Don't Get Me Started with Linda Sharp

The Nashville StHATEment

As hundreds of square miles of Texas and Louisiana are hidden beneath the floodwaters of Hurricane Harvey, an unnatural disaster has taken place further north, threatening to drown countless lives in hate, ignorance, and bigotry.

Once again hiding behind the fabled robes of Jesus, the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood, a coalition of over 150 evangelical leaders, released a "Christian manifesto" they are calling The Nashville Statement.

The stHATEment contains 14 layers of bullshit "beliefs" regarding sexuality.

President of the council, Denny Burk, stated, “The aim of The Nashville Statement is to shine a light into the darkness — to declare the goodness of God’s design in our sexuality and in creating us as male and female.” 

That's right - these "great minds" are organizing and taking aim at anyone who occupies a spot on the spectrum that is not hetero.  And they are going after any congregants who have the "agree to disagree" mindset about homosexuals, transgender people, asexual humans, bisexual, pansexual, and on and on.

Basically everything they cannot be bothered to educate themselves about because, Jesus.

It won't be surprising to many to learn that this council was created in 1987 “to help the church defend against the accommodation of secular feminism.”

Translation:  Threat to the penis bearers of their world.

Yes, their world. 

In their world, women are to be submissive to their Christlike husbands and church leaders, who are, of course, all male.

In their world, women are to be silent as the grave until the grave.

(Just curious - as Bible Belt states are the biggest consumers of online porn, maybe one of you holier than thous can help me out - which porn is most Christlike?  Girl on girl?  Bondage?  Water sports?  Surely as you all like to do everything the way Jesus would, WWJW?)

And now, in their world, they have codified a set of marching orders against what council co-founder, John Piper, calls "the destructive consequences" surrounding any acceptance of other human beings who do not subscribe to their chosen flavor of Hateraid.

And they simply cannot wrap their small minds around the fact that no one is required to belong to their club.

But considering we have an Oval Office occupier who is actively trying to legislate hate back into our society, the boldness of this manifesto is not exactly unexpected.  The KKK, and all its affiliated white power dullards found their new standard bearer in a craven, soulless narcissist when he refused to reject their support and began sending not-so-subtle nods of agreement to them.  So of course, now that Tony Perkins and other religious leaders have been successful in their months long lobbying effort with Trump to enforce a transgender ban in the military, they have decided to come out with this latest Mean Girls burn book.

Each section contains a We Believe followed by a We Deny.

WE DENY that adopting a homosexual or transgender self-conception is consistent with God’s holy purposes in creation and redemption.

Ahhhh, "adopting" - the old sexuality-is-a-choice trope.

My son is transgender - he did not ask to be, he did not choose to be.  He simply IS.  The same way I wake up in the morning knowing who I am.  I would posit that anyone who is making a conscious choice is denying who they actually know themselves to be.  

But then, denial is the lifeblood of religion.  Denial and the willingness to leave your own agency at the door in favor of being told what to believe, how to believe, and now how to hate.  But hey!  Hate is now sanctioned!  Woo hoo!  

If there is a God, or the 10,000+ GODS who have been believed in since we started scratching on cave walls, I can imagine that He, She, It, or They shake their heads constantly at the things attributed to them, and the heinous acts done in their names.

But let's just stick with the Christian God for the sake of simplicity, and because that is the only one in which these willful idiots believe.

In their minds, God rejects anyone who is is not on board with His views on "sexual holiness and virtue" - in fact, as Burk states, "they are rejecting Christianity altogether, even if they claim otherwise.”

Denny, you angelic assmunch, I hate to break it to you, but no one has to accept Christianity, or in your case, Christinanity.    No one needs religion.  And to buy into your brand, the kind that would require me to turn my back on my own child?  FUCK YOU, Denny.  I turn my back on you, your god, your Nashville StHATEment.

My sexuality is none of your GODdamned business,  My son's gender?  None of your GODdamned business.  Who I love, how I love, what positions I like - none of your GODdamned business.

Actually, that's what your entire enterprise is - behind your designer suits, fancy cars, stadium sized "churches," and this disgusting heap of words meant to demonize, marginalize, and HATE - is a business.  A GODdamned BUSINESS.

Fleecing the easily led sheep, scaring the dollars from their pockets, running a religious Amway where you can work your way up the pyramid and prepay your admission into heaven - a BUSINESS.

Wallow in your manifesto, live by the ignorant words you scripted, frighten your flock into buying what you're selling, but make no mistake, out here - past the thresholds of your unholy havens, outside your male dominated, female submissive homes - WE CALL BULLSHIT.

You are outnumbered and your attendance will continue to shrink as more and more come to see that what is preached from your pulpits are not the actual teachings of Jesus - you know, love they neighbor; what you did for the least of these - but a man made doctrine designed to hurt others who simply wish to live in peace.

 

I left religion in the dust decades ago because the stench of bullshit is one I could no longer tolerate.  I rejected tenets that dictated I am less than a man, that I must bend the knee and be submissive, that I must look down upon anyone who is not hetero, that birth control is evil, that only they held the key to my salvation.

 

I rejected their papal marching orders to make me fear hell in order to keep me in line, and to constantly hold out a golden carrot to get me to give my money to them in order to secure orchestra seating in heaven.

 

I left religion because it divides.  It just does.  Your church, my church, his church, her church, their church - all convinced that the true answers, the solution to all mysteries, can only be found within their walls.

 

Well, I left and found that the answers involve NO WALLS.  Because with no walls, I am free to meet, learn, love, embrace, explore, challenge, and most importantly, GROW.  Without walls, I found I am also without fear.  Without walls I am with the world.  That's right, I am not without community.  My community is a world full of people who actively practice inclusion, acceptance, love.

 

Without walls, my only response when  my child came to me and said, "I am transgender" was "What do we need to do?"

 

There was no fear of church leaders, a congregation of Judge Judys, or worries about his or my salvation.  My salvation is every single breath I am here to take, and what I do with it.

 

My breaths are put towards helping, embracing, supporting, learning what I don't yet know.  My breaths are about creating a society in which the marginalized, the demeaned, the demonized can simply breathe easy.  

 

My breaths are used to actually live a life of inclusion - you know, like Jesus did.

 

If you occupy these churches where this manifestation of evil manifesto is being adopted, yet you claim to hold no ill will against the LGBTQIA populace, you are now being targeted just as much as they are.  You are now being told that God will be angry with you should you harbor love and acceptance, not hate and exclusion, in your hearts.  Your marching orders are "Hate or else."

 

The preamble - yes, this sack of garbage has a preamble - begins with this:

 

“Know that the LORD Himself is God; It is He who has made us, and not we ourselves…” –Psalm 100:3

 

Does it ever occur to these charlatans that their God did, in fact, create everyone - meaning EVERYONE?  Cis, bi, pan, asexual?  Male, female, trans, non binary?  Every flavor of the incredible human rainbow bag of Skittles?

 

Rhetorical question, of course it doesn't.  The only thing that occurs to them is to cherry pick their Bronze Age tome and warp the words to fit their agenda.

 

But let's leave the wholoe spectrum alone for a moment and just focus on their tunnel visioned view - man and woman.  Article 1 of their drivel states that "God has designed marriage to be a covenantal, sexual, procreative, lifelong union..."

 

Sorry, but no.  My sex life is about recreation now, and at no point am I reciting scriptures in my head during the fun.  Any mention of God comes in the form of an "Oh, God" in the most slanglike of meanings as a result of stimuli, not psalms from on high.

 

As for that lifelong union crap?  Nice thought, makes for good wedding vows, but no.  If a spouse is a lying, duplicitous, conniving, abusive shitheel, then "lifelong" hits the trash barrel along with their ass.  None of your 10,000 gods will make me stay with someone who does not value me as a partner.

 

Article 2 goes on to codify hanky panky before he puts a ring on it.  That is laughable.  As if evangelicals have no sex drive.  Making out, groping, getting hot and heavy, going all the way, is up to the two people in the mix at the time.  We are, at our most primitive, animals.  And we do what feels good.  Want to wait till you're married?  Your CHOICE.  CHOICE <--- we all have the freedom to make our own.

 

Article 3 reinforces the Adam and Eve story of creation, which, if one is allowed to use their brains, would indicate we have been playing Game of Thrones since day 1.  (See Jaime and Cersei, and now Jon and Dany)

 

Most of the Articles incorporate the term "self-conception" - their soft language meant to repeatedly state that a transgender person does not actually know who they are, despite being the only one to actually know who they are.

 

Again, education could go a long way here ... but then that is not in their best interests.  As much as "Ignorance of ignorance is the death of knowledge." (Alfred Whitehead), the inverse holds as well:  KNOWLEDGE is the death of ignorance.   They can't keep pews full if people yearn to learn now, can they?

 

 

The entire Waste of Words can be read HERE.  Pack a lunch.  Or not.  It's all pretty vomit inducing.

 

Look, as I have stated repeatedly, if your church gives you something positive, GREAT.  Enjoy it, revel in it, but keep it to yourself.  No one else is required to buy in or sit through any pontificating.  But if your church actively believes in this type of discrimination, teaching you that God sanctions the wholesale condemnation of entire swaths of people He supposedly created, and you stay?

 

Well, then, I hope Hell is a real place and has a permanent Under Construction sign because the Devil is going to need a whole lot more room.

