Here’s a question that has been bothering me lately and that I’ve been trying to put into words: does the social emphasis on happily ever after as the canonical goal for relationships do more harm than good?

Sometimes the notion of true love feels like the platonic ideals of male and female – it serves as an interesting point of reference but taken too seriously it becomes a source of frustration because none of us can really live up to the implied expectations. That’s not to say there isn’t merit in aspiring to a durable relationship. I’m sure it’s been reinforced in many ways. There are relationships that look perfect and effortless from the outside. There are times in our lives when we’ve had that kind of connection and we want to hang onto it forever.

Of course there are also good economic and emotional reasons to encourage stability by giving people an incentive not to split at the first sign of trouble. Indeed, I’ve never been in a rewarding relationship that didn’t involve working through rough spots. On the other hand, how many people fall into the trap of expecting love to be free of these kinds of challenges? I guess that’s a notion most of us take with a grain of salt by the time we get a little experience in balancing the needs of a partnership.

What’s more insidious is that society encourages us to make a lot of explicit or implied promises about the distant future that we simply may not be able to keep without making ourselves and everyone around us miserable. That sets unrealistic expectations for everyone involved, which evolve into a sense of entitlement: “Where’s my happily ever after?” It seems fundamentally implausible that so many relationships end in divorce and yet when people wind up there it seems to come as a complete surprise. They have no backup plan and only an incomplete set of life skills beyond those specialized for the role they played in the relationship.

At the root of it all is that unlike the male/female dichotomy there’s no spectrum implied by a single point. Where are the other archetypal relationships? Okay, so there’s the affair. The one-night stand. But is there anything else that doesn’t have a strong negative connotation?

I’ve personally been talking to an old friend about this idea a lot as she’s been unhappy recently & wondering if the source of her frustration was her relationship or the compromises it implies. That is, she wasn’t necessarily unhappy with her partner himself, but unhappy at the kind of compromises she’s made due to being in a relationship at all, with anyone. Her “pattern” – if she has one – is one of serial monogamy: relationships of several years that end when the compromise:satifaction ratio starts to fall short.

As someone who once was poly – although initially somewhat unwillingly & eventually quite happily – I’m not sure why we persist in believing that one person can be all that we need emotionally, sexually, romantically. We often expect someone (1) we have good sex with, (2) get all tingly around, (3) whose conversation & company we enjoy, and (4) with whom we can build a life, a home, a family. It’s kind of a lot, no? I remember many years ago, before meeting Betty, at feeling astonished I could manage even two of those with the same person in a short period of time — but over a lifetime? In speaking with more & more poly people, and perusing Tristan Taormino’s Opening Up, the way that people “use” poly in their lives seems endlessly variable & creative. Still, though, it generally means to people “having sex with whoever you want.” Which I know, poly folks, is not what it means at all – but that’s still the popular perception.

I know, for someone like me, no one really bats an eyebrow if I mention missing having a male husband. Betty & everyone else knows I intended to be in a relationship with a man. So while Betty & I are still happy as two peas in a pod, there are days when what I’ve lost, and what I miss, is pretty acute. I don’t suspect I will ever stop missing having a male husband, even if the missing grows less acute and less chronic over time. As someone who has always had strong emotional relationships with men – the adoptive “older brothers” I talked about in She’s Not the Man – I miss some kind of masculine energy in my life (and not just sexually, you big perverts). This stuff is gendered because I’m the partner of a person who transitioned from within our marriage, but it strikes me that there are about a million things that a person might miss, or need, over time.

As in: I know there are women out there who have very little interest in sex but who love being wives and mothers. I know too there are women out there who only prefer being desired by men, and love sex, but have little to no urge for domesticity. Others who want the hotness & secrecy that being “the girlfriend” to a man with a wife might bring. There are mid-life crises, when our youth and value seem lost and make us feel diminished. There is menopause and child birth and enlarged prostates that fuck with our hormone levels and libidos. That is, it seems hard NOT to see that how we want to be loved, desired, seen, recognized, and validated will change over time for a gazillion reasons. The poly people I meet seem to be the only ones who actually acknowledge any of that stuff, while the rest of us – and yes, I’m including myself – prefer to put our heads down & hope it’ll go away, that our needs will return to what they were when we first met our life partner. For the record, & as a feminist, I’m going to hazard a guess that more women than men put their heads down, often because they have to out of concern for children, financial issues, & the like.

While I know that plenty who read this will find the ideas in it depressing, I know plenty of others – myself included – who feel really cheered by the way poly lives have started to examine this stuff and well, deal with it. My first revelation came when I attended a workshop by swingers about jealousy, because the idea that swingers were jealous, ever, had never occurred to me; I thought maybe they were swingers exactly because they just weren’t jealous types, and finding out that was not true – that swingers were jealous but had needs that trumped them giving into jealous & possessive relationships – kind of blew my mind. That is, they weren’t swingers because they weren’t jealous, but despite it. (& As someone who has always had a jealous streak, I found that damned near superheroic.)

