Letters to You

When the Sun goes away I turn inward for warmth and reflection.  My third winter in the Pacific Northwest and I'm beginning to get the hang of this vitamin D regiment, which is one of the strictest schedules I've been on. Sometimes I wonder if I'm going to overdose form taking so many IUs.... -___-

That's not where I was going with this....

Sunday I woke up at 2am and wrote a letter. I didn't say everything I needed to, but I got damn-near close and then i forgot I wrote it, until this evening, when i re-read it.  It's almost illegible, but I can see me in it.  The me I don't let out too often, but apparently peeks through the bars (yes BARS!!) late at night.

It's a letter I can't send but I wish I desperately could. I don't want to carry this burden anymore.....

Today's Battle

Today I had an appt with my Oly doc. She's not trans* competent, although she has other trans* patients.  She's not willing to educate herself anymore than she already has, which isn't very much at all

And I've decided to find another provider. My mother didn't give so much of herself so that I could have healthcare to put up with that transphobic BS

Fuck that noise.

It's a shame too cause the staff are excellent.  Too bad they can't train their employer on how to be a more compassionate person.

But that's her mess to deal with.

Are You a Boy or a Girl?

I think I've been asked this question at least three times a week since I've started working at the elementary school.  The Kindergarteners who I work with, as well as the older students. Even the teacher have asked it in their own way when they kept changing the gender pronouns and looking mortified when they didn't know what to refer to me as.

It's been really interesting working with kids (again) because they don't give a flying fuck what my gender is, only that I'm there to squirt ketchup on their burgers, or tie their shoelaces, or help them solve an dispute over how many times they get to swing before it's someone else's turn.

Kids are the best.

Mirror Me

I'm going to be fleshing this out over time, which of course means I won't think about this post for the next two months. - 11/30/2012

Reflections.

Why is it that when there is conflict between folks who share many of the same target identities, the resentment seems to be so much fiercer?  What is it of ourselves that we see in the other that makes the reactions so much more vicious, so much more vile?  Why is it that we lash out to folks who are, in essence, ourselves?  What does that say about our acceptance of ourselves?

When are you going to start being the person you said you were? When am I going to start being the person I said I was?

Yet

A friend recently confided in my that they are a survivor of sexual assault.  And it really makes me think, as a trans* person of colour, "I'm not a survivor... yet." I've seen the data I know the facts and I know it's a very real possibility in my future.

Alll I can do is stare at this popcorn ceiling. i literally have no words for this.

Journeys into the Medical Industrial Complex

Monday I went to see the chiropractor.  I was skeptical, as I am of all establishments that claim to provide medical treatment.  Something about the racialised medical system and being African American and reading Medical Apartheid, I dunno....  -____-

Now, I'd been recommended to Dr Wendy by a trans* person but I still had doubts because she's white (or looks it).  Since coming into my trans* identity, I find that if I'm not discriminated against by medical 'professionals' for being Black, it's because I'm trans* and it's really disappointing how providers get so hung up on my gender (which like doesn't matter if my shoulder aches) that they are unable to see past my identities to a patient in need of care.

Anyhow, this was not the case with Dr Wendy.  She was super friendly, had a detailed discussion about my pain with me, talked through her ideas of treatments BEFORE even touching me, and constantly checked in during the appointment. Bonus was I got to keep my shirt and my shoes on, because I've heard that some chiropractors make you strip.  :squick: Working with Dr Wendy gives me hope that not all providers are racist, transphobic bigots who bring their biases and phobias into the workplace.  And I'm letting every trans*person know about how awesome and friendly and professional she is.

Dr Wendy is the first good experience I've had with the medical industry in...  hmm, well after thinking for 30 seconds I'm still drawing a blank.  Which, that's telling.... -____- Anyway, I think the hardest thing about finding care as a marginalised person is the fact that I have to do so much research to 1) find a provider, 2) get over my medical anxiety to even make an appt and 3) brace myself for the real potential of being discriminated against. I'm one of the individuals privileged enough to have insurance--it comes with a steep personal cost, but that's another blog--and I am increasingly having to pay out-of-pocket because many of the providers in my insurance network are unskilled to handle non-normative folks.  And it's frustrating and infuriating and nerve-wracking and makes me put off seeking care for things that need to be taken care of, like this chronic back pain, because my mental health suffers with the alienation and invalidation I have to endure to have treatment.  It's a really nasty exchange and this past year I've chosen to preserve my emotional health at the price of my body's well-being.  No one should have to make such a choice, and it's my reality and the reality of other non-normative folks. I'm just lucky enough to have conscious providers within relatively close. And by taht I mean the 2.5 hr bus ride to Seattle.

I have an appt next week at a place I know has a high clientele of people of colour and trans*folks and I still have minour anxiety attacks when I thing about going. The scars of the medical industrial complex take generations to heal....

A Transition

I'm in the process of writing a post called Fracture, that will serve as a superficial documentation of the Soul-fracturing I had to do in order to make it through this very racist and hateful workplace I have finally left behind. And I've been trying to go to bed for the past two hours and am failing miserably. I need something to tide me over until Fracture is complete. A prelude of sorts.

During the long work hours, I started playing something I liked to call The Acrostics Game.  Depending on the situation (and my mood), I'd choose a letter from the name of a person involved to describe the mood, theme or situation that arose.

This is the acrostic I made up to describe myself during the past three months of my Summer employment:

A is for abrasive or asshole
U is for unforgiving
R is for rude
I is for I-don't-give-a-shit
E is for extroverted
N is for nasty

Now that that particularly horrible phase of my Summer has ended, I'm working on reclaiming and redefining myself.

A is for attentive, and affectionate
U is for understanding
R is for responsible--something about being the first born kid has this rooted in my Soul
I is for introvert. It's also for intentional; I try hard to be mindful of the consequences of my actions, for better or for worse
E is for educating, myself and others
N is for nice and nurturing

Being a Gemini has its perks, cause it was easy to become a monster.  Now the real trial is becoming human again....

A Glimpse of My primary & Secondary Education

Educational racism doesn't exist, they say.  Every child has the same opportunities.  Every child is encouraged to reach their full potential. This is a glimpse into the discrimination I faced coming up through the (mostly) Orange County Public School system.

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I remember being in Kindergarten and being placed in a remedial reading group. I was an avid reader, even then.  My mother didn't know what the school had done until I was well into my teens.

I remember being in 3rd grade and having to take an assessment test because we'd been traveling for a year and the school system wanted to hold me back a grade.  I tested two grade levels higher than average.

I remember being in 4th grade and transferring from my predominantly Black, low-income school to a white middle-class area.  I walked into the classroom and was given a worksheet to practise my '0' times tables.  During third grade, we were doing long division with dividends in the thousands.

I remember being in 5th grade and being pulled aside after a reading comprehension assessment to be told I had a 12th grade reading level.  This was after being made to take the test twice because they didn't believe the results the first time.

I remember being in 8th grade and my science teacher telling me I wasn't 'mature enough' to take Biology in high school, and instead placed me in Earth/Space Science, despite my 'A' average the entire school year.

I remember being placed into technical preparatory classes in high school... until my GPA forced them to place me on an academic track.

I remember being in high school and having my counselors actively give me hard time for wanting to sign up for Honors classes.  AP lessons were never mentioned.

I remember my high school counselor encouraging me to apply to the local community college because she didn't think I would be accepted to a 4-year university. I was accepted to four four of the five universities I applied for, including Princeton (which I didn't). 

The Name Game

Hi, my name is Aurien, but you can call me Auri.

This is not my birth name.

When you ask me my birth name, it makes me incredibly uncomfortable and hostile.  To me, my birth name is for someone who is not me, kind of like an old childhood friend who I used to know.  I don't associate with that person anymore, except for those late, late nights of faith-seeking with close, personal friends.

When you ask me my birth name, I feel super invalidated, because it's as if the person I am today and the name I have chosen for myself don't matter over the name my mother chose for me.

When you ask me my birth name, I feel like you're phishing for information that is not relevant to you.  People make assumptions based on that name and oftentimes feel entitled to use it, even when I have told them what I prefer to be called.

When you ask me my birth name, I will choose to decline to answer.  Please excuse the sneer; there's a lot of baggage that goes with my birth name.  Baggage I am slowly unpacking so that I can travel more swiftly down the path towards my bright future.

To be on the safe side--and to avoid the massive shade I will throw you--don't ask me my birth name.  Instead, you can ask about my latest baking adventure, where I grew up, or what type of art I like to create.

And if you have known me by my birth name, please do not use it without my express permission.  Doing otherwise could result in a dissolution of our relationship.

Done

I am burnt out.  I knew what I was walking into with working for RAD Services, AND I did not realise just how deep the racist and discriminatory waters were.  This is like a whole 'nother level.  Ad I'm not even about keeping up appearances anymore, cause I make minimum wages--I'd need at least another $10/hr plus dental and vision to handle all of their shit.

