Allyson Robinson posted this message about Equality Florida’s fight for a gender-inclusive non-discrimination law in Gainesville, Florida on our message boards, & I thought it deserved a larger audience:

Many of you are aware of the fight brewing in Gainesville, Florida over their trans-inclusive non-discrimination law, passed by the city council last year. Gainesville’s non-discrimination ordinance had covered sexual orientation for years, but when gender identity was added last year, opposition was activated. The opposition group collected a huge number of signatures–over 10% of the projected voting population–to get the anti-discrimination ordinance placed on the ballot in a special election. That’s tremendous for this kind of municipal issue; more people signed the petition against these protections than voted for the mayor or any sitting city council member in recent elections.

Though the charter amendment the opposition group is pushing would eliminate protections for the whole LGBT community, their messaging is focusing on transgender people–the “bathroom diversion.” Their flyers state, in letters a inch tall, “KEEP MEN OUT OF WOMEN’S RESTROOMS.” As we’ve seen all over the country, and writ large in California last fall, this kind of fear-based messaging is very, very difficult to dislodge from voters’ minds. The special election is scheduled for March 24.

This fight has national significance. The “bathroom diversion” is quickly becoming our opposition’s weapon of choice. They used it successfully in Hamtramck, Michigan, it might have succeeded in Montgomery County, Maryland had the courts not intervened, it’s getting drug out in Kalamazoo, Michigan and Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and it’s already being raised at the state level in places like Connecticut that are considering inclusive non-discrimination bills this year. We must show both our opponents and our supporters that we can consistently defeat this tactic. If we don’t, municipalities or states considering trans-inclusive non-discrimination laws may become gun-shy, preferring not to deal with costly ballot initiatives in response to pro-equality laws.

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Here’s a review of Milk, about the life of Harvey Milk, by my friend Doug McKeown. (I haven’t seen it yet but will because of his review.)

Let’s get two questions out of the way. Is Milk entertaining? Without qualification. Is it important? Resoundingly. Also funny, tragic, endearing, and rousing. There is not one false note from any of the actors, nor from director Gus Van Sant, screenwriter Dustin Lance Black (I will be seeing this one again just for the screenplay), or photographer Harris Savides. A very complicated story unfolds with absolute clarity, a story as much about the city of San Francisco as about Harvey Milk. I’d say more than that — it’s about the actualization of democracy, about community organizing as the great force for social justice. Take that, Sarah Palin!

I was especially pleased that no attempt is made to be “delicate” about Milk’s personality, either his sex life or his out-sized ego, a forthrightness that makes him all the more heroic, I think. After a stunning opening sequence tossing us in medias res, and a conventional framing device (and foreshadowing), we quickly get to know Harvey Milk through the persona of Sean Penn, a smooth and easy task if there ever was one. He hooks up with a younger guy, Scott Smith, who has the movie star good looks of a — well, a James Franco. It is completely credible that Franco’s Scott goes for the self-deprecating charm of this man with a face so open it hides nothing, who is so comfortably flamboyant, and finally, irresistible. The camera captures not so much sex between them as lovemaking — which is to say, as much warmth as heat. There is even what I would call nuzzling, in close-up. What’s not to like? But there are inevitable strains. While we are ostensibly caught up in the difficulties of their relationship, the larger drama emerges as Scott withdraws into the background. An extraordinary moment in time elevates the Mayor of Castro Street to local hero.

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Our friend and book reviewer Jude Russell wrote a short, simple piece about the binary that really resonated with me. I hope it does for many of you, too.

There have been a couple of threads recently wherein gender outlaws (and I use that term with utmost affection and respect) have run afoul of cisgendered folks who have gotten the gender wrong – typically persons in “boy mode” who were androgynous or feminine enough to be gendered female – although I am sure it runs both ways.

Now, I spent many years in that gender neutral zone – where I’d be gendered female in one interaction, male in another, and trigger some confusion (and possibly, anger) in a third. It was all very interesting (from a sociological perspective), and fun (from a Loki / coyote / mischief maker perspective) but also somewhat stressful (especially when things like waste elimination came into play, or I’d run into someone who had a problem with it).

I guess my reaction to these experiences has been somewhat different than others. Because I think we need to take some responsibility for choosing to color outside the lines, choosing to bend gender, choosing to break the rules. So when I was in boy mode and got gendered female, I was less pissed off, and more amused – it was my decision to adopt a more feminine affect, and it was, in some ways, rewarding to have that recognized even as it was uncomfortable to be called on it. I began to pay attention to how others were gendering me – and acted accordingly. If I was vibing female that particular day, well, I stayed out of male gendered spaces; opting for unisex or female gendered spaces, or being cautious and quick in male gendered ones. Many a time, I sought out a unisex bathroom, or watched the gendered bathrooms until I was pretty sure they were empty, or wandered towards a pair of gendered bathrooms and decided at the last minute which one to use, based solely on if anyone was going in or coming out of either.

And when I was called on my gender blur – well, I had a collection of responses ready. “Yeah, I guess I am pretty androgynous” or “I’m still deciding” or “Sometimes I’m not really sure myself”. And yeah, when it got to be too stressful, I’d move in one direction or the other, to reduce the friction. In some ways, my decision to transition was of this nature – that living in between genders required too much energy, produced too much friction in the world.

