The secret transgender games

The older I get, the less patience I have. Or is it less tolerance? Maybe it’s both. Let me clear something up…

I’m just your every day Jane. I work for a living and raise my family pretty much like everyone else. I have bills to pay, dishes to do, and dog poo to pick up.  The fact that my daughter is transgender is kind of a non-issue. We help others when we can, with questions, suggestions for resources and those sorts of things, but we don’t have a show that we take on the road or anything like that. We’re not this odd entity that is different from the rest of the families who are working for a living and picking up dog poo. There are no secret transgender games going on behind our closed door. Disappointing, I know.

transgender-cereal

We are not keeping secrets from you (unless you’re the government and/or I owe you money), and there is no mysterious secret transgender life. You see, there is nothing really to tell. Unless you want to hear about how we argue over her lack of time-management skills with homework assignments, or how I’ve asked her for the 1,oooth time to pick up those dirty clothes, or maybe you’re interested in the endless hours she’s logged creating a virtual world in the Sims4?  Sound kind of teenagerish? That’s because it is.

She goes to school every day. It’s a regular public highschool. It’s not a school for the transgender. She wears 16-year-old clothes—jeans, leg warmers, sweaters, t-shirts, boots with heels higher than I would like—the kind that were bought at a regular old store. Not a store for the transgender. Sometimes she wears her hair up in a ponytail clip that we got at Walmart. Not the Walmart that is specifically for transgender, but the one just down the road—it’s closer. She occasionally wears cola-flavoured Chapstick, not the transgender flavoured kind. (I think that might be a special order item anyway.)

trans cake

And while we don’t play the transgender games, there are folks around us that are constantly trying to suck us in to theirs, but we resist. We refuse to let others define us.

Last week a new student started at my daughter’s school for semester 2. She is also a transgender girl and the teachers (in their infinite wisdom) thought the two should meet.

You know, because they’re the same.

Oddly though, they don’t introduce dark-skinned students to each other. Something like, “Hey Tyrone.. yeah, come meet our new student DeShawn, he just transferred here and you two should meet because, well, you’re both black.

wtf face

Also, I’m pretty sure there are a couple of kids with diabetes that go to the very same school and they have yet to be introduced.  An oversight maybe? And while I’m dragging you down into this hot mess of politically incorrect fuckery—do I even need to mention the plus-sized students? They certainly don’t get pulled aside to meet each other. Well, obviously, ’cause that’s just plain wrong.

Here’s the thing. Don’t label us. Actually, don’t label anyone. I know you’re trying to do a good thing, your heart is in the right place. But sometimes one step forward… is two steps back. Focus on making our communities a safe, positive space that is inclusive for everyone. Different skin colours, religions, and yes, those with diabetes (those poor souls) and the trans, and non trans, and yes, those struggling with weight issues… ’cause we’re all mixed up in this great big world together. Let people seek out other people on their own terms. And because they have more things in common than some label thrust upon them through social cataloging.

I may just be grouchy today, but, whatever. (Oh, and apologies to all of the Tyrones and DeShawns out there… you don’t have to be friends.)

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No friends, no support, no love. Just my parent’s disappointment and the cruelty of loneliness. – Leelah Alcorn

Please share with ALL parents. Let’s make 2015 easier for our children.

TransParent

It’s New Year’s Eve. It’s a time for making changes, starting anew. It’s a time for compassion, growth, and understanding. A new year of possibilities are ahead of every single one of us… except for Leelah.

leelah

I say this a lot, I mean A LOT, and it never gets any less true. As a parent, unconditional love and acceptance of our children is paramount to their health, well-being, and ultimate survival. This is not a joke. It’s not smoke up your ass. Put your god-like ego aside and parent the child in front of you. Love them. Appreciate them. Give them a reason to be. If you can’t do this, get HELP for YOU before it’s too late.

Leelah Alcorn was just 17 years old. She took her own life on December 28. She posted her suicide note on her Tumblr account, and followed it up with an apology to a few…

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Seriously, go tell your sprogs.

birth announcement

 

“Last week, my daughter sat me down and explained that I didn’t actually have a daughter, I instead have a son.
I could tell he was nervous – but I do hope that he already knew that it wouldn’t change a single thing about our relationship except for the pronouns we use.
Actually, ALL children should know that. In an ideal world, it would be a profound and fundamental truth that they know in their bones. The one unshakeable gravity-fact they carry with them forever. If you haven’t actively told yours that you will love and support them, no matter what.. That their sexuality and gender expression are entirely irrelevant to the way you feel about them and treat them. Then you need to stop reading this right now and go and tell your sprogs.

Seriously.. Go tell them now.  It’s okay, I’ll wait. Stare deep in to their eyes in that way that makes them really uncomfortable so that they know that you mean it. ” – Kai’s mum.

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Lady Valor – “This is the life I was given.”

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“No one has ever met the real me.” – Kristin Beck

Former U.S. Navy SEAL, Kristin Beck, says she knows what she wants. She wants to have her life.

Check out the CNN film, Lady Valor: The Kristen Beck Story, for some kick-ass courage, strength, honour… and the pursuit of happiness. #Transgender #Truth

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How to be the muddiest loser

In 36 days I’m going to be getting up early, heading into the big city, and running through 6K’s of obstacle, mud and mayhem. That’s right… I said running. I signed up for the Mud Hero—which sounded like a really good idea 6 months ago.

mud hero

This is funny for those who know me for two reasons. One, I don’t run. I mean, ever. Not even if I’m being chased. I’m more of a stop and negotiate sort.

This wasn’t always true—as a kid I was a sprinter. I ran track and field and I was quick. I placed first… a lot. Short distances were my thing. But, I could never run the long ones. You know, the cross-country ones. Debilitating cramps would seize me after about 200 metres and I could never figure out the breathing thing. In through my nose and out through my mouth. Impossible. After 300 metres I would be gasping for air and blowing saliva bubbles out through my nose holes.

A million years later, a friend and I thought it would be fun to join an ultimate frisbee league to stay active.  Some research ahead of time on my part would have told me that running was involved. A lot of running. My kids sat on a blanket at the sidelines of each game and every few minutes I would come flying out of the field and collapse beside them. They would jump to work wiping my brow or spraying water in my mouth and then pep talk me into going back out there—like I was some kind of prize fighter going back in for the kill. Damn toddlers. Didn’t they know it was just frisbee?

The second reason I don’t run is because at some point after turning forty… running makes me pee. I can describe the horrors of the “treadmill incident of 2009” while trying to get my money’s worth out of my under-utilized YMCA membership—or you can just take my word for it. I suspect that my body is objecting to the running and at that moment the only thing greater than my will to succeed is public humiliation. And I can assure you that I emptied my bladder many times in advance, yet somehow this ‘mystery’ pee arrived whenever I so much as even dangled a foot over the treadmill. This is the universe telling me, in agreement, that I do not run. Ever.

So, why did I sign up for a mud hero? I have no reasonable explanation. In my heart, I’m still a young woman capable of conquering anything. I see myself as strength, courage and indomitable will with no need for preparation—and with an outward physical appearance of something like this:

lara croft

More and more though, I suspect that it is something closer to this:

old woman

I can also tell you that I have/had every intention of preparing for this event—but everything I say would be a juggernaut of lies. I will get out of bed that morning, drink my coffee, hike with my dog, try to find a pair of shorts in my closet that aren’t circa 1983 and then put on a pair of shoes that I need to lace up. I’m only partly worried that I’m going to let my team down by coming in last. I tell myself that it’s OK to come in last because I’ll have my GoPro camera strapped on and being in last place gives me the best filming advantage. Reasonable, no?

I may not be what I used to be. And I’ll never be what I can’t be. But I do know there is a superhero in me just bucking to get out. She’s there somewhere. Under gallons of soda, litres of red wine and fistfuls of ju-jubes… there is an athletic goddess. And soon I’ll have the video to prove it.

Onward to the Mud Hero!

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Why GM is bringing its social media data in-house

gm_building

“If you think of social as something you outsource, that danger is that you’re not going to leverage social for all that it can do for your business,” LeBrun said. “It’s about weaving it as a communication medium throughout your whole organization. If you outsource it, you don’t have an opportunity to integrate social throughout all of your processes.”

Check out the whole article by John McDermott at Digiday here.

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Net Neutrality: Preventing Cable Company F*uckery

This video is never going to get old. Thanks to John Oliver from Last Week Tonight, who is (as usual) spot on.

“Turn on CAPS lock and fly my pretties!” – John Oliver

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