Just Don't Call Me Late for Dinner

There was very little positive about my childhood.  My parents raised me with the expectation that I would be stupid and worthless; they always believed me to be just that.  It was the only way I could grow up that would fit into their conspiracy-laden minds.  I do not deny that we grew up poor.  I do not deny that we lacked some of the perks that accompanied wealth – like social status, and respect.  What I could never make peace with (as my parents had) was the idea that I had no chance for success because of who I was; that I would never make it in any endeavor because I lived on “the wrong side of the tracks.”  I also refused to believe that I was stupid.  I suppose that is where my trouble respecting authority began – I refused to accept the conventional wisdom that I was an ignorant loser.

There was very little positive about my childhood.  But I know that I learned a lot from my upbringing – granted it was a laundry lost of “NOT to do’s,” but learning is learning.  One thing that actually did stick with me though was my gene donors’ stated abhorrence for labels.  Throughout elementary school and well into my middle-school years, I was regularly and consistently recommended by various teachers to be placed in the gifted program.  My parents steadfastly refused to allow this – didn’t want it messing up my street cred.  Their reason was always the same.  They would inform the school that they did not believe it was in any child’s best interests to “label” her.  They believed such labels were a hindrance to constructive development.

This was their stated objection.  In truth, they were convinced that the school was wrong – that I was in no way intelligent or creative enough to be considered even average, much less gifted.  Oh yes, while they would never have said it to the school, they were always certain to let me know why I didn’t belong in a gifted program.  Still their stated reasoning resonated with me (I guess knowing that they did not believe what they were saying made it automatically credible to me).

I attended a birthday party last night.  It was essentially an LGBT event – well LGB and one T (me) – there were even some straight people.  All in all it was a wonderful time, and I am ever thankful to our hosts for having us.  There was one rather unfortunate event late in the evening that left a bitter taste in my mouth (a mild one).  One of our fellow partiers felt the need to ascertain everyone’s “status,” which came off like a very bizarre version of Duck, Duck, Goose.  We were all sitting around a table, and he counted each of us off as he pointed around the table – “gay, gay, gay, gay, straight, straight, gay, gay, straight…” and so on.  When several at the table attempted to correct him (he had determined my wife and I to be straight), he at first didn’t understand.  But when one very clever young woman pointed out that we were gay, because I identified as female; it finally sunk in.  But then he felt the need to get more specific with his labels, so repeated the game – this time specifying lesbians, bi, etc.

This was all in good fun, and no one was passing judgment; but still isn’t it odd that in a party of society’s outcasts, we feel the need to further segregate ourselves?  There are so many people, and so many otherwise disparate groups in the world who are united in one passion – their hatred for and condemnation of the LGBT community – that it seems like we should be finding ways to break down walls, not put up sub-dividers.  I am even coming to question the “LGBT” label.  I am proud of all my sisters and brothers, regardless of which letter they comprise.

Rather than focus our energy on understanding our differences, I think we should be focused on taking over this joint.  Straight Christians have been running this country for far too long, and look where it’s gotten us.  I think it’s about time we start deciding who can and cannot marry, and who gets to have their head blown off for defending our right to borrow money from China.  Seriously, I get that we should be allowed in the military if we want to be… but think about it Mary!  Let the backwoods bully who takes pleasure in beating up fags go get his ass shot off.  I’ll stay here and make cookies.

In the interest of my lack of interest, I am posting this one without proofreading or editing.  I apologize for the choppiness and any misspellingz my Mac didn’t fix for me.

Peace girlfriends!

Kate

The River Takes Me

Transition is hard.  No one, especially those who swim this river, will argue that fact.  Making the journey requires a strength that could only come from the deepest of needs.  Along the way we face hardship, judgment, discrimination, violence; the challenges are many.  Sometimes I wonder if I am truly strong enough to make it.  And then there are days like some I have had this week… days when I realize that my strength is on the other side beckoning me forward.  My strength is not pushing me to move, but pulling me toward my eventual arrival.


I feel this most strongly during the painful journey back to the weekday.  I have a family – these days I think of them more as “the gene pool,” more on that another time – who does not acknowledge me for who I am (when they acknowledge me at all).  Work life has been difficult.  People who used to look up to me (to my face anyway) now ridicule me and try to marginalize me.  I get ugly stares from old women in bars and at the grocery store.  I get surreptitious glances from people who are slightly less rude than the typical old woman.  I face a lot through the course of a “normal” week, but I am okay with that.  I will not pretend that I like these parts of transition, but they are not my greatest hardship.


I should explain that, due to some "complexities" in my work life, I am still working as a male.  This means that there are long periods of my life when I cannot be myself.  The hardest part of my transition right now is making that change back.  Every time I have to do it – to go back to playing the male role – I become more aware of the reality that there is nothing for me in that world, and that I am, in fact, not even welcome there.  The tide has truly turned for me; the flow toward womanhood is a lazy float along a meandering stream.  My upstream swim is back to boy.  Transition is hard.  Pretending to be a boy is hell.