So I'm going into survival mode, and... disengaging.  With the white folks I work with, who are so blindly ignorant and racist I'm surprised they manage not to spew racial slurs with every other word.  Oh wait, they spew ablelist and xenophobic shit instead!!  :throws shade:   With the light-skin poc who just can't understand certain (read: most) elements of what I face as a dark-skinned Black person.  Throw in my trans* identity and I might as well be speaking a Dead language.

I am still amazed every day at the new and innovative ways that casual racism, homophobia, trans*phobia, xenophobia are enacted in this workplace.  White people of the Pacific Northwest are their own special type of ignorant white folks.  Cause they sure as hell know when they're doing racist shit where I'm from.  Once again I will say I'd much rather see the Confederate flag flying in your yard and know not to walk into your house, rather than be invited inside and have to endure the condescending covert racism of these psuedo-liberals.

Birth Name

It's been more than a few weeks since anyone has used my birth name, family excluded.  It's nice that folks are finally getting with it.  But then, you know, there are those bigots who just can't respect my choice to change my name--it being mine and all--and feel the need to use my birth name.

Yes, of course they're cis. 

I think it's funny and more than a little pathetic that some folks, who I don't even give a shit about, try to cow me and throw some weak-ass shade on me by using my birth name.  It's almost like they're more attached to it than I am. Which is weird and is their shit to work through.

And I just wanna say to those bigots....

FUCK YOU STUPID ASS MOTHERFUCKEN TRANSPHOBIC ASSHOLES!!!  

:drops mic:

Black, Like Me

This was composed Friday morning while scrubbing toilets at the ungodly hour of 830am.  Because apparently, it takes a person of colour--a Black person--to talk about the blatant racism in the workplace.  Some things you can't leave for white folks to do, cause they never get it right....

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I work with predominantly white people.  Like, there are four of us who are immediately noticeable as persons of colour and a few mixed race folks flying under the radar.  I am the only Black person.  And for some strange reason, I hear folks throwing around Black vernacular,  words like 'dawg', 'yo', 'fo' sho'....  I hear my white co-workers singing along to music with the n-word in it....  And this makes me pause, and occassionally a little confused...  Because last time I checked, I didn't work with any other Black folk, which means I shouldn't be hearing that word at work.  But I do, because I work for RAD Services.  And we all know what the R stands for....

I was venting a bit to a good friend about the racism, sexism, misogyny--among other patriarchal branches on this RAD Services tree--and she told me what she's done in the past when confronted with unacceptable music and/or behaviour at her job.  One incident in particular involved her taking the offending iPod--and radio--and throwing it off a balcony.... :slow clap:  My hero.  I'm going to take similar steps if I EVER hear the n-word while on the clock.

Since I like lists, I'm going to make a quick one for my co-workers, in case they feel the urge to continue to appropriate elements of Black culture, cause they think it's 'hip' or 'cool'.  This might also save them from my fierce side-eye (during work hours) and/or a dumpster beating (off the clock).

1) You. Are. Not. Black. I don't care how much rap and/or hip-hop you listen to.  Your ass is not Black

2) Since YOU ARE NOT BLACK you don't get to use Black vernacular without being called on your racism. Example: "Yo Auri! What up dawg?!"

3) Since YOU ARE NOT BLACK you do not get to use the n-word. EVER.

4) I am Black. :gasp: Thanks for noticing!!  And I will not be having conversations about how you can stop your racist behaviour.  I'm not paid to help you through that.  However, there's this amazing website called Google, and it can.

You work for RAD Serices and you're reading this...?  Fan-fucking-tastic!!!  Distribute  W I D E L Y

Blabbles and Empty Thoughts

I'm sitting in my warm, Sunny living room trying to come up with a blog post, since it's been nearly a week since I've updated CMQ and I'm trying to do so more regularly.  I'm hitting the Wall.  Not because I'm at a loss for words--I've got my Gemini swag back on--more like, how can I see into the rushing Stream of thought to pull out something that pertains to being Black, queer, trans* etc....    Most of those thoughts are being stored in The Cave lately, because they're too private to be public.

Well, I have an idea...  let's see where it takes us.....

I've been asking this question at work, "Would you rather be respected, or loved?"  A bit of philosophy in the workplace is almost asking too much, but I need to keep myself entertained enough that I don't go breaking things just so I can fix them.  It's really interesting to hear people's responses--many of them are apprehensive around me (something to do with me being perceived as a hardass)--and are waiting for nonverbal cues from me to see if they have the 'right' answer.  I'm not so generous.  It's interesting who answers firmly, who changes their responses based on my (lack of) body language, and who impresses me with the complexity of their answers.  I think the most intriguing part is who actually asks me what my answer would be.  I've asked some 10+ individuals and have only been queried twice.  I have a growing interest in these two people, and am thus making it my 'job' on the job to heckle them.  It's better than being bored.  Bored Geminis are dangerous folks....

Skunk

At last, it's over.  This torrent that has been blowing and causing destruction for the last... year and some, is finally over.  What have I learned?  More than I can possibly squeeze into a blog post here.  I've been feeling particularly sour lately, and I think it's a hodgepodge of things... but I've pinpointed two in particular that speak to me the most at this moment.  I need to be around folks of my own age and experiences.  Black folks.

Throughout most of my life, I've been around people who are at least five years older than myself.  Moving here was a shock, since most of the folks I know and interact with are (generously) four to five years my junior.  It's wearing, and slowly driving me insane.I've grown a lot in this past year and I need to find people who can push me to the next stage in my progression.

I also need to be around more Black folks.  Living in this light & bright town... my experience is overshadowed or ignored by folks whose skin carries significantly less melanin than mine.  Even other POC seem to miss my perspective entirely due to their light skinned privilege.  And it's irritating and... infuriating and at the end of the day, I'm done.  I need a break and I need The Black Experience.  Well, I should add queer/trans* Black experience.

I'm pretty sure it's not here in this town.  And as the beginning of the end of my time here commences, I wonder if it's in the Pacific Northwest....  My Heart is calling more strongly for the muggy, mosquito-infested heat of the South.  I know now I'm not ready to go back, but who's to say in a year--or less--I won't be on a plane back to Home?  It'd be a matter of trading the racism of the NW for the homophobia of the South....  At this point, though, I'd make the trade if it meant I wouldnt' be steamrolled or isolated every time I brought up their anti-Black attitudes.

Lots to think about this quiet Sunday morn....

Expectations

How is it that I struggled so long and so hard with letting go of my expectations... and now, when I feel like I've finally done it, I feel as if all emotion left as well?  Have I reached equilibrium, or figured out how to Love  sustainably?  Or is the Love simply gone...?

Body

distorted. dysphoric. skewed. loved. accepted. embrace. torn. some thoughts and feelings about my body, currently.

They don't wanna make this trans* thing easy, that's for sure.

Asshole v. Ignorant

A few weeks ago, I attended a horrible dinner where I was subjected to one of the biggest racist, sexist, transphobic assholes I've encountered during my time in Olympia.  Today, I crossed paths with said Asshole and... even my  ability to bite my tongue was sorely tested.  It's like when you've had time to steep on a situation and you want to hurl all of that anger and frustration and Hurt in your aggressor's faces but you don't out of respect for your friend, who seems to be friends with the Asshole...  Yes, I had one of those moments today.

Later, while sitting with Friend A and Friend B, the Asshole walked by again, and I commented on what an asshole the Asshole is...  And then Friend B replied  with a  half-sneer that there's a difference between being ignorant and being an asshole.  At the time, I didn't comment, my anger was too great, so it was better to walk away.

Let's rewind back to the horrible dinner though, where myself along with another trans* person was subjected to the Asshole's idiocy.  It was horrible.  And although we had friends sitting by us in this horrible situation, they were not my allies.  And that set the stage for my fury today at Friend B' comment, about the difference between ignorance and being an ass.

Yes, the difference is there, but when you are have had one of your target identities assaulted, and  you're being triggered by seeing the Asshole who was responsible for it (without any acknowledgement of their Asshole behaviour), they seem one and the same.  And when you have friends present who should be on their shit and interrupting the situation, and they don't step up, it's a harsh reminder that allies aren't  always your friends, and your friends aren't necessarily your allies.

I also don't think that cis folks have any fucking business opening their mouths about my oppression.  That's the part where you shut up and listen, and hopefully grow your allyship, cause it's sorely lacking.

Water

When it comes to Love... all of this Water can seem to get in the way.  I'm working on moving past that perspective, to see the benefits.  I'm still working to be int eh place where it's second nature to view emotions as an asset....

Sometimes it's hard, changing my hard-wiring... and then I see examples of people who can't/won't/don't Love, and it's made a little easier.  And I know that I can't/won't/don't wanna be like that.  

So I do it.  I love, even though it might hurt.  Because it's part of the promise I made to myself seven years ago: regret because you've experienced it, don't regret because you didn't. 

Influence

The fact that your silence can sway me so much that my axis changes course....
and is righted by a few words, speaks volumes.