 

Step away from these bully pulpits.  Leave.  Take your God with you.  You do know you can do that, don't you?  God is not chained up in your church.  God is not accessed by paying the price of admission to a pew.  God does not belongs to these money changers in their grand temples.

 

Walk away and discover God on your own terms, in your own way.  Remove the walls that enslave you, keep you frightened, keep you mindless, keep you subservient, and quite frankly, keep you dumb.  Learn about the world that has been kept beyond your reach.  Meet the people you have been taught to look down upon.  

 

Meet people like my son - he doesn't want to molest you or your children.  He is not some scary monster.  He is not some mental defective or confused.  He wants only to live as long as he can.  He wants to know peace, security, happiness, laughter, friendship, and love.

 

Sound familiar?  Chances are your laundry list of basic wants is identical.

 

This Nashville StHATEment is nothing more than fearmongering, hate hiding behind the Bible, and a bunch of men who know they are gradually seeing their GODdamned Business fail.

 

Help that failure.  Walk away.  Reject it.  WWJD?  Not sit in their pews and be complicit.

 

Bailing Out One Of Our Own

Regardless of where you live in this world, coverage of Hurricane Harvey has saturated more than just Texas - all forms of media have a nonstop flood of updates.

The rain and wind have been unrelenting.  

While my current trip to Colorado is a literal trip to higher ground - I currently sit at 10,000+ - I am keeping tabs on our home back in Austin.  Yes, that rain has pushed all the way from the Gulf, up past Austin, with Dallas expecting to receive some of this over the next week.  It has been raining nonstop for two days now.

This storm is strong and bringing unprecedented rain and subsequent flooding.  People across south/southeast Texas are climbing to their rooftops as water floods their homes; 911 lines are overloaded; and some have already died.

And this storm will not peter out for MANY MORE DAYS.

Many of our DGMS blogmunity members live in the affected areas.  One of them, DeDe, evacuated her apartment with her dog to stay at friends.  As the rains continue to punish her city, she has heard reports back from a neighbor who stayed at the apartments - DeDe's has sustained some major damage.  Wind, flying objects, torrential rains, flooding are all taking their toll.

In more ways than one.

We have lost everything in a hurricane.  Correction - we lost everything but each other and our four month old baby.  Hurricane Iniki in 92 ate the island of Kauai - our home, gone.  The carpet literally ripped from the foundation.  There is no doubt that had we not evacuated that morning, we would have been in serious trouble.

The emotional toll of a hurricane and its aftermath are hard to describe.  Yes, your mind knows that what you have lost are things.  And things can be replaced.  But what also is lost is your sense of home, self sufficiency, feelings of pride in what you have built.  It is all just as blown away as the things.

I know DeDe.  She is an incredible source of support for her family, friends, her daughter.  She is the rock in her family.  She is their touchstone for strength.  But right now, as she contemplates the realities that will exist when the rains finally subside and the winds have blown their last, she is not feeling strong.  Again, I have been in that place.  There are more questions than answers in her mind, there is fear about HOW she will move forward, and desperation that comes from that fear, lack of sleep, constant worry.

She is a profoundly proud person.  She takes great pride in her self sufficiency.  But there are also times in this life when the hurdle is too high and you need help.  With her permission, I am asking the DGMS blogmunity to do what you do and use the Yes, Virginia/Namaste links on the left side of the page, and donate if you can.  

Dede has always supported our Christmas efforts, even when it strains her personal finances.  And I feel very safe in saying she never envisioned ever having to ask for help.  But she needs help now.  Help that will allow her to take some first tentative steps forward once this storm has passed and she faces the bigger emotional and logistical storms that wait.

And to anyone who wonders, no she did not have renter's insurance.  Neither did we in '92.  And I can tell you that we wished we had bought it, but as one of my favorite sayings goes, "once the jug is broken, you cannot mend it with regret".  Sometimes, when life is paycheck to paycheck you have to make choices.  And while the whole "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" is a fine notion, the reality is that sometimes, life happens, and those bootstraps are actually the outstretched hands of total strangers.

Yes, she will avail herself of whatever aid there may be from the Red Cross, FEMA, etc when it becomes available, but right now, those steps are a million miles away as the devastation continues.

Your donations can help NOW.

For those of you who are among the half million who found their way here earlier this year and may have wondered about those links on the left, this is what we do here.  Yes, I started this blog as a place I could write free of editors, deadlines, and 6 month in advance articles (Merry Christmas when it's Easter, etc), but what it has grown into over the past decade+ is a place of true community, immense spirit, trust, and support.  

Click on the Yes, Virginia or Namaste link - you can read about our efforts.

Even the smallest donations can make a big difference, so please help if you can.  As I always write, in reaching out we are also reaching in.

Linda

The Deaths Of Certitude

Terror has struck again.

Scratch that.  

Someone perpetrating terror has struck again.

Leaving out the someone makes it abstract, like terror is some faceless thing that floats around like a Harry Potter dementor.

Las Ramblas in Barcelona was today's loser in the Where Will They Strike lottery.  Las Ramblas, for those who have not traveled, or explored online out of travel lust, is a heavily foot trafficked area in Barca.  Shops, restaurants, lots of outdoor seating.  Where the cretin drove his van is a wide walking area with car lanes on either side.  He made his own car lane through the people enjoying the bright sun and beautiful atmosphere to be found there.

As of this writing, Catalan officials have said one person has been killed and 32 injured - 10 seriously - but Catalonia’s interior minister Joaquim Forn says the number of dead is much higher. (Update 3pm - 13 confirmed dead, 50 injured)

But why?

Why there? 

My answer, I promise you, is not flip.  Why not?

No place should consider itself impervious, 100% safe anymore.  Not a concert hall or cafe in Paris (11/13/15 - 130 dead, 368 injured), a market in Mandarari (8/15/17 - 27 dead, 83 injured), a peaceful protest in Virginia (8/12/17 - 1 dead, 19 injured), or a heavily touristed location in Barcelona.  In this month alone there have been 106 terror type attacks around the world - clashes, suicide bombers, bombs, car attacks.

106.  And we are barely half way through August.

And all because those behind the carnage are certain.

Certain they have some moral high ground.

Certain their "god" will give them virgins when they die.

Certain their beliefs about others entitle them to exterminate.

Certain their actions will send a message.

Certitude - whether religious or otherwise = death far too often.

Yes, yes, yes, I know people bristle when I dare bring religion and the blame it must bear into things, but it is one of the biggest distributors of certitude.  If Angie's List had a category for it, every church on the globe would be listed as A rated installers.

Think not?  Why?  Because you are not driven to murder by your tenets and beliefs?  That does not acquit you.  Do you bristle inside, even a little, when challenged on what your church believes, demands, teaches?  It's ok to say yes.

I am not saying you and your refusal to buy what the church down the street is selling in favor of continuing to follow yours makes you ISIL or Boko Haram, or a murderous Nazi.  Far from it.  I am simply trying to make the point that your certitude - the same mechanism that makes you merely uncomfortable - is an ISIL adherent's certitude taken to extremes.

Certitude ends conversations before they may be had.  It obliterates any hope for spirited debate.  Sharing of ideas?  Hardly.  If you are unwilling to even open the Levelor blinds of your mind just a smidge for fear of how it feels, treble that feeling and that's how you get a human trash heap driving a van into a crowd of people in Barcelona.

What is mere discomfort or disagreement to you?  That is worthy of a death sentence in their minds.  What makes you scoff at the church down the block?  That must be paid for in blood.  Doesn't matter whose blood, just blood needs to run.  

We are all guilty of it.  Again, not the bloodletting extreme, but the certitude that we have it nailed and someone else is full of shit.  

And that is ok if your certitude is rooted in extreme humanity, like Heather Heyer's.  She understood and acknowledged that her walk through life as a white woman was wildly different and easier than her friends of color or placement on the sexual spectrum.  She was certain we all deserve what our founding documents promise.  

And for her certitude, she died at the hands of another's.  James Fields' certitude that the protesters were less than him, deserving of his wrath, a danger to his white supremacist beliefs.  Was his certitude then stronger than hers?  No.  It just made him willing to kill to prove his point.  He did not drive his car down that street unaware that he was going to seriously injure or kill those he deemed "the other."

Examine your own levels of certitude.  Understanding higher math and being able to teach it or defend it, doesn't count.  Think about mindsets, groups you may belong to, the church you attend, the friends you hang with.  Think about how you respond when challenged?  When a different viewpoint is presented.  And then remind yourself that the only reason you are certain I am wrong is because someone taught you that you are right.  

I have literally been unfriended when a person finds out I do not buy what is being sold in their religion.  I don't care what you want to believe, but what I don't believe seems to be a recurring sticking point.  And I don't bring it up and pontificate.  Hell, I only bring it up when asked.  Yet I must somehow be intuited through their certitude as lesser or unworthy or a  threat.

I promise I'm not.  I just wish people would treat each other decently.  I wish my black friends did not have to have conversations with their children that I will never have to have with mine.  I wish people would see my son as the pretty amazing human being he is, not as some boogeyman.  I wish people would not be accosted with the words "Go back to your own country!" just because they look different.  I wish people would be less certain they have it all figured out.  Seems pretty simple.

People died again today.  I am certain they did not deserve to.  Crushed beneath the weight of a van, driven by a human, just certain he was right.