I will add – because despite my having been about as clear as I can be in my writing, some prefer to try to read between the lines – Betty & I are just fine, thank you. We are still adjusting, as a couple, to our transition. But we have no intention of breaking up, not now or ever. As I’ve said before, being half of a trans couple – or half of any couple, I presume – takes a great deal of creativity and open-mindedness. Our poly friends have been, to a large degree, incredibly supportive of our own challenges and the kind of honesty we needed to make it through transition, which in turn lead me to wonder, exactly, what these folks had figured out. My need to overturn every rock notwithstanding, it has taken quite a while to get our poly friends to talk about why they’re poly; as with most cultures far from “approved institutionality” they are reluctant to share because they’re so used to being judged, and harshly, by the monogamous mainstream.

For the record, Kimberly & her partner have been together 13 years, & have also managed to stay together through her transition. (Bet you thought otherwise, didn’t you?)

So: your thoughts?

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.

The pro-equality coalition in Gainesville is called Equality Is Gainesville’s Business (EIGB). They’re working to raise funds right now and expect to need $100,000 to fight the discriminatory charter amendment. On their Facebook group they recently posted this message:

Subject: We Need Your Help.
Our campaign is hitting the ground running this month. We desperately need donations:
In a few, short weeks, (March 24, 2009), voters in Gainesville will be asked to vote on an amendment that would remove anti-discrimination protections in employment, housing, credit and public accommodations that currently exist for residents who are gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender.

The campaign to fight this hateful amendment will be expensive — upwards of $100,000 for polling, getting out the vote, advertising.

Put simply: The campaign urgently needs your financial support — time is of the essence.

The National Gay & Lesbian Task Force has offered a challenge grant to see the campaign — over the next week they will match (dollar-for-dollar) your contribution up to $7,500.

Please feel free to email me (raprat0@gmail.com) to talk about the campaign if you have any questions, comments or concerns.

Please donate online at http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http…ainesville.com or you can mail a check made out to “Equality Is Gainesville’s Business” to PO Box 40, Gainesville FL 32602. There is no contribution limit, and every dollar counts no matter what level you can afford to give.

Thank you for whatever support you can offer!

Please do what you can.

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.

In a memorable scene early on, in front of the Market Street camera store he owns in the Castro that will become a locus for political action, Milk essentially calls out a sassy twink to join him, or be “recruited,” as Harvey mischievously refers to the process of lining up supporters of his cause. Of course, the little queen, played to riotous perfection by Emile Hirsch, mistakes the approach as a come-on, and loudly and repeatedly dismisses Harvey as “old man.” It is funny, but it is a bit of a shock when he says his name. This chance encounter between the transplanted New Yorker and the frivolous turner of tricks from Phoenix, Arizona, begins the political transformation of Cleve Jones, who in the course of the film will become a campaign dynamo. (The real Cleve Jones would famously, a decade later, found the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt.)

The danger with accurately portraying a specific time period on film is that you risk distracting from the narrative, especially if you are creating scenes to be intercut with actual period footage. Hairstyle and fashion fads date quickly, and we’re used to sight gags based on them in dumb comedies. Here, however, there is an offhand familiarity to the “scene” — the historical period and place just feel right — with only a very few, small anachronisms of language, which I hesitate even to mention, they’re so trivial. (Not so trivial, perhaps, is the near-invisibility of lesbians and transgendered people.)

This is the most assured (mainstream) work so far by Gus Van Sant, a genuine film artist. He delivers a complete drama with real visual style and brazen wit. (One fun example of the latter is an exuberant “Bye Bye Birdie”-type collage to illustrate get-out-the-vote phone calls.) The blending of documentary footage is the most seamless I can remember seeing anywhere. The crowd scenes are remarkable, and all of the location shooting miraculously right. Even for those who lived through the 1970s, the events of the short years depicted here leading up to the assassination of Harvey Milk are riveting, operatic. That he loved opera is also referenced in this film, in particular by Puccini’s Tosca, and once more in a surprising way towards the very end. Not wishing to spoil the impact, I’ll say no more about it, except to remark that it is a risky, brilliantly imaginative leap to take in telling a true story. A very strong true story, but not about same-sex love per se, as already achieved by the fictional “Brokeback Mountain.” This one is about the right to love and have sex. It may be the finest political film I’ve ever seen. More than dramatizing a true story; it captures convincingly the truth about a whole political movement, as freshly active as today’s headlines: Prop 6 or Prop 8 — does it ever end?

Milk also contains what must be Sean Penn’s best performance to date. But everyone is first-rate. If James Franco’s Scott is heartbreaking, Diego Luna as Harvey’s problematic young lover, Jack Lira, is devastating. Josh Brolin as Dan White manages to accomplish the impossible, projecting enough of the murderer’s inner life for us to understand, albeit unwillingly, his small-minded anguish.