It's fantastic, and scary... and somehow right.

Trans*Talk

I'm feeling a little conflicted.  Today I twice engaged in trans*talk with cis folks.  While that in itself is not problematic, I kind of feel like I breached some code of secrecy.  Like in Harry Potter, where there's the Int'l Statue of Secrecy.  -____-

It's kind of like with white folks and talking about the Black experience.  But then there are movies and tons of literature about that.  The trans* experience is still flying under the radar, so it's a bit more... complex.

... I think it's also the sometimes tactless questions that arise, and having to figure out how to buffer them.  For example, asking me about whether or not I intend to 'go on hormones' or 'have the Surgery' (I'm grimacing as I write this) is to be all up in my business.  I don't even know if there's a cis equivalent, it's so offensive.  It's just rude and disrespectful, and asking about intensely personal things in such a nonchalant way? When people live and die by these things?  I just... I can't.

I've been contemplating on a way to deflect these inappropriate questions posed by ignorant cis folks in a gentler way, while still being direct....  Until that time, I'm gonna be smashing toes when people ask the stupidest questions as if they were my best fucking friend or my fucking physician.

Cis folks doing the most....

Tired

This is a rant.  Pardon the profanity, but I'm fucking pissed.

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I am so fucking tired.... of mutherfuckers who think they can police my gender.  When I say my name is Auri, I mean it.  It's not a 'real thing' when someone else calls me by that name; it's a 'real thing' as soon as I say it is.  I don't need your approval, your recognition, or your words to validate my identity.  Fuck you.  The same goes with my fucken pronouns.

And for folks who call  themselves my 'allies'... I'ma need you to step it up.  Being an ally means taking the pressure off of me when your ignorant ass friends open their ignorant ass mouths.  It is not is not IS NOT my responsibility to educate the ignorant ass people you keep around you and call your 'friends'.  There is a very specific reason I choose not to interact or even be around them.  Making excuses for their continued ignorance does not help me, them, or you.  In fact, they are playing into the hands by perpetuating the oppressive systems we live under.

And fucken telling me to calm down when I constantly see my oppressions manifesting on an interpersonal in-your-face level, does not help.  Check yo'self to see how much of the Oppressor you're letting rent space in your Soul.

I fucken need my 'allies' to step it up.  Interrupt oppression when you hear/see/are around it.  And school your friends if they don't know.  This means having my back when you hear mis-pronouning, not using my preferred name, mis-gendering, gender policing and shit like that.  Either you do this all the time, or you get the fuck away from me.

**end rant**

Preferred Name and Pronouns

Hi, my name is Auri and I use they/them/theirs pronouns.  He/him/his are ok too.

I just wanted to make a little list about what happens in my head when folks don't use my preferred name/pronouns.

1) I feel invalidated.  I feel like shit because I don't think I'm important enough in your life for you to remember my fucking name and pronouns. I'm your friend? You care for me? Then fucking remember!  You're most likely not the first person today that has 'forgotten' (read: fucked up) my name and/or pronouns.

2) I hate you a little bit.  I recognise that you 'forget' and all, but I still hate you, just a little. Because you've made me feel like shit.

3) I lose respect for you. Especially if you've been told before which name and pronouns I prefer.  Transphobia is an ugly thing, and your taking part in it!

4) I hold grudges.  It's my Scorpio moon, what can I say?

Also check out my list of how you can support me.

Privilege

I've been thinking a lot lately about privilege, white privilege in particular. This mostly has to do with the class I'm taking and how many white folks are working out their issues on my class time and tuition rate.    -___-


The thing I've been thinking about the most is the fact that I experience situations so differently than white folks.  They can skip through life feeling safe and happy, whereas I'm on high alert, waiting for sudden movements that will signal a threat to my safety.


I actually thought it was a thing that only my classmates were unfamiliar with.  Then I began talking with the (very few) white friends I have, and I realised that all white folk have something to learn about their white privilege.  


And then we started on cis privilege, and it was all done.... I can't. Maybe three hours a week, at the most.  Low-commitment only.  


And just for the record, I can't EVEN with cis white men. Just walk away form me, because I don't have the energy for you. I mistrust you on principle of this horribly twisted society, all of which has been made for you. Try again once you have an understanding of systems of oppression.

This Is Not a Poem

Words and phrases.  Lies and Truths.
Presenting the blossom of emotion, but
it withers in my hand,
The taste of ashes in my mouth.
Cruel words spoken by angry mouths
Slicing more deeply than the sharpest blade.
Long forgotten memories falling from my eyes like heavy stones.

Scars cover the surface
The Hurt pushing from the inside, out
To leave me misshapen
DIStorteD and WarPeD.

Jill

I've been thinking about Jill a lot lately.  Well, she's been trying to visit with me very frequently in the past month or so. But I've so busy helping to plan this Conference and not-studying and not-eating, and spazzing out over school work and trying not to enact bodily harm of my obnoxious roommate (-__-) that we haven't had much time to visit.  Then again she does drop in at the most inopportune times: during work, on the bus ride to class, in class, when I'm trying to have an emotionally in-depth conversation with MA.

We really need to coordinate our schedules so that we can actually visit with each other, rather than me shooing her away.  I have a feeling she won't stand for being ignored much longer.  She has quite the tempe when she doesn't get the attention she deserves.... -___-

Radicalising Language

Inspired by and dedicated to an awesome genderqueer organiser I met during my weekend at CSUN. I hope that one day your identity, as a genderqueer person, will be given the respect it (and you) deserve.

Last weekend's trip to the Queer People of Colour Conference at California State University, Northridge, was... illuminating.  One of the most bemusing things was how many people referred to "they/them" pronouns as 'plural pronouns'.  ....

I'm going to try not to rant.

When I hear folx complain about how 'they/them' and other gender neutral pronouns are 'grammatically incorrect' I want to pause the scene and use it as a teachable moment.  I'll use this space to practise what I'll say when I hear this again.

"Grammatically incorrect".  Ok.  Let's take a step back and realise what language we're speaking when we talk about this.  English. More specifically modern, white, middle-class, American English  A coloniser language.  It's oppressive (read: racist, classist, xenophobic, etc.), by it's very nature.  And when we correct and police each other's use of language (as marginalised and oppressed peoples), we are reinforcing the Oppressor's power.  Language is here to meet the needs of its users, not the other way around.  Language is a breathing, organic thing; it's constantly evolving and should be flexible in its usage. Some examples include mixing of languages (Spanglish, creoles, pidgins) and colloquialisms.   William Shakespeare invented over 1,000 words throughout the course of his career. How many will you use today?

In English, we aren't fortunate enough to automatically have gender neutral pronouns for people.  I've heard Mandarin Chinese and Greek, among others, have gender neutral articles. This means we have to borrow and/or invent our own.  This is what language is about; recognising a need and creating a solution.  When it comes to solving the problem of gender neutral pronouns, I've heard they, them, ze, V, hir, unicorn, J, and numerous others. All are appropriate, especially since there is no go-to alternative.  And even if there was (ha!), folx should still be able to define themselves in this rigid English-language framework.  The same can be said for any language, though my expertise (I use this word loosely) is in American English.

We need to question our assumptions and ideas about language.  English as we know it is not the end all and be all of identifying things, creating ideas and imagining our Future.  There are so many concepts that simply cannot be explained in this coloniser's tongue.  Just think of how our ancestors were able to dream, to feel, and to imagine in their indigenous languages....

Let's make our languages do the same for us.


**This is a work in progress, and may be updated periodically.....

Spring Break Adventure

I reckon I should update on my Spring Break Adventure.  It's now been downgraded to one trip, and one Conference.

I decided not to attend the MEChA National Conference in Phoenix.  I had not realised how anxious I was about going, until I decided I wasn't.  I had a great talk with my Libra to break down my anxieties.  Basically, MECha has a long way to go to be an inclusive space for queer and trans* folx, and I wasn't about to be the poster child/scapegoat.  I made the decision today that I won't be going to any. I feel my energy is better spent elsewhere.

Because I didn't go to MEChACon, I didn't have to worry about finding my way from Phoenix to LA, didn't have to worry about staying at stranger's houses and the expense of traveling in LA.  That gives me a headache just thinking about it.

Now I just have to worry about traveling from here to LA with two awesome folx.  I am so stoked to spend time with my Twin and their friend.  There's nothing like a 27-hour bus ride to help with bonding.  That is, if I can stay awake. -___-

I find I'm not as excited for the Queer People of colour Conference as I was a few weeks ago.  have a list of anxieties that can go on and on, like meeting new people, being around so many people, going to workshops and being around new people, being with people I don't know...  But then I remember that I can always leave the workshop and get some solitude.

