for bullshit - which was never very high - has become almost nonexistent.  I discussed this with a good friend this morning as he confided about a complicated scenario in his life.  At this age, I have no fucks left to give.  The field is barren, the soil will never again allow fucks to bloom. There is beauty in this.  It means I have finally distilled things down to what matters - and that only comes with living.  Are you happy?  Are you alive?  Done.  That's all that matters.  If happiness touches your life, take it.  To hell with how it may be packaged, what others may think, say behind your back, or how they may judge.  They are not you.  Your choices are not theirs to make.  And your happiness is ultimately up to you, not them.

I also don't, nor will I ever, understand bigotry - never will -  the gifting of this disease of certitude from one generation to the next.  I don't look at skin color and think "Oh, I am so much better because my ass is pale."  Do I see skin color?  Of course.  BUT I DON'T STOP THERE.  That's the difference.  Good people, bad people, shitful people, stupid people - come in all shapes, sizes, colors, creeds.  I don't look at two women holding hands and think "Eww."  I think "Awww."  How does someone's love life even remotely affect mine? 

The answer is it doesn't.  And I know that.  The even better part is that I don't subscribe to an organized religious mindset, so I don't have some fear of feeling this way.

In this regard, having 50 years behind me gives me hope for what is coming.   I know what it was like when I was a child.  And I see how much progress has been made.  So I know that the momentum is forward, despite so many trying to drag things back.

If I am blessed with more years, it is my hope that more people open their eyes and accept that marriage equality won't mean the world will die out; that two men marrying doesn't threaten their fourth marriage; that transgender people ARE just that, PEOPLE, and all they want in a restroom is a place to eliminate in peace, quiet, and SAFETY; and that keeping religion out of the governance of a nation is good for everyone.

This is pretty much how I view things these days:

Do I worry about world events?  Absolutely, because I stay up on them.  Ignorance may indeed be bliss, but I would rather understand the complexities, impetuses, and actual threats than sit around making shit up.  Our world is complex and the ones who will keep it moving forward are not the ones who want to blow everything up.

I see so many people, especially women, my age constantly lamenting their bodies, their faces, the changes that inevitably come.  To them my advice is simple:  get up off your asses and move.  Stay involved, engaged, alive.  Not only will your body respond better to the changes, your skin will respond as well.  Choose to treat your body like a garbage can and it will reflect the choice.

Yes, metabolism takes a hit.  Hit back harder.  If your pants need to get a little bigger, that's fine.  Let your personality and lust for life grow with them.  Have crow's feet?  Look around - we all do. Hate them that much?  Botox is about the cheapest weapon and some clinic or another is always running a special.

Acceptance that you have more clicks on your odometer is key.  But more miles doesn't mean less life.  THAT is a choice. 

I remember an article where a woman was droning on and on about her life in her early 40s.  Whining and wining - look, I like a glass of vino as much as anyone, but it is a treat not a medicine.  One thing she bemoaned was "death age."  That when a parent dies there is this sudden fixation that surely we will end the same.

Screw that.  I am lucky enough to have both my parents still with us, but when they do finally succumb I will not sit around bemoaning my imminent death. 

If you have a parent who passed due to a medical condition or a cancer that is likely to be passed down?  Get on it.  Get check-ups, take care of your body, and LIVE.  The worst thing you can do is allow yourself to be paralyzed by a "what if?".

Death age fixation is a waste of emotional energy.  I know my mother's ghost would kick my ass for every moment I would spend worrying about matching her expiration date.  Your parents being alive is not some barrier to your own mortality.  There is no guarantee your age won't be sooner - car accident, fall, aneurysm - or later.

If you're going to focus on a death age, then get started, I guess.  You are going to die so you may as well get up to speed on wasting the time you have.

Another birthday has come and gone.  The earth didn't shatter, I did not wake up with deeper wrinkles.  In fact, nothing was different today than it was the day before - aside from not waking up with my husband.  Boo.

I live in a complex world, my children are all thriving, my husband lives states away, and some of my hairs are whitish.  My house is quiet, but my heart is full, excited about my tomorrows, and ready to move towards them to see what they reveal - I do know 2016 is going to be a big one for the Sharps.  If I am lucky, I am only halfway to my expiration date and it took a long time to get here.  But if it is tomorrow, ten years from now, or as soon as I hit post - I am living and loving my NOW.

I turned 50 today.

And it's ok.