I guess my point is, we live in this binary gendered world. And slowly, things are loosening up – there are unisex or gender free bathrooms, gender markers are removed from forms and identity documents, salutations are made optional, gay marriage (the prevention of which is, IMHO, the primary reason for rigid binary gender boundaries) is made legal.

But in the meantime, we need to live in this world. And we need to own the fact that we are the gender outlaws, that we need to live on this binary coded planet. Even if the long term goal is a lot less gendered society, we’ll grind ourselves into dust with stress and anger if we do not figure out how to bend and move in the margins at times.

Often starting our journey from a position of cisgenderer privilege – where we could use the right bathroom unconsciously, where we could simply move through the world on automatic pilot, feeling a sense of affiliation and belonging with our gender, its difficult to find ourselves stripped of that gender privilege. But the quicker we realize “I’m privileged differently now, I need to adjust my attitude accordingly”, the more gently we move through society. We can still fight for rights or visibility or a less gendered world. But we can do so without the constant erosion of our energies and self esteem…….

It’s sort of a reframing – becoming less of a victim of a repressive culture, and more of an anthropologist or explorer, carefully moving among this binary culture that we are studying and experimenting with.

(crossposted in several places, and people are welcome to forward this on freely to others in the transgender and GLBT communities, as I see this as being very serious — Mercedes)

A short time ago, I’d discussed the movement to have “Gender Identity Disorder” (GID, a.k.a. “Gender Dysphoria”) removed from the DSM-IV or reclassified, and how we needed to work to ensure that any such change was an improvement on the existing model, rather than a scrapping or savaging of it.

Lynn Conway reports that on May 1st, 2008, the American Psychiatric Association named its work group members appointed to revise the Manual for Diagnosis of Mental Disorders in preparation for the DSM-V. Such a revision would include the entry for GID.

On the Task Force, named as Sexual and Gender Identity Disorders Chair, we find Dr. Kenneth Zucker, from Toronto’s infamous Centre for Addictions and Mental Health (CAMH, formerly the Clarke Institute). Dr. Zucker is infamous for utilizing reparative (i.e. “ex-gay”) therapy to “cure” gender-variant children. Named to his work group, we find Zucker’s mentor, Dr. Ray Blanchard, Head of Clinical Sexology Services at CAMH and creator of the theory of autogynephilia, categorized as a paraphilia and defined as “a man’s paraphilic tendency to be sexually aroused by the thought or image of himself as a woman.”

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Nettie, one of our regulars on the MHB Boards, wrote a fantastic review of this book, and I thought more people should see it.

My sister is frustrated, she tells me, because she feels as though she’s the only one struggling with somebody else’s transness. When she goes to her oracles of emotional support (Oprah and Dr Phil), their trans families are in some polished, effortless space where they can say polished, effortless things about their support for their trans relative or friend.

Imagine that: inarticulate struggle doesn’t play well on television. Not a lot of room for “hmm” and squirm and “I don’t really know”.

Now, two weeks spent walking in the rain … there’s a place for a lot of hmming and squirming and “I don’t really know”. Two weeks in which the rain is too loud on the hood of your anorak to hear the other person talk. Two weeks being with somebody, but mostly thinking and reminiscing rather than talking. It’s the antithesis of television.

Becoming Drusilla is as close to the antithesis of television as any book I’ve read. It’s a piece of travel writing, really. Travel writing and a bit of biographic exposition. Because Beard is a very open, clear and entertaining writer the result is a book which is a pleasure to read. More…

A guest post by Quetzalli Cold Thunder, who is a regular on our message boards and trans and Native American, on the use of the term berdache.

During the IFGE Conference, I heard the term ‘berdache’ mentioned A LOT. In fact, at a session regarding transgenderism and Native People, folks continued to use the term after the presenter said that among Native People it is derogatory, that he respected their opinion and that he would prefer that the term not be used. (In that audience, a fine, gender counseling Dr. uttered the term that caused the presenter to give his statement. He continued using the term and had he mentioned the expression one more time, I fear I would have made a spectacle of myself, and gone home with a scalp.) The term is my nigger and yes, I also understand its usage among blacks, but I know of no Native People that use this term in any ‘endearing’ form among themselves. Quite the contrary, it is much more demeaning when directed at a skin from a skin. More…

by Monica Helms

Veterans Day is one the three most important days in this country when it comes to patriotism and pride. At the eleventh minute, of the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month, we start the day honoring all the veterans who have served this country, both in peace and in war. Today, we have 26 million military veterans in America, but sadly, we lose 1500 WWII each day and a similar number of Korean War veterans as well. Soon, the Vietnam War veterans will pass away in similar numbers.

The men and women who fought in those wars over the last 230-plus years came from every diverse background this country has ever known. People from every race, religion, ethnicity, economic status, social status and sexual orientation have fought, been wounded or died for this country. A current example of sexual orientation is the first person wounded in the current war in Iraq. Eric Alva lost a leg in the very early days of the war and then came out as being gay after his discharge. More…

This month, I get the pleasure of hosting the ongoing Carnival of Bent Attractions, and there’s a nice sampling of interesting LGBT Bentness to be had:

First, an interview with no other than sex-positive educator Susie Bright from the financially-minded set at Queercents, where we find out Ms. Bright worked in a cathouse but wasn’t getting paid for sex amonst other things;

Then, a review of a Thursday night Transvestite party in Buenos Aires, written by Oliver Hartman and posted on the Argentina’s Travel Blog site. Mr. Hartman didn’t know what to expect, and didn’t seem to know what was what (or who was whom):

I’m not entirely sure when the show ended, but there was some sort of conga line and crazy swan costume involved.