And I also know that this is all performance anxiety.  When I'm at the Conf, I'll turn it on like a light switch and be marvelous. But I haven't been this nervous about a trip in ages.  Oh, well, there's also the factor of talking with so-n-so that's got my colon spazzing out like a two-year-old who ate too many oranges. :le sigh:

I think a few deep breaths and some Immodium AD will set me right.  I just wish I was there already :/

Emotional Constipation

I feel like I'm going to emotionally vomit.  Well, actually, I did this evening.  In my room.  All over the walls and my neatly packed clothes that are ready for the QPOCCon next week.  IT was really quite the show.  I should have recorded it.

Everything is fine when I wake up. I have clarity about my growing feelings for so-n-so, and things are great.  And then I get to campus.

I think it's the monotony of my job and also the horribly loud environment. My ears are too sensitive for that location and I always end up with headaches/general crankiness.  Add to that this emotional turmoil I've been putting myself through because I'm not listening to my Intuition (who knows exactly how everything 's going to play out, btw).  I have to recount how this week has been so far in order to do justise to the SNAFU that today was.

Monday: Gemini swagg to the nth. I was playing the game smooth

Tuesday: More of the same.  More intentional flirting, and a lot of tongue biting to stop word vomiting

Mericoles: Ambivalence.  But when I got home the Flood came and it's all on video for posterity

Jueves: Emotional constipation.  I swear I have emotional hemorrhoids from all the straining I did to get anything out.  And I could hardly to the person who needed to hear it the most.  But with my friends, it was like diarrhea.  This hard swinging did a number on my mental state, which led to the horrible temper tantrum I had this evening after receiving a certain txt msg.  I mean, my id was out of control.  She hasn't behaved like that since 2007 when I was in community college. But I worked it all out, and a resolution has been reached, and I"m going to stick by it (even if it means throwing my phone into a creek).  :}

This has been one of the most trying weeks, kind of like last week, except by this time last week, I was having the Best Week Ever.  I'm glad I recorded it, cause I'll need the buoy. ;/  But I'm actually feeling a lot better. I still need to let a bit more out via vlog, but I'm feeling much more balanced. It's times like these that I wish I had more Earth in my Star chart. Maybe it would help with my mood swings?

I started by writing a bit down this afternoon when I was feeling most tense, and it really helped articulate things.  Mhmm. :D  I just need to do that when I feel like I'm gong to overflow.  Which means a lot more writing in the near future.

I have the solution though: express myself, even if it hurts, even if I'm rejected, even if I trip and fumble and can't find the exact words to suit my Gemini.  It will be challenging, but si yo puedo. I should just grit my teeth and get on with it. I'll thank myself later.

"You Got It Bad"

Oh Usher....

I first heard this song (and the entire Confessions album) in high school, thanks to my sister playing it on a white knuckle loop as loud as the stereo would go. -___-  He's not my favourite artist, by any means, but listening to the lyrics (against my will) gave me some time to reflect on just what this man is singing about.

To me, it sounds like obsessive love.  Now, I'm not to judge whether that's healthy or not, but I feel it's mis-representative, to say the least, of what intimate romantic Love can be like.  And for the millions of folks who consume mainstream media, I fear this is the only way they know how to Love.

It's also perpetuating the stereotype that Black men always step out on Black womyn, which annoys me to no end. Pathologising Black love, yet again!! :seethes:  I'm not trying to be all up in other folks' relationships.  And those holier than thou finger-pointers act like White men, Arab men, multiracial men, Latinos, Asian men, don't do the same.    Humans are serial monogamists (at best) and it's unhealthy and irrational to assume that people will have sex with only one other person "till death do they part".  I've been cringing over that phrase since I was eight.  But to force folks into that box 'monogamous', and assume that there are no other ways to express sexuality/ties, is Oppressive (and limiting) to say the least. Where are the poly folks, and the asexuals?

Another thing that irks me about this video and the message it sends, is the fact that it's (c)overtly promoting the romantic relationship above all others.  AS if friendships, familial relationships, working relationships haven't sustained you and thus deserve to take a backseat to this person whom you prize above all others.  Emeshed couples make me nauseous. :grabs bucket:  You were your own person before and (keep it up!!!) you'll have to be your own person after this relationship ends.

------------

But Usher does look fresh 2 deff.  Swagg to the nth and damn can he dance!  Gotta appreciate those bruthas keepin' it fly.

Feminine Boi

Haha, I finally found it!!  The term that describes me, at least for the mo'.  ^__^

I actually got the term here, and quared it.  And Frankie is hella fine, I just have to throw that out there. I'm looking forward to meeting them at the Queer People of Colour Conference in a few weeks!!

I like being expressing masculine of center. I like having an anchor in 'masculinity', whatever that means, but also still maintaining this sense of femininity I have... learned over time.I dunno, maybe it was there but didn't fit into the forms acceptable to society.  I'm also Black, so that's a completely different spin on 'femininity', 'masculinity' and gender and general.  That being said, I feel like feminine boi most accurately describes my gender expression.

I feel like I can expand on this so much more, but right now, I feel like dancing.

Safe Space

Today was a trying day. As I was walking home up the Eastside hill I reflected on how many times my identity was invalidated today by people mis-pronouning me or not using my preferred name.  It's really amazing I'm still corporeal at this moment, because by rights, I should have de-materialised by now.

I've reached the conclusion that there are very few safe spaces for me anymore.  I'm getting really tired of the cissexism, to the point where I want to punch people in the nose when they forget to use my preferred name and/or pronoun.

One of my friends flubbed up today, again, and their defence was "Sorry, I'm still getting used to your new name."  Ok?  So am I.  Don't you think it was and is difficult for me? I've only had it for some 25 years, no big deal.  All I could do was glare at them.  They got the hint.  I feel like my day's frustrations came pouring out on that individual.  I've reached my quota for today; I can't care about their feelings anymore. I'll try again tomorrow.

I also had a discussion with another friend about being an ally, even when I'm not around. It's amazing how people can be great about race and sexism, but when it comes to cissexism, they need a tutorial.  Why is the game so different? Oppression is oppression.  Or at least, it is in my book.....

I'm so tired... but tomorrow is another day and I've got to put on my boots and walk through the ish all day.

KEY Final Reflective Paper

I'm still awake.  I finished my research paper, except for the conclusion, and I figured sice I'm awake, I ought to just go ahead and work on the other paper I have due.  Here goes.

---------------

This quarter has been worse and better than the ones before it.

Academically, the quarter was abysmal.  The program I registered for, Exclusion in America: Who Belongs, looked divine. I was really interested in learning about US history and how particular populations have been excluded through the history of this nation.  However, I was severely disappointed due to the faculty's disorganisation and lack of professionalism.  The space was not safe to discuss issues of oppression or discrimination, which defeated the purpose of even having the class.  It was really... disappointing.  I almost feel it was a waste of my out-of-state tuition.

With the reduced class load, I was able to focus most of my energy on myself, somethingthatt was desperately needed.  This was the quarter that I finally resolved the swirling storm of gender identity that's been occurring for the better part of the last decade.  I had no idea how much tumult I was undergoing, until I overcame it.  Coming out as trans* has released a tension I've been holding for far too long.  I feel that I am able to relate to my world in a much deeper capacity.This new capacity will definitely help me in the future, as I continue my education and also re-enter the professional workforce.

My goal is to work with Black queer and trans* youth in a mentorship and educational capacity. I would ideally like to incorporate the medium of radio, training the youth to be able to tell their own stories to make their mark on the world. I think the best avenue I can take academically is to educate myself on pertinent issues impact this particular community, which isn't difficult since I am also influenced by these things. If I am able to get a tuition waiver and stay for another academic school year, I plan on focusing my energy on intercepts, probably in the Tacoma/Seattle area where it will be easier to find the population I want to work with.  As far as formal training, I haven't researched much.  KAOS' radio training program tracks it's participants to on-air radio shows, where my interests are more in the audio production area.  Hopefully I will be able to find a place or formal program where I can acquire those skills.

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My brain needs sleep. I'm going to sleep at... 605.  It's going to be a loooong day. :/

How to Be a Part of My Support Network

I want to begin by saying that we all need support, especially in this political climate. We have Republicans who are trying to cut benefits to millions of the US population because they "don't want to give food stamps to Black people", who trying to get all up in womyn's bodies and police their reproductive rights, and fools who are trying to colonise the moon. -___-  People and their identities are under attack and it is in times like these that we need to be especially mindful of the ways in which we are helping this capitalist, patriarchal, racist, etc. system to continue to oppress our people.

That being said, I have recently come to identify as trans*.  I've been adjusting not only to this new identity and new perspective, but also coming under fire for having this trans* identity. I've been policed by society, the general public, but also from friends and loved ones.  I want to use this space to create a list of how those around me can be more supportive as I navigate this grossly transphobic world.

I want to emphasise that this is MY list.  I cannot speak for other trans* folx, nor would I be so egotistical as to try. These are things that will make my day-to-day life easier to deal with, especially as I carry so many target identities. But I'm specifically using this space to focus on my gender identity as trans*.

Commence list....

1) My name is Auri.  Call me Auri, because I said my name is Auri.

