The Rustling of Those Wings

I always thought vultures
slept at night, devil-red heads
bulbous on scrawny leather necks
tucked under fetid wing and pinion.

I was wrong.

They never sleep
but circle
endlessly
always

gliding around the dying
the rotten and discarded
waiting for that last quick breath
and then they land nearby
and hop like feather frogs
to their last supper never ending

I stick my head
out in the night
and cannot see them
but I know they are there
by the way
the rustling of those wings
echoes in my hearttumblr_nulpidcDV91utvlmvo1_500

Posting A Very Sobering Reflection

All…this is a post from a tumblr blog I follow, not my own writing, but her concluding question echoes many things I have written about, namely that all the “Remember the Dead Trans-girls” rallies change absolutely nothing.

We don’t want to be remembered.
We want to live…be fruitful and share life.

I don’t want you to say my name when I am killed…I want to say my own name in the zest of life!  Without fear of attack, policing, othering or rejection simply for being born.

I echo Jen’s question:  since last weekend’s events, what has changed?

PS:  Language alert!  If you are offended or defiled by scatalogical language, proceed with caution!  F-bombs and other such things are in evidence!

Maybe if…

smartassjen:

Maybe….maybe if every man who has ever hired a trans escort, if every boy who has ever beat off to trans porn, if all the guys I and thousands of others have hooked up with via Craig’s List, if the millions who fetishize our bodies, who enjoy us on our knees in bathrooms, who press us against hotel windows, who lay with us in our beds, if the men who adore me and my sisters, but only behind closed doors, would STAND THE FUCK UP AND SPEAK OUT…maybe 21 year old women just enjoying an evening out with friends wouldn’t be beat to death.

Maybe if all of you who read this, our allies and friends and colleagues and family, would call out when others make jokes at our expense, even when we’re not around, if you’d tell advertisers and producers and journalists and writers and comics that you’re not okay with them making trans women nothing but the punchline of jokes or tragic tossaways, that you know us, that we’re not disposable….maybe groups of people would stop feeling so free to harass me and my sisters, maybe crowds wouldn’t just laugh when a man spits at me, or just watch when two young men chase me down the street yelling “shemale”…maybe if you ALL stood up and said enough, maybe a young woman just being herself wouldn’t be beat to death in the streets of the supposedly best place on earth to just be yourself.
Maybe if all the gay men who act as if equality means marriage, if all the white feminists who only serve those that look like them, if all the queers who drop “TWOC” like a shibboleth but don’t know or talk to or walk beside any actual trans women of color…maybe if all of you saw what was happening here and how your actions allow it, how every moment of silence, of waiting for people of color to start the conversation about race …maybe this child could have enjoyed a few more years of being beautiful among us.

A 21 year old was beat to death in our streets. It happened because she is a woman, and of color, and transgender. It happened because our men won’t admit they love us, because our friends aren’t speaking out against the thousand little dehumanizing actions of others, because our own “LGBT” community isn’t comfortable talking about race and class.

This has to change. Now.

http://www.dnainfo.com/new-york/20130822/central-harlem/transgender-woman-dies-after-savage-beating-cops-say#video_modal_13772731841756

I wrote this two years ago.

What’s changed?

Death Don’t Have No Mercy In This Land

I want to say something to you, cis-gender friends. Please PLEASE hear this heart, and not a strident voice. Do not mistake my intensity for blathery emotional anger-slinging.
Do you know that the number of murders of transwomen has already surpassed the TOTAL for 2014?
I am talking about people…just like me.10888800_860222750703458_5712320641834860244_n
For the last few years every time there is another murder of a transwoman the news gets pushed around in trans-circles with sorrow and shock and outrage accompanied by cries of “this HAS to stop!!”
And yet here we are…in mid-August and already surpassing the totals for last year…and this is just murders, by the way…the numbers are even higher if you throw in suicide.
My dear friends: this is not ever going to stop until YOU decide it must. It is on YOU.tumblr_n1l8erJ0Tc1rlcnpko1_1280
Because what power do we trans-women have? What standing do I have? When I am spit at for simply walking in public? When I am hated on with eyes for holding my head high and forgetting about gender for a moment and just flowing in being like any other person can?
And then there is the intersection of race and gender variance, and ohhhh the absolute tragedy of how the blind become even more the blinder…
…because it is the same with race too…the stink of that zombie that lurches freely thru our society eating hearts like rotten apples and screaming for more, that stench is even greater than the sheer indifference shown to the plight of transwomen, so if you are a transwoman AND a woman of color?tumblr_ndcafcJAat1qdrgtco1_1280
Well, to know just how that is, simply read of the condition of the remains in some of these cases…faces bashed into a bloody mash…dismemberment…stabbed with an ice pick repeatedly…dumped in the trash…lit on fire…
Cis-friends, until this is no longer okay with you, we shall continue to be harvested by death with impunity.  Our blood cries out and will never stop, never cease.  Until you choose to use your privilege for someone “less than”, then the wolves will continue to hunt and the transwomen die.  And the rest of us will continue to flap our gums about what “has to”, knowing full well that stop is not a choice a ravenous beast makes.

How many is it gonna take to push you to the place where you yourselves will step up?  One a day?  Would that do it?An Indian worker removes the petiole from red chilies at Shertha village, near Ahmadabad, India, Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012. A worker earns around ten Rupees ( 0.20 USD) for removing the petiole of 20 kilograms (4.4 Pounds) of red chili. (AP Photo/Ajit Solanki)

How about a hundred a day?  One Hundred Women a day…marched to the town square and shot dead at dawn.
Will that do it?  And if so, then what is the difference between a hundred a day and one a day?
What is the difference between one a day and one a week?
What is the value of a transgender life?tumblr_nnlmpdE8Q91sthjo3o1_1280

oh america

oh america, alas for me
once blind but now, alas!
I see…what I could not see before
safely ensconced behind my placid doortumblr_nlzzm3QWBV1sq9drqo1_1280of hallels, proverbs, judgements
assumed and (not) asked and answered
while Perry Mason spoke for me
Paul Drake got me off
Della Street hid me safe.

oh america, you hid from me
your bloody dungeons, grisly gore
your carrion teeth hungry for more
I weep in agony, I never saw that side
of you, rapacious, avarice-infected, ravenous

alas for you
alas for metumblr_ns93u6y7WJ1qllucco1_500oh america, alas for me
once deaf but now, alas!
I hear…not pop songs, jingles
and bubble gum ditties
but klaxxons and outrage
and death-dirges arising in cities

writhing in flaming hatred and strife
sirens screaming and bullconner bullhorns
in the tramping of jackboots and protests for freedom
I hear the desperate pleading for life and liberty
their chains rattle like thunder
but america, you hear only dice
rolling on your green table
of gambling and greed and
just be oh so nicetumblr_miy2lmQQy11qb5cdqo1_500I wish I could just rip myself
straight outta me, tear that
born and bred into ease
from my arteries, and my
narcissistic “I’m so vain”
from my veins and be fresh

be free…oh america…alas for you and me
as I watch our best, our brightest
still chained in our simpering
lobs of “be nice, calm down, be polite”
lobotomized and safe in facebook internments
prisoners in consumer kraalstumblr_noeogvQoQI1qas1mto5_1280and poetic deftness flees me
abandons me in this hour of my need
oh grace deliver me from selfish greed!
oh Mama let me run to truth so clean with godspeed
I lose mastery in the horror of this hour

alas, oh america, I lament for me
alas…I lament for thee
and do not know if you will find the courage
to face yourself in the mirror of your victims
the ones you killed and ate and burped
and called it good.

oh america, oh america
God have mercy on thee
and trip you up and toss you down
and take from you that gory crown
of racism, racism racism racism
from sea to shining sea and in betweentumblr_npxxyrZeCO1r38hk2o1_1280may God remove that hood that blinds
you to brotherhood, to good, to kind
give you eyes to see (oh god let me see)
give you ears to hear (oh god let me hear)
give you a heart at last and courage
to look at what you’ve done and left undone

oh america
oh america
oh america
oh america
oh america528483-Depression-1364630455-842-640x480

“I am torn in two but
I will conquer myself.
I will dig up the pride…I will take a crowbar
and pry out the broken
pieces…”
Anne Sexton – from The Civil War

We Are Come At Last

Marshal your forces, you protectors of the crown,
send your dogs running, your dogs of dreams,
your dogs howling, full noses of my fur, my pelt!

Bring on your hunt, your horses in full gallop
and chase for all you’re worth, your lust and fear
of free blood running red, and full, liberty’s blood!

Your coats, scarlet!  Your smirks, affixed with tax,
and become terrible twisted rictus in your sweaty efforts
to hunt this free fox leaping, yipping, dancing on the dawn!

They shall come to me, your dogs, and wriggle ‘neath my touch!
They shall hear my dog-whistle words, too high for your dull ears
but so keenly attuned and pitched to their own straining hearts!

And they shall call to their comrades, your horses, who will alert and thrill
and leap into the air to gallop freely there…and you unhorsed…you laying there
upon the blood-stained grass of yesteryear…

Your time is up, for we are come to hunt you down
and tear that red coat straight away right off your back
and tossed into the sky, our banner free unfurled and our war cry…

No Longer!  Not Anymore!
Related image

The Triune Choice of Transgender People In a Binary World

I wanted to press this because I admire the courage of this person, and I wanted to call attention (again) to the plight of transgender people.  Sadly, we are limited to just a couple of options:

1.  Be true to ourselves, and get harassed, bullied, and very likely even assaulted and/or killed.

2.  Hide, and be subject to awful harassment, bullying and assault from ourselves from inside our own being.

Of course there is the 3rd option, the one I took:

You can always just rip yourself in two…dissociate, so you don’t “know” about yourself (and neither does anyone else), and you can simply study the prison that you have been given and called life and learn how to perform.

Perform well, and get rewarded with praise, affection, what is termed “love” (and from the perspective of the givers surely is love, but from the perspective of the dissociated person it’s never really known for sure if they’re loved), and all the privileges accorded to one who conforms to their prescribed role.

But the fallout from this…the gender role half life, if you will…is terrible.  Stress, dysphoria, depression, and ultimately despair.  The ripples of that rending of the soul in twain go forth from that moment…

…but they don’t diminish with time, they magnify, grow larger and have increasingly more destructive results in the lives of all who intersect with that person.

I know.  This is what I did…and I’ve been informed by those who had the grave misfortune to exist in those waves and troughs that I ruined them forever in my cowardly and hypocritical choice to dissociate rather than displease (or worse) my parents.

Hey, I was 6 years old…I shoulda known better…I did know worse…eventually.

So there you have it, folks…the 3 fold option for prisoners of the gender binary back in the mid 60s.  If you know a family with a gender variant member, and they are seeking to grapple with it now in a world that is slowly growing more flexible as attitudes and superstitions change…reach out and give them love.

They will certainly need it.

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly
Charissa

riverheadlocal.com

Transgender youth skip school rather than face discrimination, humiliation from educators and peers

The N.Y. Civil Liberties Union is calling on the State Education Department to provide detailed guidance to public school districts on preventing transgender youths’ discrimination and harassment by students and teachers.

Many trans* youth don’t get the education they deserve due to undue harassment and discrimination from both educations and peers.

This is why EVERY school should have a fully inclusive non-discrimination AND anti-bullying policy which protects youth and educators alike on the basis of sexual orientation, gender identity and gender presentation.

Alabama Teen Becomes Ninth Trans Woman Murdered in U.S. in 2015 | Advocate.com

Alabama Teen Becomes Ninth Trans Woman Murdered in U.S. in 2015 | Advocate.com.

You all already saw this article, right?  Cus we as a society have decided that transwomen should be protected from violent murderous sanction…oh wait, we didn’t do that?

It could so easily be me…so quickly become me.

Murder By Bully pt 2: An Open Letter to the Superintendent of Milwaukee Public Schools

Madeline Dietrich | Bullying: An Open Letter to the Superintendent of Milwaukee Public Schools.

tumblr_mqnheu8rul1sozdm1o1_540

Extremely Powerful Thinking: On Femininity and the Patriarchy

Constance…please read thru the sections I am sharing below.  Read it slow and let it sink in.

This is my life.  I am living these sentences (word chosen to echo and double back on itself, those with eyes let them see).

Consider the way that my sentences being served also impact you…and the way that yours can set me free, if you will but begin to speak them.

Just read up on the Bell Hooks-Laverne Cox talk, thought it was really uncool (and unfemininist) of Hooks to chide Cox for her presentation.