I have a family – a real one, other than the gene pool – who I love and adore, and who love and support me.  I have wonderful friends whose company my wife and I deeply enjoy and who care for us and think of us.  We had a wonderful evening with a large group of them last night, in fact.  I can love openly, I can cry… I can laugh.  Yes, there are times when people look at me funny, there are times when I feel the awkwardness that others try to thrust upon me; but despite the difficulties, I am in the world and living as my true self.  There is no greater sense of freedom than that.


When I have to step back into the male role, it is like pushing the pause button on all that is good in my life.  I will never turn back.  I know where my journey leads – I am going home.  So, play that funky music, home girl!

Let's Dance!

Hugs,

Kate

Oh, I just have to show you my new hairstyle.  Rockin' a new do!

My wife and I enjoying a night out with friends at a local restaurant

Catching Up While Lying Down

I threw my back out yesterday afternoon.  It hurts.  I can barely move.  Thank my lucky stars for laptops and wi-fi!  Being effectively out of commission today, I thought this would be a good time to try to catch up on my writing.  I am sorry... but I hope that you have missed me (smiles).  I have not been spending as much time on this blog for a number of reasons.  

Life has taken on a sense of everyday over the last couple months, generating little of significance to share with you all.  I have also been a little more absorbed in “family life” and my cooking/baking endeavors.  On a less positive note, I have long suspected and recently confirmed that I am still “being watched” by people who do not have my best interests at heart.  As I know they will read this as well, I will withhold any further comment on the matter other than to say to them - I know you are watching, and I hope you know how wrong it is that you are doing this to me.  Okay, sorry... I am back.  The sense of persecution, unfortunately, has had a negative impact on my creativity - constantly worrying about whether something is “safe” to share.  I will correct this problem soon, though, I promise!

On a more positive note, I have taken on a new project, which has diverted my attention away from this blog.  I hope the impact will not be great (my intention is to increase the amount of writing I do, not to just spread my writing out).  I have always dreamed of writing professionally, and it is my hope that this new endeavor will help me move closer to that goal.  I have just published my first article, so if you would like to check it out, I will include a link.  Fair warning, no trans-related issues are discussed (though I do have a little something to say about “real men” [shameless teaser, yes]).  Check it out, and let me know what you think.  I hope you enjoy.

Cucina di Kate

Best wishes and take care, my pretties.

Kate

Stand Up

There is no one reason I came out, and there is no one reason that I have decided to transition.  The reasons are innumerable, in fact.  I can point to a final push - an epiphany, if you will.  I realized that in my heart, I was a hypocrite.

And as much as I hate to bring this up, my inspiration was Tyler Clementi.  Let me clarify.  I was not inspired by Tyler Clementi the person; on the contrary, when I heard the news I was pissed off... at him.  I simply could not understand how someone would choose death over the idea of facing his own sexuality.  How could anyone believe that being gay was worse than dying?  Certainly I was outraged at the injustice brought upon him by two worthless human beings who deserve a fate worse than Tyler's, but my real rage was directed at the boy himself.  In a way, I suppose I saw his choice to commit suicide as a denunciation of my own sexuality / gender dysphoria.

At the height of my moral indignation, a thought occurred to me.  The life I was living was every bit as wasted as was Clementi's.  And the fact that I was still hiding behind veiled references and innuendo was at least as tragic and even more dishonest.  I realized that I had no right to the sense of outrage I was feeling.  That until I made the choice to stand up and acknowledge who I was, my life would remain a well of potential energy; which is to say that it would serve no purpose... or at least, it would not be serving the full purpose for which I believe my life was intended.

I was born transsexual.  I chose to do something about it.  Now, I choose to make that matter.  I do not yet know what it is or how it will be achieved, but I know my life will serve a purpose... that I can make something better.

And I will.

Thank you Tyler for pissing me off.  And to Tyler's family, I am so deeply sorry for your loss.  I have lost many love ones in my life, but never a child.  I cannot begin to imagine that pain.  I hope, though, that you will one day be able to take comfort in the knowledge that Tyler did make the world a better place.  By inspiring people to step into the light, to tell their stories, and to lift up others who are hurting; Tyler (and others like him) has made a difference.

Love... just love,
Kate

Miscellaneous Sundry Minutia...

Greetings to you, my friends!  I am sitting in a hotel surrounded by colleagues who no longer “recognize” me and wishing I was home in the arms of my sweet wife.  So many oddities of note today; I scarcely know where or when to begin.

I am participating in a class sponsored by my company.  The class has eighteen students.  Exactly two thirds of the students are men (if you don’t count me… and I don’t); the remaining six are women (if you count me… and I do).  What, you thought maybe a Magwai or a Gazelle might sneak into the head count?  One of the exercises involved taking a personality assessment, after which, the class was divided into the four groups (as determined by the assessment) for review and discussion.  I greatly enjoyed our discussion, which was animated and fun.  As things died down (mostly among the other groups… ours was still going strong), I noticed something.  All six women (if you count me… which I do) ended up in the same group!  Isn’t that a hoot?