I wonder if it wasn’t a chicken.

Further still, a commentary on Craig’s wide stance on The Agonist, which tries to understand the likes of Craig and how they can claim not to be gay:

Perhaps it’s because many or most of them, like Craig, genuinely think they aren’t gay, despite enjoying gay sex?

& Finally, to wrap things up, SF Brawny Bear answers the question, “What does Bear Pride Mean to You?” on the blog Bear Bones. (But who does Bear bone, exactly?)

Nice roundup. Next month, our various Bent Attractions move on to a new ride at the Carnival.

SOUTHERN COMFORT CONFERENCE 2007
KEYNOTE ADDRESS – SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 15TH, 2007

One Community, One Family

by Jenn Burleton, TransActive Education & Advocacy, Portland, OR

Thank you to the organizers of this amazing conference and in particular, Cat Turner, Lola Fleck and Elaine Martin. And I must thank my longtime friend, Mariette Pathy Allen. My life has been truly blessed as a result of knowing her and sharing many adventures with her…some of which are suitable for sharing with the whole family.

When Cat Turner called back in January and invited me to come to Atlanta I was of course, very honored. I was also surprised. After all, we’d never met. I’d never attended a previous Southern Comfort Conference and I am not, in my opinion anyway, one of the gender community heavy hitters.
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I haven’t put up a ‘guest author’ post in a while, but a partner wrote an interesting piece about disability and shame and the opinions of others that I thought was both interesting and useful:

I become so disheartened to hear family members and others acting like this is some kind of disabling burden to their partners. They make assumptions about the trans person making selfish choices or being mentally disabled. They make assumptions about the partners having some kind of dependency issues or whatever. They make asses of themselves.

When J and I met he had a habit of hiding his left arm in his sleeve or pocket. When we started dating he would hide it up the back of my jacket or even my shirt. (I guess I should explain that J’s left hand is no longer there.) Here was this wonderful person who was kind, intelligent, honorable, and my friend, and yet felt the need to hide part of himself. When I first admonished him for doing it he seemed surprised. “Aren’t you embarrassed, even a little, about being seen with me?”, he asked. I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. Over the next couple of years I was a tyrant. I would not allow him to hide it, no matter where we were. I guess it was his mother’s reaction that surprised me the most. We were out having dinner with her and J’s dad. We were having a great time and J asked me to dance. Instead of putting his left arm at my waist he slid it just under the back of my blouse. I stopped mid step and put it gently at my waist and winked. When we got back to the table his mother lit into me. Supposedly, I embarrassed him and myself. “If John didn’t want people to stare at him, pity him, then he had every right to hide his arm!” She didn’t get it.

I guess that’s the part of it that I didn’t and still don’t understand. People to this day say things to us and it usually doesn’t make sense to me until they clarify it. One of my fellow PTO moms and friend made a comment at the last fundraiser John and I both volunteered for. She looked at me and said “I didn’t know your husband was disabled?” I thought she’d become confused or had been in the heat too long. I asked her what the heck she was talking about and she whispered something about his hand. I laughed and told her I had always considered his poor math and spelling skills a bigger problem. She looked appalled. She didn’t get it either.

A disablility is something that stops you from doing something. J can tie his shoes, type almost as fast as I can (I do around 65 wpm), cut his own food up, do dishes, and unbutton my blouse faster than I can. If there is something out there he can’t do we haven’t come across it yet. When we do I know we’ll find a way for him to do it.

If you hide it. If you let others dictate how you present yourself. If you let it stop you from doing anything then, and only then, is it a disability.

I have a feeling that the transness is going to work the same way for us. Others will see it as a disabling factor. They will try to pity one or both of us. They will pity our children. They will make assumptions based on their preconceptions and not bother to ask us about our reality. They will never get it.

As partners we unfortunately get the backlash of this dual thinking process. If this is not a disability then we are doormats, have dependency issues, or low self esteem. If it is a disability we are saints, loving partners, or nightinggales.

Perish the thought that standing tall next to the person you love shows your inner strength. Perish the thought that staying and helping your love through a tough time in their lives shows your true character. Perish the thought that this is not a disability unless you allow it to be.

As I make my way back from Baltimore, I thought I should announce a new pet project I’ve been working on for the past couple of weeks, and that’s to start a group blog about trans issues, with a bunch of different bloggers coming from various segments of the trans community blogging. And so far, it’s working! Right now, the (working) list of bloggers (in alphabetical order) is:

• Marti Abernathey
• me
• Jennifer Finney Boylan
• Betty
• Marlena Dahlstrom
• Jamison Green
• Richard Juang
• Julia Serano
• Max Wolf Valerio
• & Reid Vanderbergh

But there are invitations out to others who I hope will sign on & participate. It’s called Trans Group Blog and you can find it at http://transgroupblog.blogspot.com/. Do come check it out.

There is a part of me that would like to rename this, “How to Estrange the Love of Your Life” or even “How Not to be Trans” but I think Katherine’s original title, “8 Easy Steps,” is a touch more delicate. Katherine is an mHB boards veteran.

I’ll teach you all this in 8 easy steps
A course of a lifetime you’ll never forget
I’ll show you how to in 8 easy steps
I’ll show you how leadership looks when taught by the best
–Alanis Morrissette

One: My trans-needs and experiences will always be more exotic, painful, and interesting than your existence.

