I got "the talk" from some Christians.

I just spent what could have been a wonderful dinner dealing with a couple of Christian fundies. I thought everything would be okay at first. One of them decided to talk to me, and it was a nice conversation, and I just felt like, hey, heres some nice people. And then somehow the length of my hair got brought up, and I said it was part of my gender expression. I felt open and in good enough company to start talking about it, and we talked about my gender variance for a while. At some point I asked if they were uncomfortable, because thats something that people tend to be uncomfortable about, and I don't like to push who I am. And one said "I'm just hurting inside because its so hard for you because you aren't close to god" or something like that.

and it was a whole "....what?" moment

you know the kind.

And then they said something about how Satan is making me think I am that way, putting those thoughts in my head.

no, this is who I am, there is nothing wrong to me, there is nothing wrong with my gender expression, and I don't like the fact you are projecting your beliefs and values onto me

And the rest of dinner was arguing over bible passages. I tried to bring up the whole Elohim passage in genesis. You know the one, where the writer used both the female and male names of god. Elohim is masculine and feminine. I said I was both, "In their image Elohim created them, male and female Elohim created them". That I was created male and female in gods image.

And then they said "what are you saying that you are like god?" And I had to reply with "you just said that god is male, how can I be like god?" Not to mention that the verse says we were created in Elohim's image. Which confused them a bit.

I brought up the whole stoning of children line in Deuteronomy (or was it Numbers), and the taboo against shellfish, and asked, if its all about the New Testement then, if it is no longer relevant, and it obviously isn't, because you don't stone children nor is there a taboo on shellfish, then where did Jesus say anything about gender expression or sexual orientation?

And then of course they brought up Paul and the thing about malakoi arsenokoitai, which is always mistranslated as homosexuals but really means male temple prostitutes. I just kept asking where Jesus said anything about it. I said that Jesus was a rebel, had some good ideas, and died by the romans for a cause essentially.

They said he died for his father, and I said isn't god all of our fathers? They said, "does that mean you would die for him" and I said no, I don't believe in god.


I finally just told them that I was tired of people like them projecting their beliefs onto me, that there is nothing wrong with me, or my gender identity, that its not a product of Satan, and the only reason I'm upset is because I could have spent a nice dinner without any of that bullshit.

Also, I told them that I was annoyed because this thing happens over and over, with the same arguments used. The only time the bible mentions anything that could be misconstrued as talking bad about gender expression or homosexuality are 9 one liners, that were all mistranslated anyway.

At the end of it, I was nearly shaking, not because they had "shaken my footing", but because I hate confrontations, and I was upset that people who talked with me and were otherwise nice were bent on telling me that I'm a guy, and that any other thought is put there by Satan.

I'm STILL upset. In fact, they've gotten to me, and I've been crying because these people drew me in with apparent kindness and made me feel safe and I opened up to them, and then, they shat on my face, and said I love you afterwards. Its screwing me up inside. There is something really wrong with this....its like being jumped, except psychologically.

Heres what I've figured out: This same treatment I got today, this same "sympathy", it feels like the same bullshit I get when I walk with a cane. Instead of the whole "Oh, poor you, your body is crippled, you'll have trouble walking for the rest of your life, pity pity" vibe, its "Oh poor you, your being fed lies from satan, you'll be going to hell for your sins, pity pity". And its the same way for my sexuality too "Oh poor you, you likely got molested as a child and repressed it, you'll never have a truly fullfilling relationship, pity pity".

They are all the same. The motivations are the same, and they are all equally bullshit. Fuck them, I don't want their pity, I want their respect, or at least accepting curiosity, understanding or even aversion. Empathy is fine too, if they can muster some. But telling me "I'm hurting for you because you are so far from god"? FUCK no. Actually...

If Elohim is male and female AND neither, and I am all those things as well, doesn't that make me truly made in Elohim's image? In that case, maybe I'm some sort of chosen one. Yeah, thats more like it. Remember the Egyptians? Tornadoes of fire, plagues, days without sun, killing of the first born, and massive floods? Yeah.

D/N/T me and Elohim, bitches.

Caddisflies: Hydropsychidae

There has been a cry for more science. I can understand that. I've been a moody fuck recently, taking all my blog posts and turning them into a dropping ground for my emotional turmoil. Time for some entomophilly (some insect lovin').

The family Hydropsychidae is a large well distributed group of caddisflies. They are also my favorite, the one I have worked the most with, and the one that haunts my psychology the most. They are the net-seine spinning caddisflies, abundant in streams throughout most of the world.

The larva of a Hydropsychid is easily distinguished by the large number of filamentous gills on its abdominal segments, and by a fully sclerotised plate on the dorsum of each thoracic segment.

A typical hydropsychid:

http://www.sdgfp.info/Wildlife/Diversity/Digest%20Articles/caddis2.jpg (or would be if I could get the picture to work)

As I said, hydropsychids are abundant on stream bottoms throughout the world. They are retreat maker caddisflies, meaning they make a stationary hideaway out of debris and silk. An intricate seine net is positioned outside their retreat, facing into the current, and it looks very much like a fishnet. Debris and organisms are collected in the net, and depending upon the species, hydropsychs may be carnivores, herbivores, omnivores or dentritivores. The mesh size of the net tends to follow this trend: dentritivores have smaller mesh sizes while pretatory nets have larger mesh sizes. The mesh shape and size is also a function of the size and shape of the protrochantin, which is used in the spinning of the silk and net construction.

Hydropsychid larvae also have the unique ability among caddisflies to produce sound. They do this by rubbing their prothoracic legs along the underside of their heads, which have rows of stidulating ridges that produce a rasping sound. It is believed that this is used in territoriality in hydropsyches, as they are filter feeders and need a specific sized area in which to build their net retreats.

I think thats about all for now.

Study of Light.

I've gotten myself once again involved in something that is sucking me down. Best advice: get out now. Or at least back away for a while, forget about it for a time, unless it becomes truly pressing. There are other things (such as finals, 2 collections and a presentation) to do. Not to mention being 20-30 lb underweight, crippled, and getting an eye twitch. Up my sodium and nutrient intake to compensate for loss, up my calorie intake to gain wait, up my sleep to stop the eye twitch, up my exercise (without a cane) to help my back. Prolly should do some stretching too.