Ooh, one of my good friends recently asked me how I have lost so much weight over the last few months (I officially love her FOREVER!J).  It was a little difficult to explain, since we were in a bar, and there was a little too much going on for serious conversation.  She had looked through some of my older profile pics on Facebook… back when I still looked mostly like a boy.  I thought it might be helpful if I explained my diet program to you all.  It’s pretty revolutionary.

For the record, since last fall, I have lost well over thirty pounds.  I dropped at least four sizes.  It’s hard to quantify, because I also changed “size charts” midway.  I can say for certain that I lost over 4 inches from my waist line.  The secret?

I started exercising about 3 to 4 times per week on average (just cardio).  I stopped eating fast food (mostly) and most fried foods.  I switched from a drinking beer to drinking liquor.  And I started having sex.  There you have it.  That is the Kat Girl weight loss program – sushi, cycling, sex, and vodka.  I call it “The Kat Girl Weight Loss Program” or KGWLP for short.  Okay, honestly, I use an elliptical rather than a bike… but the verbiage didn’t flow as nicely. J

Hope everyone is having a wonderful week!

Hugs,
Kate

The Simple Life

As a little girl, I dreamed of wealth and grandeur.  I fantasized about a life without want – a life of fame and of palpable material success.  My dreams were full of big houses, grand pianos, fancy cars, beautiful dresses, and fine jewelry.  I would be the hostess, the star of lavish events – cocktail parties, charity balls, and concerts.  I would be sought after and cherished by people everywhere.  I thought wealth and fame would make me happy.

I never found the spotlight or earned the fortune of my dreams, but I have tasted financial success and material gain.  I have experienced enough glamour and opulence to understand it a little better.  There is excitement in those first flavors for sure, but the taste that is left behind is bitter and full of disappointment.  In truth, material gain by itself adds nothing to life except complication.  I am reminded of a story someone once told me (my rendition):

A young entrepreneur walking the beach one day encountered a bum lying in the sand, contentedly gazing out over the ocean.  Normally, seeing this would inspire little more than a disapproving glance from the young tycoon, but today he felt driven and ready to prove a point; he needed to expose what he saw – a misguided and meaningless existence.  He stopped and turned back to the bum lying in the sand.

“Why don’t you do something with your life, you bum?” said the young business man.

The bum, interrupted from his reverie, glanced up at the well dressed young man.  After a moment of consideration and with an amused grin, he responded “What would you have me do?”

The young tycoon, indignant at the wayfarer’s nonchalance, fired back, “You could contribute to society.  Get a job!”

“And why would I do that?” asked the bum.

“So you can earn money!” the young executive nearly shouted.

The bum returned his gaze to the sea.  “But what do I need with money?” he asked.

Face reddening and anger mounting, the tycoon responded, “Money is what makes the world go around, man!  You need it to live!”

The bum merely chuckled, “I do?”

“Yes, you do!  You need to be able to pay your taxes, and buy things for yourself,” said the young man.

“What would I need to buy for myself?” the bemused bum asked.

“A house, and a car, wouldn’t you like to raise a family, invest and save your money?” replied the tycoon.

The bum smiled warmly at the young man.  “Why do I need all those things?  Why do I need to save money?”

“Oh good lord, man!  You need to save money so that you can retire someday!” the poor executive was now furious.

“Retire, why?” asked the bum.

“Why?!  So you can enjoy yourself, relax, and have fun!  You can do whatever you want.”   Satisfied that he had made his point, the young executive stared triumphantly at the bum.

The man looked at him for a moment, smiled, and then returned his gaze to the horizon.  “But I am already enjoying myself.”

So, I understand what is wrong with the way I tried to live; now I just have to dig myself out from the hole my lifestyle created.  Therein lies the challenge.

Wish me luck (or send me money).

Peace and love to you all!
Kate

And She Fumbles On

I feel so terribly about my inattention to this blog over the last few weeks.  It is not for lack of things to write.  There has been so much, in fact, that when I sit down to work I cannot fathom how to capture it all.  It does not help matters that my time has been otherwise and quite joyously occupied by my daughters’ “summer stay” in Texas.  I so cherish them, but wow, having so many people around sure has a way of tuckering me out!

Their stay came to an end yesterday, and more than ever before; taking them home was heart wrenching.  I cried on and off all day, and in truth, still feel tears welling up when I realize they are not here today.  I must pause to apologize to the rest of my loved ones for my erratic and moody behavior yesterday.  I know I was quite the bitch, and I am sorry.  I will be sure to make up for that in the one way I know best… cooking. ;)

My daughters are two of the most amazing people I know.  I love them immensely, and what is more, I respect who they are as people.  Even my ten year old is more evolved and better educated than many of the people I encounter in daily life.  I am so proud of them, and I was very sad to see them go.

On a positive note, I will hopefully be able to get back into a regular writing cycle again… after, of course, I get about a week of sleep!

Take care, friends!

Kate