Two: Excessive narcissism can look like, “Hey, I’m just finally taking care of myself here!” but is every bit about creating the I-It relationships that Martin Buber warned us about.

Three: “I’m trans. You don’t understand me. I am complicated and, like—for sure, you’re not,” so you don’t have permission to judge me even when I am fully deserving of your judgment, even when your life is equally if not more complicated. I scored the ultimate “get out of jail free card” in life’s version of Monopoly. “Do not pass ‘Go,’” etc., and get your ass back on Baltic Avenue. My life is Boardwalk and Park Place, special.

Four: My martyr complex is so much fun for others! Thank you for hating me and disapproving of what I am doing; it makes me so much more special than you and is the ultimate buzzkill toward having a meaningful conversation about how and what I am doing is scaring and confusing to you, is scaring and confusing me.

Five: Let me be wonderfully sympathetic about your weight gain, about your angst, about your doubts, about your sense that this isn’t right for you, but let me still manage to appropriate your feelings and help you feel guilty again for having them.

Six: Oh, you want something to say about how my identity change is affecting your identity too with our friends, family, and co-workers? How shallow of you. Let me make you in these matters too feel guilty about caring for such things.

Seven: Let me attempt to appropriate the womanhood experiences you spent a lifetime living, reacting to, and making peace with in this sexist culture and act as though your role no longer matters and that the space you earned as wife, daughter, and sister can be appropriated by the “How to be Transsexual for Dummies” manual.

Eight: Let me shirk my responsibility to you by spending more time online, on the phone, and in person with my trans acquaintances than I do with you, designing for example cutesy posts about eight steps, while you are in the other room alone and afraid, facing as you do so often another day with bravery and grace.

I’ve been doing research for years
I’ve been practicing my ass off
I’ve been training my whole life for this moment (I swear to you)
Culminating just to be this well-versed leader before you
–Alanis Morissette

Thanks to Ms. Boylan for allowing me to reproduce it here; this is the complete & unedited version.

Hi everybody. Gosh, look at you all. You all look fantastic from up here. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a room before with so many large women.

(improvised joke #1)

(improvised joke #2)

I notice that some of you look a little tired today. Which is not to say, you don’t look fabulous, I’m just saying that some of you seem like you were up kind of late last night. Did you check out the parties last night? You know the one I mean, the theme party—Come as Your Favorite Nude Author?

(beat)
First time in my life I’ve ever been in a room full of a hundred and fifty nude Kate Bornsteins.

(improvise joke #3)

I have to be honest and say I feel a little bit like a fraud up here today, because I know that there are so many of you who are so much more articulate about these issues than I am. I am an English teacher from Maine, a storyteller— what I’m not is a therapist, or scholar of gender studies, or for that matter, much of an activist. I’ve tried doing some of those things sometimes, because I want to do my part, but I have to say I just so lame at them. I’m grateful that there are people doing all the work around the country that’s being done on behalf of people like us, including the organizers of this conference—our fabulous chairwoman, Kristen, as well as heather O’malley and Cat Turner, and Lola Fleck. I’m just as grateful for all the people who came before me, who blazed the trail that has made my life easier.. I know I would not be here without them, quite literally.

There is an old saying that I find true for me this afternoon—one reason I am able to see so far is because I stand on the shoulders of giants.

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Because she rocks, Megan wrote this piece for me (and you) to celebrate the Autumnal Equinox, which is today.

This year, the Autumnal Equinox occurs at 12:03 am EDT, September 23rd. Most of us know that Autumnal Equinox marks the official (read: astronomical) end of the Summer and beginning of Autumn, and that on that day we are supposed to have the same amount of daytime and nighttime (hence the whole equi-nox bit). But what else does it mean? What is an equinox, anyway? And why did you say it happens at three minutes after midnight, Ms. Science? Well, Timmy and Janey, I’m glad you asked.

During the course of a single day, the Earth’s rotation causes celestial objects–the Sun, Moon, planets, stars–to rise in the East and set in the West. So far so good. However, if you watch celestial objects over longer periods of time–days to weeks–you’d see something very different. The Sun, for example, appears to move eastward one degree per day with respect to the background stars, due to the Earth’s orbit about it. That is, if you could see the Sun in front of the much more distant stars, the Sun would appear, over the course of a year, to trace out a path eastward. Astronomers call this imaginary line across the sky the ecliptic.

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Des Scènes dans le Chemin Moyen

So, I’ve been thinking about this middle way stuff oh these last three or four…years. When I was married, it was to find an accomodation with my wife that would make us both happy; and now, it’s because of the very realistic possibility that it will be the only way for me to be happy, since I’m pretty sure just being a weekend princess won’t be enough but it remains very much to be seen if transition will ever make sense for me.So I wonder: how middle way am I? I know, no definitions, but…most days a week I wear a suit to work (even though it’s not necessary: but I like them to think they’re getting the high-priced consultant they paid for.) Sure, may nails are a little long, and if you look closely you’ll see I’ve “groomed” my brows (though I do wear my glasses a lot…)

And in my less princessy moments on the weekend I’m pretty metrosexual. I like floral shirts, I’ve been known to wear shirts to show off my chest and pants to show off my ass.

So right now I’m somewhere between Chelsea salaryman and victim of the “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” guys, right?