2) I use they, them, and theirs gender pronouns. He, him, his are ok too.

3) I identify as trans*, transgender and genderqueer.  Are those new terms for you?  Great!! Educate yourself by clicking on the links and also Googling them in your spare time.

4) If you hear someone refer to me by a name or gender pronoun that is not listed above, please correct them.  This is a serious part of being an ally to me.

5) Use my preferred name and gender pronouns even when I am not present.  I use your preferred name and pronouns, and I expect the same respect in return.

6) If I get angry at you for making a transphobic comment, don't deny it.  Own your mistake. Then use the experience to educate yourself and ensure you don't make the same mistake again. Also note, that I am not the go-to trans*, gender, or sexuality resource.  Google is great.  Also see #3.

7) If we are in a space and someone makes a comment that is offensive and/or oppressive to trans*folx, speak up.  I should not always have to be the one to educate others about gender, queer issues, trans* issues, or any other marginalised group.

8) Realise that oppressions cannot be ranked; that is, race is not more oppressive than gender is not more oppressive than immigration status is not more oppressive than class, etc.  They operate as an amazingly efficient network of patriarchy and are all interconnected.

9) If you cannot respect the above eight items, our relationship may not last much longer.

End of transmission....   


Again, I emphasise that this is MY list of support. I cannot and will not speak for others and how their needs can be addressed. Feel free to share this with people you know I interact with.  And if you have any questions regarding my support list, contact me.  Also, let me know how I can support you. We're all in this together after all....

Check out these resources!!  This is by no means an exhaustive list.

Transphobia

I Am Cissexist

Still No Freedom Rainbow for Transgender People of Color

Trans & People of Color Disproportionately Targeted

What Allies of Trans People Can Do (video)

Greedy

As I was walking (yes walking!) to the busstop this morning, I was reflecting on all of the qpoc first person account I've heard about being their queer/trans* selves and having a relationship with their natal families.  There aren't many I know of who are out and have family relations or have family relations but aren't out.  Maybe that was the same thing twice, but it's really an either/or in many cases.  Let's break this down.

There is racism in the mainstream queer... scene. It was recently brought to my attention that it isn't much of a community if a group of people are being actively excluded.  But the queer scene is hella racist, and when it does accept (read: tolerate) people of colour, there is much fetishisation of POC.  Think of any gross stereotype about any colour ethnicity (usually conjured up by white colonialists) and you can find it positively thriving in the Queer Scene.  It's quite disgusting to think that the only way a POC will be accepted is by having themselves  oppressively objectified, but it's a sad reality.

**update**

I should give an example of an exoticised racial identity in the queer scene.  One of the first that pops to mind is the Southeast Asian (Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam) fetishisation.  There are multiple things operating here that are cloaked as 'preference', but let's focus on race.  There's this 'fascination' with eye shape and the fine-bone frame.  There's an assumption that SE Asian men are passive and acquiescent and innocent, much like one of the stereotypes pushed on SEAsian womyn.  I read an essay about the Chinadoll/dragon lady phenomenon. It's absolutely nauseating.  Orientalism at it's finest.

***

There is rampant homo-/transphobia within communities of colour.  Since I'm Black, I will only speak for my community, though I know there are common themes throughout other POC comms.  The Black Church is horribly homo-/tansphobic, to the point of saying that HIV/AIDS is the consequence of lving this 'lifestyle'.  Abhorrent beliefs, to say the least.  And even when Black kids come out to their parents, they are dragged into the church to "pray away the gay" or told "I still love you, but it's only a matter of time before you meet the nice man/woman".  Ignorance and a lack of open-mindedness cause these responses and leave our queer/trans* folks without the support they need, and further split our already damaged community.

Now, back to my early-morning thoughts.

When it comes to natal families and being true to one's self, it's a hard compromise.  I'll talk a little about my experience.

My family aren't a close bunch.  There was a lot of abuse that occurred in my maternal family and they've never worked on their ish, so the trauma continues.  My emotional support has never come from my family, and I find that I'm seeking it now.  I guess that longing for an actual intimate connection with those people who share so much of who I am is overcoming me in my old age. :P  Anyway, I feel a huge tear in wanting to have a relationship with them, and being able to be my Authentic Self.

I know for a fact that my relatives will give me a hard time for being trans*.  They give me a hard time anyway for the choices I've made (i.e. going to college, moving across the country), much less for adopting a gender that allows me to be more of myself.  And I'm not sure I have the patience or emotional strength to deal with their ignorance any time soon.  Which makes me feel like I'm asking too much to have familial support and the freedom to express myself however I choose.

As I was walking to the busstop I felt greedy for wanting both, and perhaps a little envious of people who have both.  Is it really asking too much? Sometiems I feel like it is, esp as a person of colour.  My mom knows I date womyn, but I haven't told her I'm trans* because I'm taking a break from our relationship.  But even though my mom said "I'm her child and she'll always love me" that doesn't say anything about acceptance or being an ally.

For me, acceptance means more than giving someone love.  It means educating yourself on the way in which your loved one's identity operates in society. It means more having difficult conversations about identity. It means challenging your assumptions and recognising the ways in which your privilege operates. It means looking beyond yourself and realising that the world has many oppressions and they are all interconnected and affect all of us. Somehow I'm reluctant to believe my relatives are ready to go this hard.... I might be wrong, but at this time, I'm not ready to try to get them to go this hard.  My reserves are to depleted at the mo'.

But this topic of "greed" is something I think about often.  I don't have an answer as to whether it is greedy to want both, but I wish things were differnet for POC and relations with their families.

And I swear to GAWD if I hear another 'it gets better' from anyone, I will list every single one of the ways in which Dan Savage can shove that line and all of the videos it 'inspired' up his white scrawny racist ass.  Don't get me started on that prick....

Queer People of Colour Conference

Last night I had a boost that reminded me what and why I've been waiting a year to go to this conference.  Well, that what was more like a someone, but that's for another post. ;)

Last year was the my first QPOCCon. I heard about it in October, and I tried to get as many folks as possible to go with me.  Unfortunately, as so often happens, it all fell through. Rather than getting state funding to go, it was on our own dollar.  And by "our" I mean two friends and myself.  But it was still an amazing experience, maybe even moreso because it.

Last year was the first time I'd been surrounded by so many queer people, and people of colour. It made for a beautiful mix and I reveled in it.  Add to that the bright California sun and you had a very happy Gemini.  Contentment doesn't even begin to describe how I felt.

I enjoyed the atmosphere more than any of the workshops. In my opinion, there wasn't enough time to really delve into the topics like I would have wanted. But as usual, I want a lot.  The best we got was a superficial idea of what we were supposed to be talking abot. Hopefully this year will be better organised to make sure this happens.

Something I'd like to focus on this year is networking. I really want to use this time to connect and build relationships with as many folks as possible. this is a once-a-year opportunity and I'll be damned if i don't exploit it like the white man exploits people of colour.  Damn, that sounds really bad, but I'm going to take full advantage of the situation.  Metaphors be damned.

Another area I'd like to focus on is potentially focus on is connecting on a more personal level.  I know I said a few days ago that I'm not dtf, but that doesn't mean I can't flirt shamelessly.  It's a conference for gawd's sake.  And I need to practise being more outgoing; what better place to do it than, arguably, one of the safest spaces I'll be all year. :)  My Twin already said they'd help me break the ice; they're so smooth they make me look like chunky peanut butter. :/  ... but there's no time for tears!! I need to do some serious budgeting because I need to buy some damn shorts. I can't go to Phoenix and LA with just jean pants. It's time to show off my hairy, flac@ legs!!

(no title)

Currently, I'm composing a story that takes place roughtly 15 years int eh future.  It' about young love, as one of my main character's kids experiences his first romances and sexual encounters.  Ezra's a great kid.

All of this thinking about young love and first times has me thinking, hoping, and maybe a little optimistic about my own romantic horizons.  And then I remember I live in Olympia, in the Pacific Northwest..., and I get just a bit more depressed.  There are other things playing into that depression.. but that's another post!!

I was holding my breath for the MECh@ Conference, and then I let that one out. I have a fear and a doubt that it won't be as safe a space as I would like.  But there are very few safe spaces left for me nowadays. Although gender & sexuality are supposed to be one of the five pillars of MECh@, I heard that there's some (natural) ignorance surrounding issues of gender. Therefore, I am going to leave any type of expectation at the door. It's just better to go on-guard rather than to be cut down halfway through because I assumed any type of... consciousness, competency...? I'm not sure of the 'c'-word I'm looking for.  Anyway....

And then there is the QPOCCon: the light at the end of this long dark winter in Olympia.  I was really entertaining the idea that I'd meet some really awesome person(s) and I'd spend my time in their hotel room rather than at workshops.  But after some careful contemplation, I've decided adjacent it. I'm not really a casual encounter type of person.  So I'll be the wing-person/chaperone/bag-holder while in Northridge.  Ah well, at least I've found my niche.

