Helen Boyd Kramer's journal on gender and stuff
It looks like that homophobe Sally Kern is going to have to fight to keep her seat. It’s such a good thing to see when the whole idea of democracy actually works: you don’t like what someone has to say, you run against her.
Hopefully Marlett will win. My guess is that he will get significant LGBT funding if he manages this right.
(thanks to Caprice for the story.)
So I’m working on a novel these days. & That’s all I’m saying for now.
Lena Dahlstrom posted a video on the mHB message boards made by the Feminist Majority Foundation called “This is What a Feminist Looks Like” and the women in it reminded me, once again, that I don’t feel femme-y enough in either style or presentation and reminded me as well that I’m offended by this PR campaign to convince people that feminists aren’t awful, ugly, fat, hairy women. So when another partner commented about being the resident “big hairy dyke” I thought, “me too.”
I’m aware that others see me as smaller than I see myself, or at least tell me they do, and of course I wax or hide most of my hairiness. Most people wouldn’t think of me as a dyke but I have for a while now, even if I’m still cautious about adopting a lesbian identity out of respect for those who are lesbian-identified and who might see me as something of an interloper. But dyke is an identity I’ve become comfortable with since I think it suits me (no pun intended) & in a lot of ways frees me. (I use ‘het dyke’, too, when it seems right.)
You all know the joke about what women would be like in a world without men, right?
Answer: Fat, hairy, and happy. Continue reading “Constructing Your “Woman””
Now you can go vote for me, since I made the Top 10. Thanks to all who nominated me!
He’s always been Betty’s boy, but sometimes he tolerates me. Just look at that big arm! Fearsome beastie.
If there’s an FTM or an FTM organization out there that would like a bunch of copies of the FTM Newsletter, let me know. The issues I have are #s 38 & 39, 41 & 42, 45 & 46, 48 & 49.
First come, first served.
(I thought that might get your attention!)
20 big Clinton donors tried to bully Nancy Pelosi for saying that superdelegates should let the voters decide who becomes the Democratic nominee. This is the worst kind of insider politics, and it has to stop.
Do we really want to elect people who think their money gets to call the presidency, or the guy who managed to raise more money from small donors than anyone ever has before? Hmm, let’s think about that. A lot of money from few sources, vs. a lot of money from many.
Let’s look up that definition of democracy again, shall we?
A partner who calls herself Madame George and who regularly posts on our message boards wrote this piece about growing up in a small town and about how similar that can be to watching your husband transition. I thought it was a beautiful piece, wistful, affirming, full of love but also change.
Growing up in a small town has its perks. Small town shop owners know you by name. In fact most times they know your family and your entire life story. That’s how it was growing up here. It’s one of my fondest memories of growing up in a small town. It has changed over the years and many of the shop owners that I knew are now gone. The store fronts now boasting dazzling electronics, plastic knick knacks, and country crafts. Gone is the independent pharmacist, the neighborhood greasy diner, and the ten cents store. Gone are the comforts of the past.
I loved the days when my mother would need something from the neighborhood drug store. There was a small one nearby that was complete with a soda fountain. It’s how I met Mr. Reider. An independent pharmacist whose shop was not far from my school. I knew him well. He knew my entire family well. He had a great store and seemed to always be adding unusual finds into his display cases and racks on a daily basis. It was probably more like a monthly basis, but to my young eyes I seemed to always find new items to wonder over. A favorite of mine was a metal bank depicting a monkey with it’s arms stretched wide. The one where you put a coin in one hand and you gently pulled the other one down and the coin would roll down its arm into a slot hidden ingeniously in the side of its head. Another favorite was the little porcelain nesting dolls with their funny looking painted faces. I remember well his gentle words of warning each time I would pick a set up. Never scolding, just a friendly reminder to be careful. Continue reading “Accepting Change”
The cover story of this month’s Advocate wants to know who’s to blame for Lawrence King’s murder.
Their insinuation is that those who would have advised Lawrence to be open about his sexuality and gender identity are.
Bruce Parker at Bilerico has posted an open letter to LGBT Ally organizations that will be sent to The Advocate in response to this article.
While driving from Wisconsin to New York, we passed a couple of things that struck us as fitting the state/area we found them in perfectly:
But now we’re home again, in our very cluttered apartment, & I’m wondering why on earth I have all the rest of the clothes I left here, since what I had in Wisconsin was enough to get dressed every day for three months.