I mean yeah, I get that for (feminist) cis women, femininity can start to feel constricting after a while, but trans women have a very different relationship with it. Patriarchy wants AFAB (Assigned Female At Birth) people to be feminine, it does not want AMAB (Assigned Male At Birth) people to be feminine.

For a person that was assigned male at birth, it absolutely can be revolutionary to embrace femininity. It is anathema to patriarchy for AMAB people to embrace femininity, why else do you think trans women get any and all femininity beaten out of them for the first part of their lives?

Besides, cis women had all their lives to try it out and grow tired of it. How many cis women haven’t smeared their mum’s lipstick all over their face as a little girl? At least have a heart and give us some time to experiment with femininity, you were given that time while you were growing up and I don’t see you high-n-mighty feminists going after teenage cis girls for it.

I would like to expand on this, and say that the patriarchy derides and punishes femininity in general. That’s why men who like female-coded activities are mocked. that’s why “girly-girls” are derided as shallow or high-maintenance.

But with trans women, expressing femininity is particularly revolutionary because it isn’t just about social conditioning–it’s a complete rejection of masculinity as the “valuable option.”

Many women–trans and cis–find value in femininity, but when cis women embrace it, everyone assumes it’s because it is expected and because that’s how they were trained. It isn’t considered unusual, because society insists that’s the punishment you get for being a woman, and if you’re very good you’ll reject that and try to act more like your “betters.”

But trans women are offered masculinity on a platter–it’s assumed to be our birthright–and we reject it. More accurately, like most people we reject parts of it. We’re proof that masculinity isn’t inherently valuable or precious–it’s just another thing.

And of course, patriarchal ideals double down on us for that. Our punishment for embracing the feminine and not being “rightly” ashamed of it is to be chained by it, and punished for any infraction. Male-coded interests are “proof” that we’re faking it.

Not appearing feminine enough is grounds for firing or banning us from homes (or from the lives of our own relatives). Expressing anger or standing up for ourselves is interpreted–even by self-proclaimed feminists–as our being aggressive and “really” men.

And revealing anything about our genitals is literally grounds for execution.

People hunt down the tiniest nuances–our shoulders, our voices, or hobbies, or age–and use the smallest infraction against gender norms to completely invalidate our statement that masculinity isn’t precious at all. This despite the fact that trans women, like everyone, aren’t inherantly “pure women” or “pure men” any more than any cis person–we’re mixes of social messages and biological impulses, some accepted some rejected, that go into forming a complex human being.

Trans women highlight that there’s no superior gender or gendered form of expression, and that pisses people off.

20150614_093457

To My Heart’s Four Chambers

I don’t care what you do to me,
but I don’t want you to hurt me.
I’ve had enough hurt already in my life.
More than enough. Now I want to be happy.
Haruki Murakami

tumblr_nlmqnctvIq1tv3g49o1_1280

You Speak Like Snakes (You Know Who You Are)

you speak like snakes
slithering faster than slinkies
which at least have to
go downhill
and stop .

how can I love you
and dodge all at once
when you strike tooth and nail
with your sexual puns
and demeaning poisonous
passive-aggressive
nuclear blitzes?

you always move,
always, you shed your skin
quicker than snakes
that slide sideways
over the dirty sands
under the prickly sage
out of sight, gone before
I can quick turn the page.

It’s not okay
to speak jokes that conceal
a knife slicing with malice
and using my flesh to build
your kingdom’s palace!

It’s not okay to rape
my heart on your platter
letting my blood spatter
on your face for your cosmetics
and war paint bravado.

Heart-on or hard-on
and then you say
I’m up and down??

No…
you speak like snakes
you speak like snakes
you speak like snakes
hissing and deadly.

 

This War On Us

Sitting in the morning mist today
(it’s 2 AM.  The battle started
early in whistle-shrieks of
incoming artillery shot
from fear’s cannons
and terror’s trenches.
They tore me out of dreams
into this nightmare waking and real).o-ANXIETY-3-900It’s the day of memory, the day of the dead
(and the living who wish they were)
and the day of me, survivor 
of this war on us, 
waged from mile 
3001.

The sound of sad owls
(like haunts) and elderberry blossoms
(fragrant in the dark) and me inside
a Dresden of memory and fire and sound
and the machine gun prattle of stories
twisting back on themselves in your hands
like snakes striking those wrists
so clumsily tattooed in crude ink and fantasy.slide_426448_5503378_compressedI heard the house creak and groan
(maybe it was just my heart’s hurt moan)
and I swore for a moment I thought
you were there, laying in bed and peace
while your chest rose and fell faithfully
and your face, wreathed in blond curls
that smell like Heaven’s very bakeries
still in sacred rest and repose…

I fought my way back 
and across the years 
to where you lay, then, there
to have but one whiff yet again
of those locks of gold and God
to sustain me in the midst
of this uncanny clumsy conflict,
this war of atrocious inattentiontumblr_nn07a4gD911s0got1o1_1280but your room was empty
(my mailbox is empty)
and it turned out the house
was just grieving for its loss,
the house is empty
and my heart is lonely
and the spray of sorrow begins
to anoint the roof from the skies

and soothes the ache of loss,
the lovelorn lack of presence
and the absence of any laughter.

I never dreamed that you were
the kind of person who just sashays in
and then waltzes right out
of my life while I am
making music in 4/4 timetumblr_nott18g9941rr74i9o1_400but if I really think about it, 
I remember the time you were 
last here and as you left you 
flashed your eyes dark at me,
filled with orange fire that smelled 
like burnt chocolate and you spoke
silently with that glance

straight into my heart, a look that
was a blade slicing thru the music,
(that dissonant dance)
and you said in one glancetumblr_novh5kX5Zr1s5neh1o1_500that you wished my mother had 
had an abortion 
instead of me…

In that moment, the tide turned
in this war on us, and I had
a flash of insight that would 
make Lorenz so jealous:
I knew who the 
Unknown Soldier was
and always would be.304475_10151253739365067_139629285_n

No Protest In Philly!!

OMG Constance!!  Did you hear about the massive protests and riots going on in Philadelphia because of the death of a woman of color???

Yeah…neither did I.

After all…she was only a woman.

A woman of color.

Oh…and she was trans.

Just another piece of trash collected for the patriarchy.  http://www.buzzfeed.com/dominicholden/transgender-woman-stabbed-to-death-in-philadelphia?utm_term=.yfzwq8GpK#.pnOnBKk8L tumblr_no7mu5zPsO1rebxsto1_1280

But while I am on the topic of killing transwomen?  If you slur me with your words…if you other me with your actions…if you lie to yourself about who I am…if you call me “engenderer”, “mask”, “monster”, “other” (a literal “othering”)…

…you do not get to call yourself a trans-advocate.

Words hurt, wound irrevokably…but silence slays the heart.tumblr_mvieqh54sY1qj5oxwo1_1280

Bullied Girl Commits Suicide After School Officials Tell Her “Toughen Up”

Bullied Girl Commits Suicide After School Officials Tell Her “Toughen Up”.

Here’s a thought:  how bout each one of you who reads this go to your school board and tell them that if  this sort of thing is tolerated in your school district, you will file civil suit against them as culpable for the death?

How bout you simply say to them you personally will not tolerate anything whatsoever except a no bullying stance?

Or is it to you as it is to so many:  the equivalent of the Aztec hearts held up to appease the angry god of the patriarchy and preserve your own privilege?

Anonymous: Her Blood is on your Keyboard

Constance…I am sobbing deeply right now.  Another transgender person dead, dysphoria eats another one of us, and what’s worse but not at all unusual is the way that the cis-world egged her on.

I cannot imagine the cruel hearts of the people who said such horrible things to her.

But I will be blunt:  everyday, you need to remember that most transgender people are treated with staggering othering and policing.

I myself am shunned, and my history is distorted and fabricated.  My narrative is hijacked in service of a myth that allows people to feel good about the indifferent uncaring way they choose to live.

It weighs on a person, it does.

Constance, everywhere around you someone is suffering, someone is laboring.  How about just be kind?

Please?

Someday you will wish you had been, if you’re lucky.

Trans woman, 23, kills herself after being attacked online | Gay Star News.

Trans woman, 23, kills herself after being attacked online

#HerNameWasRachel
RIP Rachel Bryk.

A young trans woman has killed herself after being attacked online.

Rachel Bryk, 23, jumped off the George Washington Bridge, the bridge between New York and New Jersey, on Thursday night (23 April)

An eyewitness is believed to have seen the young woman leave her purse on the bridge and jump off into the Hudson River.

Bryk’s body has still not been recovered. A funeral will be planned when her body is found.

Her shocked mother Lisa Bryk, from New Jersey, found out on Friday morning.

‘She was super smart, really good with computers,’ she told Gay Star News. ‘We’ll miss her.’

Bryk was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis at a young age and lived with chronic pain. This meant she was unable to get a job or keep to a regular schedule.

She found her life in anime, nerd culture and computing. She helped develop an emulator that allows you to play Gamecube and Wii games on your PC.

But because Bryk was talented, and hard-working, and open about being trans, it meant she left herself open to online attacks.

When she said on 4chan that she was considering killing herself, she did not receive support.

‘DO IT, if you’re such a weak willed thin skinned dipshit then fucking do it,’ one anonymous commenter told her.

Even in her death, some on 4chan have described it as a ‘victory’. On news of her death, some commented that she was the ‘whiniest fucking faggot’ and ‘any tranny death is good riddance’.

Such comments clearly left Bryk severely depressed, who would often call herself ‘worthless trash’ on her Ask.fm page. Her Twitter bio page read: ‘[Trigger Warning]: suicide on everything i say.’

At Friday midnight, this was posted on her Twitter.

Rachel Bryk Tweet

The people Bryk worked with mourned her.

‘She will be missed greatly by everyone. We are stronger, better people thanks to knowing her,’ one said.

And another: ‘Rachel was more than just a great programmer. She was a great programmer who always managed to put a smile on my face. I don’t think that there ever will be anyone else quite like her. Rest in peace.’

When we asked Bryk’s mom how the family dealt with her daughter’s transition, she said: ‘It caused a lot of worry, because the world is not a kind place for people who are different.’

If you are considering suicide, please call the US National Suicide Prevention Lifeline on 1-800-273-8255. The LGBT National Helpline is on 888-843-4564, with the Youth line on 800-246-7743.

– See more at: http://www.gaystarnews.com/article/trans-woman-23-kills-herself-after-being-attacked-online270415#sthash.jcThC57T.kXWTRJ3X.dpuf

Yes…Men as a whole are privileged and need a reality check!

Constance, I post about men, their sense of privilege and entitlement, the mutilation of their soul they are forced to ritually endure as payment for that privilege, and the twisted and scary ways that sense of entitlement and the actual rape of their souls replicates itself in their actions…

…and I often get messages back that are variations on the “not all men” theme…cus these individuals have not taken the actual physical actions that I post about…even though they disregard their own violent and presumptuous writing style that is arrogant, presumptive, and ultimately such a perfect manifestation of the very thing I write about…

Well I am posting this below as illustration of a general thing by virtue of highlighting a specific.

And remember, men:  I grew up in your midst!  I was there, me Charissa Grace…watching, listening, horrified and traumatized when I was naive and new…and then tired and tearful when I was older and on verse 3, 214 of the same tired-ass old song that you each and everyone think is one you wrote…YOU wrote, and thus your every word is so important, so heavy with weight…and if only people listened to YOUR way of explaining it they would finally understand…

um no.  What is listed below?  It is the unvarnished, unsophisticated version of what the vast vast VAST majority of you do over and over and over again…such  as the nice guy I read yesterday who was mansplaining all about how women would not be effective leaders when they were on their periods because their hormones would make them irrational, or less rational…

which omfg ignores sooo many things, assumes sooo many things…and one major thing is that rationality is any better compass for providing leadership than other things like say intuition, or heart, or feeling, or compassion, or…or…or…or…and then assumes that women ARE more irrational than men…what the actual F**K?

Rational?  Like the poor person below…

um, no.bird beek

 

PS:  all comments below are from the original post, not me

 

canfy:

onefitmodel:

fformlessness:

genuinely the scariest person i’ve ever come across!!!! the first message was one from where he messaged me yesterday
the last message exchange was from another girl who posted her interaction with him, and after her message back to him after he VIDEO CALLED HER MULTIPLE TIMES IN A ROW he proceeded to tell her to “shut the fuck up, whore” when she explained how weird it was

i’m now blocked from his fb and i’m just sharing this in case any girl ever gets a friend request from him!! i have no idea what state he’s from and i can’t access his page anymore so please be careful ily!!!