.... typing this up made me more depressed, rather than feeling better.  I need an almond croissant. :(

Compression top

On Friday I ordered a compression top from Underworks.  It arrived yesterday.  First off, I want to start by giving the company Tool Shed Toys super-dper major props for getting the product to me so quickly.  They do great work and I'm definitely going to let them know how awesome and speedy the shipping is, esp when it takes my Netflix as long to get to me from Tacoma.  but I digress....

I ordered a Medium white tank.  I have to say it took me a good two minutes to wiggle it on.  My shoulders are pretty wide considering my frame, but the compression is also that intense.  When I finally got it on, I was... disappointed.  The compression wasn't as tight as I expected and my breasts weren't flattened into oblivion, as I had been hoping for.  But that expectation was a tad unrealistic.

The fabric looks like mesh... and feels a bit like a swimmy bag.  But it's not uncomfortable on the skin.  It really does stay cool against skin.  I decided to wear a sports bra underneath for extra flattening power, but tomorrow I think I'll wear a tank.  I personally don't like the feel of the fabric against my skin, and I also want to increase its lifespan by exposing it to sweat and oil as infrequently as possible.

The smell is kind of strange, like juice and perfume mixed together.  It's not unpleasant, but I did give it an initial rinse last night before wearing it out today.

Something that I notice helps with flattening my chest is 1) wearing the sports bra underneath and 2) pulling my breasts to the side, much like I did while binding.

I have to say that, overall, this compression top is incredibly comfortable.  It also highlights how improperly I was binding, because I haven't felt light-headed, tingly-armed or headache-y once today.

Something I was fearing when ordering this top, was the fact that I've read reviews where folx have said that after a few hours their breasts began to gather in one spot (under their arms, near their clavicles), but since mine are so small, I have mercifully been spared that issue.  Never have I been more thankful for my small breasts than during this transition.  Thank you Nature and Nurture.

The Pros

1) It got here so quickly!!

2) It's lightweight and seems easy to clean

3) It's not too tight.  In fact, I breath easier in this than I did while binding wiht ACE bandage

4) I got the right size on the first go!

The Cons

1) The top isn't as snug as I was hoping for, which makes me sad.  I 'm very slim, so it's difficult to get on.  But once on, the fabric bunches and doesn't hug very tightly to my body.

2) The fabric  around the sleeve is rough enough to scrape the very sensitive skin around my underarms.  I'm not please about this, but I can easily fit a tank top underneath for extra protection.

3) I'm concerned that since the fit is so loose around my torso, that if I kick yp my workout routine, it will become even more loose.   :(  Also, the fabric will stretch out over time (says the 'Care For' instructions) which makes me even sadder.  :((

4) I think I can deal though.  I'm not sure I would buy this product again.... I've seen other sites that have binders that I think will be more suitable for my body frame, and seem to be made of higher quality fabric to boot.  But for$35, this will suffice.

El Gimnasio

Ah, the gym...  A whole new territory as a trans* person.

Luckily for me, there are two family-style restrooms on the second floor with lockers.  But I imagine what my life would be like if Evergreen wasn't accommodation to families, because they certainly aren't thinking about trans* individuals.  But then again, most of the world doesn't.  I must lower my standards.

Anyhow, it took me a few weeks of inner turmoil to move my things from the women's locker-room upstairs to the family restrooms.  I would say the biggest reason it took so long was because I didn't want to give up my access to the sauna.  I love the sauna. I swear up and down by the sauna. The sauna can make any hurt feel better, from sprained ankles, to sore shoulders to yucky, moldy coughs from the damp Pacific NW.  It has to be one of my favourite places on the entire campus and I didn't want to lose access to it.

Another reason was I would have to go back into the women's locker-room.  I've been presenting more masculine since the beginning of the month, and I was afraid of the static I would get going back in there.  But it was easy, and I managed to haul all my things in one trip.

The final reason it took me so long to move on up was that moving my things from the women's locker-room would be  my final relinquishing of my cis-privilege.  That's a huge privilege to give up, esp in our Western society.  There are so many thing s I took for granted when I was presenting according to society's rules.  They fall into even sharper relief now.

--------

Today I had my first foray into the gym in about two weeks.  It's really interesting, the mindset I take when I'm in that space.  Everything shuts down.  Some of it's conscious, like I never cruise when I'm in the gym.  That's not what I'm there for, and I don't think anyone else should be either.  IT's a space to focus on one's self, but that's just me. ;)  Also, I disengage from my gender.  I'm literally another body int eh space working out.  I recenter and purge and the last thing I'm concerned with is my gender.  Except when I'm in the weight-room.

The weight-room.  I've never officially entered it, only walked past.  It's such a hypermasculine space, and I don't consider myself thus.  I would love to go ina nd be able to use the free weights; I've read that they're better when doing actual weight training.  But, uh, I just don' t have the patience to combat the patriarchy that goes on in there.  I do it every other moment of my Life.  I think I'll just stick tot he cardio room.  :)

Binding

I thought I'd already posted on this topic, but oh well!!

Binding is great, if done correctly.  Unfortunately--and much to my ribs' and lungs' dismay--I did it incorrectly (read: WAY too tightly) for the first week or so.  Everything would seem fine when I first finished, but within ten minutes I was wheezing, light-headed and headache prone.  But with my ol' stubborn ass, I wouldn't remove the bindings until my day was though, which could have (and probably did) cause some damage.  Now that I'm being read as male more often and also a little less hardcore about erasing all traces of my breasts, I'm actually able to move faster than a stroll with while bound.

I've found that binding over my sports bra makes for an easier time; it helps the bandage to stay in place, spares my nipples the pain of the wrap sliding and rubbing against them and also reduces the bandage from digging into my skin. I have sensitive skin, what can I say? I've also found that lying down helps out as well.  It makes sense though, because it's when my breasts are at their flattest, naturally.  It's just a wee bit difficult to bind while lying on my bed without straining my neck.  I'm getting it though. It might help if I"m not yelling at the radio; I might have to switch off NPR in the mornings anyway, just because it gets my blood pressure going.  Lol, the world today....

I've also discovered that if I can wrap in an 'X' pattern the flattening is much ore effective.  And also if I lift my my arms during the final adjustment.  I realise how mercifully lucky I am that my breasts are so small.  Never have I been more thankful than now.

Ok, so just to review: 

Step One: lie down to wrap,

Step Two: wrap in an X-pattern going a little higher and lower than the actual area for fuller coverage, and

Step Three: lift my arms above my head for the final adjustment

Et voila!  Perfectly bound!  I'm going to buy a compression shirt when my tax return comes in, bur for the time being, this method is effective.

I feel much better when I bind, mentally and emotionally, and I almost freak out when I try to leave the house without first binding.  I'm going to have to start getting up earlier to make sure I have enough time to bind.  If I don't bind, I slouch and glare at passers-by because I've slipped back into the world where my gender doesn't match my presentation. I never realised how grumpy I get otherwise, lol.

Resource

I stumbled upon this website yesterday.  It's like the trans version of The Hitchhiker's Guide tot eh Galaxy; there's so much information packed in there!!  What began as a humble Google search for 'binders' turnt into an educational extravaganza!! ♥.♥  But I'm going to focus this post on only my experiences (thus far) with binding my breasts. The first bit is here; this is the update.

I've spent so much time on this site, reading about FTM topics.  It's all intensely interesting, and I can't wait to find other sources.

Happiness

I've been thinking about how content I've been feeling lately.  I have to attribute the majority of this mental calm to finally coming into my trans* gender identity.  :D  Who knew that so much mental anguish and anxiety could be caused by being shoved into a box that I never belonged in? -___-

But I want to focus on the god things.

-  The days don't seem so dreary, or else I am now able to see that this Olympia chapter will come to an end.

-  I am finally stable enough to let my Heart begin to thaw. It's uncomfortable, having romantic feelings for folx again, esp in thinking about being intimate with them, but I'm taking it one step at a time and trying NOT to lust after unavailable people.  I deserve someone who is willing and able to give me their time and attention.

-  I'm not so concerned with finding a focus at Evergreen. I know what I know, and most of my knowledge is not gained in the classroom.  I'm just trying to finish up with my Soul intact.

- I'm going tot eh QPOCCon.  I have no idea where I'm going to get eh funds to travel from Phoenix to LA and then back to Oly, but I have confidence that things will work themselves out.  And I will rely on the kindness of strangers.

-I have really great people surrounding me.  Now that my depression is lifting, I can fully appreciate them.  I'm much happier because of it.  Also, some people who were annoying me are gone.  That makes things easier too. :D

-  I have a meeting with my potential therapist.  I'm excited to meet them and see how our chemistry works.  If we do mesh, I'm super stoked to talk with them regularly, even though I have no clue where the money to pay will come from....  Hmm.

- I checked again today where the hell my tax refund is, and apparently it should be along shortly.  I just hope it come before my rent is due.  Pray for me.