The Heart Of The Matter - An Open, Honest Letter About Fear, Confusion, Despair, and Hope

When my family made the decision to come out publicly with our transgender son, our goal was singular:  HUMANIZE THE WORD TRANSGENDER

It is a drum I have repeatedly banged for over a year now as both Toby and I share his, and our family's, journey with him.  We wanted to put a face on the word.  And for all the years I have been writing the Don't Get Me Started blog, countless people from around the globe have watched my children grow up.  With Toby they have always seen the amazing artist, talented athlete, big hearted friend, champion of the underdog, and major league smartass.  Depending on what was going on, and what I decided to share, people laughed at his antics, cheered his achievements, marveled at his artistry, and were humbled at someone so young constantly proving more mature than many of the grown-ups to whom his athletic career exposed him.

Toby now, Carson then, was a real person to people who had never met him.  And he was a person they often expressed a wish to someday meet.

Stepping into the light a little over a year ago and introducing Toby to the world had some amazing results.  People who had preconceived and wrongheaded notions about the word transgender experienced that beautiful, awful cognitive dissonance when something you think you know bumps up against actual reality.  Instantly, they realized they "knew" someone who is transgender, and this person was not anything that they have been led to believe, anything hideous factions in society claim them to be.  Not a pervert, pedophile, or monster - Toby's bravery in stepping forward publicly, immediately HUMANIZED the word.  

Through the past year we have emphasized that, sharing the journey, the emotions, hurdles, excitements, fears.  Opening eyes as people realized that emotions are universal.  We all cry.  We all laugh.  We all know fear.  We all have dark days, and all have days so bright we need 24/7 shades.  And we are all different in some way.

Our willingness to share, especially Toby's candor in answering questions, has brought many new people into our lives.  Young people who are transgender.  Their parents who are steadfast in their love for their child and grateful for the breadcrumbs we are leaving for them to follow.  It has also brought many adult transgender people into our lives.  Their stories are, quite simply, amazing, heartbreaking, uplifting, and sometimes soul crushing.  As I have repeated before, every transition is singular, every journey different, and so very many do not have the benefit of the unconditional love and support our son knows.

Which brings me to Cara.

Cara and I found one another through a transgender support page on Facebook.  And we simply clicked.  Comments on threads led to long heart to hearts in the privacy of our message boxes.  I was, and still am, struck by the things I see in her that she cannot yet see in herself.  The huge heart, a truly beautiful human being, and a level of bravery I have yet to see matched in my 51 years.  

You see, Cara is 53.  And Cara has carried her true self inside for decades.  I was so struck by finding out how long she had lived knowing but hiding.  DECADES.  I now know that Toby carried his struggle for almost four years before coming to me, and it pains me to know that he struggled alone - confused, uncertain, angry, desperate - for those years.  I simply cannot begin to fathom Toby pretending, living in the margins, living a half-life for over half his life.

Yesterday I was honored when Cara asked me to read a letter she had spent time writing to friends and family.  A letter to try to help them understand her better, to see the years and how she survived them, sometimes barely.  As I read it through tears, one thing kept sounding in my head:  HUMANIZE.   With her permission I am posting her letter here.  I ask you to invest the time in another human being.  Someone whose life experience may be dramatically different than yours, but whose emotions are as raw and relateable - because every emotion is not that of a cis person or a transgender person - they are the emotions of a HUMAN BEING.

Thank you, Cara, for your candor, your honesty, your bravery - and for wandering into my life.

Linda

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A LETTER… CARA’S STORY

Here is a letter to those I love, friends, frenemies, acquaintances, and well, those who just like to read…

It has been nearly 18 months now. I'm not sure I've ever really articulated much about the reasons behind my transition. Those of you who are NOT transgender cannot really appreciate these reasons now, and they may never make much sense to you. Just give this little (but long) letter a read and I'll try to make them less ambiguous and easier to grasp.

Being transgender/transsexual (same terms for me only) means that my brain is wired differently than my body. Like when glancing in the mirror, and not feeling connected to the reflection I saw there. What I saw in the mirror, felt alien, or like it was actually someone else looking back at me, copying every move I made. In my head I would just start imagining I am someone else, or experiencing something sci-fi, almost anything to get past the experience. So, I would stop thinking and just use my imagination to get through it. I would just start repeating an imaginary mantra in my head like “If only I was her…”, or “What would it feel like to be them?” I’d liked to pick TV stars or imaginary beings like Superman or Wonder Woman when I was little; there were far too few female characters though, go figure, right? Anyway, I have been doing this since I could remember, since I was very young. I’ve even brought it up to others thinking that they did it too. That was a bad idea.

Here’s a quote I found from an interview with Susan Sarandon about a character she played in the movie Cloud Atlas, where she was made up as a man. She said:

“I loved being the man, because when I looked in the mirror I couldn’t even see myself, which was really the first time that’s ever happened, despite all the various things I’ve done to myself on film, I’ve never looked in the mirror and actually thought “Is that Chris Walken’s cousin or something? Who is this person, what’s going on here?” And that was just a startling experience, you know, to not recognize yourself at all.”

This is mostly what I’m trying to say, however the novelty of being someone different wore off when I was in kindergarten I think. This plagued me when I was young, because I didn’t know what these feelings were, and nobody could explain them to me. It never really made any sense to me until many years later. All of this is called GENDER DYSPHORIA. Here are a couple of quotes I found on reddit.com that say something similar:

“Like looking in the mirror and not seeing yourself. You see a body, and it mirrors your movements. You logically know that is you, but that is not you. It can't be. When you close your eyes and see yourself, you look nothing like that. Sound nothing like that person does. But everyone else sees you as you are in the mirror. It feels like you can't escape that person in the mirror. Like the differences between what you look like and what they look like are weighing down on your body. Before HRT, I could actually feel the lack of weight on my chest sometimes. I could see where my curves weren't. It feels like genuine confusion every time I see facial hair, even though I know it's going to be there.” By emanekaf00

“Best way I've heard it described is that it's like being homesick for a place you've never been…”.” By uber33t

It IS difficult to explain to someone that has not had these feelings exactly what it feels like. In my head and my very soul, I FEEL like I should be seen as female in my looks and actions, but I know, or well, it was beaten into me at a young age, that this isn’t true. It took me until high school before I could learn to fake it well enough to fit in somewhat. Mind you, I didn't know why I had such a hard time, so I was just completely screwed up back then. Plus, puberty killed me! I hated the effects! The body hair, the muscles, the erections... But I had to pretend I liked them to fit in.

I was so jealous of my sister, I thought, “Hey, she has it made! Why can’t I be like that?” It just felt there should have been other things, other feelings, I guess, I just couldn’t explain them; I couldn’t even explain them to myself. I didn’t understand why I got bullied and beat-up; I just had to do everything I could not to.

So, I did…

So, I swallowed it up, put on a face most people didn't stare at and became very shallow so I got along with as many folks as I could. A couple of you knew me in high school, I'm betting you couldn't tell I had this struggle, but you had to notice I was bullied a lot, and I never really had any girlfriends. I only had maybe 4 close friends, and I fell for one girl pretty hard. Not much to say about four years is it...

After graduation I was kicked out of my house and lost track of those few friends I had made. I was nearly homeless when I met Barry, who talked me into moving to Florida. Thinking it was a chance to become more normal, or to just start over, we drove the whole way. He left me there two weeks later at 18 years old, knowing only a few people, and went back to California thinking God told him to do it. I made the best of it for nearly 3 years. There were many different jobs, but I always seemed to just be holding on by a thread. Like there was something out there for me, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I ended up working at a bar as a bouncer. It was easy as my size alone intimidated most drunks and I rarely had to show any skill (I had none to show!). Then, after nearly being killed in a bar fight, I was out of work. Unable to pay my rent, I found myself homeless for a couple days. Sleeping in a park in Ft. Lauderdale while trying to heal from the bar fight. Then one night while wandering the streets, I met a trans-woman sex worker. She seemed nice so I paid her $40 for the night. We spent that night in a Denny’s talking; nothing else happened (No, no sex, you pervs!)! Anyway, our talk opened my eyes wide. Made me confront myself, and I finally realized why I saw someone in the mirror that really wasn’t me. It dawned on me for the first time why in 6th grade I was teased, bullied and beaten for “walking like a girl”, or “acting like a girl”. It was a REAL eyeopener!

Yet, I was basically alone there with only one or two friends, and was, at the time, without a job and nursing a new injury that made me look like I had on a permanent smile. Life really hadn’t gotten any better than when I first left California, and now it seemed worse. Three years of spinning my wheels, of getting nowhere, and now I figured I was completely screwed.

I knew then I was transgender, I was 21, and I joined the Army the very next day. I tried for the next 31 years to cure myself. I knew immediately that I would never look feminine enough to fit into society, and up until this point, I had made it my life’s mission to fit in. Mostly to keep from being beaten up a lot, but also because I thought that other people wouldn’t want me around. At the time I was a member of a VERY conservative church group who I knew would alienate me right away, and I had only one other friend in all of Florida at the time. I was already homeless, I had 168 stiches in my face from breaking up the bar fight, so I couldn’t really work then. I didn’t see another way… I’ll leave out the years of details because they are pretty typical, and there aren’t any specific events that changed my goal. To sum it up: I tried to be the man I was born; to fit in and be accepted. And it worked! (On the outside) I was accepted by everyone, as a man at least, and nobody treated me differently, or bullied me for being too feminine anymore. I thought I was cured, that I wasn’t transgender anymore. I developed a trade skill in electronics, and I got married and had children. Yet I always had a cloud hanging over my happiness, I got angry easily, and was always so shallow. Being transgender was something I could make fun of in others, or wonder at privately, but I never, ever brought it up about myself. The cure seemed to have worked; I wasn’t transgender anymore, and life was going okay for the most part.