OH MY GOD

Okay somebody please report that shit to the police he genuinely sounds like the kind of guy whod shoot women in a university. Like srsly people living in the us do something about it

EVERYONE, CONTACT HIS PARENTS, CONTACT THE POLICE, CONTACT FACEBOOK SUPPORT!!! Don’t let this asshole get away with it!!!

“This Has To Stop”: Okay, whatchya gonna do about it?

Her Name Was Taylor, by Lori Duron

Constance, I often run across the statement “This has to stop” in connection with accounts of the bullying and suicide epidemics that transgender people face.  And that is good, that people are beginning to get it, the monstrous othering and policing that we face every single G Dam day of our lives simply because we were “guilty” of being born into this life with the knowledge that our gender orientation and our assigned birth biology are at odds.

But I am restive with the ease with which in this internet age we can flourish our fingers over a keyboard and then move on from post with the feeling that we have actually “done something”, when all we have actually done is in effect restate the problem without attempting resolution.  It is sorta like having a math test and re-writing the problem
6 + 11 = x      as   
x = 11 + 6  (and we be sure to draw attention to our use of different colored font and italics).

Compassion is a bicameral quality.  It has two lobes.  It has the feeling, heart lobe…that throbbing, dripping, bleeding tender outpouring of sympathetic alignment if we have not experienced something for ourselves (and just so you know:  if you are not transgender, it is impossible for you to empathize with a dysphoric person, just as if you are white you cannot empathize with a person of color…you can sympathizebut don’t deceive yourself into thinking you empathize)…

…but for it to be true compassion, it must have the action side as well.  What will you do with your sympathy?

Lori Duron has again posted a truly moving recounting of a tragic tale of bullying and othering and policing that ended in another transgender life lost…and I will recite yet again the litany of 2015:  a lost transgender life approximately every 30 hours since 2015 began!

As if it is not enough of a burden to face:  the nearly overwhelming unendurable constant achy angst of dysphoria.  Oh no…to that is added the onslaught of ignorance, fear, and hatred as expressed in the evil of bullying which drives so many to self-destructive action in addition to having to bear gender dysphoria!

But Lori goes one better:  She posts people you can email, places you can step up and actually take action that extends beyond the hypothetical feel good phrase “This has to stop” and manifests in real, measurable action…and takes baby steps as a compassionate act.

And then I myself will go you one better:  there are marches coming up in major cities…in June.  They have various names, monikers…but at heart they are the same, in that they are opportunities for you to express–directly–your support with your body side by side with other bodies, facing gawkers and haters, the curious and disinterested, and others who have walked in solitary confinement in their skins…

Transgender Pride Marches.

Yes, there will be people there who look different than you…who walk or talk different than you…and who want/feel/think/need/deserve exactly the same things you do as human beings!  Your presence there as an ally will mean more to them than any of them can say…in addition to the emails you write or the lawmakers you contact, or the PTA meetings you attend to make your cis-gender privileged voice heard that it is not going to be tolerated, this epidemic of transgender suicide and murder…and your other actions that you are thinking of and planning to take.

You are thinking of them?  Actions to take?  Plans to do something?  Someone you can maybe even smile at?  Befriend?

In the Portland Area, I believe Transgender Pride March Day is June 13th.  I hope to be there and intend to be, God willing.  I intend to walk, with a sense of presence and dignity (a word I use very reluctantly right now as it has been wielded against me like a sharp phallic sword to rape my heart and spirit, but I use it none the less to mean a sense of presence that contains worth and significance simply because I am a human being)…I intend to hold my head high and not angled down, and my eyes moving from face to face and eye to eye rather than always staring at the space in between…

I hope to see you there, beside me…cis, trans.  But if I don’t?  It would mean the world to see you standing at the curb, a smile on your face and a nod in your eyes.

This has to stop…this expression of emotion that lacks the manifestation of action.

If you don’t support in word and deed, then you don’t support.tumblr_mv4lfyu1MH1szrg39o1_r1_500

Who Speaks For You?

…in baseball bat threats,
and shifting blame bloviations?

there is a narrative constructed
and characters are run thru the mill

Procrustean beds wait, rimmed in razor words
and made up in straight jacket axioms

of hero killing Zeus, Medusa slain
but ‘ware the mirrors lest the true face be glimpsed…

…and you, you both have hitched to this?
your bones know, don’t they?

Or do they?  Crawl inside your skin
when you feel the truth dissolve

and lies (half and whole cloth)
kick like something wicked waiting

to slouch towards Bethlehem
in the kingdom of Ozymandias?

Your silent disengagement lets our history
be Big-Brothered in Orwellian style scripts

and becomes tacit agreement with things
that go against your grain like sand paper.

Oh may your grain glow gold and run deep
for ruin holds this day and devours the moon.tumblr_njkyxgsohE1txde3xo1_1280

The Impossible Demands of Dating Under the Pressures of Rape Culture

Constance, I found this article over here:  http://everydayfeminism.com/2015/04/rape-culture-dating/ 

I am posting it because I have to make the same calculations as a transwoman that a cis-gender woman makes, and then make them again because trans, which shrinks down the safe zone even further.  Fortunately for me, I am not dealing with dating, but there is still such risk.

Please read and consider the implications.

Originally published on Robot Hugs 

(Trigger Warning: Sexual assault and rape culture)

When you’re dating, you may get lots of advice on keeping yourself safe. At the same time, you can get pressure to be carefree. And if something bad happens, you’re blamed for not properly calculating the risks! So what gives?

You shouldn’t have to carry the demand to be both available and super capable of preventing your own assault. This comic says it all.

With Love,
The Editors at Everyday Feminism

part 1

2014-12-04-Risky Date

 

(3) Tumblr

anonymous asked:

How do you feel about Redmayne playing a trans woman?

1) I don’t know that we really need any more opinions, but since you asked..

2) Straight men hurt trans women because they’re afraid other men will think they’re gay for liking them. They think they’ll look gay because society, largely thanks to media, portrays trans women as men, and gay as less masculine and valuable. Having cis men play trans women contributes to this and puts trans women at risk. Plain and simple.

3) This is happening and nothing is going to stop it from happening, so my hope is that the producers will recognize the issue and do everything they can to mitigate the damage they’ll inevitably cause. I have friends that know Redmayne and assure me that he’s taking all these issues seriously. Obviously it would have been best if he had refused the part, but he’s no Jared Leto either.

Tangentially related, and perhaps selfishly, I’m less concerned with cis actors playing trans roles as I am with the near total lack of trans writers. I believe we’ll have a far greater impact when we are telling our own stories.

via (3) Tumblr.

Why Indeed?

Similarities between Blake Brockington and Leelah Alcorn

1. They wore both Transgender.

2, They were both rejected by their families (Blake was in fostercare because his family kicked him out).

3.  Their ages. (Blake had just turned 18, and Leelah was 17 turning 18)

4. They both commited suicide.

So explain to me why this well known Transgender activist, Blake Brockington, who raised thousands for charity and became the first black transgender homecoming king is getting almost no media attention. Leelah Alcorn trended across Twitter and Tumblr—even got her own Wikipedia page and article in People magazine. 

This is by no means a comparison or a contest for opression. But Blake Brockington deserves the same memorial Leelah Alcorn was given— if not more.  Three thousand to three hundred and sixty four (and that is including articles about him winning @ HOCO) .

The only clear difference between them is his race. Preserve this young man’s life.

REST IN POWER KING, BLAKE BROCKINGTON.

Constance, the above is a quoted passage that I found today…I think it is worth noting the first four points as the only important thing…and then it is worth noting that race was a huge significant factor in this disparaging difference as the only factor!  Both and.  Not either or!

Fight off issue fatigue, and keep passionate about freedom and life.
Charissa

Addressed To Everyone Who Knew Me Then:

Dear Constance, Dear Reader:

I make a distinction between you Constance, who found your way here, drawn by my writings…poems, posts, pics…perhaps bloviating, who knows…but you found your way here to me, Charissa.  And you have known my heart, known me for who I am, what I am…

…and then there is you, Reader.  You are from my past.  You knew me “then”.  You knew the role I was in, the part I played, and played even to myself in the midst of the horror and sorrow dysphoria is.  You watched me from afar.  You assessed always, judged by what you saw on the outside.

More often than not you threw me into your scale of judgment with me on one side and yourself on the other and I was found wanting in the balance.

And then there is “Brother of Reader, Sister of Reader”…and you also are from my past.  You come around like people from a small midwestern town go to the travelling freak show:  you slink in under cover of darkness and read.  You gossip to one another in hushed tones, and wag your head in wonder over this person you knew “who finally lost it”.

Well Reader, I did indeed finally lose it, and found me.

But here is the deal:  you broke trust with me…the person.  You broke faith.

I extended kindness over and over again.  I extended love and sacrifice.  I placed your needs above my own, and sought to serve you, give to you freely and without expectation and in hope that you would learn and be transformed by the renewing of your minds and hearts in the washings of the eternal word I sought to live.

I cannot allow you to be around.  Broken trust is too deep a gulf, too broad a breach.  And there are also factors that literally prohibit me from taking any chances with anyone from my past…from that specific past that involved your access to my life, and even deeper, to my heart.

So now I am gone…and the reality of my absence is sinking in…and you miss that steady striving earnest heart.  You miss that gentle person you could yell at or off load on who kept cool under fire and didn’t repay evil with evil, but evil with good.  You think to yourself that maybe there was a different narrative than the one you conspired with in the moment because if felt good and was safer to you than the risk of allying with someone who was going down, and going down for good…

…so you come here, reading, finding the same heart and soul, and more…realizing there were depths and chambers hidden from which treasure came, from which pearls came.  You hope to find expiation.  You imagine that perhaps the traces can be picked up once again and we can pick up where we left off…except that “we” didn’t leave off…

You did.  Leave.  Off.

Let the word be spread:  I cannot risk you in my life.  I will block you as I find out your presence in the various social media I utilize.  Oh don’t get me wrong…I forgive you, and have forgiven from the beginning…I just cannot control what happened to the land when that nuclear bomb went off and radiation blighted that territory.  Half-lives simply must pass and in the meantime nothing will grow.

So spread the word.  I am not responding.  I am not waving.  I am not answering.  I am not hating.  I am not loving.  I am not acknowledging. I have shaken the dust off my feet and moved on, and will never utter another word in your direction…because I am required to, I have to, I must.

I am dead to you…and alive to me, and to Constance.  I am legally transitioned to me, and fully so…the me I always was and almost lost.

I am Charissa Grace…I am beloved of God, by Their Word and Their Blood…I am not yours.tumblr_nc63kfwTM21qdo44uo1_1280

A Disjointed Incomplete Meditation…

houses of grey blank walls decked out in smooth rich wood
panels and pictures of picnics and parties…
banal bacchanalia, all splattered in Blood.

Beds of spikes, hidden neath down comforters,
and wool knitted afghans of colorful,
threatening sinister pattern.

Houses in neighborhoods bereft of neighbors,
each one is serving themselves and alone
in community of this alienation…and all is
destroyed by their own bloody hands…

the work of rough hands…even rougher grave throats.

Our eyes are still bloodshot from staring at visions
of genocide done that we didn’t see coming
but now we continue to watch, in foreboding

but hoping in vain that the cute lil houses
are what’s really real and not all the horror,
lurking beneath in destruction and gore.

we are really in fear and wondering…
what happens when a killer comes home,
or (gulp) even worse

if that killer had never left home?

what then?

what happens when victims
*widows orphans*

and murderers

look each other in the eyes again?

what then, and who blinks first and looks away in shame?

What are these wounds on your chest?
The wounds I received in the house of my friends.

What is greater:  the pain of being violated
or the bitter agony of forgiving?

a valley of dry bones cannot be forgotten
even in the face of forgiveness so costly.

This impossible for me to try to describe
or even conceive of apart from the cross of Christ.

Because forgiveness is also
it’s own rare and exquisite
form of great suffering.

And so now we get down to it:
there is no exit, no escape from the agony,
no pitstop from pain…
all we can do is exchange suffering’s form and it’s face,
from our own for the pain of another…
and us become willing to be bashed and broken
by those very ones we so desperately want
to reach out to and reconcile and leave pain behind.

This is the agony of a tortured soul wrestling
and a wrecked body there…offered in prayer
on the altar of sorrow…for the forgiveness
of torturers’ torments in this dank dark world
of violence and victims, laboring heavy
beneath weights unspeakable and even greater,
the weight of the cross.

And Him?  The Reproached?
The Betrayed, Who was Broken?
Him The Despised and King of All Criminals,
King of All Victims, King of All Shame?