Twin Time

Yesterday I spent some much needed time with my Twin.  They are greta.  The little one rolling around in the background is great too.

I had the chance to air my feelings about the woman I currently fancy.  And who I'm not going to pursue.  I just had to say it for the record.  I feel that we're both going through some Heart-hurting things at the moment.  I'm sure we'll both get through them.

Eventually....

Late Night Thoughts...

I should have been in bed two hours ago, with my sick ass.  BUt I got caught up on tumblr. XP

I've been thinking a lot lately about gender and sexuality and I realise that sometimes I still intertwine the two.  Take for example Monday (or Tuesday...?) when I was filling out the Queer People of Color Conference registration form.  They asked for gender: that was easy enough.  They asked for Sexuality... and I stopped and had to literally disentangle my gender identity from my preferences.  I put 'pansexual' just because I don't want to limit myself, and also because I don't think folks really appreciate how diverse and fluid gender is.

And then I've also been thinking about the latest woman who's taken my fancy.  The more I heed my Intuition, the stronger it becomes, and it's telling me not to launch. And I'm thinking it's time to do what it says rather than what I want.  I do what I want a lot and I need to practise more self-control, particularly in matters of the Heart.  I have not forgotten how the last two people who had my Heart (both Scorpios) stung and trod on me.  Sure, this person of interest is a Water sign, but...  Eh. Just no.  The more I try to rationalise it, the more pathetic I appear to my own self.  Walking away.

I've been having some interesting dreams lately.  I should start journalling them again, but I'm too lazy.  :P

I've been thinking a lot about money lately... mainly how I seem to be without any.  I'm contemplating selling my soul to RAD services, but before I get that far... I'm going to try to find a tutoring position at a public school.  But I'll most likely end up with RAD, cause that's job stability if I ever knew it.

I swear my hair is growing faster than I can keep up with it.  It's almost annoying. I know one morning I'm going to wake up with it strangling me.  I give it a year....

I would not be surprised if I woke up tomorrow without my voice. My throat is sore, but not unmanageable.  I think I might have laryngitis, which is fine by me.  I need to practise my listening skills. :)

I should go to bed now, but I just got this idea for a blog post.  I swear I'll got ot bed after it... at some point. ;}

For the Record

I wanna state for the record, that these instances arose on their own.  I guess I've done a great job cloistering my Heart, because now that it is defrosting, I am utterly astonished by how many womyn have my attentions.


One, two, three, four....ugh.  And I also need to state, for the record, that I do not need any more Scorpios in my life.  A dangerous breed they are and I'm still recovering from the last instances of being stabbed.  Damn Scorpions.

Maybe I can find a nice Aries, or a Leo.... -___-

Therapy

I've decided to pursue therapy during my transition.  Now whether I actually do--or can afford to-- go through with it remains to be seen.  But I've scheduled an appt with a therapist called Calvin up in Seatown.  I cannot begin to express how EXCITED I am!!!  :rolls on floor, drooling:

I've only ever gone to two therapy session when I was 20. I was trying to earn my AA and I was taking my last courses, which included Algebra and I was having panic attacks.  It was a really horrible time. :(  I feel much better now, but I think I need to talk some things through and I would like a well-versed person to help me outline where I want to go and how i intend to get there.

The biggest hurdle I forsee is cost.  Which is always the hurdle nowadays.  But if it means I have to cut corners in other places, I'll make it work.  I have to....

Coma

My Heart is beginning to wake up.  Sometimes it's alright and I can ignore it, but I'm working on letting my emotions work themselves out.  And this weekend was quite the workout.

I had completely forgotten about her, and then she walked into the room...  The only words that came to mind were "Oh snap."  Her personality is so big that I feel it swelled to fill the boardroom, kind of like my...  Anywayz.  There's just something about her charisma and her personality....  It really was all I could do to remain non-biased when she spoke.  Her arguements are so sound that I just get swept up in the current of my Heart and go along with it... but I managed to stay relatively close to shore. ;}

At one point during the PNMR, I had to break away from the discussion and I journalled furiously about some of my more lustful desires (it was rather hard to focus anyway), and how I only needed the opp to make my move.  Lo and behold if not ten minutes after that frantic wish, I get my chance.  And I jumped.  But I gotta say I underperformed.  Most likely due to my nerves, but I have been out of the Game for awhile....  It could just have been her; she's more than a little intimidating.  But I think it's for the best.  With MECh@ (as with most orgs) it's unwise to mix business and pleasure. It's so easy for things to get messy.  And while I'm gonna be respectful, and heed her wishes, I will not take my eye off the prize.  It would be unwise of me not to try and see where this could go.

I want what I want and I go after it.  I have patience now, and I'm willing to wait.  And I have this feeling... that an opp is going to present itself.  And I'll be damned if I'm caught off-guard.

San Diego

I realise I never explained what my last straw was, as far a syncing myself.  It was simple really: I went to San Diego.

San Deigo was like a breath of fresh air: it was Sunny, it was warm, and it was a merciful break from the gray prison of Olympia.  But it was also so uncomfortable.  Beach culture.  I grew up in it and I Love and Hate it.  I think I always will.  It reinforces physical beauty and causes a super skewering of 'male' and 'female', ;masculine' and feminine', leaving o room for in-betweens or others.  The socioeconomic setting I was in also played a huge roll, but that's another post.

It was in San Diego that I finally reached my breaking point.  Wearing the bathing suit I'd owned since I was Freshman in college--alas, so long ago--felt awkward, because it felt wrong to section my body of that way.  I don't have warm weather men's clothes, so I had to wear my old clothes, which forced me--kicking and seething--into the 'female' gender box.  The only way I made it through that lovely vacation was telling myself that it was ok, that no one was looking at me--Black female body on display-- and that it was just for now.  But then I realised, that's what I'm constantly telling myself when situations are beyond my control  But was this one really?  Didn't i have control over how I present myself to society?  How long was I going to shove myself in a box that I had outgrown, that I had never belonged in in the first place?

I came back to Olympia in a fit.  I was angry at how I had gendered myself on the trip, how I had been gendered by strangers, how society created this harsh dichotomy based on some silly anatomy, and just angry in general because I had played a passive role in all of this. And it was this anger that pushed me to take the plunge. That weekend I found myself at Value Village buying the beginnings of a new wardrobe, a wardrobe that reflects how I want the world to view me and how I need to be seen.  I'm done denying my Authenticity and playing the Oppressor's game.  Life's too short to subject myself to that misery any longer.

In this Skin

I swear, I've seen that title somewhere else.... Oh well.

As I was packing up the InfoDesk to go home, I had to note that I felt happier than I've been in a long time. It has a lot to do that the last four days have been blindingly Sunny, but I know that my presentation as male has more to do with it. I would argue that I've felt more comfortable these last few days than I have in a long time. I feel more relaxed and myself.

Sometimes it's hard to believe that it's taken me so long to... come out?  Some would use that phrase.  I'd like to call it syncing; my Inner self matches my Outer self more--we're not all the way home yet. :3

I don't worry about who's looking at me, I don't worry about being ogled, and I don't have to spend time contemplating my appearance for a horribly judgmental and extremely pushy society that demands I look a certain way in order to be considered 'womanly'.  Two words for your Beauty Myth: Fuck You.

I feel like my anxiety levels are coming down, I don't feel as depressed (again, it's been Sunny for the past four days) and... I feel happy.

The Men's Restroom

I did it!  I went into the men's toilet for the first time today!  Well, actually I've been in them before... but that doesn't count.  And I'd almost say it doesn't really count because it was at Evergreen....

But anyway, I went in, did my business, washed my hands, and then left.  It was a little unnerving because there was someone else in there when I entered and as I exited, but I kept my cool.

But my biggest question is why is it so small compared to the ladies' room.  I mean it was like 8'x10'.  I barely felt there was enough room to move around.  Maybe it's a practical issue? Maybe the designers think men need less room than women?  Ah well, it wouldn't be the first time I shook my head at the construction of this building.  The job was done so poorly....

Femme

This post has been a looooong time coming....

I compose stories in my head.  Fantasies, some might call them, but they help keep my mind occupied when the real world fails to do so.  Most times, I use these stories to slowly acquaint myself with new ideas about my ever-evolving identity. I've used the to explore ideas of queerness, my attraction to women, being a grown-up and having a 'real job' etc.

Recently I've been exploring my possible life as a transman.  And as I moved from the idea of being genderqueer when I grow up, I've noticed that my attraction has moved from androgynous folks to femmes.  And this was troubling to me.  How could I be queer, be a transman and fall into the heteronormative trap of being attracted to femmes.?  It seemed far to repetitious to me, and almost... dare I say it normal, by mainstream standards.  I thought these things and tried without hope to push my desires back toward the center and even over to 'masculine'.  But my Mind is stubborn and femmes kept popping up everywhere!