Except there was a couple side effects I couldn't control. One, I handled okay. When I would see any woman wander by, in a magazine, on the television, etc., my eyes would be glued to her for a few seconds longer than appropriate. Apparently, this seems to be normal male behavior, thankfully.

Only thing was that I didn’t want to be ‘with’ them like a ‘normal man’, instead, I wanted to ‘be’ them.

The parts of their bodies that I felt should be part of mine, not that they didn’t deserve them, no, just the things I felt should be part of my body, too. Envy in its purest state, I guess. I knew deep down that my body wasn’t right, and though I tried, I never could come to terms with it. The second one wasn’t handled quite as well; in fact it was pretty much out of control. A couple times a year, I would suffer these severe depressions and they lasted a month or two or even four. During them I couldn't function well. I would eat a lot, smoke a lot, and sit at a computer for hours and play games or chat on a BBS or on AOL (just glad I didn’t like alcohol much). There was little ambition to do anything but light another cigarette, eat and sit. I often thought about ending it, but I was mostly a coward and couldn't go through with it. That got worse as the years passed, though. High stress would bring it on more often. I was diagnosed with clinical depression and the doctors (three different ones) tried 4 different drugs on me that only made me more depressed. This was adding up to be the end of me...

Most people never even knew I had these problems; I guess I hid them well.

Early on I found the transsexual chat rooms in AOL (circa 1995) and tried chatting in there. It started as merely a curiosity; maybe to see what could have been or something. When I explained to someone about my depression she told me to try estrogen. I figured, why not, what is there to lose, right? So, I went to Mexico and bought some Premarin® from a Pharmacia in TJ. I lied at the border and said I had been partying there at the beach all day. She had told me the dose (one pill every 8 hrs.) and the next depression, I tried it. VOILA! The depression was gone in a couple days. A miracle drug! The chat rooms literally saved me a lot of suffering, yet they most likely prolonged my eventual transition (double-edged sword??).

The estrogen pills would run out once in a while, and I was scared to get caught buying them, so I would put off buying more for years at a time. My secret would be known by all! Maybe I would be caught with them crossing the border and have to explain (even though the amount I bought was legal to bring back), or someone would find them in my house. I finally started ordering them online. This was much less risky, but I had to buy larger amounts, so I had to hide the money from my wife (more guilt).Well some of my episodes were getting pretty bad and were starting to last longer. The computer games were not enough either, I started watching more and more free computer porn (I actually lost a job over that). I was thinking of suicide more and more, and I couldn't control it; I just felt that those around me would be far better off if I was gone. In Oct 2016, I had knee surgery to fix a torn meniscus.

Not a big deal, but the recovery triggered the worst ever episode of depression I can remember. I found myself with a gun, locked and loaded, with safety off, in my mouth. I figured it would be so easy, like, who fucking cares about the mess, I won't have to clean it up. Then, again, I am a coward at heart, and I chickened out. I thought that there had to be another answer, another cure. I didn’t know what to do. The estrogen pills were out again, so I decided to buy injectable estrogen (Estradiol Valerate 20mg/ml in oil), and just keep taking it for the rest of my life. I couldn't take the chance of losing control again. If estrogen was a miracle drug, then I was just going to have to keep taking it.

This of course would mean that there would be some changes happening to hide from people, yet the other option was worse. I knew there was a link between me being transgender and the estrogen curing my depression. So, I found a gender therapist and promised myself I would tell someone else about this for the first time in my life. I found one online and made an appointment for early Jan 2016. I begged her for a cure that would NOT include me becoming a woman. I cried about losing my family, my friends, my job, and becoming the outcast I was so scared of being. She smiled, and was very nice, but told me there is no cure like that. My problem is similar to a birth defect in that my body and brain developed slightly differently in the womb. Apparently, there is no other cure save transition, lobotomy, or suicide. Well, I can't give myself a lobotomy, and I was too big a coward to suicide, so my only choice was to become that outcast. Way back when I was only 21, I avoided transition because I would always be seen as a “guy in a dress”, a freak if you will, so few trans-women actually become passable, and I knew I never would. Coming to terms with the fact that I will not ever be seen by a stranger as a woman, is probably the hardest thing for me to deal with. There is some regret about waiting this long as well. The decision to actually do this was not easy, it is opposite to everything my life has stood for; there is no way I could ever fit in now. You see, my choices kind of sucked though. It was either do my best to be this long buried female person who has never been allowed out, or die...

But…

I didn't choose this!

I don't want this!

I don't know how to do this!

I know I will never REALLY be her!

I don’t want to hurt anybody!

And I'm so, so scared that this isn’t going to work!

Well, the good news is: the depressions are gone! But there is a new pain, though not an  all-encompassing one like with depression. This one is just gut-wrenching sadness that I feel when I see in people's eyes that I am a freak, or I stand out too much. Or when I feel the stares from those around me, or when everyone still refers to me as a guy even though I have "C" cup breasts, and I'm wearing a dress. The looks I get when I’m just using a restroom, or looking at clothes in Wal-Mart, or shopping for food, or, well, anywhere people don’t already know me. I've tried so hard all my life  to fit in, to be accepted, and now I have to do the exact opposite to stay alive. This is killer hard to do, so, please bear with me. It’s not something I expect anyone to understand, hell, I hardly understand it myself. I’m just glad that I feel better inside. I’m able to keep going, not stop and sit, and play on the computer with days going by while on auto-pilot. I have better control, even though I am still sad, this sadness isn’t automatic, it always has a source that I can identify. Therefore, it’s NOT depression, just sadness, normal sadness.

There is such a long way for me to go still. I know that I will never get past all the stares, or the bigots. I know that I will forever have a new label (tranny, she-male, freak, sinner, faggot, etc…) hurled at me from every angle. I think I can deal with this, though. It’s nice to be able to actually let myself feel. I don’t need to be so shallow anymore. So, I’m trying to be the person inside, she is not perfect, she is VERY inexperienced, and she has a lot to learn, but well, what did you expect? I will give it my best and as morbid as it sounds, I still can change my mind later, the other options are still there though distasteful. There really is nothing for me to lose, and a whole shitload to be gained! I want to be the best person I can be; I want to give ‘me’ a chance for the first time in my life. Even though the road is long, full of bumps, twists and forks, I am hoping it will pay off in the end.

While writing this letter, I have found that I have a lot to learn. For all of the years I spent acting like I thought I had to in order to fit in with the crowd. Those years of being shallow and afraid to let anyone in; the years of only having maybe one or two close friends at a time. I never learned how to treat real friends, and I feel I am doing a poor job of that now. Since freeing up my emotions from being locked away, and from always living behind a brick wall, I have made so many new friends. All my life I was very friendly, but nearly all of my friends were just glorified acquaintances that I would joke around with, or just hang out and talk about nothing. There were no deep meaningful friendships. I never learned how to be a good friend to anyone else. Now that I have made all of these new friends, I am finding it hard to cope, I am quite overwhelmed, and I just don’t know what to do. Learning how to treat my new friends is not easy, it’s truly hard to teach old cats new tricks. Hopefully, my new friends will understand; I am not sure how to tell them, or if I even should. If you read this and consider yourself my friend, please be nice, please help me learn this before I find myself friendless again? This is one more thing I need to learn that they don’t teach you in college, or the Army, or, well, it’s something that is not taught anywhere at my age.

So, I thought I would just explain things a bit more for those that don’t mind reading short stories.

Hopefully, the boredom didn’t cause any lasting effects. This is my story in a nutshell; there’s sure to be some things left out, but these are the ones that lead me to this place in life.

Apologies are offered to some who think that this whole ‘transgender’ thing is not real; I promise that I don’t like it either, and it won’t hurt you in the least. And for those of you that can understand this, THANK YOU! for your support, your love, and if you need me to explain anything, please just ask. Most trans-women in the world don’t know the love and support I have received, and I don’t know why I am so lucky, but it has made my life possible. There would be no ME without it.

There are no more secrets, and I would love the opportunity to educate anyone about the transgender experience and advocate for societal acceptance whenever I can. Even though I may not say this to you, I value your friendship, love and support more than I can express in words! More of a story than an explanation, but it took me a few weeks to write, and I put a lot of effort into making this coherent, true, and with minimal exaggerations or embellishments at the same time.

Thanx for reading,

Love

Cara

It is a drum I have repeatedly banged for over a year now as both Toby and I share his, and our family's, journey with him.  We wanted to put a face on the word.  And for all the years I have been writing the Don't Get Me Started blog, countless people from around the globe have watched my children grow up.  With Toby they have always seen the amazing artist, talented athlete, big hearted friend, champion of the underdog, and major league smartass.  Depending on what was going on, and what I decided to share, people laughed at his antics, cheered his achievements, marveled at his artistry, and were humbled at someone so young constantly proving more mature than many of the grown-ups to whom his athletic career exposed him.

Toby now, Carson then, was a real person to people who had never met him.  And he was a person they often expressed a wish to someday meet.

Stepping into the light a little over a year ago and introducing Toby to the world had some amazing results.  People who had preconceived and wrongheaded notions about the word transgender experienced that beautiful, awful cognitive dissonance when something you think you know bumps up against actual reality.  Instantly, they realized they "knew" someone who is transgender, and this person was not anything that they have been led to believe, anything hideous factions in society claim them to be.  Not a pervert, pedophile, or monster - Toby's bravery in stepping forward publicly, immediately HUMANIZED the word.  