And stop spending so damn much time on the computer!

And I am stuck playing this song in my head, Estudio sin Luz, and with my hands, and my emotions, and writing another song, slowly, something that has been building for a year now and I finally have an outlet, some empty vessel that I have to pour the pieces into and a vision on wish to assemble it around, a new way of writing music for me. Usually I just play with assemblages of notes without vision and the song comes to me eventually, in pieces at first and then assembles itself as I continue but now, now I have the pieces and its up to me to make a conscious effort to do this, because I want it, I need to make it work, for some sort of acceptance on my part, to pour these emotions into, and to end this obsession of a lightless study. I need a study of light, not just WITH light. This is my goal.

D/N/T the cripple

I was walking to dinner a few minutes ago, when this person walked up to me. He was someone who had approached me before, and asked some stupid questions about me using a cane, something like "Is there a reason you use that, or do you just use it for fun?". Now, at that time I was very suprised; people don't normally ask rude shit like that. What I should have said was, "No, I use it to beat the shit outta people who annoy me, and now you're on the list." Instead, I said something like "...Its for my back...I have back problems"

So, tonight he comes along, and says this stupid line: "You know, you should think about getting a more pimpin cane to carry around."

Realizing it was the same guy as last time, I told him to shut up and go away. When he kept talking to me, I told him "SCREW OFF, SERIOUSLY". I don't take shit like this when I am in pain, and if I WASN'T in pain, I wouldn't be using a cane.

If he bothers me again, so help me I will beat the shit outta him with this cane, for my own personal enjoyment. At least I'll forget about the pain for a few minutes.

The full reply

In summary:

She still loves me, she needs time to come to terms with this, shes worried about me, both for my saftey and also that I will end up alone, she wonders where she went wrong as a parent, she says its not the right time to tell the rest of the family, and she thinks acedemia would be the safest place for me.

There is nothing wrong with the way she raised me; if she hadn't been a good parent, I would have never been open enough to accepted myself, and wouldn't had the courage to tell her all this.

Reply

Hi ___ I did read your email. need time to think about it before responding. I love you. mom

SHE STILL LOVES ME!!

No Reply

Nothing. Not even an acknowledgment.


Should I be worried?

Sending the letter.

The letter will be sent as soon as I return to school. No backing down.

Edit: Sent. Did I do the right thing?

My coming out letter

Dear Mom,

I am not one for confrontation. In actuality, I hate it, hate the argument, the feeling of heated stress, the lack of stability in words that simply pour from my mouth without thought. So, I am silent about many things, about my life, about what is important to me, because I find that if I act spontaneously, I make more more mistakes and hurt more people. On the other hand, I hurt people just as often because I fear their judgment, and hold myself back from making who I am known, littering relationships with half truths, not lies, but not the heart of the matter either.

I am writing this because I have been struggling with wanting to tell you these things, some for several years now, others more recent. In my cowardice, and my inability to confront you directly, I am taking the “easy”way out (far harder than you might believe actually) and sending you this email instead of just talking with you. Please understand, I love you, and I want you to know, even if the result is finding out you do not believe me, or that you hate me for what I am. I am sending this to you and not dad because I feel closer to you, and I feel I can communicate these things more easily to you. I of course want to open the chain of communication with dad eventually, but for now, I ask you to please keep these things between you and me.

I guess I should start with the easiest thing for me to tell you, the thing that seems simple bye comparison to everything else. It used to be the most difficult thing that I ever thought I would tell you, but now it is easy. Mom, I'm bisexual. Well, that's not completely true. Bisexuality only accounts for attraction to the binary, to males and females. However, I have the potential to be attracted to people outside of that binary as well, to gender variants, to androgynes and genderqueers, and other identifications. I use the word pansexual to describe myself because it accounts for all these different people.

I've known I wasn't straight for about three years now, since I started college, more of less. I found myself attracted to both men and women, and now I know I can be attracted to anyone. You may find this strange, but it is as easy for me as seeing. I simply feel attraction to people regardless of what they have in their pants. I hope this is not too hard of a thing for you to understand, Mom. It was a very easy realization for me, and if you have trouble with this, the rest of my writing here will be that much more difficult for you. Take a break before you go on if you need to. Please don't call me though, don't talk to me until you have finished this. I need to get all these things onto paper, in one clump, in one thought process, or else the explanation will be that much more difficult for me. I have found recently that writing has become easier and easier, as I have posted at least 500 words on my blog everyday for the past two weeks. I am getting proficient at letting the thoughts flow and not worrying too much, and good things come out of it.

But moving on.

The second most easy realization for me to tell you may seem like it contradicts the last one. I assure you, it doesn't. I have discovered recently that I am asexual. I am simply not attracted to people sexually, I feel no want nor need for sex. Even kissing is something I wouldn't do casually. This does not mean I am not attracted to people; I am, and very much so, just not in a sexual way, which I guess is different that what most people think of as attraction. I find it so wonderful to be able to break these down into different types, to emotional (of emotional charisma and content, for emotional intuition, and a shoulder to cry on), intellectual (of mind, and of stimulating thoughts and ideas, and conversation), sensual (for touch, of which I am often deprived, and cuddling), aesthetic (for beauty of human form, in a very aware but nonsexual way), and romantic (as in relationships, dating, and maybe further).

I am not saying, Mom, that I could never have sex with a person, that I find it so totally vile and disgusting. This is not true. What I am saying is I wouldn't want it personally for my own benefit, but only the benefit of my partner, and out of love for them. It would make me happy, because it would make them happy. I would need to be in a deep relationship with someone to make that decision; it is not something I would do lightly.

If you understand the the previous two things, then perhaps it would not be so difficult for you to be okay with the next thing. Also a recent discovery, something that could have saved me years of bad relationships, is that I am polyamourous. This simply means that my love is difficult to contain for only one person at a time. In combination with not realizing how unimportant sex was to me, I made some bad decisions, some things that I regret. I had relationships for all the wrong reasons; I shouldn't even have had them in the first place.