Perhaps He knows of the path thru this valley
of broken dry bones full of dust, full of death.

Perhaps He can see those small signs of life
that are hidden from eyes filled with blood, hate and rage
and only seen by the eyes washed clean with tears
of repentance and wonder to look for our Spring

and the signs there so gentle
of a coming glad day of Resurrection…tumblr_ni0sfjatWG1qzq0kvo1_1280

Remind me again how the patriarchy does not oppress women and children?

“message to all you privileged white american girls saying “we don’t need feminism” because you don’t “feel oppressed” here’s an example of why we DO still need feminism and a friendly reminder that the rest of the f**kn world exists too”

IMPORTANT!!!

The Sickness in our Souls…

Sadly, Constance, “Animal Cruelty” is merely human beings being what they are…directed at animals.

It is what we have become…because when Animal Cruelty is directed at me, it is gender cruelty, and when it is directed at someone of a different race it is racial cruelty…

…who are we kidding?  We are sick, and we need a cure.

Someone Tell Me That I’ll Live: On Murder, Media, and Being a Trans Woman in 2015 – xoJane

I am starting to think that trans women and trans femmes — all of us linked by the cardinal sin of being named boys at birth, yet breaking the rules of boyhood and manhood — are trapped inside a traumatized story. From an early age, we are inundated with the story of our deaths, we relive it over and over many times before we actually die.

This same story is taken up, commoditized, and mass produced by communities outside of ourselves — media outlets looking for sensational stories, academics looking to produce research, and as Morgan Collado points out, even “LGBT” human rights organizations eager to use the statistics of transphobic violence to garner funds used to pursue the interests of cis, white gays and lesbians.

Even well-meaning liberal cis people, eager to earn “ally” points, consume and exploit the narrative of the doomed trans woman in their way.

via Someone Tell Me That I’ll Live: On Murder, Media, and Being a Trans Woman in 2015 – xoJane.

Constance, you know my thoughts about this topic.  This article states them far more eloquently than I do.  There is a part of the article speaking about how people who “knew us then” feel as if we have died already…

…in light of the murder of trans-women being an almost ritualized offering of human lives to the bloodthirsty god of patriarchy, it feels so eerie, as if my own loved ones consign me to those fires with forked fingers and muttered incantations invoking protection against the evil (trans) eye…

My deepest sorrow is that my life seems a curse.  If I exist as I was, then I am doomed and serving life in a prison invisible and undeclared and I am forever derided because I am depressed or despairing or I am resented because I hated myself…

…and if I exist as I am, then I am resented because I am the cause of death of a man who never was and never could be, except in the thoughts and minds of everyone around me.  And all they offer me is the promise that they will give me their illusions and fears to prop me up and costume me and call it liberty, or they will call me Patrick Henry and give me death.

It is my choice they say.

Yes…it is…my choice.  And I choose Tikkun.

I choose to live, and let go of all other things I cannot control.  And if I die before you wake, then I pray the Lord your soul will take…to the fountains of truth and revelation…and then I pray that He will take you across that river you so proudly declared you would never cross…I pray that He will ferry you across Himself, and show you the blood-soaked ground that constitutes the banks of the river called Rejection.-dcaa8f4b5344b04a

 

Why I Get Very Concerned When I Am Called Names…

The men became enraged once they discovered that Nettles was transgender, according to prosecutors and a fight broke out.

Dixon punched Nettles in the face, making her to fall to the ground and strike her head on the sidewalk, causing a serious brain injury, said Assistant District Attorney Nicholas Viorst.

Viorst alleges that Dixon brutally beat Nettles and “struck her repeatedly as she lay on the ground” while “driving the side of her head into the pavement.”

The indictment charges that Dixon used the sidewalk as a “dangerous instrument” to cause Nettles’ death.

via Brooklyn Man Arrested for 2013 Death of Transgender Woman Islan Nettles – Hamilton Heights – DNAinfo.com New York.

Constance…why?  Driving face into sidewalk…enraged at a gender orientation…punishment of a capital nature for the crime of…what?

Being “a dude in a dress”?  Being a “he/she?”

…and I am the one who has been judged as demonized…

*tears*Paolo Troilo

 

3 Reasons Why Saying ‘Real Men Don’t Rape’ Reinforces Rape Culture — Everyday Feminism

3 Reasons Why Saying ‘Real Men Don’t Rape’ Reinforces Rape Culture — Everyday Feminism.

This is must reading.  It gets to a very dangerous assumption:  that only monsters or freaks commit rape.

Sadly, rape is committed by loving fathers, normal husbands, common brothers…in short, by ordinary non-monster men who think it is their right to take what they want sexually from these other-gendered objects created merely for a man’s use and pleasure.

This message underlies major sections of some theological beliefs and it is based on a complete misunderstanding of the true nature and essence of who woman is…

…this attitude is inculcated at every turn in our culture today, and sadly women internalize much of this within themselves and end up being vulnerable in ways they would not otherwise wish to be.

I like how the author lays out the issue…head over and check it out, yeah?tumblr_njdbcqlsru1rhpg9vo1_1280

North Carolina mom believes bullying led to transgender teen’s suicide – LGBTQ Nation

North Carolina mom believes bullying led to transgender teen’s suicide – LGBTQ Nation.

Constance…ears are deaf to our pleas…another one has gone over the precipice of despair.

This area is the same one where some of my own dementors hail from, those truly baffling souls so full of hate that they are compelled to speak spite and make sure that they attempt to infuse my heart with that poison…oh yeah, cus they love me so much.

I am deeply saddened but not one bit surprised that this poor dear despaired in such a caustic and hateful atmosphere as this.

Ima keep on posting these things…you cannot pretend it doesn’t happen.  You cannot pretend that reading here is the same as supporting a transgender person.  If you read here but do nothing, you are like the rich person who walks the streets in -20 degrees below zero and tells the ones who freeze in their nakedness “be warm, be warm.”

Listen:  it is not going to stop until you get you up out of your ease and privilege and stand with me!  With us!  In your community…and yeah, you will lose face and reputation and may be called a name or two…quel horreur!

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly.
Charissa Grace

http://www.wsoctv.com/videos/news/mother-believes-bullying-led-to-transgender-teens/vDH8L9/

Can you stop killing us for just one week?

Jan 1st to Feb 22nd 2015 one Transgender person is being murdered every 29 hours. | Planet Transgender.

Constance…did you realize this?

I invite you to consider this request.

Being called he/she, and having it justified by a spiritual comment, well it smacks a bit of feeling like getting groomed for other, deeper transgressions.

It is a true reality that I could get murdered, just for walking transgender.

As long as you cis people read and feel all bad and stuff, and then see what’s on tv, we will keep being killed.  No one will stop killing us until they are forced to stop…a bit like the police force and their wanton slaughter of young black men.

Please…we really are not doing anything to you.  Just let us live.

The Last Week of February is Worldwide

Any Reason Good Enough

he said he lost control.
of himself, that is…
and I wonder why he did
what he did and left other things
undone?sina-domke44
a word like glass
across my neck,
a splash of blood from
blasted nose, a shove severe
and skidding down
on skint and bruised knees…why stop there?
If it was mere control
he lost?

because
it might make him look
like…what?tumblr_mrz6qkmeV11rhpg9vo1_1280like the man with loaded gun
and empty heart
and heartless soul
who blasted her
out of her shoes
and into her grave?

like the man who
bashed her face
to bloody mush
and flicked his bic
and burned the pile
of gender trash
transgressive?tumblr_nj1iv8mDkj1s4ixmuo1_1280the lost control excuse
the panic and murder alibi
these abusive rampages
verbal, physical, psychic
feel justified to them,
morally acceptable, defensible,
any reason good enough.

Any reason good enough
lost control…
they conflate the two
and we continue
to die like flies.scars_of_self_hate_by_kapanihan-d8htjev

Fifty Shades of Grey review by Rosie Waterland

Fifty Shades of Grey review by Rosie Waterland.

Constance, this is an important review.  It pulls the funhouse mirror mask off of one of the most deceptive, disturbing, despicable pieces of pop culture phenomena that has washed up on the shores of our collective zeitgeist in quite some time.

I want to warn those with more sensitive reactions to harsh language that there is a liberal sprinkling of swearing and scatalogical vocabulary, but I think it is appropriate to the force of the emotion this writer is expressing.

It also helped me know why I had that huge shudder and check in my heart over this whole thing, and as I have said earlier I did know about this way back when it was a serialized fan fiction story placed in forums.

The issue is not the sexuality.

The issue is not whether anyone is “openminded” or “a prude” if they approve or disapprove of the production.  As I have laid out in 2 posts, I look at sexuality markedly different than seems to be the majority view, but then again I look at most things a bit different anyway.

No…the issue is that this piece of unbridled domestic violence is able to take its place in the hearts of so many millions of people as something to aspire to, something that a truly whole and balanced woman should be able to deal with…

…and it is that lie that I have always been revolted by, felt my spirit buck and shy away from.

It is tragic that Domestic Violence has even the smokescreen of legitimacy that it can hide behind, tuck in and draft off of…until it is back inside the 4 walls of some isolated domicile where the mask comes off and the monster comes out to feed.

Give this review a read, Constance…and then have the courage to know that somethings are just not necessary to accept just because they exist.

Domestic violence is never okay, even if it is wrapped in the promise of pleasure.  It is still a box of pain and sorrow.SAMSUNG CSC

The Evil of Too Much Compassion – #1000SPEAK

#1000Speak

*(Due to circumstances beyond my control, I was not able to post this yesterday.  Better late than never!)*

“Sympathetic pity and concern for the sufferings or misfortunes of others.
‘the victims should be treated with compassion’
Word Origin
C14:
from Old French
from Late Latin compassiō fellow feeling,
from compatī to suffer with,
from Latin com- with + patī to bear, suffer”tumblr_niyul6FH6k1s4uwt4o1_500

Compassion.  You hear a lot about it.  It is an attractive word emotionally, these days.  It is a feel-good word, one that evokes feelings of admiration in the one who attributes it to someone, and a sense of pride and accomplishment in the one to whom it is attributed.

It’s sorta like a modern feel good girl-scout merit badge…wait, did Charissa just say that?  Now that is not a compassionate thing to say!!

Unless it is, because it serves to deliver from a greater pain in the future.

Here is the troubling thing to me, as we are seeking to unpack this word and let it take on form and substance, as we seek to bring about “the Incarnation of Compassion”.  We have far too often stopped at the first part of the definition of the word, and have utterly disregarded the origin of it…that part that talks about “suffering with”, or “bearing suffering with”.

Compassion is not about the one who has it.  It is about the one for whom the feeling is born.

And too much compassion is a dangerous thing, because it gets in its own way.tumblr_njinqxNvl11s9fah1o1_1280

After all, if you actually see your neighbor down the street, are moved to compassion, let the word become Incarnate within you, then you will take action and your time and energy will be consumed to the extent that your ability to have actual compassion (complete with action) will be severely curtailed commensurate with what you expend in this action.

I want to write, in the midst of this sparkling wonder of a snowstorm of exquisite flakes of compassion, to remind us that compassion is about someone other than the haver of it!  The mere presence of the feelings commonly called compassion are actually closer to “pity” unless we do something about those feelings.

And that is why I have titled this post “The Evil of Too Much Compassion”…it becomes a little blue pill that we swallow to assuage the pain that comes when we feel compassion and then take no action.  The alternative action is to simply read about more heart breaking things and feel more compassion, and then to read about more and feel more, and more, and…

…well, finally, we have become so compassionate that we are creating and attending “compassion rallies” and we are so stirred up about all the things we do that show how compassionate we are that we become very adept at dodging the homeless people laying in the streets and wrapped in rags and cold.tumblr_nhol1cpsSU1sjh130o1_1280

We are Houdinis of news aggregation.  We are becoming so broadminded, so large hearted, that we think that rights and privileges should be shared freely…to people of all sexual and gender orientation…and then we read of the murder of the seventh transgender woman this year.

Yes…in the first seven weeks of 2015, seven transgender women have been murdered…and these murders are scattered about the nation, they have nothing else in common save for the gender orientation of the women…and we feel…what?

Compassion?  Really?  Did we feel moved to the point that we chose to “bear suffering with?”  What form did your action take, when you read of that horror?  tumblr_njkv32vpAD1rg590io1_1280

Look, the fact is that if you remove the “trans” part and look at this string of murders in the way that most murders are viewed, it would seem the work of a very scary, very mobile serial killer who strikes with no rhyme or reason and could kill you next.  There would be an outrage and our police force would stir itself in paroxysms of action to hunt down and stop a monster who would kill women at the rate of one a week…sort of a twisted demented “communion supper” offered to death and defilement!