Through the past year we have emphasized that, sharing the journey, the emotions, hurdles, excitements, fears.  Opening eyes as people realized that emotions are universal.  We all cry.  We all laugh.  We all know fear.  We all have dark days, and all have days so bright we need 24/7 shades.  And we are all different in some way.

Our willingness to share, especially Toby's candor in answering questions, has brought many new people into our lives.  Young people who are transgender.  Their parents who are steadfast in their love for their child and grateful for the breadcrumbs we are leaving for them to follow.  It has also brought many adult transgender people into our lives.  Their stories are, quite simply, amazing, heartbreaking, uplifting, and sometimes soul crushing.  As I have repeated before, every transition is singular, every journey different, and so very many do not have the benefit of the unconditional love and support our son knows.

Which brings me to Cara.

Cara and I found one another through a transgender support page on Facebook.  And we simply clicked.  Comments on threads led to long heart to hearts in the privacy of our message boxes.  I was, and still am, struck by the things I see in her that she cannot yet see in herself.  The huge heart, a truly beautiful human being, and a level of bravery I have yet to see matched in my 51 years.  

You see, Cara is 53.  And Cara has carried her true self inside for decades.  I was so struck by finding out how long she had lived knowing but hiding.  DECADES.  I now know that Toby carried his struggle for almost four years before coming to me, and it pains me to know that he struggled alone - confused, uncertain, angry, desperate - for those years.  I simply cannot begin to fathom Toby pretending, living in the margins, living a half-life for over half his life.

Yesterday I was honored when Cara asked me to read a letter she had spent time writing to friends and family.  A letter to try to help them understand her better, to see the years and how she survived them, sometimes barely.  As I read it through tears, one thing kept sounding in my head:  HUMANIZE.   With her permission I am posting her letter here.  I ask you to invest the time in another human being.  Someone whose life experience may be dramatically different than yours, but whose emotions are as raw and relateable - because every emotion is not that of a cis person or a transgender person - they are the emotions of a HUMAN BEING.

Thank you, Cara, for your candor, your honesty, your bravery - and for wandering into my life.

Linda

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A LETTER… CARA’S STORY

Here is a letter to those I love, friends, frenemies, acquaintances, and well, those who just like to read…

It has been nearly 18 months now. I'm not sure I've ever really articulated much about the reasons behind my transition. Those of you who are NOT transgender cannot really appreciate these reasons now, and they may never make much sense to you. Just give this little (but long) letter a read and I'll try to make them less ambiguous and easier to grasp.

Being transgender/transsexual (same terms for me only) means that my brain is wired differently than my body. Like when glancing in the mirror, and not feeling connected to the reflection I saw there. What I saw in the mirror, felt alien, or like it was actually someone else looking back at me, copying every move I made. In my head I would just start imagining I am someone else, or experiencing something sci-fi, almost anything to get past the experience. So, I would stop thinking and just use my imagination to get through it. I would just start repeating an imaginary mantra in my head like “If only I was her…”, or “What would it feel like to be them?” I’d liked to pick TV stars or imaginary beings like Superman or Wonder Woman when I was little; there were far too few female characters though, go figure, right? Anyway, I have been doing this since I could remember, since I was very young. I’ve even brought it up to others thinking that they did it too. That was a bad idea.

Here’s a quote I found from an interview with Susan Sarandon about a character she played in the movie Cloud Atlas, where she was made up as a man. She said:

“I loved being the man, because when I looked in the mirror I couldn’t even see myself, which was really the first time that’s ever happened, despite all the various things I’ve done to myself on film, I’ve never looked in the mirror and actually thought “Is that Chris Walken’s cousin or something? Who is this person, what’s going on here?” And that was just a startling experience, you know, to not recognize yourself at all.”

This is mostly what I’m trying to say, however the novelty of being someone different wore off when I was in kindergarten I think. This plagued me when I was young, because I didn’t know what these feelings were, and nobody could explain them to me. It never really made any sense to me until many years later. All of this is called GENDER DYSPHORIA. Here are a couple of quotes I found on reddit.com that say something similar:

“Like looking in the mirror and not seeing yourself. You see a body, and it mirrors your movements. You logically know that is you, but that is not you. It can't be. When you close your eyes and see yourself, you look nothing like that. Sound nothing like that person does. But everyone else sees you as you are in the mirror. It feels like you can't escape that person in the mirror. Like the differences between what you look like and what they look like are weighing down on your body. Before HRT, I could actually feel the lack of weight on my chest sometimes. I could see where my curves weren't. It feels like genuine confusion every time I see facial hair, even though I know it's going to be there.” By emanekaf00

“Best way I've heard it described is that it's like being homesick for a place you've never been…”.” By uber33t

It IS difficult to explain to someone that has not had these feelings exactly what it feels like. In my head and my very soul, I FEEL like I should be seen as female in my looks and actions, but I know, or well, it was beaten into me at a young age, that this isn’t true. It took me until high school before I could learn to fake it well enough to fit in somewhat. Mind you, I didn't know why I had such a hard time, so I was just completely screwed up back then. Plus, puberty killed me! I hated the effects! The body hair, the muscles, the erections... But I had to pretend I liked them to fit in.

I was so jealous of my sister, I thought, “Hey, she has it made! Why can’t I be like that?” It just felt there should have been other things, other feelings, I guess, I just couldn’t explain them; I couldn’t even explain them to myself. I didn’t understand why I got bullied and beat-up; I just had to do everything I could not to.

So, I did…

So, I swallowed it up, put on a face most people didn't stare at and became very shallow so I got along with as many folks as I could. A couple of you knew me in high school, I'm betting you couldn't tell I had this struggle, but you had to notice I was bullied a lot, and I never really had any girlfriends. I only had maybe 4 close friends, and I fell for one girl pretty hard. Not much to say about four years is it...

After graduation I was kicked out of my house and lost track of those few friends I had made. I was nearly homeless when I met Barry, who talked me into moving to Florida. Thinking it was a chance to become more normal, or to just start over, we drove the whole way. He left me there two weeks later at 18 years old, knowing only a few people, and went back to California thinking God told him to do it. I made the best of it for nearly 3 years. There were many different jobs, but I always seemed to just be holding on by a thread. Like there was something out there for me, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I ended up working at a bar as a bouncer. It was easy as my size alone intimidated most drunks and I rarely had to show any skill (I had none to show!). Then, after nearly being killed in a bar fight, I was out of work. Unable to pay my rent, I found myself homeless for a couple days. Sleeping in a park in Ft. Lauderdale while trying to heal from the bar fight. Then one night while wandering the streets, I met a trans-woman sex worker. She seemed nice so I paid her $40 for the night. We spent that night in a Denny’s talking; nothing else happened (No, no sex, you pervs!)! Anyway, our talk opened my eyes wide. Made me confront myself, and I finally realized why I saw someone in the mirror that really wasn’t me. It dawned on me for the first time why in 6th grade I was teased, bullied and beaten for “walking like a girl”, or “acting like a girl”. It was a REAL eyeopener!

Yet, I was basically alone there with only one or two friends, and was, at the time, without a job and nursing a new injury that made me look like I had on a permanent smile. Life really hadn’t gotten any better than when I first left California, and now it seemed worse. Three years of spinning my wheels, of getting nowhere, and now I figured I was completely screwed.

I knew then I was transgender, I was 21, and I joined the Army the very next day. I tried for the next 31 years to cure myself. I knew immediately that I would never look feminine enough to fit into society, and up until this point, I had made it my life’s mission to fit in. Mostly to keep from being beaten up a lot, but also because I thought that other people wouldn’t want me around. At the time I was a member of a VERY conservative church group who I knew would alienate me right away, and I had only one other friend in all of Florida at the time. I was already homeless, I had 168 stiches in my face from breaking up the bar fight, so I couldn’t really work then. I didn’t see another way… I’ll leave out the years of details because they are pretty typical, and there aren’t any specific events that changed my goal. To sum it up: I tried to be the man I was born; to fit in and be accepted. And it worked! (On the outside) I was accepted by everyone, as a man at least, and nobody treated me differently, or bullied me for being too feminine anymore. I thought I was cured, that I wasn’t transgender anymore. I developed a trade skill in electronics, and I got married and had children. Yet I always had a cloud hanging over my happiness, I got angry easily, and was always so shallow. Being transgender was something I could make fun of in others, or wonder at privately, but I never, ever brought it up about myself. The cure seemed to have worked; I wasn’t transgender anymore, and life was going okay for the most part.

Except there was a couple side effects I couldn't control. One, I handled okay. When I would see any woman wander by, in a magazine, on the television, etc., my eyes would be glued to her for a few seconds longer than appropriate. Apparently, this seems to be normal male behavior, thankfully.

Only thing was that I didn’t want to be ‘with’ them like a ‘normal man’, instead, I wanted to ‘be’ them.