Polyamoury isn't what a relationship is, its what a person is. In general, I love the ones I am close to very deeply, and don't focus on one person all the time. For me it is much healthier than the alternative.

You may be of the opinion that such people are sluts, and for some that may be true. But I am a person who is very careful about who I get close to, and I have no sexual inclinations. In general, being asexual, pansexual and polyamourous means that I really enjoy cuddling, and tend to do it and form relationships with several people at a time, being honest with myself and others. Thats the extent of it. And its not to say I couldn't form a long lasting relationship with people either. I can, and I will, but I am also aware of how people change, and how relationships seldom last forever. I am happy coming to these realizations of who I am.

I think I've gotten off track here. Mom, I've just assumed you are keeping up with me, that you at least are comprehending what you read. The next thing I want to tell you makes all the other realizations seem simple. I don't want to shock you, and if you've really been paying attention, maybe you already had a clue. I just first want to say I love you Mom, I don't want to hurt you, and whatever you think of me after this, I will still love you. Please don't hate me for what I am about to tell you.

I'm transgendered. I know you have always thought of me as a boy but I'm not a boy. But then, I'm not a girl either. I'm something in-between, something other, a gender variant outside the gender binary of man and woman. I figured out I was something other, a androgyne or genderqueer, about a year ago, last November. Over time this has become more and more obvious as everything about me has become a mixture of male and female, to the point where I really can't separate the two. I know you probably don't understand what this means...I'm sorry. I'm not an activist like my genderqueer friend Jacob, I don't have a speech down pat, I have trouble with these things, so I have to try to work my way around the subject to help you understand.

I guess the first thing that should be said is that I am not a transsexual. A transsexual is a person who feels they are the opposite gender that they were assigned from birth. I don't feel that way, I don't feel I am a woman, I don't desire to live as a woman, I don't want to have an operation. My dysphoria, my discomfort with my body, is not like that. However I don't want to be a man either. I don't want to be either of the binaries, and yet I am both of them too. Its difficult to explain; I don't fully understand what I am either. At least understand that I am not a transsexual.

Nor am I a crossdresser. The pants I purchased last Saturday, and those jeans I have had, they are female gendered, and that dark sage button down blouse that I always seem to wear out bar hopping and to restaurants, and some clothing I purchased in Madison this summer. I am not a crossdresser, because a crossdresser not transgendered. . Who I am isn't some kind of kinky sexual thing either, not that I am into sex in the first place. This is about gender, this is about who and what I am, and I'm not doing it to get my kicks, though I am not unhappy with being gender variant either.

I've thought about whether things would have been different if I had a female body (and I realized just lat night that I've been thinking about this since I 14, or maybe earlier). I know they wouldn't be, that I am truly in-between, that I would feel just as out of place living as a female as I do as a male. Either I pretend to be something as I am not, and people see me as a rather effeminate male, or a rather tomboyish female, or I just embrace who I am, something in-between, something other.

You should know that I have wished that I could be normal, be a cisgendered person, who is okay with the gender that people thought they were from birth. But I'm not, I'm sorry. I can't be that person. When I look back, it should have been obvious I was genderqueer. Remember in high school, when I suddenly started growing my hair out for no reason? Remember how all my friends were female? Remember how emotional I was, and how I seemed to get called a girl by people all the time? I remember other things that you likely don't.; Like the kind person I was when I was really young, or the things I said in high school, like “I'm a lesbian” and “some days I think I'm a girl in a boys body”. Or even, when talking to a long haired young man “if anyone is a girl here, its me”. I didn't know why I said those things. Not until now. Or how about when I started plucking my eyebrows? Maybe you remember that. I know I shaved my legs at one point, and I still don't remember the reason I thought up at the time. There were other more embarrassing things...I think I will keep them to myself.

Do you remember last summer, when we went down to Madison together, and stopped at the McDonald's, and I passed as female for the woman at the window, and when we pulled away, I was all smiles? I was just happy to be read as something different as male, even if the word “miss” doesn't fit right for me. You should know that being called “he” doesn't feel right for me anymore. (I came back and typed this in after we ate dinner on thanksgiving: Maybe you remember me cringing every time someone called me “he”. I've been doing that a lot recently). I prefer gender neutral pronouns, sie (see) and hir (hear) instead of he and his or she and her. I don't ever expect you to use them...after so many years of thinking of me as a boy that is just too hard. I understand. I even have trouble with them sometimes. But my close friends all use the for me when they can remember. I also found that the name Zach didn't fit me anymore. You know the name I chose for myself already, Kaimialana, and all my close friends call me Kai now, to the point that I sometimes forget that people call me Zach. I've actually walked up to my room door in the dorms and seen the name Zach pasted on it, and thought I was at the wrong place! Don't worry, I don't expect you to either, nor am I going to change my name. My legal name will remain the same, but I really do prefer Kai. (Kaimi: Hawaiian name meaning “seeker”. Alana: Hawaiian name meaning “awakening” or “offering”. The first is traditionally given to males and the second traditionally given to females, but all Hawaiian names are actually gender neutral. Kai means “the sea”. I don't know if I've told you this before, but I thought you should know.)

(Its Friday night. Did you notice how I could help but pause when you called me Zach, or “he”, when I came up and hugged you, and I just couldn't talk for a moment? I'm sorry, I really try to keep this to myself. Please don't think I'm trying to get attention. I've been keeping my sexuality from you for three years now, and my gender for two. Please understand I need to be open with you now, I needed to the whole time, but I was such a coward, and I still am. I'm passing coming out of the closet (or whatever I'm in...stadium, maybe?) off on email, hoping I can say everything better.)

I don't know how much more to tell you right now. Its Wednesday night at 930 (and this is Thursday night when I edited this), and I feel tired. Yes, this is what I was typing when you walked in. Maybe you can understand why I looked surprised and awkward now. I was trying to explain to you all these things. Maybe you understand why I want to shop for clothing by myself now. I am trying to build a wardrobe that fits me, as who I am, mixed male and female and also neither. If you came with we would both just feel awkward, I think.(And here I am editing on Friday, while you are out shopping. I kept thinking, maybe I could come with, maybe it wouldn't feel awkward, maybe you would forgive me for wanting to try on those pants and that blouse, or match male gendered shirt with female trousers, or gazing off at that dark green skirt, the long vibrant but plain one, wishing I could wear it...) Maybe we can talk about it later. I would love to have that talk with you.