But no…it is not done that way, because compassion for a transgender woman who is killed is not quite the appropriate emotion, because she may have been out late, or at a bar, or she may not have told the murderer yet that she was trans, or she may have told him she was trans and thus deserved to be murdered, or she may have been interested in sexual activity with an attractive partner or she may have refused sexual activity or…

…well, she is transgender for god’s sake, surely she must have known she shouldn’t just walk around trans and not hide it (or is it tell about it and broadcast so as not to “deceive”, or is it try harder to pass, or is it that she tried too hard and thus looked like a parody of a “real woman”, or…or…ad infinitum).tumblr_njrpfdTKYa1r837hbo1_1280

We get very good at letting our eyes skim over the words in today’s latest story of woe to suck out the juice to slake our thirst to feel good about ourselves…and then not take action lest we limit ourselves in our hunt for more to feel compassionate about.

If compassion is not more than a feeling, then it is not compassion at all.

It is pride.

This day of compassion may or may not be that…it is up to you.

Mother Teresa once said something about this sort of thing.  She was in the gutter with a leper who had fouled herself with the loss of bowel control, and she was besmirched in the woman’s filth.  A passerby who was well off stopped and rebuked her, asking her what possible difference she was making in the world.

“Look around you!” he exclaimed.  “There are millions and billions of people suffering at this very second!  Your life here is wasted and your efforts are in vain!”

Mother Teresa looked up calmly at the man, and then she said this:

“I am not called to serve millions and billions…I am called to serve this one.”  She turned back to her little lamb, to tend her in her suffering, and the man walked away stunned, baffled.

But never fear, Constance…because he was very very sad about all the millions and billions of people who are suffering in this world…very sad indeed.

And he simply didn’t know how he would be able to go on with this burden, so he prayed that his already expansive “compassionate” heart would be stretched and expanded even further so he could feel that feeling…

…the one that proved what a fine fellow he truly was.

Highways…byways…lost lambs…get you there and let your feelings of pity be transformed in the crucible of suffering into true gold compassion.

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly…live compassionately.

Charissa Grace.ab1b96bff70ea85ee6e04e5c1aa30544

Van Nuys transgender woman stabbed to death then set on fire | Planet Transgender

Van Nuys transgender woman stabbed to death then set on fire | Planet Transgender.

Constance…nice to see that the perp got the obligatory “setting the corpse on fire” piece correct…right??

Sigh…always the post mortem mayhem and mutilation.

What does say about the strength of gender orientation?

(And no, Hater…the answer is NOT “the bitch had it coming”)

Well, at least we can all console ourselves with the knowledge that our Transgender Remembrance Day is gonna be soo great for all of us who live, and we will have plenty to preen about and feel ever so sad over as we break our arms patting ourselves on the back for how progressive we are because we cry and remember the dead ones.

Oh, but we must be oh so careful to never actually do anything about this ongoing murder spree lest we make the need for Transgender Remembrance Day disappear…can’t have that, now, can we!!?  I mean, actually do something??  *Shudder*

Yes, Constance, you did a remarkable job in detecting my extreme sarcasm…get the point, and then get to work.  This will not change until cis-gender people with privilege speak up and use their power on our behalf.

Grim Charissatumblr_niy1u2vGyP1qhap7so1_1280

Police search for clues in murder of transgender woman in Texas – LGBTQ Nation

Police search for clues in murder of transgender woman in Texas – LGBTQ Nation.

Constance, I am sure you already know about this crime, and so my posting it here is redunda…oh wait…of course you haven’t heard about it yet!

It is just a “so-called transgender woman”…poor thing just got what she deserved.

Nope…nothing wrong here.  Move along, move along.

Obviously, I was writing sarcastically to expose the reality of the underlying assumptions that empower the continued lack of it being any sort of an agenda item to protect the rights and well-being of transgender people.

And the count rolls on…good thing we have a transgender remembrance day so her death will not be in vain, right?  She can now serve as a lil tidbit for the cis-gender world to consume as an assuagement of conscience!  A lil “transgender tums” to relieve the indigestion caused by the wanton devouring of transgender people.

Do JUSTICE

Love MERCY

Walk HUMBLY

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Charissa Meditations on Rape, Gender and the Patriarchy

Idaho Chief of Police Mic Drops On Transgender ‘Bathroom’ Bill Section.

Good Morning Constance…

I am pressing this article here on Grace Notes for a couple of reasons:  the low hanging fruit here, of course, is the putting on blatant naked display the kind of ignorance and misogyny that transgender people face…but specifically transgender women face to a far larger degree than transgender men do.  As I read the kinds of assumptions that are made and asserted, I am astounded at the towering lack of knowledge and the even deeper unwillingness to be educated about the issue.
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But let’s dig a bit deeper here…note that the primary canard that is hysterically hurled over and over again is that “men” want to rape women, and so they will go to any length to engage in this violation, including “dressing up as a woman”, entering a bathroom, and then feasting like a wolf on defenseless denizens within.  Thus we cannot risk allowing transgender women to use the women’s restrooms, but will force them into men’s restrooms…

…Constance, did you catch that assumption that slides right by and gets a nod of tacit agreement?  And did you see the inherent contradiction that is actually supported by documented epidemic-like numbers?

The assumption is that men are creatures with one primal driving force in their lives…having sex.  Even if it means taking sex from unwilling females who are just in the general vicinity.  The assumption is that we need to build our society around this reality and do our best to just “limit the damage” caused by this basic fact about men.

Rape is institutionalized as an accepted feature of our society!tumblr_nit5kckaeX1s1vn29o1_1280

Rather than deal with that underlying horror and the cultural constructs that have given rise to the unspoken reality that men not only take what they want sexually but are entitled to this taking, we instead get ourselves all twisted up over the bathroom.  Rather than teach our little boys how to be real human beings and what being male means, and what it does not mean, we just sort of wring our hands and hide our eyes when the moon is full and hope the werewolf stays away from our door.

We are fully capable of this teaching…if:  if anyone really knew anymore what it means to be a man!  What does that mean, men?  To you…what does it mean to be a man?  And, as part of your journey of discovery, have you ever inquired of women what being a man means?  Have you ever even thought to seek some of your self-definition in the understanding and grappling with what it means to be a woman?tumblr_nipdsiK2LD1rv5690o1_1280

See how this would preclude rape as an even slightly acceptable option for men?

But no…this is not what we do with that subject of rape:  we continue to keep it disconnected from the poison and demonic roots from which it sprang, and those are the roots of patriarchy and male privilege.  Women already know this, men, but for your own education…ask any woman you know what kinds of situations does she feel safe from the possibility of being raped.  Ask yourselves how you have socialized your own daughters regarding dress, safety in public places, when to be outdoors and when to be home “safe”.  Ask any woman if they think they are made safe from the possibility of being raped just because transgender women are kept from the right restrooms…

And that leads us to a deeper reality:  the reality, backed up by the blood and tears and horror and even murder of transgender women…who have been forced into men’s restrooms and there been harassed, assaulted, raped, and left for dead (if they are lucky) or murdered outright!  This is an actual fact that happens hundreds of times a year.  The dynamic I wrote of in the preceding section of my essay here is given free reign!  As a society we are demanding that some women be placed into serious jeopardy to their very beings and existence…because we refuse to deal with the horror of rape as a feature of the patriarchal paradigm we are all enslaved by.tumblr_nhp3bxAGEi1r3lb7ro1_1280

It is another example of how rape is sanctioned as part of the price that must be paid by women in order for all men to retain their granted privilege…and the really awful thing about this particular expression of this blood-spattered reality is the sad result on display of how some women become collaborators with the paradigm:  they would rather consign their transgender sisters to this fate than stand against the oppression and iron-fist of the patriarchy!  This is a phenomenon not unlike how certain Jews collaborated with the Nazis in the hopes that they would then be left alone and unharmed.

It is a Mephistophelian bargain…the soul is lost in the gaining of a few untroubled hours.  Sadly, it puts the pervasive infestation of the patriarchy’s insidious distortions of masculinity and femininity on furious display!  And the fruits…rotten, poison, despairing.tumblr_ni8qguc8Kd1qkezoco1_540

But now I want to get to the deepest reality for transgender people and specifically transgender women:  the deepest reality for me.

When people rant and rave in public hearings such as happened at the one the article speaks of, they communicate to me that I am utterly worthless of knowing, inquiring of, or understanding.

They blatantly display their own ignorance, assumption, and unwillingness to have those things enlightened and transformed!

I can tell you that when I read about what they think I want to do in the restroom, I am staggered with the mainifestations of their own evil imaginations of things that have literally never entered my heart at any time…and then I am defeated by the weights of ignorance and unwillingness that press down, inexorable and unrelenting.

All of the ignorance about transgender is displayed as if it is a float at the Rose Parade, and then it is lauded and institutionalized…and the marginalization of an oppressed segment of people is further cemented.kushiel

There is a logical question that comes to mind, as we work our way thru the house of mirrors that is the current paradigm, and that is this:  Why not make a place for transgender people to testify at these hearings…to say why they want to use the bathroom of their choice?  After all, that is what happens at other hearings of any kind:  testimony is sought from all parties interested and affected, so why not here?

Ahh…you follow me, don’t you?  Because our perspective is considered invalid at best and insidious at worst.  We do not have any valid standing in this present paradigm.  We are human chattel, and need to be either “fixed”, “healed”, “delivered”, or forced to “repent of the sin of being created transgender”.

And what is worse?  Even if there was a forum offered us to testify, very few of us would come forward…because that would be to make ourselves visible, and incur the wrath of family, so-called friends, and virtual strangers.  From that moment on we would hear the snickers when we walked by, the shouted insults and slurs, the out and out hatred blazing from the eyes of people who have never even talked to us but somehow know we are “bad” because they know we are transgender.tumblr_nibcqj8GLi1s5neh1o1_1280

So, sadly…we hang back.  We stay silent…and suffer.

Listen:  if you know of a transgender person, take some time to get to know them.  Talk to them, and not with an agenda.  Treat them the way you yourself would like to be treated.  Use their name.  I can tell you this:  when people use my name it is the most gentle and tender healing in my soul.

Hey…we just want to breathe, like anyone else…and use the bathroom when we need to potty.

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly.
Charissa Grace10168117_776099229127125_8050935839656435878_n

Loving LGBT People Well, 12 Suggestions for Traditional Churches | A Queer Calling

Loving LGBT People Well, 12 Suggestions for Traditional Churches | A Queer Calling.

Good Morning Constance!  🙂  Once again I want to thank you for being here, on Charissa’s Grace Notes with me, and journeying in your own ways from works and death to Grace and Life…your presence here, your comments, your shared humanity brings me hope and adds ammunition for those lonely times in the night when all are sleeping, all is still, and I watch…awake on the walls.   ❤ Thank you ❤

So the link above is from an interesting blog that is worth perusing.  It lists several suggestions for Christian people to love and serve in ways consistent with the gospel, and likely far more congruent with the heart of Jesus Himself, the Great Friend of Sinners.

We have all heard the old saw “love the sinner and hate the sin”…heck, prolly a whole lot of people who read here have even said that.  I have before…much to my great regret…I have indeed.  When I did, I didn’t really realize what that said and implied about the person I was speaking to…and even worse what it said and implied about my own heart and self evaluation.

Alas…what I and others were usually saying is we think the loving thing to do is make sure the person knows they are a sinner.  And quite simply, this is just not the way that Jesus did things…oh wait!  There were times that He outright called people out on their sins!  I forgot about those!

Yeah…it was to the Pharisees!  Ya know those folks of that day who were the ones who loved to point out how everyone else was a sinner!  He ripped them a new one over and over and over again because who they were in their own eyes was more important than who their neighbor is in God’s eyes…and that is fatal.

Of course I am not advocating “loving sin” by opposing the use of that phrase!  Don’t be ridiculous!  What I am saying is you ought to major in people, and minor in sin management.  After all, your skills at sin management must suck, or Jesus would not have felt the need to descend from His state in Heaven, take on human flesh, and then suffer and die for you (ya know, a sinner).  Right?  If you were capable of managing sin, well then He would have just encouraged and taught you until you got it right!

Jesus never said “love the sinner but hate the sin”, and no one believes that meant that Jesus was compromising, prevaricating, or condoning anything evil.  No…Jesus understands one crucial thing:

Saying Yes to Love is far more effective and powerful than saying No to sin.