The parts of their bodies that I felt should be part of mine, not that they didn’t deserve them, no, just the things I felt should be part of my body, too. Envy in its purest state, I guess. I knew deep down that my body wasn’t right, and though I tried, I never could come to terms with it. The second one wasn’t handled quite as well; in fact it was pretty much out of control. A couple times a year, I would suffer these severe depressions and they lasted a month or two or even four. During them I couldn't function well. I would eat a lot, smoke a lot, and sit at a computer for hours and play games or chat on a BBS or on AOL (just glad I didn’t like alcohol much). There was little ambition to do anything but light another cigarette, eat and sit. I often thought about ending it, but I was mostly a coward and couldn't go through with it. That got worse as the years passed, though. High stress would bring it on more often. I was diagnosed with clinical depression and the doctors (three different ones) tried 4 different drugs on me that only made me more depressed. This was adding up to be the end of me...

Most people never even knew I had these problems; I guess I hid them well.

Early on I found the transsexual chat rooms in AOL (circa 1995) and tried chatting in there. It started as merely a curiosity; maybe to see what could have been or something. When I explained to someone about my depression she told me to try estrogen. I figured, why not, what is there to lose, right? So, I went to Mexico and bought some Premarin® from a Pharmacia in TJ. I lied at the border and said I had been partying there at the beach all day. She had told me the dose (one pill every 8 hrs.) and the next depression, I tried it. VOILA! The depression was gone in a couple days. A miracle drug! The chat rooms literally saved me a lot of suffering, yet they most likely prolonged my eventual transition (double-edged sword??).

The estrogen pills would run out once in a while, and I was scared to get caught buying them, so I would put off buying more for years at a time. My secret would be known by all! Maybe I would be caught with them crossing the border and have to explain (even though the amount I bought was legal to bring back), or someone would find them in my house. I finally started ordering them online. This was much less risky, but I had to buy larger amounts, so I had to hide the money from my wife (more guilt).Well some of my episodes were getting pretty bad and were starting to last longer. The computer games were not enough either, I started watching more and more free computer porn (I actually lost a job over that). I was thinking of suicide more and more, and I couldn't control it; I just felt that those around me would be far better off if I was gone. In Oct 2016, I had knee surgery to fix a torn meniscus.

Not a big deal, but the recovery triggered the worst ever episode of depression I can remember. I found myself with a gun, locked and loaded, with safety off, in my mouth. I figured it would be so easy, like, who fucking cares about the mess, I won't have to clean it up. Then, again, I am a coward at heart, and I chickened out. I thought that there had to be another answer, another cure. I didn’t know what to do. The estrogen pills were out again, so I decided to buy injectable estrogen (Estradiol Valerate 20mg/ml in oil), and just keep taking it for the rest of my life. I couldn't take the chance of losing control again. If estrogen was a miracle drug, then I was just going to have to keep taking it.

This of course would mean that there would be some changes happening to hide from people, yet the other option was worse. I knew there was a link between me being transgender and the estrogen curing my depression. So, I found a gender therapist and promised myself I would tell someone else about this for the first time in my life. I found one online and made an appointment for early Jan 2016. I begged her for a cure that would NOT include me becoming a woman. I cried about losing my family, my friends, my job, and becoming the outcast I was so scared of being. She smiled, and was very nice, but told me there is no cure like that. My problem is similar to a birth defect in that my body and brain developed slightly differently in the womb. Apparently, there is no other cure save transition, lobotomy, or suicide. Well, I can't give myself a lobotomy, and I was too big a coward to suicide, so my only choice was to become that outcast. Way back when I was only 21, I avoided transition because I would always be seen as a “guy in a dress”, a freak if you will, so few trans-women actually become passable, and I knew I never would. Coming to terms with the fact that I will not ever be seen by a stranger as a woman, is probably the hardest thing for me to deal with. There is some regret about waiting this long as well. The decision to actually do this was not easy, it is opposite to everything my life has stood for; there is no way I could ever fit in now. You see, my choices kind of sucked though. It was either do my best to be this long buried female person who has never been allowed out, or die...

But…

I didn't choose this!

I don't want this!

I don't know how to do this!

I know I will never REALLY be her!

I don’t want to hurt anybody!

And I'm so, so scared that this isn’t going to work!

Well, the good news is: the depressions are gone! But there is a new pain, though not an  all-encompassing one like with depression. This one is just gut-wrenching sadness that I feel when I see in people's eyes that I am a freak, or I stand out too much. Or when I feel the stares from those around me, or when everyone still refers to me as a guy even though I have "C" cup breasts, and I'm wearing a dress. The looks I get when I’m just using a restroom, or looking at clothes in Wal-Mart, or shopping for food, or, well, anywhere people don’t already know me. I've tried so hard all my life  to fit in, to be accepted, and now I have to do the exact opposite to stay alive. This is killer hard to do, so, please bear with me. It’s not something I expect anyone to understand, hell, I hardly understand it myself. I’m just glad that I feel better inside. I’m able to keep going, not stop and sit, and play on the computer with days going by while on auto-pilot. I have better control, even though I am still sad, this sadness isn’t automatic, it always has a source that I can identify. Therefore, it’s NOT depression, just sadness, normal sadness.

There is such a long way for me to go still. I know that I will never get past all the stares, or the bigots. I know that I will forever have a new label (tranny, she-male, freak, sinner, faggot, etc…) hurled at me from every angle. I think I can deal with this, though. It’s nice to be able to actually let myself feel. I don’t need to be so shallow anymore. So, I’m trying to be the person inside, she is not perfect, she is VERY inexperienced, and she has a lot to learn, but well, what did you expect? I will give it my best and as morbid as it sounds, I still can change my mind later, the other options are still there though distasteful. There really is nothing for me to lose, and a whole shitload to be gained! I want to be the best person I can be; I want to give ‘me’ a chance for the first time in my life. Even though the road is long, full of bumps, twists and forks, I am hoping it will pay off in the end.

While writing this letter, I have found that I have a lot to learn. For all of the years I spent acting like I thought I had to in order to fit in with the crowd. Those years of being shallow and afraid to let anyone in; the years of only having maybe one or two close friends at a time. I never learned how to treat real friends, and I feel I am doing a poor job of that now. Since freeing up my emotions from being locked away, and from always living behind a brick wall, I have made so many new friends. All my life I was very friendly, but nearly all of my friends were just glorified acquaintances that I would joke around with, or just hang out and talk about nothing. There were no deep meaningful friendships. I never learned how to be a good friend to anyone else. Now that I have made all of these new friends, I am finding it hard to cope, I am quite overwhelmed, and I just don’t know what to do. Learning how to treat my new friends is not easy, it’s truly hard to teach old cats new tricks. Hopefully, my new friends will understand; I am not sure how to tell them, or if I even should. If you read this and consider yourself my friend, please be nice, please help me learn this before I find myself friendless again? This is one more thing I need to learn that they don’t teach you in college, or the Army, or, well, it’s something that is not taught anywhere at my age.

So, I thought I would just explain things a bit more for those that don’t mind reading short stories.

Hopefully, the boredom didn’t cause any lasting effects. This is my story in a nutshell; there’s sure to be some things left out, but these are the ones that lead me to this place in life.

Apologies are offered to some who think that this whole ‘transgender’ thing is not real; I promise that I don’t like it either, and it won’t hurt you in the least. And for those of you that can understand this, THANK YOU! for your support, your love, and if you need me to explain anything, please just ask. Most trans-women in the world don’t know the love and support I have received, and I don’t know why I am so lucky, but it has made my life possible. There would be no ME without it.

There are no more secrets, and I would love the opportunity to educate anyone about the transgender experience and advocate for societal acceptance whenever I can. Even though I may not say this to you, I value your friendship, love and support more than I can express in words! More of a story than an explanation, but it took me a few weeks to write, and I put a lot of effort into making this coherent, true, and with minimal exaggerations or embellishments at the same time.

Thanx for reading,

Love

Cara

This Is Not OUR President

The shock is palpable.  And we truly did not think we could be further shocked.

The fear reaches to the core.  And we did not think we could be more afraid.

The shame is face warming.  And our faces were already aflame.

The sick feeling is unending.  And we were already covered in emotional vomit.

The anger is at the boiling point.  And we thought the pot was already running over.

If you had any lingering doubt, hell, any lingering hope, about the craven bastard installed into our nation's highest office - his off the cuff presser today incinerated it all, like Drogon hearing the word Dracarys.

Our country is burning down.

Donald Trump stood at a podium in Trump Tower - his building into which he snuck last night for his first visit since being forced to reside in the "dump" (his word) that is The White House - and made it clear for all 300 million+ in this country, and billions of people around the world - he is a racist, a Nazi, a white supremacist, and unwilling to be the President of ALL the citizens here.

His carefully chosen words Saturday after the terrorist car attack by James Fields, a white nationalist, made it clear then - he would not call out the ones responsible for bringing literal white hot hate into Charlottesville and for fomenting an atmosphere that emboldened that sack of shit to run his car into and over so many people.  Sympathy for the dead woman, for the injured lying in critical condition?  "Best regards" via Twitter.

"Best regards"?!?!

The overwhelming fallout of his cowardly acknowledgement that anything even took place was immediate, and from, as he loves to say, "both sides."  It went far beyond being publicly called out by Democratic leaders, and decent people across the country.  Those in his own party Tweeted, went to microphones making it clear that his words were not enough, that he needed to condemn the Nazis and white supremacists, clearly state that there is no safe harbor for them in these United States.

Instead there was silence.  Oh, of course he was Tweeting.  Bragging about the economy - WHICH IS NOT HIS UNTIL OCTOBER.  Slamming a CEO who resigned from his advisory committee.  And the we-are-white-and-therefore-just-better-than-you crowd were posting their approval everywhere.  David Duke Tweeted his gratitude and took to Periscope to reinforce that his base of inadequacies were proud of Pepe The Trump.  That they heard his message loud and clear.  He was not going to call them out, because he is one of them.  