I'm sorry if you are upset with me. I was fearful to tell you these things because I didn't know how you would react, had no idea what you would think of me. I am writing this hoping for the best, and bracing myself for the worst. I'm sorry if you hate me for what I am. I love who and what I am, and I'm not going to change. I'm sorry if you think this is lying, or is a phase, or it is just trying to get attention. I have been this person all my life, and just figured it out a year ago, and have been transitioning into it ever since; it is not just something I decided would be fun. I feel lots of fear. I've been hiding from you, hiding from other people, because I'm different, because the 20^th, last Tuesday, was the transgender day of remembrance, the day when my people remember our dead, those who were murdered out of transphobia, of hate, of prejudice.

But I am strong too. I know who and what I am, although the details may be difficult to explain. I am gaining confidence. I am becoming less afraid day by day. One of the big things holding me back is that I have been hiding from you, from dad, from lots of people. Its time for me to stop hiding, at least to the ones I love. I want to be able to talk to you about all kinds of stuff, I want to hug Dad, give him a real hug and not feel awkward. Maybe you always wanted a daughter, and now you know you have one, well, sort of... So talk to me about these things, please, I want to be your daughter too, I want to be able to share all parts of myself with you.

When you finish reading this, please give yourself some time to think. And then, please reply Mom, please email me or call me or something. It should be Monday when you get this...you know where I am.

I love you.

Your child,

____ Kaimialana “Kai” ____ _____

Coming out and Leaving, separatly.

So, at least I'm writing. I'm typing something. My index finger is healing to the point I can type with it now. I'm on my way to coming out to my mom, and will be by monday. I'm excited and happy about that, in a sort of nervous tick way, wondering what will go through her mind, guessing the response she will show, wondering how long it will take before she calls me, and whether it will be in shock, in disbelief, in anger, or in calm understanding. (At this point, my index finger is hurting again, so I will stop using it. In many ways I have forgotten how anyway.)

What will we talk about? What questions will she ask? I considered calling Jacob, but I know that zhir mom is different from mine. What would she be thinking as she reads at the computer, plowing through my email in her new office. At least she may understand my need to be verbose: she is a librarian, a reader, a friend to the written word. The length will not bother her.

When I quit Susans.org, it was with the intent to still stay active with the people I once knew there. The new community is wonderful, non authoritarian, good people, MY people, as diverse as people can be, and as lovable as people should be. I even made up with one member, which surprises me. I am often surprised how people can come back to talk to me after I've barreled my way through an argument, after I've realized my stupidity and who I've wronged (because I hate wronging people as much as I hate being wrong), and apologize embarrassingly, because I know I must, I know I'm in fault, I hate that wrongness that comes with leaving myself the proud one, the non-guilty party, even though I am as guilty as the rest. I am just as surprised that people like me in the first place, that I am accepted, that I am loved, that I am succeeding socially not because I learned the tricks, what people want to see and hear, but because I just lay myself bare, blunt and opinionated, without tact, blundering through conversation, rambling along usually not knowing where I am going with a thought. For some reason, these people either suffer me, they pretend to be okay with my bad manners, or, weirdly, they actually LIKE me this way. Likewise, people think my writing is interesting, when I look at it, see the long runon sentences, the massive number of commas (QED), and think, who would want to ever read this but me?

Back to Susans.org...I quit there because I can't stand authoritarians. Its an interesting quality of the Internet to breed power hungry individuals who otherwise would not be bent on power. Perhaps this is because they are rather powerless in their everyday lives, and being the monarch of a forum, with absolute power to rule as they see fit, and a band of loyal subjects, newbies and the easily commanded, to hold court over, judge, jury, and banninator. How could those who are in power possibly do wrong? Do they not always claim they are there for the safety of their slav..ehem, subjects? (While in the back of your mind something has died because you submitted, an ape submitted to the thoughts and ideas of another. What ever happened to throwing feces?) What would the people of the Enlightenment think of how we have squandered our personal creativity for “temporary safety” even as we have this incredible technology that makes telephone seem from the middle ages and pen and paper ancient indeed?

I have heard that the administration reads personal messages from time to time, which for me is enough to warrant leaving. I have seen the administration delete threads which attempted to spread knowledge on wikipedia, and later understood this was because the administration wants to claim ownership, wants to have it written there first so that rule #18 can work in full effect. I have heard of people being banned for speaking out. Worst of all, I have heard of people, MY people, who were essentially told they don't exist. To me, this is the worst crime, to be told you don't exist and then stripped of any ability to speak out, to prove that you do, in fact, exist.

I'm done there, gone elsewhere, gone to a more acceptable place where I am can say what I wish. Perhaps they will eventually figure out what fools they are, and quit this business. Not likely.

Returning to coming out (of where, the closet? More like a stadium!). I can't back out anymore, my mind is set. There will be that giant drop of stomach as I click send, and then massive overwhelming relief as I realize that the motions are truly set in place, and all I can do is go with it. This inertia is very effective in helping me get things done, because it allows no room for waffling, for indecision. With the understanding of the inevitable comes a sense of calm, of relief, because one at least doesn't have to wonder what next, the what next has been decided, and all one can do is wait. Even now I 'm wondering, becoming indecisive, knowing that this event is a coin on edge resting on the point of a pin, balanced on a finger; there WILL be a result, and it will likely be immediate. It may be an explosion that rips my life apart and leaves me stranded. It may be a quiet wind of peace that sweeps me up and drives me forward, to where I want to be. SOMETHING will happen.

I am right to understand how pivotal this is.

Two more days of waiting. Two more days in the stadium, pretending I'm something I'm not. Yay for pretending to be male! I am so sick of hiding, so sick of worrying whether someone will find out, whether my mom will somehow figure it out on her own but incorrectly, whether I will just loose it, suddenly start shouting “I'm here I'm genderqueer, and I'm doing fine!”