The true YES renders the no moot.

And that brings me to why I link to this article, because if we are going to discard futile harmful platitudes, then how to we pick up effective and edifying alternatives?

They list a dozen, and they are “process oriented” and not items that you can check off on your daily righteousness list.

They demand that you see the people in your life as your moral equals.
They demand that you give the people in your life the same standing as worthy of God’s love as you have.
They demand that you understand that your perspective is extremely limited and insufficient by definition, as you are a very finite, very imperfect, and very limited being.

As you go, take with you my lil motto that I have pulled from Micah 6.  It is a superb guide for keeping it simple and loving.  And it has an order of listing for a reason.

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly.
Love, Charissa

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Why did David Reimer commit suicide?

Why did David Reimer commit suicide?.

Dear Constance:

Okay, so you wanna know what it is like to be transgender?  Well…read the article at the link above.  It is the story of a natal male who was horribly maimed during circumcision and was then subjected to a further mutilation of his body to “change him into a girl”.  The theory was that gender identity was purely a matter of external plumbing, and that if this little person “woke up” and saw their external plumbing was female, and that their clothes were female and their name was female and they were treated as female by everyone else, well they would just “be female”, case closed and everyone lives happily ever after.

Except it was an illusion.  A tragic and horrible illusion.  And it ended in suicide after 38 years of horror and suffering.  The article explains that all very well.

So how does it relate to a transgender person?  It goes to the location and seat of gender identity!  Under the current paradigm of the binary gender orientation, I am defined by my external plumbing.  From birth, I have been named, dressed, treated and socialized in the role consistent with my external genetalia, regardless of how I feel, think, or see the world which is totally the opposite…and this contradiction results in the same sorts of feelings and reactions as this poor soul in the article.  Oh, I processed things a bit different, but as I read of his despair, well it was too close to home.

Imagine for a moment:  if you woke up tomorrow, and all your clothes were the other gender…everyone you knew called you by a name that felt like sand in your own mouth and heart…you were expected to excel in the roles assigned by the opposite gender…you were expected to “know” the things the opposite gender has as inherent to them…

Maybe even at first you would think “cool”, what a chance to see the other side!  (Disregard the fact that you have prior experience already “seeing” your correct and natural side and would carry that experience with you as a help and buffer…we transgender people don’t even have that much).

But eventually, you would tire of this…enough, you would think.  I am going back to my real self, laying all this crap aside.

Oh but wait!  Everyone everywhere and every arm of society is now poised against you like the bramble bushes that were against Prince Charming as he sought to set Sleeping Beauty free!  It is all one giant Mirkwood filled with Shelobs and worse!  You show up to work wearing your right clothes and get mocked, threatened and terminated.

I think you get my point.

Gender is not located in external plumbing, and when your internal sense of gender and your external manifestation of this don’t line up the conflict is cataclysmic!

But the reverse is also true!  When a person’s body is surgically attended to with skill and care, and brought into alignment with the internal sense of gender, why voila!  The conflict dramatically diminishes and even disappears…and normal life happiness results.

We have always been taught not to judge a book by its cover.  We are taught that it is not outward appearance that impresses God, for They regard the heart and assess that.  So why in the world do we insist on imposing gender standards from the outside in, rather than discovering who our family and friends are from the inside out?

Listen:  being transgender is not a mental illness.  It is not a demonic spirit, any more than epilepsy is either of those…or a cleft palate is either of those…or a leaky heart valve is either of those.

Being transgender is a state of being, one that has been a part of the human experience of gender as far back as historical records extend, and it is across all cultures and races…it is something that is a function of the core of some people’s lives…

BUT:  if this condition is left untreated, then that neglect can result in horrible consequences: addictions, depressions, emotional and spiritual despairs, and ultimately the overwhelming desire to not hurt anymore, suicide.

But no…for some reason that completely mystifies me, we think that transgender humans are “adopting a lifestyle” or “adopting a new sexual proclivity” or are “seeking to overthrow marriage” or “rebelling against God”, or “are freaks” or…or…or…

It never ends, those “or”s.

If you are an ally, thank you, and please continue to support with your time, talent and treasure until these lies are shattered and a whole beautiful segment of humanity is liberated.

But if you aren’t…if you are “neutral” or simply new or think it is blechy…well just imagine if you were forced…yeah.  Not good.

I am a letter, and the envelope I am in has changed…a lot.  But I am still the same letter I always was…and if you have courage, maybe I will let you read me!  🙂

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly.

Charissa

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Transmisogyny 101: What It Is and What Can We Do About It — Everyday Feminism

Transmisogyny 101: What It Is and What Can We Do About It — Everyday Feminism.

Dear Constance…I would be honored if you would read the article I linked to above.  It is about a real thing, a thing that I am experiencing more and more each day that goes by.

For real…transmisogyny is real.  I know first hand.

I want to tell you something:  if someone you know is transphobic and/or transmisogynistic, and you know better but do not stick up for the transgender people you know, then you are empowering that transphobia/misogyny.

They are not going to truly understand and get it that it is not okay to be that way until it hits them directly…affects them directly, and with consequences.

Constance…this is not the ranting of a shrill disenfranchised jealous outcast.  I was for 53 years considered amongst the brightest and the best.  I am a college graduate, with a 4.0 GPA since I was in the 7th grade.  I was a respected speaker, thinker, and leader.

And then I committed “Gender Murder” when I chose to transition and become myself…I was guilty of two unforgivable sins in our patriarchy:  first, choosing to be female when I could simply “be” male…and second:  “wasting a perfectly good man” as I was told…literally told that.

Did you get that?  To be a woman when I could continue to fake it as a man was a waste.

Cis-Sisters:  when you allow transmisogyny/phobia to occur in your presence, you actually reinforce your own worth-less-ness in the eyes of the patriarchy in general and the person hating in specific!

Cis-brothers:  when you allow people to hate on transgender people, especially when you allow other males to do that, you are tacitly hating too…and you are not only hating transgender people, you are devaluing your own wives, daughters, sisters, mothers, aunts, grandmothers and female friends.  You make a mockery of nobility and civility and honor.

Strong words.

I know, right?  The nerve of me…pleading for sincere and honest action to back up words with.

But hey…it’s either that, and the potential discomfort it will cause for a bit, or it is stay silent, and work on that Transgender Remembrance Day Roster for next November…and you can sit in silence and feel good about your courageous acknowledgement of more dead people while their blood cries out in echo of the previous year’s…and the previous year’s…and…and…

My prayer is that one day we don’t even know what a transgender remembrance day is…because there is no more need for one.

PS:  If you are reading and thinking “but I don’t even know a transgender person” then I will clue you in:  you likely do, but don’t know they are transgender…and even if you don’t, then I ask why not?  If you have sympathy with our plight, there are services you can volunteer with, there are transgender people who need help, and all of us need a friend.

PPS:  And you still should make sure those around you know that it is not okay to be misogynistic/phobic, trans- or otherwise.

In serious stillness and love,
Charissa

Silken Tears: Written in the memory of Leelah Alcorn

i saw her there, in the dark woods,
so fair of movement, fair of face
she walked beneath the milky moon
and bathed in silken light like lace.

she glowed with beauty’s blessing kist
upon her brow, but knew it not
for hatred choked her slender throat
and in its death grip she was caught.

i ran to her, and called her name
my voice it was a whippoorwill
my voice a falcon stark and shrill
i called her name in terror-trilltumblr_nhbo5yvqs21sqba70o1_500

but she could not hear me approach
her, buried under long reproach
so cut off from a future hope
and bound by hate’s black biting rope

so I just stood beside her there
just her and me, her broken stare
and dirges echoed through the night
and she in tragic silken light…

and then she ran straight to the moon
it rushed at us!  alas, i swooned
upon the snowy cold fields fair
and when i woke, she was not there tumblr_nbehmpPs4v1smipnlo1_500

i asked the owls and talked to trees
and heard the moon had stooped so near
had come down to grant her release
from stony hearts and hatred’s sneer…

so now i haunt those woods, those vales
and listen hard inside the night
in case a singer runs for me
as i to her ran desperately

but silence croons so clear and cold,
the lonely moon is wreathed in gold
so distant, never drawing near
to where we stood in silken tears.LeelahEdit

Charissa Comments On Leelah

So…at last I think I can comment about the tragic death of Leelah Alcorn.  There has been a maelstrom of emotions inside me over this.

I won’t list them here, because some of them may shock, outrage, or worry some of you.  Suffice to say that I absolutely and completely understand in my marrow the very heart-fire of what she wrote in her note.

But what is more interesting to me is this:  her parents had a choice to make…a choice about gender, gender orientation, and even a choice about Who God Is in light of Gender.  They had to either choose to reach out to their child in spite of their own feelings about gender and what it is and how it is derived, or to slap her down in the name of the binary.  They had to either love their child in spite of anything, everything that she had done or failed to do, and love her just because she was here and gifted to them…or to repudiate her in the name of who they conceive God to be in their own small and stony hearts…

Well, actually let’s boil it down further:  they either had to choose to love Leelah, or love themselves.tumblr_nhhqy6QtCa1tuw8wbo1_1280

That is the bottom line.  Let me unpack this a bit for you.

First, let’s start with gender, and the crucial thing here is to really feel the distate and horror they had for a transgender person, the visceral reaction they had to what they felt was wrong wrong WRONG!  Oh Constance, how is it not more clear, the strong and unchangeable thing that gender orientation is!!?  Because their rejection of who Leelah was and the feelings that they had?  They are the same feelings and depth and strength and absolute that transgender people feel inside about who we are gendered as!

They would rather see her die than to see her live as a gender they thought she was not…and I will confess that I would rather die than live any longer as who and what I am not.  That is not a life anyway, and never was, not at its core.

They imagined that it would be torture for them, to see Leelah dressed properly female but to their eyes looking like a clown (one of my former best friends told me that I look like a clown, by the way, thanks for that, former 33 year friend)!  They pictured a life of seeing her over years and that making them uncomfortable.Image 002

Constance…this is how we feel…transgender people…when we live in a world where our very breathing is transgressive!  And to walk around being in such a way to reduce the absolute hatred we face from others when we are ourselves is to choose to be something that is indescribable agony inside ourselves to be!  We get treated “fine” (and that means with indifference and left alone)…but it is an abattoir inside our hearts as our own life blood is spattered on the walls of our souls as we claw at our chests trying to tear the pain out of our hearts!tumblr_nfb8vsABbE1qznvrxo1_r1_400

But wait!!  We can take hormones!  We can dress properly…and even better, we can actually have medical attention that literally transforms that pain into joy, and fills that horrible void with presence!  The statistical evidence is overwhelming on this point, by the way.  But it comes with a price:  we exchange our inner torment for torment and rejection from our social groups and culture.  The torment just changes location…sadly, most people in our society are just like Leelah’s parents and they  begin to exercise the dominance of the binary.  They want to avoid their own discomfort and are willing for us to die, whether it be by our own hand or theirs.

That is the choice we have:  suffer in how we are made…or suffer at our own hand…or suffer from the hands of other people.tumblr_nh62vnYyO81u6arw9o1_500

Because God forbid that my choice of clothing and presentation make anyone uncomfortable or antsy, right?  Better that I just go away, or even better, change back…I am blood guilty, after all, of “wasting a perfectly good man” as another 3 decade long friend said to me in utter seriousness after 3 and a half hours of me trying to explain to him what it is like.

But that brings us to the next point in regards to the Leelah Alcorn tragedy:  Who is this God that Leelah’s parents supposedly worship and live for?  What is this God like?

Well, if we look honestly at this situation, Leelah’s parents believed that they themselves would be guilty of sin if they reached out to Leelah and did whatever it took to be sure she was mentally stable, healthy and able to actually live everyday without being bullied, othered or policed.  They literally believe that God would call them unfaithful sinners and accuse them of enabling their child to be in sin, and then remove all blessing or protection or support from their lives.

They see God being who they themselves are!  To their way of looking at it, Leelah’s suicide was the lesser of two evils, and really they actually are implying that God would say to them “Well Done, Good and Faithful Servants!  You held the line against immorality and sin, even at the cost of your own child!  You sacrificed your own flesh and blood for your own standing as righteous and defending My Honor!”tumblr_necznlA2Ma1r1arpmo1_1280

That’s essentially what happens inside their heart…they were willing to endure the death of their child in a horrific way, and live with that their entire lives, her blood crying out in every sunrise and sunset…because they think that brings God pleasure.

Where did they get this picture of God?  I really want to know this!  Because they certainly did not get this from the Bible, a book that I have read countless times and studied for years at various stages of life and maturity.

Here is who the Bible says God is…the Father who had children who chose selfishness, self-worship, hatred, strife, murder, envy, greed, malice, war, slaughter, wantonness, foolishness and darkness instead of simple fellowship with Him.  So THIS Father did something completely other than what Leelah’s parents did.  This Father instead searched out His children, went where they were, and gave a manifestation of His Heart on their behalf.  He didn’t require them to die for their deeds and lives…instead He had His own Heart die for us instead, as a transaction of love which covers everything.tumblr_ng20au91Nc1s2z59jo1_500

When you love your children regardless of their actions, reactions, deeds, words, silences…well you are imitating God that that finds great favor…when you put your children to death with your own words, deeds, actions and reactions…well flat out you are imitating the devil and worshiping yourself…because the only spiritual beings who take pleasure in evil are satanic and people who put themselves above everything else.

So this post is a very emotional and very crappy piece of writing.  I am too close to it to not be all over the map…but just try to grasp these things:

The horror that cis-gender people feel when they are around us is nothing compared to the primary horror we are inside ourselves waking up and finding our heart/soul/mind/spirit at complete odds with the body we walk around in and are consigned to for everyday of our lives, and the secondary horror we will cause ourselves if we dare to give away who and what we are or even worse if we avail ourselves of the medical miracles there are which will almost entirely cure us.

It is the same absolute for us that we are not congruent inside and outside as it is for cis-gendered people that we are just mentally ill and can be fixed so we are just like them.

These two points illustrate the lie that has so long deceived us all…that gender is derived from plumbing…because if that all it is why do they freak out so bad if they even think about dressing or acting different?  Wouldn’t it be as inconsequential as being in costume for a play?  That it is NOT that inconsequential proves absolutely that gender is something inside and it is what it is!!

I mean, I truly think they would rather us kill ourselves than let us live and move and have our beings just like them!  But if we are too stubborn to kill ourselves, there are plenty of brutes every year who are happy to execute us for the sin of breaking the binary.tumblr_ndrlprYaIl1txj8zfo7_250

It is so strong that they will even remake who God is to justify it…well, sadly, God gets remade all the time to justify the evil that people do.

I hurt and suffer as a human being, in common with everyone else…but I hurt and suffer as a transgender person in addition to that…and I hurt and suffer additional burdens because of what others do and say, fail to do and say…and I hurt and suffer at the lies that people live out as testimony of who they think God is.

Because that is not who They are.tumblr_nc9u51asVe1qa5hedo1_500

Now the confession that I have been avoiding:  in all truth, I am envious of Leelah, because in the midst of all the sorrow and horror and grief, her own torment has ended…and that prospect, of that low grade fever buzz of wrong being gone finally and there being blessed silence, sweetness, and rest…well that is something that I wish I could have.

And I feel a huge amount of guilt over that envy…because it is very clear to me that were I to seek relief it would be at the lifelong expense of many people I am connected to, and I would buy my own release with their pain…and that is unacceptable to me…so I sit…and mourn Leelah even while I am longing for what she now has…and feeling this awful mix of guilt and cowardice and bleakness…and thank God for Them, and They do bring comfort and joy and security even in the midst…no, especially in the midst.

I have many blessings…I have inner peace in terms of the Ultimate End of things…but I struggle, oh I struggle so hard, and I truly fear at times that I am not up to the task of being.  I try to be honest with myself, and that means feelings…but then again I am not like other people and able to just rise above them.  And that adds to the guilt and shame of not being good enough.

I wish I knew if Leelah would want me to live…I think she would, actually, because I think she wanted to live…it just got too hard, too heavy.tumblr_mx5becxnZE1shqs68o1_500

Hey Constance…regardless of your feelings about gender…if you have any feelings what so ever about being a good person?  Try making the burden lighter for people…with compassion, kindness, tender heartedness and smiles, instead of heavier with judgment and rejection.  You would be amazed to know what one kind word can do.

Confused rambly Charissa is now done gushing and vomiting.

Sorry for the succumbing to the passion and letting it produce a big messy dump of a post…I just could not live with all this inside me any longer.

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11 Ways 2014 Was the Biggest Year in Transgender History | Rolling Stone

11 Ways 2014 Was the Biggest Year in Transgender History | Rolling Stone.

Good Morning Constance…

I ran across this article this morning, and of course was interested to read of this historical recounting of an amazing year of awareness growing…

…and yet, somehow, I found it strangely disconnected from my own life.  In the midst of these events, I swam in my own seas of trial, toil, sorrow and joy.

My own year:

In early January, I went to my therapist dressed as myself…outside in public.  It terrified me and I thought I would die of fear.  When I walked into her office, she cried in joy.  Her tears are jewels in my memory.

In late January I had my ears pierced, and though it hurt like crazy, I was ecstatic.  A week later, I was derisively interrogated by subordinates at work “what the F**k had I done with my ears?”.  That particular brand of self-loathing, shame, fear and anger gave me its first sip…it is not intoxicating.  It is hell.

In February, I began HRT…and the horror fires banked so long in forges that rival Mordor in despair began to diminish, and then extinguish, and streams of mercy clear and relief substantial coursed through my veins…and who I am began to blossom and bloom…I was well named at birth, if it is considered what that sort of thing is destined to do…

In April, I had more experiences at work that were distressing.  I also joined my poetry group, and that cadre of people who have only ever known me as myself are such salt of the earth wonders, who simply know me as Charissa, the odd poetess.  One beautiful woman in particular has taken me under her wing…and on that first fearful night, she looked at me with open face and clear eyes.

In Spring and summer, I sold my truck and used the proceeds to fund my transition…of this I can only refer you to those months.

In summer a relationship that is very significant to me began to be built, the first one, in fact, as me Charissa.  It is a very simple one in its arc and scope…it is very complex in that it is unfolding from the end to the beginning, and someday we shall arrive where we are meant to begin.  It is encumbered with obstacles, none insurmountable but all onerous…distance, time, and prejudice rooted in ignorance and fed by distrust are outside forces that have so far driven us on with sails full before those winds, and we have sailed to many wondrous shores…may there ever be another, DDH…ever be another until the Last.tumblr_nh5lyicxll1qgk7mfo1_1280

And in the autumn, I took my own journey down The Green Mile that most of my sisters walk…I was murdered professionally, guilty of the crime of becoming myself and throwing off the chains of privilege and white male power and position.

This is the ultimate crime in our patriarchy.

A human being, born biologically as an XY chromosome-assigned being, and granted all the accompanying privileges, rights and riches, power and position, initiated into the ways of “men” and present in their spaces…this human considers all that as utter futility compared to the all surpassing richness of being myself and authentic…and I am unabashedly thrilled to be myself…I openly declare being a woman to be the better destiny and life.

For those crimes I had to die.  I have been put in my place, and my tale of woe would be recognized by any woman anywhere who sought to be herself in places she was not permitted to be.

Since that moment life is full of unbecoming…unwrapping, unraveling…the chrysalis is split and the butterfly within is terrified as its house and covering is torn asunder…only the future will inform her she can fly while she writhes in the clutches of the threatening lonely present.

Abandoned by friends, neglected by loved ones, showered by Mama, constantly encouraged by one…the heart of my heart and constant support and nearly my life itself…16601790-standard

…that is the year in review for me.  A year of portent.  Perhaps the overall macro view contrasted with the small view of this flea will give you some perspective in the issues we face that cis-gender people take for granted.

May 2015 contain triumph to match the certain tears…may there be joy enough to overcome my fears…and may I find somehow the grace to continue on, in the midst of lonely silence and neglect and need, laying aside my own selfish point of view and greed to feed and care for myself…may I be a vessel poured out over and over again, trusting Mama to fill me full and looking never to others.

Blessings to you Constance…and deepest heart gratitude that you are reading here this day.  Your support has been so precious and invaluable.

Charissa Grace…a butterfly emerging and persistent.

book-sculpture-david-kracov-book-of-life__880

Leaning Hard Against That Night

icicles hung glittering clear,
they shot diamonds, mercury bright
and gleams refracting morning light
they hid the horrid crime that happened
in the cold and dark black night…icicle

how can people do it, say it?
well, last night the deed was done
beneath clouds scuttering wet and rainy
(like my covers wet with tears,)

it will be done again you know,
but only lonely dead will weep
and they are dead…so that leaves just
the children crying in the cold
and hungry violence of the night.

that hand groped blind and deaf, and reached
for icicles hung in the dark,
all light drained dry and swallowed down
fear’s greedy gullet, sucked into
the belly of the raving beast. IMG_6829

that tongue, fearsome and cleaved in twain
and mute, waggling helplessly
between those fearful gnashing teeth
it fluttered, spit, stuttered and hit
with lies, with bitter accusations
comforting and crooning.

the disembodied hand snapped off
that cold icicle, that one that
the red light of Mars’ distant eye
unblinking, licked, caressed and sharpened,

then the hand floated across
the room so dark and thick with terror,
while some choked disembodied voice
muttered Mene, Mene, Teqel, Upharsin
and I knew I was a wall
and it the hungry writer, and
then it fell in fierce red streaks,
such icy strokes of death tattooingbloody_icicle_by_achmedxd-d37863p

“unclean!”     “beware!”     “mind-whore!”

my blood was its gory ink
and my heart was its inkwell, screaming
as it wrote again, again,
it wrote again, til I drained dry,
lay still, eyes glassed and blindly staring
at the black sky spinning, fading
from my view while that night faded
into grey dawn streaked with crimson
bursting full into today.

I woke up and found my face
was wet, and thank god it was just
my tears and not my blood, but wait…
my eyes were caked, dry, rimed with salt
and sleep…the clammy wet was really
that icicle and the secret
kill it keeps inside its melty
hungry heart so ravenous
and never satisfied or sated,
just drunk on my blood and terror,
drunk on me, so feared and hated.
icicle (1)

i died last night…but in my dreams,
so there is not a corpse remaining
and the murder weapon melted
(they always do in dreams, you know)
and so the killer walks the earth
so smug and lily pure and knowing
that the sprawling feast is now
secure and safe and once again

the killer sings out

“all is well inside the city!”

walls so high, so white, so white,
just like the cliffs of Dover standing,
leaning hard into that night.

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Reblogging this from online

Constance…I want you to read this.  I want you to feel this.
I want you to imagine the horror, if you are a man that is…women know already.
But all around the world…that revelation that I spoke of on Thanksgiving, the raising of human consciousness so that more of God can be received and understood…it is happening.
Here is a clue:  the using of women as objects for any reason whatsoever is anathema in the heart of God.  The reducing of woman to anything less than the crowning event of all creation and her fashioning from living flesh as significant beyond words (as opposed to men, made from dirt), and her role, vital and irreplaceable…anything other than that is not blessed by God.  Eventually, the daughters of Eve will dawn in Day…and the world will rejoice and be glad.
 A feminist group based in Guangzhou staged an online protest against the sexual exploitation of women in the workplace. The sign reads: "My vagina does not come free with my labor."

A feminist group based in Guangzhou, China staged an online protest against the sexual exploitation of women in the workplace, revealing a photograph with a message boldly written in red on a whiteboard behind them: “My vagina does not come free with my labor.” More words were written on the women’s thighs, reiterating: “Not freebies.”

The campaign was in response to a recent fatal rape case involving a 20-year-old woman at a state-owned company who was asked by her boss to a dinner. She was sexually assaulted by her boss’s friend and died as a result of her injuries.“Don’t ask your staff to provide part-time escort services. Women should only be asked to provide knowledge or technical skills in the workplace, but not other things,” says Ye Haiyan, an advocate of women’s and children’s rights.

Read more via The New York Times.

Under the Surface

I never scuba dive.
I’m afraid of those sharks,
great white sharks
(I could never figure out what was so great about them).

I think what they mean
is big white sharks.
and they aren’t even really white!
(why do we call things white that aren’t even?).

Their teeth are white though,
white razors running
from snout to throat and down
(I think they chew their way thru the water).

Besides, I am in enough danger (on land)
from things called great (that aren’t)
from things called white (that are just pale fish belly dead)
from things with teeth (that are hungry for blood).

515df046c201e

Transgender woman dies suddenly, presented at funeral in open casket as a man | The Miami Herald

Transgender woman dies suddenly, presented at funeral in open casket as a man | The Miami Herald.

I am at a loss for words to describe how evil this is…this is the sin of necrophilia, in that it rapes someone after they are dead.

I want to fill this post with iterations of the F word, but will just say how F ing petty…

…how effing pathetic.

Jennifer, I promise to you.  I VOW to you…I will never forget you

Worthless…on Transgender Remembrance Day

Constance, here is the sad truth:  if I was murdered for being trans, I would be blamed, othered, misgendered in my death, and then forgotten as a sad cautionary tale of someone who went cray-cray…and once again the epidemic of hateful absolutely vile demonic murder would continue unchecked by my death any more than the tsunamis are checked by lil old seawalls along the oceanfront.

It is not a joke.  It is not just me being shrill.

It is pure unadulterated evil.  Killing someone because they do not conform to societal norms.

The post below is my contribution to Transgender Remembrance Day…the blunt and brutal fact that I am worth about as much to towns, communities and society as the dog crap in the street that needs to be cleaned up and disposed of with laws discussed to control the dogs.

Keep on fiddling, Nero…keep on fiddling.  You are sawing your own neck in two.

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Excerpted from a larger article:

Remembering Us When We’re Gone, Ignoring Us While We’re Here: Trans Women Deserve More


There’s an interesting phenomenon that I’ve witnessed over the past few years. The names of trans women of color will be in the mouths of the queer community after they’ve been murdered, but support for us while we are still alive is sporadic at best. Trans women are pushed out of queer spaces by cis people, dfab genderqueers, and trans men, just to name a few. Women’s spaces are frequently hostile to us because we aren’t “real women” but trans men almost always get a free pass. And I’ve seen more than one cis queer say that trans women are “appropriating” the gay rights movement, totally ignorant of the fact that we started the damn thing. I have seen more than one cis queer say that we have nothing in common with them, that our issues are completely unrelated. We have a hard time finding dates, finding support, finding community. And when we dare to call people out for their transmisogyny, we are labeled crazy, hysterical, divisive. I have been called Austin “queer scene’s” number one enemy. All for daring to share my thoughts on the world around me.

image via http://www.gazettenet.com

Trans Day of Remembrance is filled to the brim with the names of murdered Black and brown trans women, but is a single evening of remembering enough? And what does it mean that TDoR doesn’t explicitly talk about race and is often dominated by white people? Here in Austin there’s this tradition of calling the names of the dead and then having an audience member sit in a chair that represents where the dead trans woman would sit. The seats are always filled with white people and non-trans women. What do our deaths mean when our bodies, our lives, the physical space we take up, is appropriated by white folks? How can I mourn for my sisters when the space set up for that mourning is so thoroughly colonized? And how can I even see hope of living a full life when I don’t see myself reflected in what is supposed to be my community?

Don’t get me wrong, it’s important to honor those women who came before us, those women murdered by colonial patriarchy. But it seems like more often than not, the queer community at large is content with just remembering. We only hear about trans women after their deaths. And even our deaths are not our own. A week doesn’t go by without a white queer citing the deaths of trans women of color as the evidence of how oppressed they are. These stats are often used in service of their own assimilation; meanwhile, they’re happy to leave us out in the cold. We don’t even have dignity in death, nor the ability to decide what it will mean for us.

 via http://giveout.razoo.com

Support for trans women dwindles when we are still alive. Nowhere is this clearer than in fundraisers run by and for trans women. There have been some success stories, but they always seem to be few and far between. More often than not, a trans woman’s fundraiser will get a few signal boosts, maybe a couple of dollars and then languish. Meanwhile, trans men’s fundraisers for transition related care often get fully funded. This funding disparity is also clear institutionally, where organizations that focus on the concerns and issues of trans women of color get a miniscule amount of all the money from LGBTQ foundations. This is especially true in the South, where LGBT organizations only get 3-4% of domestic LGBT funding. Again, cis, white, rich institutions are quick to use our murders in their statistics then turn around and spend their money on organizations that look like them: cis, white, and rich. Organizations that push for assimilation.

Via americanprogress.org

Obviously financial support isn’t the be all end all action to support trans women of color, but it certainly doesn’t hurt. And the fact that it’s a struggle for trans women to acquire financial assistance is symptomatic of our society’s priorities. It points to who is valuable and who is disposable. At the bottom of this article is a list of fundraisers and organizations for trans women that I would strongly encourage you to support. If you’re not a trans woman and you’re reading this, think long and hard about the ways that you’re supporting trans women in your community. Do you see trans women in public community spaces? How are your actions pushing them out? Don’t think that just giving money nullifies your collusion in transmisogyny. Financial support is important but it is not the only step. As we honor the memory of those girls who have been murdered, ask how you’re helping the living.

Bleeding Light and Memory: On Transgender Remembrance Day

Here is my first poem written regarding this thing called Transgender Remembrance Day.  I wrote it last year on this day.  It is located here:

Bleeding Light and Memory (Without Images for Structure)

I present it to you again today…and it has grown, shrunk, matured and gained its presence a bit.

In other words I edited it.
Please…read it and let the reality of it hit your heart with the tattoo needle and not the jester’s feather.  Please be changed…how can we  live if you won’t unbend, unfold and become?  I am right there with you Constance, wings straining for every weft of breeze, sails hoisted and praying for that puff divine and transformative…

Love, Charissa

*****     *****     *****     *****     *****

Bleeding Light and Memory (2014 version)

When light struck my soul I blazed fierce and exultant!
Into awareness, I bled joy so radiant just like the horizon
bleeds sunlight at dawn.  I gazed in the gawky glass of exultation
(and I in my youth seeing darkly thru that glass)
I knew myself and was gaudiloquent and I was so glad and full,
I was so wonder-full.tumblr_musnzoGltW1ss5om1o1_500Til it rained, titters fell tinkling down on heart-tin, then rebukes raging,
lashing at my roof and thrumming and drumming til I saw no more thru that
bright young glass darkly, but dull thru a lonely storm dimly and starkly
and everything eerie and glowing in green, and radioactive remarks so redactive
and careless cerulean comment, alas! I came to know what I was
and was not and I melted misshapen and crippled.

Then came the days long and same and repetitive,
passing by people of 2 kinds that easily pass, they belong
but they never see beyond, they never see inside the rose.
So I plucked throbbing buds, thorn blood price cheap and held them out
from my side of that dark glass wet with stormy tears, washy with rivers
of arrogant vain assumed presence attributing value and worth.
Life ground me down as it moved without mercy, a glacier inexorable
grinding in glances so cold and so frozen, that flow moving over
the dark silent boulders of being…I saw bones strewn round me
like gruesome pick-up sticks, cast-offs from careless hands,
players who tired of children’s games, children’s cruel nicknames,
grown weary they tore out their hearts with bare hands mad with grief
but the world grinding by didn’t care.tumblr_mv21x4W9Lk1rk1cbbo1_1280Until at last long from those dizzy heights brilliant awareness burst over me,
bleeding in fullness and in terror tinklings, thrumming and cold and that
startling certain blue clarity…I finally remembered who I am, and know
finally what I am, that I am, and my long lament “alas” nevermore uttered!
For I am become me…at last, me…a lass.

That’s me in a nutshell, my story and journey transgender…but what about you?
Will you take time to think and remember? Will you find mercy today?
Will you find the care? Will you go gently with us into our long night,
will you rage, rage with us gentle and bless now the living of the light
that’s straining to dawn bright and final in blazing clear beauty?
You too are dual natured, corrupt and dying and incorrupt rising!
We share one grim struggle, together the dead and together alive
in one deadly bold dual to live.  You….are US. and we are you…
but you without arms, without eyes, without mouths
we scream loud and cry for release!  We cry out
for the midwives of mercy to meet us and make us
so beautiful for situation at last and delivered of our awful charge.

OPEN YOUR EYES AND EARS FOR US.tumblr_mv2wk5jIW71spa6l5o1_500See us…and hear us…don’t fear us, don’t fear to see yourself,
come stare down your own stormy floods, sit and listen!
Don’t be afraid to hear us, we’re the voice of the echoes you hear
in your own fearful nightmares of being, oh Daughters of Pharaoh!
Reach down and lift us up out of the reeds and mud! Because of you
a whole nation was freed, and we too are Eve’s sons and the daughters of Adam,
but trapped and acutely aware we are helpless!  Too often we’ve fallen
to dread hands and dead eyes of no grace and no mercy
and no compassionate symmetry!

Today…here…
Light strikes in blacksmith blows,
soul sparks chip off and away on this day…
I intention…remember
my own radiant flood
bleeding light and day’s promise,
remember the resonant thunder,
remember the frowning floods
the gushing gouts
and the othering stares
and the brutal don’t cares
of long years I walked
in the country of lost men
and longing despair…

I remember the pangs and the waves and the lurching
of labor as I, pregnant with my own measureless mystery
and full of such knowing began to emerge and break forth
deep-touched forever warded by Grace, and kept safe
from that pit which has tripped far too many and eaten them,
chewed them like Goya’s devourer,
Zeus eating every last child in his madness and horror…
incarnate in this patriarchy that rounds us up
into its abattoir death camps like cattle
and herds us into chutes and charnal house horrors
of slaughter and blood-spattered baptism.Francisco_de_Goya,_Saturno_devorando_a_su_hijo_(1819-1823)(let their fate haunt you
and give you holy hush
and give you sacred silence).

Dare. Look. Feel.
I will too, and somewhere
we will fight off those demons
compelling and fell
that haunt us and cause us
to rave and destroy…
Then we shall be set free to fly again
all together in one flock of birds
of all feathers and all calls
become One Glad Song!
We will dare to fly off
to the sun and beyond
where our song will bleed joy
and rain down on the earth
to bring healing and hope
home in Love…

forever…
together…
we’ll
Bleed
Radiant
Light.tumblr_ndi8fmiols1tfagvko1_1280

 

Remembering What Never Was (Transgender Remembrance Day 2014)

Constance…I got fed up this year…well meaning cis-gendered people who yesterday and today started talking about remembering “all the poor dead transgendered people”…not because I do not think we should!  God no!  But I got fed up, because since my first one, last year, it seems to me that things have gotten worse and not better in terms of violent assaults, rapes and murders of transgender people.

This poem is my blunt confrontation of that fact, attitude, bent of being.  It is me speaking in the voice of the dead.

 

*** *** *** *** ***

my face was bashed in,
smooth creamy skin
(lasered free of wiry black blunt hair)
only to be turned
purple ugly and pug,
battered blue
and then torn,
just a rug
yanked out from
under my life
and I
falling
desperately
flailing, then
dying there
on the dark brown
hardwood oak floor.

But that’s not good enough
(actually, not bad enough),
right?

There are penalties
for assuming the right to be,
for breathing while transgender…
so you grabbed that
red rusty fire extinguisher
from the dull chrome bracket
over my old pale green and white
deluxe Glenwood gas stove

(the one I used when
I made your favorite
red gravy and mushrooms
over pasta with cheese
and you smiled and said
I was a good woman,
but that was before
you ate your fill
and got bored).

and then you broke
my face against it,
pulped my nose and
broke my dead jaws
as you jammed the blunt end
down my slack throat
and I already
dead and already
flown away

but that’s not good enough
(actually, not bad enough),
right?

To let a transgirl
have a face
in her transgressive act
of saying I Am, well,
as the Dude says
(regal in all his privileged glory)
This aggression will not stand, man!”

cus me, well
I am aggressive,
I am transgressive,
I dared to live,
I dared to cry
I dared to feel and
I dared to fly
I dared…

and died.

my face…bashed
my body…slashed
torn, stabbed and then
raped to make sure
I never rise from the grave,
my flesh thrown in the dumpster
with the rest of the trash
dead or alive,

and then set on fire.

Hey,
I don’t want you to worry though!
Because everything is AOK,
because Remembrance Day…
because remembrance day,
but how do you re-member me
after I am chopped to pieces
for the heresy of seeking
integration?

My name,
recited solemnly,
a legerdemain of modern time and place
masquerading as elegy and tribute to
trans-trouble, torches smoking,
choking and dead.
This mummery murmers
name by name
to appease the lurking beast inside
(such civilized animals)
and I see sage cis-heads
nod slow and I think
of bobble-heads bought
with gender currency and guilt,
bought with blood money
from gory grisly gruesome chests
passed down father to son
since Cain.

Tomorrow,
you’ll breathe deep,
sigh and toss salt
over your left shoulder
while forking off the evil eye
with your left hand
stabbing like a striking snake
against trans-mystery and tragedy.
And then you will fix your gaze
high on horizons, not even
glancing in gutters where we lay,
still and bleeding in our becoming
and desperate to re-member,
every day, especially those
days where you just
want to forget.

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10 questions to never ask a transgender person by Laura Jane Grace

I found this online, Constance.  It is not mine: