You can catch the most interesting things on late night PBS; tonight at 4am was an hour-long tribute to Oscar Wilde in honor of his 150th birthday. Various actors and writers and dancers paid him tribute by reading his lines and wishing him a happy birthday. The very last was Jefferson Mays (the actor who played all the characters in Doug Wright’s “I Am My Own Wife,” the story of Charlotte Von Mahlsdorf) who described Wilde as “the most elegant subversive the world has ever seen.”
Lucky Number 13
Betty and I have become aunts today for the 13th time, with the birth of our 3rd nephew. Four are on her side (including today’s), the other nine on mine.
& People wonder why we don’t want children of our own; we can’t afford birthdays and Christmas and graduation and baptisms as is.
Belligerent Old Ladies?
I had a bad dream about an elephant a couple of weeks ago.* I’ve had a couple of dreams in a row about not being able to keep animals safe (another one involving a calico cat), if anyone feels the need to be Freud – and after this one I woke up haunted by the idea of unhappy, angry elephants. I’ve always liked elephants – they’re peaceful, smart, social, familial. They talk to each other, and they’re otherwise playful and peaceful, even in the most extraordinary circumstances. As a way of purging my bad dream, I started wondering if there was anything I could do, and I came upon www.elephants.com, which is the website of The Elephant Sanctuary.
The Sanctuary takes in old circus elephants. It can only take females (because males don’t socialize with others), but it gives them free range, good food, and a safe warm place to sleep. Plus, friends – the other elephants, dogs and cats, their caretakers.
Elephants occasionally get labeled “dangerous” like Topsy did – usually when they have the good sense to smack down a mean trainer or two – and Winkie was one of the ones who did. At upwards of 7000 lbs., “aggressive” can mean “fatal” in an elephant. But since she’s retired, she’s been entirely peaceful, with no signs of aggressive behavior. There was just something about her story that speaks to me, so I thought I’d share it.
They keep blogs of the doings at the Sanctuary – both African & Asian – and it can be pretty heart-warming reading. I just really love the idea of these formerly cramped, chained-to-a-post, performing animals laying around, taking baths, eating berries, and occasionally chasing dogs (a game for both the dogs and the elephants, apparently). Like there’s some justice in the world, sometimes, for at least a lucky few.
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* The dream was a result of my having discovered the sad and unjust execution of Topsy the Elephant. Please don’t read the story at all if you’re fond of elephants, REALLY. I’m warning you. Her story has haunted me for three years, since I first read about the memorial to her at Coney Island. The short, leaving-out-the-gruesome-details part of the story is: badly-treated performing elephant kills three men and is electrocuted by the famous Edison, who was trying to prove that his form of eletricity was safer.
You Talkin' To Me?!
For the years I was the most androge/genderqueer (though of course I was often simply called “freak”), I had no idea I was, until I realized that when someone called out “young man, you dropped a glove,” or “homeboy was out pretty late tonight” types of comments, they were talking to me. The odd thing is, I don’t remember any sense of “you’re talking to me?!” when that happened. Maybe the first comment was so obviously directed at me that there was no question, so I wasn’t surprised when it happened after that. I don’t know. It was harder for me to adjust to being called by Betty’s last name – I didn’t change mine – and more than one waiting room receptionist has called it out more than once.
I don’t like having to tell people not to call me “Mrs. Your Husband,” because they treat you like you’re intentionally complicating their lives somehow. But I just had another friend change her name upon getting married, and for the life of me, I can’t understand why anyone would do that. And please don’t repeat that “sometimes it means a lot to the husband” excuse to me; if it’s that important to him, let him change his goddamn name.
Vern Bullough
Vern Bullough, author of umpteen books, advocate for crossdressers and trans people, died this past Wednesday, June 21st.
I can’t even begin to express how sad I am: Vern became more than an author whose books I read, but a kind of mentor for me, always willing to answer a question or point me toward research that might help me out.
From the Center for Inquiry and the Council for Secular Humanism
The Center for Inquiry Laments the Death of Vern Bullough: Leonardo Man and Stalwart Secular Humanist
The Center for Inquiry is sorry to announce that Vern Bullough died Wednesday evening, June 21st, after a brief illness. He was a stalwart humanist, a dedicated member of the Council for Secular Humanism, the Center for Inquiry, and CSICOP. He had devoted himself to humane causes all during his life; he was considered to be one of the leading authorities in the world on the history of sex and the nature of gender. He was a tireless advocate of civil liberties, the rights of minorities, including gays, lesbians and transgendered persons.
The author or editor of over 50 books including Sexual Attitudes: Myths and Realities, with Bonnie Bullough, and hundreds of articles, he was renowned in several areas of human interest, including history, sexology, nursing and liberal religion. Indeed, a true Leonardo Man, Vern was a distinguished professor emeritus at the State University of New York at Buffalo, an Outstanding Professor in the California State University, a past president of the Society for the Scientific Study of Sex, past Dean of natural and social sciences at SUNY in Buffalo, New York, and one of the founders of the American Association for the History of Nursing. In addition, he was a recipient of the Distinguished Humanist Award and a past Vice President of the IHEU.
Vern served on the Center’s Board of Directors since its inception and was personally involved in its outreach. He accompanied the Center for Inquiry’s Explorers Club on a Cruise to Alaska in early June. He read a paper on board ship, and managed to write up his remarks in the form of an article, which will be published in Free Inquiry magazine.
He will be sorely missed as one of he leading secular humanists in North America and the world and a liberal voice for the right of self-determination, tolerance and dignity.
He leaves his wife, Gwen Brewer (Prof. Emeritus, University of California) and four children.
Paul Kurtz
Chairman and Founder, Center for Inquiry and the Council for Secular Humanism
Her Best Man
Yesterday we went to a party, thrown by a friend who is TG for his wife’s birthday, and at some point people started telling stories about how a groom or bride went missing at a wedding – in this case, it was because the bride was fixing the headpiece for the cake. At our wedding, Betty went missing to go “hang out with” her best man for a while, and I sat there for a bit, trying to figure out in my head how I could say that, & then realized this group knew Betty was trans anyway, so I just told the story with the “best man” bit in.
But I had a moment where I thought: what do you do with stories like that? Just resist telling them? Re-gender them (so that “she was hanging out with her maid of honor”?) The whole event made me kind of sad, because after we brought it up we ended up doing Trans 101, which is not the worst thing in the world, but we really didn’t feel like it (because sometimes even we want to just be normal folks who go to parties to eat & drink & talk & tell stories).
& I woke up this morning thinking: this is what I hate about transness.
Too Many
The other day I was seeking out my copy of Hirschfeld’s Transvestites in order to footnote something about his Theory of Intermediaries, and while pulling, I ended up with Kate Bornstein, Virginia Prince, and Judith Butler on my head.
Sitting there having been bonked in the head by one and having had another fall on my foot, I decided I have way too many books about gender.
But doesn’t everyone?
At least it wasn’t the Hirschfield that fell; now that book would hurt.
Speaking of Femmes
I went to a French brasserie, or cafe, or whatever you’d call a little French-inspired Parisian-decor’d restaurant in Park Slope, with Betty and Donna and Caprice before the Joan Jett show. I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room, and unconsciously read the signs for which one to enter. FEMMES, said one.
And I swear, for a split second I was sure the other one would say BUTCHES.
(I have been reading, and very much enjoying, The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader.)
Butch Purse?
In a great piece called Butches, Lies, and Feminism by Jeanne Cordova out of The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader, this story of a butch purse:
I punched my black leather purse into a tighter pillow underneath my head. My purse, whom I lovingly called ‘my yin chromosome,’ had been with me through nearly two decades of the lesbian civil wars. She’d been the butt of much harassment by lesbian-feminists and stone butches who didn’t understand the difference between a butch purse and a femme purse. A butch purse is an only child. Femmes have as many purses as shoes.
I laughed really really hard when I read that, as Betty has more bags and purses stuck into nooks in closets and cabinets and drawers than I can imagine owning in a lifetime. I occasionally go around and with the largest in hand, shove a bunch of the smaller ones into it – one bag-eating bag, as it were. And yes, you guessed it: I have one bag I use daily. I occasionally switch off to a larger bag for when I’m editing a ms, and sometimes I use a tiny pouch of a bag, like when I’m going to a club and don’t want to have to check a larger bag. But mostly I use a bag until it falls apart, and then I go find a new one. If repairs can’t be made, that is.
Gianna Israel Memorial Service
Max Valerio is holding a memorial service in honor of Gianna Israel, and he’s posted an evite invitation with all the details, and so that people can volunteer to help, donate funds, or just RSVP.