For a couple of fast, fast hours, I spent a couple of hilarious, wrenching, inspiring years immersed in turbulent 1970s San Francisco. This movie does what all movies should do. Go see it.

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.

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.”

Drs. Blanchard, Zucker, J. Michael Bailey (whose work has even gone so far as to touch on eugenics) and a small cadre of others are proponents of dividing the transsexual population by sexual orientation (”homosexual transsexuals” vs. ”autogynephilic”) and have repeatedly run afoul of the World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH, formerly HBIGDA), and openly defied the Standards of Care that WPATH maintains (modeled after the original SoC developed by Dr. Harry Benjamin) in favor of conversion techniques. Blanchard and Bailey supporters also include Dr. Alice Dreger, who re-stigmatized treatment of intersex, controversial sexologist Dr. Anne Lawrence, and Dr. Paul McHugh, who had set out in the begining of his career to close the Gender Clinic at Johns Hopkins University and has been one of our most vocal detractors.

An additional danger that gay and lesbian communities need to be cognizant of is that if Zucker and company entrench conversion therapy in the DSM-V, then it is a clear, dangerous step toward also legitimizing ex-gay therapy and re-stigmatizing homosexuality.

I am not familiar with others named to the Work Group. It would be worthwhile looking into any history with WPATH that they might have, to know if we have any positive advocates on board, or just more stigmatizing adversarial clinicians. They may be appointed primarily to address other listings categorized as ”Sexual and Gender Identity Disorders,” I don’t know. They are:

• Dr. Irving M. Binik, McGill University, Montreal, Canada
• Dr. Peggy T. Cohen-Kettenis, VU University Medical Center, Amsterdam
• Dr. Jack Drescher, New York Medical College, St. Luke’s-Roosevelt Hospital Center, NY
• Dr. Cynthia Graham, Isis Education Centre, Warneford Hospital, Oxfordshire, UK
• Dr. Richard B. Krueger, NY State Psyciatric Institute and Columbia University, NY
• Dr. Niklas Langstrom, Karolinka Institutet, Stockholm, Sweden
• Dr. Heino F.L. Meyer-Bahlburg, Columbia University, NY
• Dr. Robert Taylor Segraves, MetroHealth Medical Center, Cleveland

The APA press release states that for further information regarding this, to contact Rhondalee Dean-Royce (rroyce@psych.org) and Sharon Reis (sreis@gymr.com), though it’s possible that they may govern the press release only, rather than have any involvement in the decision to appoint Zucker. The APA itself is headquartered at 1000 Wilson Boulevard, Suite 1825, Arlington VA, 22209. Their Annual General Meeting is currently being held (May 3-8, 200 in Washington, DC.

I’m poorly situated (Western Canada, with no travel budget) to lead the drive for this, which I see as a very serious danger to the transgender community. So I am calling on the various Transgender and GLBT organizations to band together to take action on this, and will assist in whatever way that I and AlbertaTrans.org can.

I am also calling upon our allies and advocates in the medical community and affiliated with WPATH to band together with us and combat this move which could potentially see WPATH stripped of its authority on matters regarding treatment of transsexuals.

– Mercedes Allen, May 5, 2008

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.

Richard Beard, the author, references Jan Morris a lot, which in a travel book-cum-biography is appropriate. The references call to mind Jan Morris’s Fisher’s Face, a biography written by a travel writer, a book which starts from a confession that the author can’t understand somebody. (Fisher’s Face is the best-written biography I’ve ever read). Morris can’t understand the sardonic facial expression in a photo of maverick Royal Navy reformer Jacky Fisher and undertakes an exploration of the subject. Beard can’t understand the gender reassignment of his friend, a Merchant Navy stoker, and likewise undertakes an exploration.

Beard and his old friend Dru Marland, back from some corrective surgery and bruised by insensitive co-workers in the engine room of a channel ferry, walk together for a couple of weeks while Beard struggles. A very muddy, uncomfortable Beard struggles with his perceptions of his friend, with his perceptions of his own gender, and with others’ perception of them as a pair.

On Marland’s behalf, Beard agonises about passability and transphobia and the potential for violence, growing protective of his old mate as they tramp the pubs and chippies of rural Wales. If they were American they’d have to drive and this would be a road book, but they’re not so they don’t and it isn’t.

Beard gives us the road as a narrative structure because he can’t find one otherwise. Dru’s real-life transition defies standard narratives, though that doesn’t stop Beard trying to shoehorn her into one, and whenever he thinks he’s succeeded she frustrates him by agreeing … “to a point”. He tries to get her to cop to the newspaper favourite: genital surgery as the defining moment. He tries to show a metamorphosis from one name to the next leading to the apotheosis of Drusilla. He, a novelist, badly wants linearity and Dru resists. Even the comparatively straightforward structure of Offa’s Dyke National Trail, a 285km path from here to there (where “there” is the decrepit coastal resort of Prestatyn), fails as they give up on Prestatyn and motor to a coastal trail that takes them along cliff-faces on a repeat pilgrimage to St David’s.

As they walk, Beard flashes back on Dru’s transition, trying to understand the woman in the cloche hat and the 15kg rucksack on the trail in front of him or in the sleeping bag beside him. Beard remembers driving in a Morris Traveller called (by Beard) Jan Morris as they visited bits of Dru’s childhood. Dru flashes back on her childhood ambition to be an RAF pilot (foiled by the cruel accident of colour-blindness), her mother’s untimely death and her father’s remarriage.

When they stop, the ruminations of the road are driven out by Beard’s preoccupation with Dru’s appearance and gender shibboleths. In country pubs Dru insists on ordering real ale in pints rather than feminine half-pints of fizzy lager. She sits where counter staff can see her and analyse her appearance. At some point, Beard dreads, somebody is going to attack them because Dru is read as a transwoman. He becomes, he says, “transphobicphobic”.

Back when Beard and Marland were two married blokes walking the trail together and sharing a little tent they were straight. Now that Marland’s a woman, and because a man and a woman walking together must form a couple, Beard finds himself queered every time Dru’s read as a queer bloke rather than a woman. Straight man suddenly queered isn’t such a comfortable person to be, and he doesn’t take it well. Beard cringes when Dru farts on the trail or wears the day-sack (one gets the impression that Beard usually associates with a rather delicate sort of woman). So queasy is he about his own gender presentation in his borrowed pink Tilley hat that Beard … grows a beard.

Beard is really wrapped around the axle about Dru Marland’s gender, which is remarkable because he far outstrips her own sometimes twitchy concerns about whether she looks girl enough for passersby on the trail. Sometimes, though Dru occasionally shops for a more feminine top, she is a blithe polished ivory figure in waterproofs leaving Beard to struggle in his confusion as she switches in and out of her “Drusilla voice” as the whim takes her.

The book isn’t about somebody becoming Drusilla — the name on Dru’s driving licence implies far more stereotypical femininity than the real woman is prepared to concede. It’s clear that Dru doesn’t become anybody different from the Cadet Flight Sergeant A.P. Marland on the book’s cover. She just stops pretending to be male which lets her set aside so much baggage (including a load of smack).

The journey here is Beard’s, and it’s not the easy glide that the polished “loved ones” on Oprah find pleases the producers. The journey is a long, wet slog on wet trails through towns where the only portable food is a Ginster’s pasty in cellophane wrapping and where condensed milk in a plastic tube is unknown.

Back then, it was Marland who was uncomfortable, and it was Beard who was comfortable. Marland hid her discomfort (as trans people do) so everyone at least appeared to be happy. Now Marland has made herself reasonably comfortable (barring some horrid treatment at the hands of her fellow-stokers in the engine room of the Pride of Bilbao) and it’s Beard who has to cope.

Beard seeks out Mr Bellringer, the cycling surgeon who yearns to get together with the Thai doctors nearly every Briton with the cash prefers to see. Bellringer, known outside this book for his ability to squeeze vaginoplasty and labiaplasty into less than three hours, rather wistfully laments that the Thais who linger long enough to construct labia minora don’t seem eager to come to meet him at conventions. Beard is so charmed (as so many are) by Mr Bellringer that he doesn’t even suggest that Bellringer wears spandex cycling shorts on the ward for the same reason that Beard grows his beard: to show that unlike his patients he’s (as we say with respect to livestock) entire.

The main character in this very well-written story is the author, Beard. Beard struggles with his anxieties about appearing to be queer. He struggles with his anxieties about being seen with a strange-looking woman. He wants validation from the woman he’s with. He wants a trophy, and instead his old mate forces him to struggle with anxiety about being victimised as though he were trans or queer or gawdelpus a woman.

Dru’s struggle is there: she’s turned down by Richard Green, the ugly rottweiler of a gatekeeper at Charing Cross Gender Identity Centre and only later “saved … by the more mundane business of the PCT agreeing an SLA to fund the GRS at CX GIC at the end of RLE”. She’s attacked by her shipmates, she’s attacked by thugs, she’s driven away from her family by her stepmother; but she’s the supporting character here, and her struggle is largely behind her.

So I think I’ll pass this book on to my sister. This isn’t Oprah, and this isn’t Dr Phil. The makeup girl doesnt sort Dru out before the studio lights go on, and the issue isn’t resolved in 44 minutes. For some issues and some people what’s necessary is two weeks tramping the uncomfortable paths of Wales trying to remember what it meant to be dry and warm.

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.

As trans people, I think we have a responsibility to understand the meanings of words that are used to describe us and people like us. Unfortunately, Trans Native People are a minority’s minority and the few historic and contemporary references to us as subjects, were written by the victors; white, male, non-Native, non-gender blessed people (otherwise known as anthropologists). I also feel that I have a considerable ownership to that term and have earned the right to comment on its use or disuse.

I recognize that many of you may not have ever met or conversed with a ‘real live injun’, let alone one that is TG. And many of you probably know even less about our traditions. But here on the MHB boards (OK, brand loyalty now), there is a small handful of us and speaking for myself, you all have made me feel comfortable by your willingness to listen to what I share. So it is, in that way like that, that I am gently asking for your support and understanding.

First, for those of you who are not familiar with the term, this is my take on the definition:

It is a relatively recent Anglophonic corruption, which was defined in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century French as “a young man who is shamefully abused” or “a young man or boy who serves as another’s succubus, permitting sodomy (otherwise known as a whore) to be committed on him.”

And finally, the origin of the Two-Spirits term was a pointedly directed response to the distaste that We have for the term and while I have a couple of issues with Two-Spirit usage (i.e., ownership for example), it is the term I prefer others, who are looking for some more defining label (other than lets say, Kelzi), to hang on my lapel (or scalpel) to use.

May you walk in Peace and Harmony.

Quetzalli Cold Thunder

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.

Amongst the wide diversity of people who have served this country, Transgender Americans have been an important part of the military since the Revolutionary War. The word “transgender” has come to mean “Anyone who crosses the gender lines, regardless of whether it is temporary or permanent.” Dictionary.com has the definition as, “Noun: A person appearing or attempting to be a member of the opposite sex, as a transsexual or habitual cross-dresser,” and, “Adjective: Being, pertaining to, or characteristic of a transgender or transgenders: the transgender movement.”

We have found that in the early part of American history, women could easily fight as men because they didn’t have to go through a physical exam before enlisting. That changed during the Spanish American War. Some of the women who did fight in those early wars indeed returned to a life as a woman, but many did not.

In the early and middle parts of the 20th Century, we found that most of the transgender veterans who served at that time started life as boys, but became women in the years after the wars had ended. Others crossdressed throughout their lives and even did so while serving in the military. In the middle 20th Century and early 21st Century, women began serving more frequently and even in combat roles where they could not previously serve. We started seeing more women who later became men after those wars were over.

One of the notable examples of a woman who fought as a man was Deborah Sampson, a tall woman for her day, served in the Revolutionary War as Robert Shurtliff and even became wounded. Another person was Lucy Brewer, who started her early adult life as a prostitute, but served as a Marine on board of the USS Constitution in the War of 1812. After the War, she appeared as a man several times. Around 400 women served as men in the Civil War, for both sides. Some continued their lives as men after the war.

One of the most interesting stories is that of Cathy Williams, a slave who changed her name to William Cathey and served two years as a Buffalo Solider before she told a doctor she was a woman. She did as well as her male counterparts, surviving the harsh conditions of the desert Southwest.

As the understanding of transgenderism improved, stories of thousands of transgender people who served this country in the military surfaced. The famous writer, B-movie producer and crossdresser, Ed Wood, fought in the Battle of Guadalcanal. The first known transsexual, Christine Jorgensen, spent eleven months in the Army and when she came back from Denmark after her surgery in 1952, the headlines in the paper read, “GI becomes Blonde Bombshell.” The headlines knocked the explosion of the first hydrogen bomb off the front page. Later, Eisenhower even invited her to the White House.

We know of many transgender people who have fought in every late 20th Century and 21st Century wars we have been in. I have a friend, Jane Fee, who served during WWII. I served during the Vietnam War, in the Navy, on two submarines. We know of another transgender person who headed a special anti-terrorist unit for the Army and even reported to the Vice President.

Transgender people have been in every war, served in every branch of the service, have achieved every rank and have been awarded every medal this country has, including the Congressional Medal of Honor. We have done every job the military has, served in every base, port, ship, drove every vehicle, operated every weapon, flown every aircraft and served in every hospital the American military has. We have done our part to preserve the freedom of everyone in this country. If you ask us, we will tell you that we are veterans first, who just happen to be transgender people. And, we are proud to have served this great country.

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.

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.

A few months prior to my conversation with Cat I co-founded a national organization by the name of TransYouth Family Advocates. That work and my role as a filmmaker are what I believe led Cat and the SoCo Board to think they might want to invite me to speak at today’s luncheon.

Of course, I was touched by the invitation and accepted immediately. Following our conversation, it dawned on me that perhaps I’d spoken too soon. I realized that I had some research to do in order to prepare for that day…which is now, today.

I needed to find out what plenary meant.

At first, I thought it had something to do with a faith-based presentation of some kind, which gave me pause. While I consider myself to be a spiritual, moral and decent person, I am by no means a religious person.

Dictionary.com defines the word plenary in the following way:

“An adjective related to the noun plenum. Full and complete in every respect.”

It goes on to say:

“Plenary inspiration” is a form of revelation. Plenary Inspiration tells us that the authors were infallible; they did not make any errors when they were writing the particular text because the Holy Spirit of God was working through them.”

Now, I’ve been a proud atheist throughout most of my life and I have attributed that atheism not only to a passion for logic, science and reason, but perhaps most directly to the fact that none of my childhood prayers were ever answered.

Perhaps you can then appreciate the pressure this places on me. I like to think my ego is as healthy as any other mature, sexy, trans-lesbian, guitar playing soccer mom type…but infallibility due to the Holy Spirit of God may be something of a stretch, even for me.

Therefore, I’m going to think of this luncheon as a team activity. There is every bit as much pressure on you to acknowledge the infallibility of what I say as there is on me to actually BE infallible. All I can say is, don’t let me down.

As a child of the 60′s, I was inspired by the space program. Words like re-entry, splashdown, Telstar, Mercury, Gemini and Apollo became part of my everyday language. And the astronauts themselves, Shepherd, Glenn, Grissom, Schirra, Carpenter, Slayton and Cooper were early heroes.

I watched on a fuzzy black and white television as Neil Armstrong stepped onto the surface of the Moon.

It was a time when I imagined that almost anything was possible. It was a time when I believed that someday, I too would walk on the surface of the moon, or perhaps another planet. I believed all this…because I had seen it actually happen. I had seen men walk on the moon.

Today, in this room, at this microphone, I’m doing something which, as a child, seemed a far more distant dream than walking on the moon. I feel like Neil Armstrong standing in my very own Sea of Tranquility.

It’s important to have heroes and role models. They show us what is possible. They show us the value of vision and courage. Heroes can inspire us to find a way out of seemingly hopeless situations. And while the Mercury Seven astronauts were certainly heroes of mine, they were not my biggest hero.

I first heard the name Christine Jorgensen when I was 6 years old. I was sitting on the back floor of the car as my mother drove my brother Hugh home from the railroad station in Milwaukee, where I was born and raised. He’d left for New York City the previous year to pursue a career in theatre and was home for a visit.

During the drive he mentioned that he’d been at a party in Manhattan that was filled with celebrities and among them was Christine Jorgensen.

I remember my mother saying that she recognized the name but couldn’t place where from, to which my brother responded; “She is the man who had a sex change operation and became a woman.”

While my affection for the phrase “sex-change” has diminished rather dramatically in the ensuing years, the impact of hearing those words was, at least for one 6-year old trans girl, life altering.

It’s remarkable the things we hold in our memories and the things we forget. I remember the first time I heard Christine Jorgensen’s name like it was yesterday, but I can’t remember the phone number of the house I lived in for 7 years. I remember taking food coloring from the kitchen cupboard when I was 12 and heating up a sewing needle in a desperate attempt to tattoo my lips red so they would have to let me be a girl…but I can’t for the life of me remember my first home run, or my first kiss. I remember praying night after night for God to change my body as I slept so that I could awaken from the nightmare…but I don’t remember even once praying for God to make me feel happy about being a boy. Praying for that just didn’t seem natural. Praying for that was surrender.

The concept being part of an Intergenerational Family hit me square upside the head last fall as I was talking to a trans youth at the Sexual Minority Youth Resource Center in Portland, Oregon, where I make my home. At the time I was an adult volunteer at the drop-in center for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, transsexual, asexual, pansexual, non-sexual, queer, questioning, gender queer,

Non-gendered, allied, androgynous, polyamorous, politically incorrect, vegan, vegetarian, omnivore, carnivore, kosher, treyf, physically challenged, ambulatory and extra-terrestrial youth.

She told me that she’d recently started hormones and how she felt about that and I shared with her how happy I was that she was happy and together we were both just happy to be happy, engulfed as we were in our estrogen-induced stupor. Finally, once we’d stopped smiling long enough to take a breath, she asked;

“So, when did you start taking hormones?”

I responded, “Well, I began taking them when I was 12 years old.”

She gasped. I’m not kidding…she literally gasped and said; “Oh! You’re THE ONE!”

It was my turn to gasp. I realized that a portion of my personal trans journey had become a part of anecdotal trans experience. I had become an urban legend.

I will now relate the true story behind that urban legend.

I call it “The Case Of The Transmogrifying Yellow Pill”.

The year was 1966. A 12-year old child working the day watch in Milwaukee, Wisconsin went into a corner drugstore to buy comic books with $.50 his mother had given him. His favorites were Spider-Man, Daredevil and The X-Men. While looking through the newsstand, he noticed a spinner rack filled with paperback books. There was the usual assortment of Mickey Spillane and Earle Stanley Gardner mysteries. But there was a new title that caught the kid’s attention…The Transsexual Phenomenon.

The boy was in awe. It was the Holy Grail, Christmas morning and the ever elusive all-ice cream diet rolled into one. There was just one problem. The boy had only had $.50 for comic books and the paperback on the spinner rack was $1.95.

With sweaty palms, the child considered his options. On the one hand, the kid REALLY wanted that book. Then again, Peter Parker was definitely going to reveal that he was Spider-Man in the latest issue. What to do, what to do…

I stole the book.

Tucking it down the front of my pants, I grabbed Spidey, Daredevil and The X-Men and headed to the counter. I was more afraid of being caught with the book because of the subject matter than I was of being caught for stealing.

Luckily, the nice man behind the counter was fooled by my innocent, freckle-faced charm and I made a clean getaway.

I read the book cover to cover in little more than a day, and even though I didn’t understand everything in the book, I got the message. I’d always known I was different, but now I knew there was more than just Christine and I. There were enough of us for an American doctor to have written a book. Most of the “others” seemed a lot older, but still, they were probably kids once.

Now, I know what’s going through your minds. You’re thinking “What about the hormones? How did you start hormones at the age of 12 when gas was $.30 a gallon and Reagan was best known for being a bad actor?”

While reading The Transsexual Phenomenon I realized that one of the medications mentioned in the book was the same thing my mother took for, in her words, “My goddamn hot flashes”.

The Transmogrifying Yellow Pill…Premarin!

It’s the only time I remember being happy that my Mom was an alcoholic. Counting the little yellow pills was not her top priority.

And that’s how Dr. Harry Benjamin turned me into a pill popping thief.

The story you’ve just heard is true. The people in this story are guilty as hell and they know it. None of their names were changed because they’re either dead, don’t give a damn or the statute of limitations has expired.

The publication of The Transsexual Phenomenon was literally, a defining event in my life.

Some would argue that as a 12-year old child, my gender non-conforming identity was reinforced, influenced or warped by having read that book. Nothing could be further from the truth. I had always known exactly how I felt about myself and my identity. I knew I was a girl. It just didn’t make “sense” until I read that book.

Those who believe that a child’s gender non-conformity can somehow be improperly confirmed or influenced by mere exposure to a book or discussion about transgender issues would also believe there are WMD in Iraq and all lesbians own a cat.

Umm…by a show of hands, how many cat owners do we have?

Those who believe that children are blank slates waiting for an approved hetero-normative gender stencil to be drawn on them are not simply in denial regarding current scientific, social and medical studies, they are guilty of leading parents, families and in many cases the legal system to misogynistic, cissexist and conservative fundamentalist conclusions that will forever negatively affect these children’s lives.

Alleged gender identity experts like Kenneth Zucker, Alice Dreger, J. Michael Bailey, Warren Throckmorton and others define transgender people, especially children, in ways that only serve their personal, professional, cultural and religious agendas or, in the case of Anne Lawrence, which justify their own self-loathing connection to gender non-conformity.

To them, there is no such thing as a transgender, transsexual or androgynous child. These children, and the adults they become, are nothing more than examples of psychotherapy’s failure to eradicate pre-homosexual behavior. You see, according to their uber-flawed studies, 75% of gender non-conforming children turn gay during their teen years.

To put it bluntly, we are nothing but failed cisgender homosexuals.

I’m simultaneously enraged and amused by such voodoo psychology. I’m also deeply insulted. I happen to consider myself to be an extremely successful lesbian. So successful in fact, that in February of next year my partner Cheryl and I will celebrate our 25th anniversary.

On a side note, when I read this last part to my partner before leaving for the conference she asked me; “What would you be like if you were an unsuccessful lesbian.” To which I answered, “I guess I’d be sexually attracted to men.”

This continuing campaign to marginalize, disregard and obstruct transgender identity in children is what compelled me to begin working with children, youth and their families.

My dedication to raising awareness of this issue has intensified through working with TransActive Education & Advocacy, a non-profit organization I established in Portland, Oregon.

The film, “Out Of The Shadows” is really just the voice of a child from my past; the voice of a little girl that was never heard. Shouted down by teachers, therapists, gate-keepers, social workers, parents, friends and family, it is a voice that is, I’m sorry to say, still ignored, marginalized and silenced by many within our own community.

While we are making progress regarding rights and protections for trans, intersex and gender non-conforming adults, we are too often silent when it comes to transgender children. If we are indeed a community, then how can we as a community survive if we won’t fight for our children?

We seem to be finding comfort and safety under this transgender umbrella, but our children are left out in the rain. Where and when are we going to hear the needs of our gender non-conforming children addressed at the national level by presidential candidates and the organizers of national forums that focus on LGBT community issues?

What are they afraid of? What are we afraid of? Has the far-right fundamentalist campaign of lies about the so-called gay agenda backed us into such a dark corner that we’re too afraid to protect our babies, our children, our teens?

We hear frequently about the flaws in No Child Left Behind, yet few notice that transgender children are not just being left behind; they are being thrown under the bus.

I believe this is due, in part, to the notion that there are no gay, lesbian or bisexual children. There are children that might be “expected” to be gay or lesbian based upon their gender non-conforming personalities, but they haven’t as yet actually bought the toaster oven. As for transgender children, there appears to be more respect for and documentation of the existence of Bigfoot than there is for transgender identity in childhood.

Let’s for a moment hypothesize on what life would be like in the Bizarro universe inhabited by the Axis of Evil; Bailey, Lawrence, Throckmorton and Zucker. We’ll assume there’s been a breach in the time-space continuum and the laws that rule their mystifying but simplistic corner of existence spills over into our messy little dimension.

In their dimension, 75% of you are homosexual, having grown out of or been behavior modified away from your childhood gender non-conforming identities.

But what about the other 25%? What do we do with you?

What if (not a chance in hell) those percentages are right? What if those statistics were applied to other conditions of childhood development?

Would it be alright if we ignored, silenced and marginalized socially impaired children if 25% of them turned out to be autistic?

What if 25% of all children with muscle cramps developed muscular dystrophy?

What if 25% of all children who like candy developed diabetes?

And would it be ok to withhold medical intervention to 25% of all children born with cleft lip or cleft palate until they reached the age of 18, just in case they changed their minds about wanting to fix the hole in the middle of their face.

According to research done by Professor Lynn Conway, non-conforming gender identity is as common or more common that each of those conditions. Her research indicates that 1:250 births are a child that has a non-conforming gender identity.

Perhaps some of you were one of those children. I know I was.

I’ve faced the reality that no matter what I do, or how many years go by, I will never be able to bury the pain of that little girl who had to steal a paperback book so many years ago because no one saw her, no one heard her and no one respected her.

The pain of being invisible to the very people who are supposed to protect them is perhaps the deepest wound from a transgender childhood. Our children are hungry for our love, our support, our recognition and most of all, our respect.

They have a right to positive role models.

Their parents have a right to know there’s a future out there for their children that doesn’t involve being on a very special episode of The Jerry Springer Show.

They have a right to not be threatened in the hallways, beaten in the locker rooms or murdered in a back alley because of someone else’s misogynistic and homophobic insecurities.

They have a right to all those things. They have a right to be themselves, no matter what the neighbors might think.

Our trans children have a right to heroes they can look up to. But in order for them to look up to us, we must first stand up for them.

It may be through volunteering our professional skills to a family in need. It may be through being a mentor to a gender non-conforming child or youth. It may be through contributing to non-profit organizations that work on behalf of transgender children, youth and their families. I happen to know of one…talk to me later. 

And for those who identify as male, please know that the impact you can have on a young gender non-conforming child’s life, regardless of where the child falls on the gender spectrum, is particularly valuable and hard to come by. The impact of that support may be even more profound in male attire than in female attire.

One of the things we don’t see enough of is men supporting feminine boys. While it’s always deeply moving to see the love these children receive from their mothers and other women in their lives, I am even more thrilled to meet supportive fathers, brothers, uncles or male family friends who are proud of the child for who they are.

In order to develop healthy self-esteem these children must know that those they look up to are proud of who they are and who they might become.

A few years ago my partner Cheryl and I were driving to Vancouver, BC to spend a few days with friends. We’d just left the Seattle area when I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize. To my surprise, it was from a woman named Robyn Henslin that I’d known prior to my transition, and whom I hadn’t seen or spoken to in more than 30 years.

Back then I was a very young, pimply faced musical director of a group connected to Up with People, which some of you may be familiar with from their appearances in 4 Super Bowl Halftime shows.

I told Robyn how thrilled I was to hear from her. I was also trying to find a way of addressing whether or not she knew about the changes in my life.

I finally said; “Are you aware of my gender transition?” to which she said, “Oh yes. We all heard about it. It was weird at first but we all liked you and knew you were doing what was right for you.”

I laughed and confirmed that, indeed, it was the best thing I could have done.

We made small talk for a minute or two and then I asked her why, after all these years, she decided to track me down over the internet.

She paused for a moment and I could tell she was crying.

She said; “I’m so happy to talk to you, but I don’t want you to think I’m silly. I’ve thought about you a lot over the years as I was going through different things in my life. I’ve been through some really tough times, but I got through them. And when things started to get better, I thought about you. I’ve got three children now, a boy and two girls, and a great career in nursing. I’ve been married twice, but my current husband and I have been together for almost 20 years and we’re really happy.”

By this time, we were both crying and my partner Cher, riding in the car beside me was wondering who died. I gave her a little smile and a thumbs-up to reassure her that everything was OK.

Robyn went on.

“I needed to tell you something. I needed for you to know how great my life has turned out and how important you were as a role model and someone who encouraged me and inspired me. It was important that you be proud of me someday. Are you?”

I was. And I was humbled by her words, her affection and her need to tell this transgender woman that I’d made a difference in her life at time when I was still trying to figure out my own future, or if I even had a future.

It was for me, a full-circle moment that can only be described by use of the noun, plenum. Full and complete in every respect.

In closing, I want to again thank all of you for your kindness, your support, your courage and your leadership. My greatest wish is that someday, each and every one of you receives a call from a trans child you’ve reached out to. Perhaps a 12 year old trans girl who found The Transsexual Phenomenon on the Internet, and that that call might go something like this:

“I don’t know if you remember me…but my life is great now. I hope you’re proud of me. Are you?”

Thank you.