Maybe I should do that anyway, at some point. Should be good for a momentary awkward laugh.

No backing down.

I finally decided I'm not going to put things off anymore. Since I have discovered that I am too much of a coward to tell my mom straight up, I am going to send her an email which I am drafting right now. That email will be sent when I return to school on sunday. I will post it here when I feel it is ready.

No backing out now.

So, turkey day...

Going home now. Prolly gonna tell my parents most of everything, except about the hormones. We'll see what happens. I'm tired of hiding. I'll make some posts to spam when I get back online on sunday.

Lets see if I can not be a coward and pull this off.

Bras and Breasts

So, as I said before, I have bras now. They are relatively comfortable, and I don't really notice I am wearing one. I thought it would be more of a torture actually. And they accentuate my femme features, which can be nice depending on the day.

However, my breasts are being more of a problem. It has been 44 days since I started, and I'm seeing some changes in one side of my chest, but much slower or not at all in the other. I was really worried about this, until I searched for some female puberty information. I found that breasts regularly grow at different rates, with one slower than the other, and I might find one nipple budding and sore before the other.

I didn't know this stuff! No one sat down with me when I was eleven or so and said "Kai, when people get to a certain age, stuff happens to your body..." and so on. I'm doing this on my own, and not having anyone to ask and share experience with makes it scary sometimes. I know now that its normal, but I wish I would have known before getting stressed out about it, I wish I had someone to really talk to about this stuff, to share the experience with.

Tendinitis and Roommates

It seems I have strained my left index finger to inflammation, and now it is immobile in a splint. I am completly unable to play guitar but I remarkably have adapted to typing with only 9 fingers and making minimal mistakes; my left middle finger has taken over the job of the index. I'm not sure exactly what caused it: was it playing too much guitar last week, or maybe typing too much, or perhaps as simple as gripping my cane too hard last thursday night when I was wearing gloves and the handle was slipping. In any case, it doesn't look as if I am going to be playing guitar any time soon, as any pressure on the tip or along the outside lateral or ventral side between the distal and medial join causes pain.

After realizing my roommate didn't notice me wearing a bra last night, I finally just told him the whole shebang at lunch today, about the bra, about the hormones, everything. He just shrugged it off, said it didn't really matter to him, and we went on talking like nothing happened. Seems weird for him to be so accepting, but I won't make a good situation bad by caring too much.

Funny, hes the first cisgender male I've told about the horomones in this town. I don't even know the guy that well....

Anyway, finger in a splint, roommate knows about me, going home in a couple days for Eat Till You Have Stomach Pain Day, parents still don't know anything about me.

Aftermath.

So, everything was leading up to saturday for the last couple weeks, and now I'm not sure what to do. My room is a mess, laundry needs to be folded, so I guess I could start there. Otherwise, I don't feel a pull in any direction, no to studying, nor reading, nor even getting mildly intoxicated. I feel calm. Its a new feeling for me, not to be sure of the next big thing.

Maybe a shower....and then lunch.

Bras, pants and clothing stores.

After weeks of talking about it, a friend of mine took me out to buy a bra. I had been anxious about this for quite a while, knowing it was coming, wondering about the awkwardness. However, with the extreme angst of gender neutral bathroom Friday behind me, and a hangover leaving my head swimming, I wasn't so worried. I felt great confidence that I could do this, paired with temperance caused by hangover, and a cisgendered female to help.

I'm very relieved I was able to do this with a friend, and that she was very respectful and excited for me, and totally understanding and not awkward about anything at all, Not even when she was teaching me how to put the bra on, and helping me make it work. Thank you so much for being there with me today.

Also, we just shopped around in general, something I've never done before. Not only are most of my clothes gifts from other people, but they are almost all rather masculine. I finally started to have fun when I stopped caring what people might think of me, or whether they approve or not. The only two easy options for people to understand would be a) a gay man shopping with a female friend or b) two female friends shopping together. people tend to simplify things like this, because believe it or not, they don't want to feel awkward either. As I understand from my friend, its awkward enough for any person to shop for underwear, female or otherwise. People tend to see what they wanted to see, and I didn't give a damn to correct them.

In the end, I purchased two 36A flexible bras, and two pair of pants that my friend said I looked good in. But the priceless thing was getting out and just having fun, and not being harassed a single time, and getting even more comfortable in my own skin.

Gender Neutral Bathrooms

A big issue for me anyway. I don't feel safe in a bathroom anymore unless I can lock myself in and be alone, and certainly not a shower. I don't want to think about what could happen if someone walked in on me when I'm not wearing a shirt; for a male bodied person (can I even use that word anymore?) to have breasts, even small ones, is something that gossip lives on. Not to mention my supreme fear of confrontation and harassment, of being accosted by ignorant cisgenders. I've heard the horror stories, just like any other spivak.

Today several people from the Gay-Straight Alliance and the GLBTQ Ad-hoc committee on campus and taped signs saying "Gender Neutral Bathrooms: Please be respectfull of this sign, do not remove it", and then inside the bathrooms information on the legislation that has been passed, and the reasons. I was so afraid of what might happen, so afraid that someone might stop and start harrassing us, so afraid that someone I didn't want to know about me would find out. Bringing the will power to get myself to do this was very difficult. I don't have confidence like Jacob, who was actually putting signs OVER the "Men/Womens" signs, something we were told not to do. Sie can be such a genderfuck, something I'm not.

I was able to do it for an hour, and thats all I could stand. The person I was paired off with was as non confrontational as I am, so it worked well for us, kinda. At least one of us didn't feel uncomfortable with what the other was doing. We got stopped once, for taping things up, because of something about tearing off paint with tape (though it was painters tape, it couldn't even wreck PAPER if you wanted it to). And then, we got stopped another time by the gender studies professor, who thought it was totally awesome what we were doing and applauded us. At least one prof is on our sides.

Its sad really. The GSA at large is a really transphobic organization. One of the advisors is a transphobe, which doesn't make any sense at all, and lots of the members are apparently. This needs to change, or I just won't go anymore. There are other ways to get involved with transfriendly people on campus without going through a bunch of transphobic gay men, which really, thats what it seems 80% of the organization is composed of.

Last night at the college feminists meeting, someone brought up a good point. They mentioned that calling the bathrooms "family bathrooms" would get across to people MUCH better than calling them gender neutral bathrooms, and that it would mean the same safety for us. However, some people, Jacob included, got a little indignant....I can understand how anyone wouldn't want the issues to get swept under the carpet, but for me, safety is safety, and I don't care whether its called handicapped accessible unisex, or family, or gender neutral, it all means the same to me: that I have somewhere that I can go that is SAFE to use the bathroom on campus.

And thats what is really important.

Physics followup.

As I thought, most of the test was relatively easy, except for a couple questions which I didn't quite make. One on recoil velocity of a 1500 kg canon set at 45 degrees firing a 10 kg ball at 200 m/s, another one about estimating the escape velocity of the moon from the escape velocity of the earth, knowing the mass and radius ratios, and, one about a crate with gravitational force of 40 N being pulled up a 5 m long incline plane (theta 37 degrees) where I had to find work of the frictional force (10 N). All three of those questions I had no idea how to solve. Otherwise, the rest of the test was things like, what are the units for joules (N*m), what is the position of a ball thrown straight up at so and so inital velocity at the highest point in the throw, converting revolutions/second into radians, and so on.

I think I will start going to discussion sessions from now on, there are things I don't know that I should, and I would rather do well in this class. My grandfather (who will not be named for security reasons) is a rather, well, I guess famous could be the correct word. Hes a rather famous physicist; his name is even on wikipedia. I have a sort of responsibility to do well, somewhat so I look good, but mostly so I can discuss things with him.

I wonder if my professor has ever heard of him...

So....physics...yeah

I have a physics test at 8 tomorrow morning, only 10 hours away. Despite the fact that I know I will do fine, I have no idea what is on the test, what material is covered, have not studied a bit. My notes are in disarray. I say I shower, sleep and wing it. I never have enough confidence in my abilities, and when I don't study I don't have problems getting by.

This is where I wish I could turn the worry switch to the off position.

Local food?

Outside the student cafeteria today, a group of people were holding a protest, to raise awareness about local foods. They were handing out hot squash and potatoes, bread and some sort of pesto for free.

Of course I partook. What do you think me, a fool? I'll take good free food anytime, local or not.

These people were yelling with signs out in the wind and cold things like "NO DEBOT, FREE LOCAL FOOD!" (Debot being the name of the cafeteria). And not surprisingly, the food was rather good, but then I'm a sucker for food cooked simply, especially potatoes.

Later I found out that the Debot director came out and told them that all their fruits and vegetables are already seasonally local. I don't know if I believe that, I've seen the french fries being taken out frozen from sysco food boxes.

If the food is local, they could at least learn to COOK it better. Nothings worse to eat than good ingredients prepared poorly. At least if you are eating crap ingredients you don't have it on your conscious that the food could be better.

A short rant on ethanol

And no, I don't mean the delicious CH3CH2OH that we love to drink in large quantities. I'm talking about fuel ethanol, and more specifically, corn ethanol, the substance many people seem to think will solve all our transportation problems. A presentation I saw tonight got me thinking again about how full of shit that idea is.

The only thing that will come from use of corn ethanol as fuel is we run out of water, and all the nations agricultural topsoil will end up in one of two places: the Atlantic and the Pacific oceans.

The problem, of course, is agricultural practices. You see, in this country we have a sustainable agriculture subsity that gives farmers money for using sustainable agricultural practices, like crop rotation, and letting fields lie fallow. Since there is "so much money" in ethanol compared to other crops, and since this extra money gives them no initiative to continue with the subsidy (why let fields go fallow and rotate crops when you can run corn on the same land ALL YEAR ROUND and make the BIG BUCKS?), they abandon these practices which keep the soil on the land and not in our water supply. The result? Large scale agricultural erosion from bad farming practices, the dust bowl all over again. Furthermore, the scale that such farming would need to be done to produce the amount of ethanol needed for our transportational system (which is only growing as time goes on) is more than we can spare, water included.

So get corn ethanol out of your head. Sugar cane, or cellulosic ethanol, on the other hand, might just have a future. Both have massive returns on energy in comparison to ethanol and also petroleum. They just might work, whereas corn ethanol doesn't have a chance.

So, lets use corn for what its always been for: eating. And how!

What am I? And should I care?

x post from Susans.org

I've been taking hormones for a month now. Yes, I know how some of you feel about this, and how others of you feel about it. This post is not about that, or anything that might be wrong to say.

I'm coming on to the realization that I have budding breasts. Yes, I'm male bodied, or I was, or still am and its just a slight alteration. I know because when I poke at them, there is soreness, and something is going on in the tissue.

The problem I think, is I don't know if I care right now, at this very moment. I certainly cared this morning, and then there are other days where everything is dysphoria, and I hate my body, no matter what sex it might present, or I hate one part one day and another part the next. Here I wanted them so bad, wanted an androgynous appearance, wanted to be in between, really in between, and at this very moment, I just don't care. Maybe I'm tired.

Maybe I spend too much time alone.

I used to think I was plain mixedgender, but now I see that there is null gender mixed in with that, and other things too. 0-gender, mixed in with mixedgender, a big genderqueer mess. I'm realizing no matter what I do, I will feel there is something wrong with me.

Male, female, androgyne, mx, femme, butch, null.
Maybe I'm a pregender who got postgendered.
Maybe I'm a neutrois dreaming I'm gendered.
Maybe I'm gendered and I should JUST FREAKING PICK MALE OR FEMALE ALREADY.

But then I'd feel bad, no matter what I end up as. None and ALL of them are right. I guess thats what androgynes mean when they say "both and neither" (mixed and null).

And here I am, hoping that switches will click more and more as time goes on. And finding out more and more that the things I thought I cared about, I don't really care about.

Like sex. It was a conscious and unconscious decision, learning that I didn't want it, or need it, and hated what it entailed, for mysef anyway. And where I am now with that, a flip of the oversexed being I used to be, its comfortable. I find myself loving in ways that are so much more wonderful, attraction in all new venues, and a complete infatuation with people based soley on their personalities and their belief that I am worth it.

And then there are the things I thought I wanted. Like graduate school, like working in the field I have been studying for 3 plus years now (and arguably my whole life, from before I was born, my mother running around with a butterfly net in her pregnancy). This want is becoming less and less important, as I face burnout at the hands of mediocrity. How can I care when the professor doesn't? How can I bring myself to enjoy even Entomology when the teaching is either banal or confusing and always dissapointing? What about my friends who are happy enough, doing simple things, and obtain their joy from the people they love rather than the work they do?

Or the things I needed were so completely different than what I thought I needed. Like cuddling, which I thought was just some weird thing about me, something bizarre that couldn't possibly be an actual NEED, right? I was wrong, so wrong, keeping myself from that for almost a year, until I let myself come to that situation again, out of need (I actually ASKED for help) and I cried, for an hour maybe, and then passed out in someones arms, and I knew, that maybe I could be well again, if I could just give myself what I needed instead of what I thought I wanted.

Maybe its the hormones fault. Maybe the hormones were just the catalyst. Maybe the hormones have nothing to do with it, and I should stop it now, cause I'm just digging a hole. Or maybe they have everything to do with it, and I should be satisfied because I've finally figured out what I want and I just have to figure out how to get it and wait for opportunity.

Maybe I'm over thinking everything, or not thinking enough about the RIGHT things. Maybe I should get Fox news, or CNN, or whatever else is on that TeeVee to tell me what to think. I'm on the cusp of figuring out my gender and finding out it doesn't want to be described.

So I used genderqueer, and don't try to explain to people that who I am is some crazy mix up of all these different archetypes and influences and the gender is so screwy it doesn't have a name. Its not some simple dicotomy or some simple mixture or some simple lack.
Its not simple, period. And I wonder sometimes what/who the hell being made me so crazy inside or was it biology, or was it my childhood, or was it parents, or was it friends, or

is it all my own damn fault?


I think I'm stuck like this, this raw mixture.

A smart person would settle down and try to get used to it.



Where was I going?

I wish

That I was close to my parents. I wish that I could go up to my dad and hug him the way I want to, without any akwardness. I wish my mom and I could really talk about things together.

I wish I could open up to the both of them, let them know that they don't have to treat me just like a boy anymore, tell them I'm genderqueer, mixedgender, androgyne, inbetween. Let me be the daughter they always wanted too. Let me be the person I want to be with them.

I keep hiding this secret. I let them treat me like something I'm not, because I don't know how they would react if I told them the truth. They might be horrified. They might just think its a phase. They might tell me I need medical help, that I have to go back to the shrink, that there is something wrong with me.

I'm going home, later this afternoon, and I wish I could just tell them, let them know that I'm both their son AND daughter AND something other, that I'm outside the binary, and that I like it this way. If I could do that, the walls would be broken, and I think I could just love the way I really truly want to.


Too bad its not going to happn.

Every morning

I struggle to get out of bed. Things used to be different, and it was a different kind of struggle. In those days, back in high school, I was hiding from the world, or, the world was hiding from me. I wasn't aware of the kind of person I would become, only of the person I was, and I hated myself, hated the life I was living. It was easy to be depressed back then, when all I had was moving through every day to get to the end of it, so I could sleep again. Even my friends, as good as they may have seen now, were all so wrapped up in their problems, and none of us understood each other. There was no shared pain, and we all suffered for it. Back then the tiredness seeped into the bones of my face, entangling cordage and muscle, pulling a weight on my eyelids. I was never ready to get up then.

Now, I struggle to escape my mattress in entirely different ways. As I lay there, just reviewing the contents of my mind, I wish I could spring up, like a young person would, and land on their feet, and walk easily. Instead, I slowly pull my legs out of horizontal sliding them up, feeling the creaking, the incoming pressure, accompanied by a dull pain. I brace myself against the bed, and against myself as well, and push my lower back into a U on the bed, to try to stretch some of the stiffness out of these muscles and joints.

When I feel I have waited long enough, I slide slowly towards the side of the bed, not slowly enough. A stab of brilliant pain runs through my left leg, paralizing my breath and my movement for a second, causing a low gasp to escape. This all to familiar pain I feel is like a stab of white lightning, a crushing pushing, like a needle is being inserted down my leg, down the whole length. It comes from my siatic nerves, rebelling against the incoming push of piriformis muscle tissue, a last holdout against the pain, which knows it can't escape but fights, like a riot completely surrounded by police who continue closing the circle tightly.

As this continues to happen, I pause, feet poised to fall off the bed, and as they slowly cascade off, I push down with my elbows, trying for once to pull myself up straight, to avoid the pain. Let the nerve continue its riot just once please; the police are too good at what they do. Once I am finally in a sitting positiong, I relax for a moment, pushing out with my stomach, feeling the pressure against my thighs, the pulling, the almost stabbing crushing burning tingling pain. In one movement, I am up, hip sockets finally poping back into place, or near it.

Once again, I've made it out of bed with great difficulty. There are days I worry I will never make it, that I will just lay there till someone finds me. I keep a phone nearby, just in case.

"A butterfly flaps its wings...."

I was thinking about the past 3 1/2 years of my life just a few moments ago. I was thinking about how, in October of 2004, I was on the forum of a certain webcomic. I was fresh into college, and this was the first period of my life where internet was an easy resource. One day, I found this thread. This particular member had posted something about discordianism, and I PMed him about it. Shortly after, I was searching the web, and came upon PD.com. The things I learned there over the next couple months opened my mind to a miriad of possibilities, new interests, and the person who I was in highschool began to erode away. In 2005, I joined EB&G, and learned more about myself. This was a long process of growth, but the friends I have here have aided it so much. Then it was early 2006, and I met Rev. Michal, my best and closest friend, family to me. It was by hir impulse that I finally figured out I was genderqueer, and as I look back, I can see points in my life where it would have been obvious to anyone that I was, but I didn't know it, and would have denied it. More recently, Michal directed me to this transgender webforum, where I met Sam, wonderful Sam, whom I love so much. Sam, prodding me, got me to join the GSA on campus, to open myself up to other people; his own activism was largely my impulse. And so, last week wednesday, I went to the GLBT group, and there I met Jacob, another genderqueer (from my past actually, but I barely remember hir) and others too. A group of people to understand me, to share pain with.


If I had never PMed that person, I would have never joined PD.com.

If I had never joined PD.com, I would have never met Michal.

If I had never met Michal, I would have never realized I am genderqueer.

If I haddn't figured out I was genderqueer, Michal would have never suggested me to the transgender forum.

If I had never gone to that forum, I would have never met Sam.

If I had never met Sam, I would have never gone to GSA last week.

And if I had not gone to GSA last week, and met Jacob, I would have not ended up in hir arms today, crying myself dry and shaking, harder than I have in many many years, releasing 22 years of pain, or actually, a small fragment. There will be more times like that in the near future, I guarantee it, as I have many more tears to shed, and I passed out, hyperventilating, safe in hir arms, before I could cry them all.


I left out lots of things, lots of people that worked in synergy with these events, all the things I learned, that made me the person I am today. But they are there, and the people in the audience who took part, you know who you are, and I thank you.

So, you see, the person I am today, over three years of growth and living, is largely dependent on one event, one personal message, in October of 2004.

If I had never read that thread, never sent that PM, I would not be the person I am today.

Two reactions to a cripple with a cane:

Sympathy, that borders on awkwardness, and aversion.

Truthfully, I like the second better than the first. Its a benefit to know that one could wear bizarrely outrageous clothing, or act in an absurd manner, and as long as you're limping along with a cane, no one touches you, bothers you, stops you to harass you, unless they are TRUE assholes. Most people are uncomfortable with those who are "differentially-abled" (fuck that word; I wear my cripple pride like a big star). But even the harassment from assholes doesn't last long. Most people look down on those that would bother a cripple, especially the sympathetic.

I guess I can't complain too much about them, they mean well, or they are just trained by society to have that nurturing want to look out for people "less fortunate". I can't complain about people wanting to open doors for me, I do the same for other people, whether or not its been a bad day. But I do have my pride dammit. I don't want to ask for help usually, and unless I truly can't do something myself, I do it myself. If I fall down, I WILL get up, barring apocalypse, and unless I say "could you please lend me your hand for a moment", I want to jam my cane against the ground, and pull myself up it, by myself. It takes alot of inner strength to get out of bed some mornings, but I pull it off. And these people with this awkward sympathy, often they see only the cane, and the gimp legs, and the cripple back, when I am so much more than that. No, I won't humble myself, I know what I am capable of.

I can see where some cripples feel differently, they like the attention, or they need the help. But I don't need the help, and I've spent 19 years of my life trying to get attention. I've had enough of attention getting for the wrong reasons. And then, the well meaning, awkward questions, which I don't mind from people who are close to me, but from the random passers, the ones who knew me from highschool, asking "what the hell happened to you!?", and I know they don't really mean it, don't really care, just want to affirm themselves that it can't happen to them. I have the whole speel written out in my mind, exactly how to say it, same thing every time, how to reply to the comments of sympathy, to the people who wouldn't have stopped to say hello otherwise, because all they see is the cane. Friends tell me it makes me distinctive in a crowd, and I guess thats true. But when your entire image is focused down to a length of scratched and dented aluminum, I don't know if its a good thing to have that distinction.

What could be worse? The days I feel well enough to go without the cane, people ask me why I'm not using it. Like its an inseparable part of my body, as important as my heart and lungs.

Ignore the cane, people. Its not me; look at my face, see my smile? The pain makes me stronger, makes me realize most what I love about life, and the cane is MY reminder, not yours, of who I am.

Freedom and Rights: some thoughts.

The Good Reverend Roger has talked quite a bit about this in the past. Appologies to him if I infringe upon his material..

It seems to me that free will is an entirely useless concept. It assumes that freedom is something granted, by deity, creator, or whatever supernatural force you believe in. But if freedom can be granted, it can be taken away. If freedom can be taken from you, are you truly free? Freedom granted is not freedom at all.

Real freedom, if it exists, must come from oneself. It originates in our own action, and specifically, our choice of action. Its not a part of a society, an abstract principle. The American Declaration of Independance speaks of the inalienable liberty, something that can not be taken away, even if one tries. This liberty is inherent in every person, and it exists as choice. Not the ability to choose, but the choices made themselves. Ask yourself, do these choices follow my own path, my own values, or do they follow those of someone else? Its not important if your choices coincide with other peoples, or do not. Freedom is having the choice be your own, considering and deciding for oneself, not letting you be blindly dictated, or not. Self responsibility nicely follows. "I take this road. It is my decision, and mine alone, and thus the concequences of that action I take upon myself."

The possession of that choice is where the freedom lies. You may be taken to jail for an action you are responsible for, yet your freedom is not hindered. In actuallity, you may have excersiced more freedom than the guards who block your exit. This is because freedom is not the opportunities that life presents, but what you choose to do with them.

The same can be said of rights. If they are truely unalienable, they are not granted by someone else, they are part of oneself. A constitution is just a piece of paper with some scribbles. The freedom of speech is truly free not because its an amendment. Besides, many say that the US Constitution is dead from injury to its precepts.

I continue on with these as a part of myself. No deity grants me freedom, no document grants me rights. These are things I take for myself now and will continue to. I choose myself. That is freedom.

Ramblings, yes. I had to say it though.

We really don't have any idea.

Something my Animal Physiology professor said recently:

"The sense of taste is a really complex thing, and we really have no idea how it works. We don't even actually know how proteins work. I mean, there used to be this whole lock and key mechanism to describe how proteins can be made to change shape, but now there's this thing with electron fields and activation, and even that may not be true. Protein channels, we don't know how those work either. I mean, why does a potassium channel only let potassium through when sodium is about the same size and the same charge? Why can't clorine get through the same channel, since its so much smaller? We really don't know. The models we have, they're just kinda made up, we say, this looks like what it should be, so thats how we're gonna model it."

We really do know very little about the universe. Our understanding is far from complete.