But: I’m out to every important person in my life, though not all of them have seen me cross-dressed (I find “as Michelle” to be a somewhat creepy construction for me.) I’m out as CD and other stuff to my current flame. I’ve told every lover I’ve ever had before we became lovers; hell, my ex-gf and I went to Edelweiss for our first “date” (though it only retroactively earned that appellation.)

I don’t scream to the rooftops that I’m trans, though I care less and less if anyone knows. One of my neighbors in the building saw me coming home one night, so I know at least some folks in the apartment building know. (She always smiles when she sees me now. Hmm.)

The guys in folkmusicienne E.’s band have met me both ways without flapping an eye.

I go where I go crossdressed. OK, I haven’t quite gotten to the point of doing my grocery shopping while crossdressed, but movies and dinner and just being out in New York I do without thinking too much about it. I’m not even sure when the last time E. saw me not crossdressed was; I think it was back in the middle of May. (She said, “I haven’t seen you in a while.” I told her that was because she was hanging out with that crazy Michelle chick.)

I’ve taken dance lessons crossdressed, and had the odd experience of having “Michelle York” called out for attendance…this really bizarre understanding that this, persona, mask, whatever you want to call it, was beginning to become an actual person. I go walking in daylight now, usually from my therapy sessions to wherever I’m meeting E. I did that today, without anybody saying anything or even staring (well, staring more than they would at anybody wearing a white skirt.) I don’t think I was passing, either; my predilection for tank tops may get my “ordinariness” points fashion-wise but does little to hide the fact that my shoulders have benefitted from years of testosterone in much the same way that a fraternity mixer benefits from a truckload of kegs–to excess, and frequently embarrassingly.

So where does that leave me? Over 75% of my waking life I spend in male presentation (financially I want to do nothing to fuck up my contract until my new corporate masters get taken over by their corporate overlords in about two years.) I try to take care of my male appearance and actually like shopping for my casual clothes.

On the other hand, right now, if I can conceivably go out cross-dressed I usually do so. (Caveats, and yet another wonderful “isn’t it great to bond with women” moment: I was thinking a couple of weeks ago about catching a movie I wanted to see down at the Film Forum one Saturday night (for those playing at home, Jean-Pierre Melville’s Army of Shadows) and then heading out to get a few drinks. But I didn’t have anyone to go with, and I didn’t think it would necessarily be such a bright idea to go out alone to a movie dressed to go to a bar later. Especially seeing as I’m, you know, a man. Maybe I was being paranoid; but maybe not…) The idea that I will dress up when I can is becoming so commonplace to my mind that I plan almost unconciously around it. (Even so, I’m still only dressing in public 2 or 3 times a week.)

So, middle way? Weekend Princess? I don’t know. I feel better, mostly, about myself and glad that I have these chances, though to tell you the truth it’s also really stirred the pot of my gender fuckedupedness (sorry, dysphoria.) And while I don’t have the full-blown body dysphoria of the cut- it- off- cause- it- disgusts- me, I- can’t- look- in- the- mirror- cause- a- man- looks- back variety, I’m less happy with my body nowadays, disenchanted with my broad frame and my peasant shoulders and my cowcatcher jaw.

And the sense of oscillation, of vibrating between different extremes of emotion, is hard to take. It’s not like crossdressing necessarily helps, either, though in general it quiets some of my dysphoric feelings; or, as I told my therapist a while ago, crossdressing lets me stop having to fight my impulses to be feminine. But at the same time, I’m acutely aware of what I look like and how little I pass, and that makes me feel sad as well. As sad as wearing a suit instead of skirt can make me feel? I don’t know, yet. Nor am I completely sure that the good feeling I get from wearing nice men’s clothing–and I do have that, I enjoy my peacock moments–will be enough to compensate for never living as a woman.

So, some scenes from a little down the Middle Way. I’m not sure I can help going further into the woods; but I’m not sure I’m blazing a trail either.

I wanted to share a letter and story I got from Jan B., the found of MHVTA. I thought her story of finding a permanent home for Felicity’s trans collection was a nice way or marking how the T is slowly becoming part of LGBT history, for the end of pride month 2006.

Hi all.. had a neat experience last week and that was donating Felicity’s library of TG material (all copies of Transvestia, Femme Mirrors, several other periodicals, many books, assorted papers) to the NYC Lesbian Gay Bisexual & Transgender Community Center Library & Archive.

This process was the culmination of about 2 years of exploring and asking.

Fri. 6/16/06
Felicity and I met with Rich Wandel, the center librarian. Later I had the opportunity to escort Rich back to the Center to deliver the library in person. Never having been there before, it was a unique experience. The Center seemed to be buzzing with activity on a Fri. afternoon. Getting into NYC was a hassle and a half but I got in and out without a problem. I got to see the library and see how they categorized the various material donated. It is a very professional operation and Rich was very accomodating. He’s interested in building up their current collection of “TG” material and is interested in old as well as more recent material. Being a LGBT center for a large metro city, most of the material collected is “GLB” related so any “TG” material is most appreciated.

2004:
The story really goes back 2 years ago when Felicity was only 98 years young. She lives in an older home and we had spoken earlier that she had many vintage publications. She wasn’t too interested to even show them and I, and maybe others, suggested she do something about the material before something happened to her or the house. The event which seemed to change her mind was she had a car accident in ‘05 and was in the hospital for an extended stay. We agreed to explore options and I was willing to help. I acted as the custodian and outreach point person while I went back to Felicity to discuss it and figure out what she wanted to do with her collection.

I had lots of question for people about where would they send TG material and/or where would they go to look for vintage reference material. More than 15 suggestions arrived. The early leader was the U. of Michigan library as they seemed to be the favorite for recent donated “TG” collections. This particular library already had most of the material that Felicity had (which fills the trunk of a car) and they said if they received duplicates, they would pass them onto another library. We felt we wanted to give Felicity’s material to some place that didn’t have the material already and would treasure it.

April, ‘06:
After we scouted around more, I attended the IFGE Convention in Philly and spoke to many people including TG’s who had donated their material already or were looking to donate reference material. Some people I met were collectors and were willing to pay for specific issues to backfill their collections. One person said the collection would be worth a lot of money. I met Dallas Denny (editor of Transgender Tapestry) who provided a list of various libraries which could house “TG” collections; she also provided her criteria she used to donate her “truckload of material” to the U. of Michigan library. These included the type of library & why they were interested in acquiring the collection, type of archive, their plan if they do acquire the collection, conditions / requirements to review, ease to get access, physical plant, personnel, financial stability).

We decided that we would look to find a library where Felicity was active which was the east coast. The libraries we checked which seemed to be the best choice were William Way Center in Philadelphia, Central Ct. University (Hartford), and the NYC Center. The NYC Center was really where Felicity lived and the folks in our area would be able to visit them if they desired. When I visited the Way Center, they had a very limited selection of “TG” related material but were interested to start up their collection. When we looked at the The Hartford library and the NYC Center, we felt Central Ct. University library was 2nd in our deliberations really because the NYC Center was more local to our area.

It was interesting to see what happened if you put a request out on the web. Friends and sisters provided various contacts. Connecting up with the libraries proved to be a challenge .. some were very responsive and others never responded. It was helpful if there was a website to see the facility or their current collection. Most don’t separate out the “T” from the rest of the “GLB” stuff.

Back to June, ‘06:
We believe we made a good choice. Rich Wandel was visiting Vassar to present at a library science group so we took advantage of it so he could meet with Felicity and get her to sign papers donating her library. She also will set up a ‘type of use’ agreement that any of Felicity’s papers containing her “brother’s name”* would not be able to be used until after her death. It was pretty straightforward for Rich, but it was interesting for the casual observer.

This has been an interesting journey and I’m glad this part is done. If anyone has vintage material and you’d like to donate it to a library for posterity, hope this rambling may have helped. I also hope Julie from U. of Michegan and Rich from the NYC library can present next year at the IFGE Convention in Philadelphia. It would be neat to see that happen and might spur donations.

* Her “brother’s name” is crossdresser code for Felicity’s legal male name.

I got this note from Marlena recently, and I thought it expanded on a couple of discussions I’ve been having (with myself) and ones that have happened on the boards, too. She’s also put this up on her blog.

Patsy and I recently saw Ute Lemper (a singer who specializes in German cabaret) and I was reminded of Helen’s thoughts on wanting paper lanterns by part of the chorus in one of the songs Lemper sang — Friedrich Hollander’s “Münchausen.”

Truth is hard and tough as nails
That’s why we need fairy tales
I’m all through with logical conclusions
Why should I deny myself illusions?

Obviously, one doesn’t want to live solely in a fantasy world, but like Blanche DuBois sometimes we need a little time-out from the harsh, bare bulb of fact. And in fact the full chorus makes clear Hollander is really talking about trying to maintain hope admit disappointment.

Liar liar liar liar liar liar
I’m sick and tired of lies from you
But how I wish your lies were true
Liar liar liar liar liar liar
Truth is hard and tough as nails
That’s why we need fairy tales
I’m all through with logical conclusions
Why should I deny myself illusions?

(BTW, Lemper inserted an updated section that took a rather biting look at certain politicians.)

In a way, being trans is a bit like being an actor, musician or writer. The odds of “making it” are such a long shot that it’s no surprise that many of them have titantic egos — you have to almost a willful ignorance of the realities in order to pursue your dream. The dream of many trans-folk is just being able to live a regular life like everyone else, which can be tough when all too often some people see us as freaks. (I wonder, how many of those who have stared and giggled at “that guy in a dress” would have the balls to go out in public knowing full well that they could face that sort of ridicule?) So sometimes we need illusions to keep ourselves going.

Now it turns out I’d actually misheard the lyrics initially, and (with apologies to Hollander) I actually prefer my mishearing:

Life is hard and tough as nails
That’s why we need fairy tales
I’ve reached a logical conclusion
Why should I deny myself illusions?

It’s not about a choice between harsh reality or illusions, it’s choosing that one can have both. Of course, mistaking one for the other can be problematic. But just because it can be a problem doesn’t mean it inherently is. To build on a thought from Helen: Sure it can sense to tell a kid that a Superman costume won’t make him able to actually fly — especially if he’s standing next to the window. But if all he wants to do is lay on the top of the couch with his Superman costume on and insist he’s flying, what’s the harm in letting him indulge that illusion for awhile?

After all, while Baron von Münchhausen “acquired a reputation for his witty and exaggerated tales; at the same time, he was considered an honest man in business affairs.”

I received this today & as an author of books on trans subject, I thought I should make it available for more of you to see. There is very little out there that recognizes good scholarship/writing on the part of transfolks.

Friends,

Some of you know that, in addition to being a transgender rights advocate, I’m also the Executive Director of the Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies (CLAGS). Much of my work at CLAGS focuses on supporting writing, research, and advocacy about and for trans people.

I’m emailing you because, as activists, a scholars, or as scholar-activists, I know you’re interested in research on trans issues, and that you might be interested in supporting this work by making a donation to the Sylvia Rivera Award in Transgender Studies, a prize CLAGS gives out each year for the best piece of published writing in transgender studies. The 2004 winner was Jamison Green, for his book, Becoming a Visible Man. It probably won’t come as a surprise to many of you that there is still little recognition of transgender studies in the academy, and in publishing generally, so the very existence of this award does much to promote the work of those writing about transgender people.

I’m very proud of the work that we do at CLAGS to further transgender studies and advocacy, among other things. But here’s the thing–less than 7% of CLAGS’s operating costs come from the university that houses us. Almost all our work depends on the support of individuals and foundations. And all of the support for our fellowships, including the Sylvia Rivera Award, comes from individuals like you.

So please do consider supporting transgender studies by making a donation of any size (even a $10 or $20 donation would help a lot , $100 or $200 even more !) towards the Sylvia Rivera Award. Donations to the Sylvia Rivera Award count will also entail you to a CLAGS membership, including a subscription to CLAGSnews, other member benefits, and my undying love and gratitude.

You can make your donation online, right now. Just go to our donations page and choose “Sylvia Rivera Award” under “your support.” Or, you can send a check to CLAGS, Room 7115, 365 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10016.

For those of you who don’t know about CLAGS, here’s some background–CLAGS was established in 1991 at the Graduate Center campus of the City University of New York as the first and only university-base research center for Lesbian /Gay /Transgender /Bisexual /Queer (LGTBQ) issues, histories and ideas. For more than a dozen years, CLAGS has worked to foster and disseminate LGTBQ thought to the country through its public programming (panels, colloquium series, conferences), outreach efforts (free reading and discussion groups), and resources (a far-reaching newsletter, well-trafficked website, a book series with NYU Press). And in May 2005, we hosted a national conference, “Trans Politics, Social Change, and Justice.” More in-depth information about the trans conference and CLAGS in general can be found at our website, www.clags.org.

Thanks so much for considering my request.

All my best,
Paisley

Paisley Currah / Executive Director / Center for Lesbian and Gays Studies (CLAGS) / http://www.clags.org &
Director / Transgender Law & Policy Institute / http://www.transgenderlaw.org

The Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies (CLAGS) / Graduate Center, Room 7115 / City University of New York / 365 Fifth Avenue / New York, NY 10016

For more information about CLAGS’s events, programs, conferences, colloquia, and fellowships, to add to or search our directory of LGBTQ Studies, to join our mailing list, or to find out how to become a member, please visit our web site at www.clags.org.To make an online donation to CLAGS, go to our page at Groundspring..

Betty posted this to her blog, but I wanted everyone to see it.

The Wolves, The Pit & The Play

In which I try to formulate some kind of rational response to the last few months of being intimately involved with old family (adopted) and complete strangers in the context of doing a really cool play in New York City.

…as a – drumroll – transperson. A tranny. A T in the LGB.
Cheers! Well done! You’re so brave!

Slow down.

I didn’t think any of it through. I never imagined just how weird it would be on a level I hadn’t even remotely imagined. And believe me, I liked the script so much I’d already done a great deal of imagining, just not enough.

I just really liked the play and the part. And I was right. It was a really great play. And I’d never worked with a playwright before.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a more, gulp, acting-as-religion, put-your-fist-in-the-air, let-your-eyes-weep, imagination-rocks!!!, moment in all my years doing theatre. There are a couple of moments I shared with people that just defy explanation. And yes, one of them was with a lovely woman who happened to go from hardcore-green to faded greenish-yellow, to well, “normal” colored – whatever that means. The acting, for me, was really quite rewarding.

I did my first scene shirtless, covered in dirt, a loose bag made out of fishnet over one shoulder, a wicker basket for holding water creatures over the other, hair pulled back in a disheveled ponytail, wearing big giant rubber boots and pants that were this close to falling apart.

Shirtless.

See! I wasn’t kidding when I said I wasn’t on hormones!

And yes, that’s a weird thing to type. It’s weird to be very much trans but have to tell people I’m not on hormones. Not because I don’t think about it – I do – but that people already think I am. Weird also because it means I have to ask myself, “Just what are people seeing?” And, “Have I changed that much already?”

I sometimes feel like if I was more invested in the common stories – the myths – of the transexperience I wouldn’t even be writing this. You know, “People already think I’m a girl! WhaaHoo!!!”

Grr.

Because you’re just you, you know? Jason, the actor at the Cocteau who had a nifty little run for a while there. Right. Him. Right, yes, well you know he’s also known as Betty and is a transwhatchamacalit and well folks should know that because it’s just a reality and he’s also a really good actor and well, don’t worry about it. Wait ’til you meet him.

Which, actually, I’m kind of OK with. People know you for how you were when you were around them and it’s like kicking yourself in the mental nuts to pretend anything different. I tend to think that you earn the words that people call you and arbitrarily saying, “Hi, I used to be Jason but now I want to be called Fucknut” doesn’t tend to endear you to people who are already predisposed to like you. I’m not wrong on this, really. I say “Fucknot” partly because as far as I know, I made it up, and because when you tell someone with your baritone acting voice, “Call me Betty” you might as well have said, “Call me Fucknut.”

So yeah, to my acting family I’m Jason.

Jason, who’s also known as Betty and will answer all of your emails using that name as well. Betty.

And they’re really quite lovely, decent people who are like, “Yeah, cool. We like and treasure you, you can call yourself whatever you want, it’s ok. It’s cool.”

And you’re playing a poor fisherman who sees something wondrous and believes in it. But in the world that is the play, he really needs to be a man. Because, um, the character is one. And no matter what everyone else knows about you, on the stage, for the purposes of this play: you really must be a man.

Man. Grr.

How ’bout just drawing on all the years of my existence? That’s easy. And yes, it is. I’m good at some of the guy stuff. Quite good, actually. Most of it I never asked for, but I’d be an idiot to deny the fact that it’s there and has been for a goodly long time.

But I’m so out about my transness and my, sigh, life as Betty and it’s all become so utterly intertwined with who I am in the world – not in my head, in the world (that’s what happens when you appear on the cover of a book: be warned) – that in a very real way, I am Betty.

And doing art with people you’ve known for so long you consider them as family – one of them presided over your marriage! – the shift from Jason to Jason/Betty (or Jasabeth as a wise person coined me a few years ago) is jarring. Well it is to me.

I’ll explain more. Promise.

Gracie wrote this piece in response to Donna’s question about internal gender identity, and I really liked it.

I don’t feel that I’ll ever be a woman or know what it’s like to feel like a woman because I wasn’t born with a woman’s body parts at birth. I think being a woman has many meanings, but when I hear other women say it to each other very rarely is it about is it about the social stuff when a serious point is being made. Hmmm.. ok, that’s not true. Ok.. not that it’s very rare, but when I hear women talk about things that are serious and refer to womanhood it’s about growing up a woman and the bond they have because of growing up a female which leads to womanhood. It feels like the describe a right of passage. The bond I pick up on is when they share the memories of doing things they had to do as girls that boys didn’t. Their experiences being young and their bodies maturing and the bond they formed then, then being looked at by boys as girls who had something the boys wanted versus just being girls with cooties they all have that in common. Then as they matured and men started treating them as objects instead of the girls they had once been (may be the wrong wording). Some women share the bond of knowing that their bodies can create life. Even if they don’t have children they know together what that bond is like. Then there’s “a mother’s love”. I’m not sure about this one and as women get older, to me they seem to diversify.

I feel as women get older (20’s and up) there’s not as much or less of a commonality between them that forces that womanly bond anymore. The body has finished developing and so it’s more about personality and life experience. One of the last things I think is HUGE (a big bonding thing) is pregnancy. Women hold that high and proud as a badge of womanhood. I don’t think any women rejoice when menopause comes along, but again women share in that bonding moment as well.

As a TS woman I missed all of that. I may be a female, but I’ll never have those experiences that women have. Can I define that as being the end all of womanhood? No. I can just tell those women who feel like they are a woman, I feel like I’m on the outside of that chain link fence looking in at womanhood. Though I can climb that fence and be in there and some men can’t figure out how to get in there at all or would be embarrassed to be seen in there. (most women would revolt and throw them out if they tried anyway) I had to climb in to the womanhood enclosed by the chain link fence I use as symbolism here. Women were given access inside the chain link fence by birth and walked in through a gate. They didn’t have to climb in like me. So I won’t ever know what it’s like to have that feeling of right of passage. I climbed in and will always feel like an outsider when they discuss womanhood.

I feel I relate with women who can’t have children, women who don’t want to have children, women who developed late in life, and women who never really felt like they truly identified with women. There’s not many of the latter I bet, but those are the women that after I climbed the fence and got in I’d seek out. Those are more likely the women who I’ll share a lot of “me too!!” moments with.

I’m not a woman because I wasn’t born one, but I am a TS woman because like women a lot of us grew up with the same kind of bonding. We knew at a young age we were girls. We were raised boys and knew that it didn’t feel right. We tried to be the boys we were told we were and like girls who are told “be a girl or else” we didn’t listen to those threats, but there were times when most of us had to. As a gal who likes women it was easier for me to fake that part, but for the ladies out there who have always craved men and shoved it to the back of their minds until after SRS or those who knew upfront they only wanted to be with a man they had it tougher, but they were still like me because they were born the wrong sex and forced to live as the wrong gender. We have a bond that others will not ever feel. It’s our right of passage too.

I think being a TS woman is just as profound as being a woman who was born in the right body, but it’s different and I won’t ever relate with women who, as girls, were raised to be women. I feel I can understand what it felt like, but I.. well.. I’ve said the same thing over and over so I think you know what I was going to say.

Whoa… I just remembered how in 8th grade I felt my sex was wrong (another of the billion times, but this one was reinforced every weekday). I just remembered when it was time for physical education (PE) and I wanted to go in the girls locker room like the rest of the girls, but I had to go to the boys locker room. That always sucked the most. I remember there were two ways to get to the locker rooms. There was sidewalk from one way and there was a sidewalk that if you went that way you walked to the boys locker room. I can remember hearing the girls chattering and walking by and seeing the entrance to the boys locker room. Wow.. the feeling of it sucking is still there! lol.. that’s deep and weird to me.

Ok.. my rambling alert just sounded so I better stop here. I love this topic and thanks because that’s the first time I’ve written my feelings down where I hear my own thoughts about this. It makes me even more sure that I haven’t lost anything by not feeling like a woman in the traditional sense because I share a bond with other TS women that others can’t understand, just like with womanhood for those who were born in the right body. *sorry I said that so much. I was trying to avoid GG.