And then Monday came. Looking like a child being forced to return a stolen candy bar to 7-11, he stood at a podium and haltingly read words scripted for him from a teleprompter.  He choked out the words "KKK, neo-Nazis, white supremacists, and other hate groups."  And then as he was being asked questions by CNN's Jim Acosta about said groups and what happened Saturday, the Tangerine Toddler pointed his finger and called him "Fake news" and scurried away like the coward he is.

Imagine his victimy shock when people everywhere, media everywhere, began saying in one voice, "Too little, too late."  Cue middle school meltdown:

It is truly impressive, in a That's-A-Really-Huge-Meatloaf-You-Made-Out-Of-Shit,-Honey way - in that we ended last week thinking he could not get worse - blustering, bloviating, daring us into a nuclear war - to find that he had not hit bottom.  In fact, he was determined to grab a bigger shovel and keep digging.  Seriously, any fears about nuclear fallout dissipated in the winds of Typhoon Trump the past four days.  North Korea, who?

Today, he stood again at a podium in his gaudy, gold painted tribute to himself, and decided that his original statements about Virginia were good enough.  And then he doubled down on the whole "both sides" bullshit - as if white supremacists and their goal of extermination of "the other" is the same as protesters standing up for equality, freedom, each other.

The false equivalency was astounding.  And the "message" was again heard by the worst elements in our society.  I am one of you. I've got your back.  Business as usual.  Nice khaki pants, by the way.  (Oh, and for the uneducated, that hand signal he constantly makes?  It is the symbol for White Power.  I watched and rewatched this press conference and lost count of how many times he made it.)  David Duke immediately praised him, thanked him, gave a shout out to the whole Nazi base.

And you could feel the shiver of revulsion, fear, shock, and incredulity that ran through decent society.

This ignorant, foul, self serving creature stood there and telegraphed tacit approval to hurt other people.

WE are the other people.  Those targets I have written about for so long?  First Mexicans, then Muslims, then LGBTQIA, then women...  I warned that it was only a matter of time until more targets appeared.  Today it is not just Jewish people, adherents of Islam, black people, brown people, women, your gay daughter, my trans son - it is YOU, too.  If you are left leaning, liberal, open minded, believe in equality, the Constitution and what it offers - YOU now have your target on your back.

That includes you Trump voters who claim to be loving.  Open. Christian. Allies. You, who stood shoulder to shoulder with this garbage during the campaign.  I told you then, you cannot marinate in a cesspool for 15 months and declare yourselves clean.  Well, now you cannot declare yourself safe either.  We begged you to open your eyes then.  To see how dangerous he would be for so many segments of society.  And you scoffed.  You poo poohed.  YOU LAUGHED.

A fellow writer friend used the word "lacerating" on Saturday to describe the feeling we were all experiencing.  It struck me as the most accurate one I had seen.  The feeling is a deep, bloody cut to the soul of this country.  To the millions of truly decent people who desperately want our founding documents to be followed, applied to all.

We have been gutted.

That does not mean we are done.  We're not.  Not even close.  This wound to the psyche of the majority in this land will fester, will hurt, but what comes of it in the end will be even more resolute, exponentially stronger, and more forged - like emotional steel - to end this cowardly, heinous bullshit once and for all.  This scar will be a badge of honor to all who stand up today and finally start the healing by saying loudly:

THIS IS NOT OUR PRESIDENT.  

Donald Trump, You Are What You Tweet

Watch this video.  It is stomach churning, but do not look away.  You owe it to the brave anti-facist protesters out in Charlottesville today.

Video of car hitting anti-racist protestors. Let there be no confusion: this was deliberate terrorism. My prayers with victims. Stay home. pic.twitter.com/MUOZs71Pf4

— Brennan Gilmore (@brennanmgilmore) August 12, 2017

Make no mistake, Donald Trump, one of YOUR SUPPORTERS DID THIS.  All that hate you carefully, lovingly fomented during your campaign; all the violence you refuse to denounce; all your time spent targeting "the other" - here is your result.

White supremacists, white nationalists, KKK, Nazis, alt-right - whatever the fuck they want to call themselves have been empowered BY YOU, emboldened BY YOU, and feel truly sanctioned to act BY YOU.

Donald Trump, I ask you - WAS IT WORTH THIS?

Rhetorical question - don't bother answering - of course you think it was worth it.  You sit in the Oval Office.  Well, when you are not away golfing - this morning marked the 52nd round, I believe.  You won, and we all know that winning is all you have ever cared about.  

The people who were mowed down this afternoon ARE THE FUCKING GOOD GUYS.  Do they support you?  Absolutely not.  But what they do support is their Constitution, their fellow citizens, regardless of color or creed.  They fight for equality because IT IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO.

The Unite The Right cretins?  They are NOT the good guys.  David Duke sent you a warning on Twitter less than three hours ago that you'd better remember "that it was white Americans who put you in the presidency".  DAVID DUKE.  Former Grand Wizard of the KKK.  These are his words, TODAY, in Charlottesville:

“We are determined to take our country back. We are going to fulfill the promises of Donald Trump. That’s what we believed in, that’s why we voted for Donald Trump. Because he said he’s going to take our country back. That’s what we gotta do.”

Take our country back?  BackWARD?  In less than eight months you have brought the world to the edge of nuclear war, incited unspeakable violence, made it abundantly clear that you are NOT everyone's President, and that all you truly care about is getting your ego fluffed like a limp dick on a porn shoot.

YOU OWN THIS.

And every inhuman, shitstained piece of garbage who voted for you; every belligerent asshole who wrote in Bernie or Harambe; every person who stayed away from the voting booths; every mushbrained Christian conservative clutching their Bibles and believing you are sent from on High as an - I am quoting - "Angel of chaos"? - YOU ALL OWN THIS, TOO.  He is not some angel from the heavens above, he is, quite simply, CHAOS.

And this is what you humanity famined dullards reap from the months spent sowing seeds of hate, arrogance, aggression, and clinging to your fucking ignorance like a deck chair flung off the Titanic.

Racism has never died.  White nationalists have always been there, silently seething in their own inadequacies.  Islamophobes will never care to educate themselves about the religion they blanket condemn.  Homophobes, phobes of all areas of the spectrum have stewed in their own mental juices for years as LGBTQIA have simply wanted to be safe, to live, to enjoy all the Constitution purports to offer.  But you, Donald, you became their standard bearer, the sigil on your flag?  A flaming, flayed asshole.  Ramsey Bolton would approve.

This country is not being made great again.  It is being turned into a cesspool, a haunted house of monsters, vermin, beasts who are thirsty to draw blood BECAUSE YOU MADE THEM BELIEVE IT IS COOL WITH YOU, DONALD.  With every middle school bully Tweet calling those who disagree with you "losers" - you have incited this mob.  And it was only a matter of time before more blood was drawn in your name.

This country, from its first breaths, was stolen from others, and drenched in blood.  People were cast out, run over, targeted, killed.  It matters not that the founding fathers sought to establish something more honorable, more organized, something worth defending.  Many of those "fathers" owned people who they viewed as 3/5s a human.  The truth was still the truth.  We wanted it so we took it, fuck how many had to die, how much blood had to run.  

That we were finally making strides towards forcing this country to live up to the promise of the words set down in 1776?  THAT WAS MAKING AMERICA GREAT.  

This?  What is happening now at your hands is just more of the same bloodletting that used to get people what they wanted.  Your words Tweeted earlier?  It escaped no one's notice that you did not specify the human garbage in Virginia.  You were very careful not to piss off your white robed, Confederate flag waving, racist supporters.  You made sure to throw in "both sides".  There are no "both sides" in that car.  It was one side.  IT WAS YOUR SIDE.  You worded it to make sure they understood you are still with them.

And because of this, because you make them feel cozy, warm, and safe to act out - more people are dead.  

You stated this, “We wanna get the situation straightened out in Charlottesville and we want to study it.  We want to see what we’re doing wrong as a country where things like this can happen.”  

What the ever loving fuck is there to study?  It is hatred and violence having been given voice and permission by YOU.  You want to see "what we're doing wrong as a country"?!?!  You ignorant piece of shit, read your own Twitter, watch any of your widely covered rallies, LOOK AT THE PEOPLE YOU HAVE SURROUNDED YOURSELF WITH - Bannon, Gorka, Miller - Jesus effing Christ - ALL RACISTS.  ALL WHITE SUPREMACISTS.  YOU are what's wrong with this country.

Make no mistake, you craven, orange fuck - YOU OWN THIS. 

The Inmates Are Running The USAsylum

I learned something new last night.  

I like learning.  I like expanding my knowledge base, replacing what I thought I knew or understood with actual, actionable facts.  I enjoy constantly realizing that even after a half century+ on this big blue orb, there are still things to take in, mentally metabolize, integrate into my personal database.

What I learned last night is this:  In the event of a nuclear detonation in my vicinity, do not use hair conditioner when washing off potential radioactive material as it will bind it to your follicles.

Now, I realize that on the surface this is an ah hahahahahahahaha! moment, but the reality is there is nothing funny about it.  I learned this while reading the cautions and instructions that have been issued to the residents of the island of Guam - the American territory firmly shoved by Trump into the crosshairs of Kim Jong Un.  

Through his trademarked combination of the three Ps: posturing, pandering and prevarication - Donald Trump has thrown the world into crisis mode.  

Posturing - strutting like a dunghill rooster, crossing his arms defiantly, and throwing out threats like so much verbal confetti.

Pandering - he knows his base.  His base is as ignorant as is he.  They have zero idea where Guam is, let alone that it has a US military base, and as Guamanians are US citizens by birth, it is home to 162,742 of them.  He just knows that they are easily led, easily excitable, and love to see him flinging his shit at the world like some angry chimp in a zoo.

Interesting to note. zoologists who study chimpanzees have identified this behavior as a defense mechanism, doing it when they feel angry or threatened.  Cue Trump, who feels the flames of justice licking at his jackboots as Mueller and posse close in and, well, I'll just let Donny explain in this beautifully aged tweet from 2012"

And Prevaricating - pretty word for LYING, Trump's true stock in trade.  His reputation for playing fast and loose with the truth through the years is legend.  Since the campaign trail and taking office, it has become expected.  He doesn't know anything, so he just opens his mouth and words flow like diarrhea after a bad Chipotle trip.

While it is easy to write him off as "crazy" - that does a true disservice to actual mental illness, and allows for all sorts of justifications, excuses, and normalization of his behaviors.  Yes, we have come to expect nothing less than blather and bravado from this brainless twit, but the fact that he has surrounded himself with power teat suckers who eagerly defend him at every turn is just as dangerous.  Conway, Huckabee Sanders, Gorka, Stone, Lord, Pence and on and on - all vie daily for the title of Trump's Favorite Lackey - an award achieved by the degree of public fluffing they do towards him.  (Not to mention the private fluffing done via two file folders daily of positive Trump pieces and images of him looking grand.)

Conway lectures us that we should stop calling him out, that the media should stop covering everything he says.  Seriously?  I am allowed to call him out, and the media have the JOB of covering what he says.  Perhaps the lecture should be to the manchild throwing verbal tantrums constantly?

Huckabee Sanders stands at a podium and daily defends his every utterance.  The mental origami required for that position is frankly stunning.  This week it included trying to defend Trump against his own lauding of Putin saving us payroll by kicking out US diplomats in Russia.  (Psst, Donald - they are still on the payroll.  Putin kicked them out, he cannot fire them.)

Gorka this past week, in defense of Trump not acknowledging the mosque attack in Minnesota, literally called it a "false flag" event created by the left.  Gorka is a former Breitbart editor and unapologetic Nazi sympathizer.  His connections to the Hungarian group, Vitézi Rend, go far beyond him wearing their insignia to public events where he represents the White House.  He swore lifetime allegiance to them, their beliefs (including militant Nazism and anti-Semitism), and quite frankly, his being in the USA under those FACTS completely break with this, from  The US State Department’s Foreign Affairs Manual: it specifies that members of the Vitézi Rend “are presumed to be inadmissible” to the country under the Immigration and Nationality Act. 

Roger Stone is constantly banging the Trump drum and fouling anyone who dares question his behavior and words.  His attacks on women are as legend as are Trump's.

Jeffrey Lord, Trump lackey and sand in the mental asscrack of anyone with a brain, finally got himself kicked off CNN this past week when he responded to a Tweet from Media Matters president Angelo Carusone with "Sieg Heil", the Nazi salute.

Scaramucci, the idiot savant auditioning for a part in Goodfellas Revisited, found himself canned after a litany of foul, abusive rhetoric, including using the words "suck his own cock" in an interview with a NY Times reporter.

These are the "best and the brightest"?  No, these are just a sampling of the inmates running Trump's asylum.

Last night, the worst elements of Trump's base, the white nationalists, converged on Charlottesville, Virginia, in what one analyst called an "increasingly Nazified" event: Unite The Right.  Carrying torches (yes, you can't make this shit up) and chanting Nazi slogans like "blood and soil" they marched and then descended on UVA.  Invoking the same first amendment that the horde was enjoying, Mayor Mike Signer  said, “Here’s mine: Not only as the Mayor of Charlottesville, but as a UVA faculty member and alumnus, I am beyond disgusted by this unsanctioned and despicable display of visual intimidation on a college campus.” 

They surrounded a group of protesters and a statue of Thomas Jefferson, chanting, "white lives matter" and "Jews will not replace us."

Today, these open racists' rally is being held in, wait for it, Emancipation Park.  (Again, you cannot make this shit up.) (Update: As of 11:30 this morning, because of violence already between these white supremacists and protesters, they have been ordered to vacate the park and a local state of emergency has been declared.  Crickets from The White House.) 

Their violent rhetoric, open hatred, and aggressive behavior should be called out by the leader of this nation.  Not shut down, mind you, but called out.  Let the cockroaches continue to crawl out of their sewers.  I defend the amendment that allows them to gather, to chant their hideous phrases.  But I would welcome, at the bare minimum, a tweet from Trump that both acknowledges their right to gather while condemning their hateful, dangerous message.

I won't hold my breath.  He never called them out during the campaign, he won't call them out now.  He needs them, and worse, he is them.

But back to that instruction about hair conditioner...

Trump has been reckless and careless with his words all week, openly taunting North Korea, practically daring them to make a move so he can let loose "fire and fury" from his "locked and loaded" store of deadly toys.  This is not necessary - North Korea did not just suddenly materialize on the map.  The leaders of that country have been effectively marginalized by world leaders for decades.  But Kim Jong Un is as certifiable as Trump, and Trump has proven how easily goaded he is.  So here we are.  A POTUS who believes he is in some Top Gun sequel; a POTUS who is a five time draft dodger; a POTUS who is geographically ignorant and spouts his bullshignorance all day long.  A POTUS who is playing chicken with Guam.  I double dog dare you to attack it.

Even during all his grandstanding and taunting this past week, while Guam's residents were receiving instructions on how to handle a nuclear attack, Trump did not speak to the Governor of Guam.  Until last night, and it was as cringe inducing as one would imagine, as you had not one, but two complete dullards speaking to one another.  The asskissing and insanity went as follows:

"Good morning, good morning," the president is heard saying to Calvo. "It's great to speak with you. Good morning. I just wanted to pay my respects, and we are with you 1,000 percent. You are safe. We’re with you 1,000 percent. And I wanted to call you and say hello. How are you?"

Calvo, a fellow Republican, responds, "Mr. President, as the governor of Guam representing the people of Guam and as an American citizen, I have never felt more safe or so confident than with you at the helm. So, with all the criticism going on over there from a guy who is being targeted, we need a president like you, so I’m just so thankful. I’m glad you’re holding the helm, sir."

The president then takes a jab at his predecessors, telling Calvo, "They should've had me eight years ago, or at least somebody with my thought process because that was the time. Frankly, you could've said that for the last three presidents. But you'll be taken care of."

"Eddie, I have to tell you, you’ve become extremely famous.  All over the world, they’re talking about Guam, and they’re talking about you, and I think tourism, I can say this, your tourism, you’re going to go up like tenfold with the expenditure of no money, so I congratulate you ... It looks like a beautiful place.”

Calvo agrees, saying, "It’s paradise. We’ve got 95 percent occupancy, and after all this stuff calms down, we’re going to have 110 percent occupancy.”

Throwing up yet?  "You've become extremely famous."  Because, of course, in Trumpland that is all that matters: ratings.  But this is not a reality show.  And what the actual fuck does tourism have to do with threats of nuclear annihilation?  Other than it indicates Trump just discovered through Google images what a beautiful place is Guam, and he has no intention of actually engaging in nuclear antics with North Korea, and he knows that all publicity is good publicity.  

Their conversation continued with a verbal 69ing of each other's ballsacs.

This, while Chinese media (which does not work without government approval of message) has publicly stated China will stay neutral should Un fire a weapon, but should the USA fire first? They will fight against us.  To anyone with an understanding of the global import of that stance, THIS is terrifying.  But Trump and his Island of Misfit Toys has no worldview, no advanced intellect to understand the gravity here, no care about the countless innocent lives at stake, and certainly no understanding of what actually happens with a nuclear detonation.  Seriously, they think it is like a one time shot, a large firecracker if you will, that explodes and it is done.  They don't understand fallout, jetstreams, lasting, lingering, spreading death.

That his dullardly horde of followers don't either is just as troubling.  Good luck with your stockpile of seed banks and canned food when your children are dying of radiation poisoning.  You do know that the principle latent effect of fallout is cancer, right?  Rhetorical question, of course you don't.  You just think bombs are cool and "We're #1!"

Robert Mueller and his team of attorneys are making progress.  Some analysts are saying that given recent events (Manafort early morning no-knock raid, impaneling grand juries), they are moving with purpose and great speed.  The legal circle is closing around Trump & Co's necks.  They know this.  And they are running scared, especially Trump.  That is why he is banging the drums of war - think back to what it did for Bush #2's approval ratings.

But just like then, when 9/11 and Bush's subsequent war, claimed so many lives, real lives are again on the line.  Yours, mine, his, hers, theirs.  The ones who are not worried about a war?  The ones with the big, beautiful government bunkers - Trump & Co.  The very ones playing so carelessly with the lives of every citizen of planet Earth.

The inmates are truly running the USAsylum.  They must be stopped before it is too late.  Before we all have split ends and unruly dead hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

UPDATE 130pm - since writing this morning, Trump has Tweeted twice:

Not surprisingly, former Grand Wizard of the KKK tweeted right back: