This is why the subject of Acceptance is soo inportant

Found this online…Constance…oh, Constance, this could have been me.  I myself have written of identification with the monster that Viktor Frankenstein gave unholy birth to in that tragic and terrible story (terrible in an awe-ful way).

This could be me…without my Mama, without my baby, without Heather…

Constance, as late as last November, I was on the edge.  Go back and read some of those fall poems from 2013.  I have actually been reviewing the last year, and I marvel at where I am now, but I tremble at where I was then.

Here is the story of a woman who had no one, and nothing but everyone’s hatred, in black and white.

I recently heard that “no one is quite as mean as those people who are ‘mean for Jesus'”…and while there is a sad truth to that sometimes, the actual fact is that mean is mean.  Period.  Here is the story of Filisa, the sister of Charissa.  If you love Charissa, or if you have fondness or admiration, I would ask for a favor:  find someone outcast in your region…trans, cis, gay or straight…and go love them.

Just.
Love.
Them.

Charissa

“On January 5, 1993, a 22-year-old pre-operative transsexual woman from Seattle, Filisa Vistima, wrote in her journal, “I wish I was anatomically ‘normal’ so I could go swimming… . But no, I’m a mutant, Frankenstein’s monster.”

Two months later Filisa Vistima committed suicide. What drove her to such despair was the exclusion she experienced in Seattle’s queer community, some members of which opposed Filisa’s participation because of her transsexuality — even though she identified as and lived as a bisexual woman. The Lesbian Resource Center where she served as a volunteer conducted a survey of its constituency to determine whether it should stop offering services to male-to-female transsexuals.

Filisa did the data entry for tabulating the survey results; she didn’t have to imagine how people felt about her kind. The Seattle Bisexual Women’s Network announced that if it admitted transsexuals the SBWN would no longer be a women’s organization. “I’m sure,” one member said in reference to the inclusion of bisexual transsexual women, the boys can take care of themselves.”

Filisa Vistima was not a boy, and she found it impossible to take care of herself.

Even in death she found no support from the community in which she claimed membership. “Why didn’t Filisa commit herself for psychiatric care?” asked a columnist in the Seattle Gay News. “Why didn’t Filisa demand her civil rights?”

In this case, not only did the angry villagers hound their monster to the edge of town, they reproached her for being vulnerable to the torches.

Did Filisa Vistima commit suicide, or did the queer community of Seattle kill her?”

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Gifts I Never Had, Never Knew Could Be

Sister, open hearts, strong minds and stronger wills
Delicate and fine and indomitable.

Knowing paths, shortcuts
(so, Rissa, right around this corner, yeah that goat path
right there, over the brookstones skip hop and jump
and voila!  Saved 5 miles and come out by Starbucks!)

I have always been outside (and never out there),
but I listened so hard, and I learned the murmer of voices
and the rise and fall of song, of tears, of friends.
I practiced when I was alone, (I practiced all the time)

Last year I walked beyond the blade’s reach
(my neck still feels steel teeth and slice) but it
still croons cold, calls, cackles when I shake and
plug my ears in terror.

But this time, after a war-night and thready sleep,
I humbled myself, and took the risk…and I asked.
I asked MamaMick (um can I just say AHH-MAZING!!??
mother, wife, friend, writer, christian, and still has inside issues
just like me?? So great and so nice it scares me).
I asked Kat (steady, the loudest quiet person I know
or is she the quietest loud person? Kat, solid and
marathoner’s legs and sprinter’s heart…gives me so much
calm and gut chuckle peace).
I asked Dani (*insert 15 volume dissertation here*),

and of course my baby, there always, and then Heather
jumps in with funny pics and also this:

“Time to trust your subconscious and mama and
________ and me, and all your other peeps and
pack away your worries and trust yourself in the
process.  I will send you a supportive photo”
Giggle…see this:  and I was ‘posed to say “DON’T F**K WITH THE CAT SHARK cat…thingy!IMG_7396

I let me be buried, be shoved down and bound,
but went out to the slaughter feeling like a goat (scape)
and not a lamb.

And then, trickle, stream…you.  Your words.
and soon I was lifted and floating a bit, and then…

…it was done.

I MADE IT!  And though I hurt, I never freaked out!

You, sisters, are the gifts I never had,
never knew could be,
You are Lady Grace Incarnate, and here…right here
with me

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Greater than Kindness?

“What wisdom can you find that is greater than kindness?”

unknown quote this morning

*It is a true and high
aspiration of mine…to be kind.
Period.
Pure and simple.

To you precious loved ones
whose consciences lead you
to places other than
Their Happy House,
I say to you
that kindness is
our common bread,
our communion bread,
and love our wine.

To you beloved spiritual family…well is not all
the law,
the prophets, and
life in God
summed up in this:  Be Kind?
For how will we be kind without Them…right?
Or, to gussy it up
(cus we spiritual people love the gussy-up, giggle):
Love God,
Love your Neighbor as yourself,
do what you want others to do and
be what you want others to be.

Full stop.

 

love, Charissa
(shivering and
trembling with
dread, and
determination)

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