And then I began reading this.  I got to the piece called Getting Real, and not two segments in I had to take a break and write a post.  It's so true!!  Being queer and femme are oxymorons in the queer community, and unfortunately those misogynistic biases are imbedded in me.  I'm a misogynist, and I'm working on unlearning this. The straight community devalues women--something about patriarchy--and the queer community dismisses femmes for the privileges they have in the straight world.  It's a horrible Catch 22, and leads to alienation on both sides.  And  that makes me sad, esp because I carry/carried these views.

But I know how to remedy this!!!

Step One: own my shyt.  Denial does no one any good.

Step Two: quit denying my desires and attraction to femmes.  Gawd knows now is the time to begin letting go of all the baggage that's been piled on my by this patriarchal society.

Step Three: speak up and speak out.  Since I present as masculine, I have privilege in this horrible oppressive society and I can use it to shut those misogynistic fools down.

Step Four (or maybe Step One...): Educate myself and challenge my biases.  :D

This will be a continuing topic.....

Anger and Discontent

I've been brooding a lot lately on the source of my anger and discontent, and I've narrowed it down to about three things.

1) Living in Olympia.
   - I can't really help this right now. I literally have no where else to go.  Florida is not an option. And if I get this scholarship, I have another grueling year ahead of me.  The things I put myself through...

2) Lack of sunlight.
   - This kind of come with the territory. I'll have to make a mental note to live closer to the equator from now on, not only for my sake, but for the sake of those poor people that have to suffer through my grumpiness.

3) Transitioning is making me very grumpy. Mainly because I'm still being read as a woman, when I want to be read as otherwise.  As a man...?  As a....? (.__.)
   - The only remedy is time.

I hope that in the future I'll be A LOT more pleasant. I do know that a large amount of my irritation comes from the fact that so many people around me are content to be in Olympia.  They have no escape planned nor do they seem to want to leave.   ... I just... don't understand.  How can people NOT be thinking of leaving?  I just... no entiendo.  No entiendo nada.  smh

But to each their own, yes?

I know I would be happier if I had some cohorts to associate with.  Trans cohorts specifically.  Community always makes me feel somewhat bette, even though I spend most of my time avoiding people.  M only concern would be the unwarranted influence folks have on me.  I'm a blank canvas and I know people carry around hella-huge paintbrushes and that would just not be a great combination.  I want to develop my own sense of self without others' biases about how to be or how to do things.  But I'm not exactly sure if either way is the best.  Maybe some sort of compromise?  I dunno...

Shopping!!

Tomorrow I am going to Goodwill in Seattle to get new clothes!! Or more accurately, me's clothes.  It's not as if this is a newsflash, since I've always shopped in the men's section.  But now it holds new significance, since it's part of syncing my mental image of self with the outward appearance.

It was not until recently that I am reminded how important clothing is to flagging people to their gender category.  And how horribly unmatched most of my clothes are to mine.  V__V

Living in Olympia, it's somewhat easier to forget that the mainstream--drown in the river!!-- holds so much sway over our perceptions and expectations of people based on their outward appearance.  That week down in San Diego reminded me violently that this experience, this bubble I live in in just that.  Eventually I will leave it and go back into the wide world and have to deal with being stereotyped even more than I am now.  But I digress...

Wearing loose-fitting and men's garments makes me happy. I don't feel as angry or resentful, because there is a less likelihood that I will be ma'amed (which pisses me off to no end).  

Tomorrow will be great.  I will throw down more money than I have in months.  Too bad this transition isn't tax-deductible. :/

When...?

When does it all become clear?  When do I figure out where my identity is going?  Sometimes I'm content to let it wander its way to the endgoal, but other times--like now--I'm incredibly impatient.  I feel I need to prepare somehow for what's to come.  I hate being caught off-guard, but I know this is something I should let develop organically...  But I want all the answers now!!

And I want new clothes too.  I'm so tired of waring the snug-fitting clothes and being immediately identifiable as female-bodied.  It's frustrating.  I want to wlak the line or get 'sired'. If only my face weren't so chubby.  A few weeks at the gym will remedy that though....

But at least I ca get the clothes issue fixed. I'm supposed to be trekking up to Seatown this weekend to go sopping.  Hopefully I will find something more suitable than what currently occupies my closet.  I am re-realising now how often I shopped in the Men's section in FL.  I wish I had that disposable income now...  :(  Ah,w ell.....

TransTalk

Yesterday my Twin came and visited me at the InfoDesk!!  It had been some months and I must say, my Twin looks sharp.  Luv the hair.  Anyhow, we started talking and like true Geminis built our own little world.  ^__^

Most of our discussion revolved around gender expression.  My Twin was the first person I've told that my identity is shifting towards trans, and as much as I agonise over telling folks, the response was out of my mouth before I even realised it.  It's just cause my Twin is awesome though; with everyone else I'd almost saw off my own foot.

But we had a really great discussion.  We talked about passing and binding and clothes shopping.  I wish I had written this yesterday, because it was a really great convo.  Oh well....

Confined

Today I bound my breasts for the first time since... the Quince last April?  Hmm...

I didn't have any particular plans to do it, until I was getting dressed this morning and found myself manically searching for the Ace bandage.  I managed to keep it on all day, much to my ribs' and lungs' dismay, but they're a tough lot, and we all made it through. :)

Why did I do it...?

Well #1, the sports bra just wasn't cutting it.  My breasts are (mercifully) small to begin with but I wanted an entirely flat chest.

I can honestly say that the first time I heard about people binding their breasts for reasons other than not having a bra, I was baffled.  I firmly stated, "I'm not raving about my breasts, but they're alright and I don't want to put them under bindings...."  But I seem to be doing a lot of what I never thought I'd do lately....

Number two, sometimes I get tired of the whole 'she/her' thing.  There are so many connotations attached to 'female' that I simply don't align with anymore....  And I can pass for male most of the time, so I thought why not go all the way today. :}

How did I feel throughout the day...?

"AHHH, I CAN'T BREATHE!! I'm :gasp: going:gastp: to :gasp: passthefuckout!!  :deep breath filling both lung chambers:  Ok, we're cool."  That's what I was thinking more often than not. I always get a little too zealous when it comes to wrapping any body parts--I once wrapped my ankle so tightly that my foot turned blue before I realised what was wrong.  Band-aids are the same deal.  :(

But it wasn't until mid-afternoon when I got a glance of myself in the mirror and realised how flat my chest actually was.  It was like the Sun came out from behind the clouds after a long dark.  Finally my body image aligned with the image I have in my mind's eye! I was gleeful.    It really made me feel like the discomfort of not being able to take deep breaths was worthwhile.  s/n: I need to find a binder. I cannot do this shallow-breathing thing on the daily.

A side-effect of decreasing my lung capacity was that I couldn't lower my voice. I kind of felt like a friend of mine when we have conversations about passing, and how they can't pass for male because their voice is so high.  I felt like that today. I'll just have to be more mindful on the next go.

Would I do this again...?

Sure*.  I felt way more comfortable in the day-to-day, and anything that helps with that nowadays, I'm all for.  I just have to make sure I can breathe properly before flying out the door next time.

*I just want to say as a kind of side note to this post, that I rather like my breasts, and we get along swimmingly (three weeks out of the month).  I just don't like the people's perception when they see mine, mainly the whole sexist/patriarchy thing.

I'm finding that as I present more androgynously to the public, in private I'm appreciating my curves and breasts more.  I'm phairly certain this is because I'm not having others' ideas about my body intruding my own thoughts and feeings.  Which is really nice, because as a female body, someone always has something to say about my appearance.  Growing up in the beach culture of Central Florida, with tons of plastic surgery, didn't help.

But I'ma go do some stretches. My ribs still haven't completely re-expanded....

Scholarships and Stuff

I'm writing a scholarship essay and reflecting on why I want to work with Black queer (LGBTQ) youth.  Must I explain everything?! If it gets me a scholarship, I can spin them a bawdy tale...

Anyways, I sent my rough draft to my advisor and she wants me to give a bit more information about why I am specifically interested in this demographic.  Uh, why would I not be?   But those white judges scoring my essay have most likely never had a last ing or definite interst in this population, so I'm taking it from Square 1.0.  

That section will go something like:

As a queer youth growing up in the traditional South, I found it very hard to find means to express my True self while operating within the rigid confines of  the binary gender categories.  I did not feel 'female' because by definition I was supposed to be 'boy crazy' 'wearing makeup and dressed in short, tight, revealing clothing.  I did not feel 'male', despite my affinity for rough play, sports and dressing  'like a boy'. While I was a child, these expressions were acceptable, but as I began to approach my teenage years, I began to internalise the messages of how and what I was supposed to be from the media, from my peers and also from my family. The pressure to conform only worsened as time went by.

I want to be able to provide Black youth facing similar difficulties and confusion to be able to have a ready alternative example, someone who can guide them along the path to forming their individual identities.  


Or something like that.  I'm supposed to be shortening this damned essay.  Right now I feel like re-writing it, but thanks to this snowstorm, my time is limited.  I'm Oh well, I'll make due with the time that is given to me.