Posts Tagged: LGBT
Things on My Mind #1: Labels Revisited
And I understand, it doesn’t really matter. Labels don’t change who we are, they’re just shorthand to help others understand us. But the further away I get from my life with men, the more I realize how much better off I am now, and it makes me question everything that came before.
Things on My Mind #1: Labels Revisited
And I understand, it doesn’t really matter. Labels don’t change who we are, they’re just shorthand to help others understand us. But the further away I get from my life with men, the more I realize how much better off I am now, and it makes me question everything that came before.
Lies My Ex-Husband Told Me: If I Got a Vagina, It’d be Just Like Yours
I don’t point these things out to be hateful or unkind. I just got tired of the lie repeated so often – that a transsexual’s organs are the same of mine. They’re just not. They are what they are, and they aren’t what they aren’t. And, frankly, to say that what I’ve had since birth is just the same as what someone else got on a surgical table yesterday are the same is insulting.
Lies My Ex-Husband Told Me: If I Got a Vagina, It’d be Just Like Yours
I don’t point these things out to be hateful or unkind. I just got tired of the lie repeated so often – that a transsexual’s organs are the same of mine. They’re just not. They are what they are, and they aren’t what they aren’t. And, frankly, to say that what I’ve had since birth is just the same as what someone else got on a surgical table yesterday are the same is insulting.
Gender Immigrants
That’s how it is for immigrants. You leave one shore with no guarantee that the one on which you arrive will welcome you. And even if they do, there may be a lot of hurdles and roadblocks in the way. And even if you navigate all of them, there still is no guarantee of being truly welcomed. Sometimes they don’t want you, and sometimes you’re turned back. It’s the risk an immigrant takes.
Gender Immigrants
That’s how it is for immigrants. You leave one shore with no guarantee that the one on which you arrive will welcome you. And even if they do, there may be a lot of hurdles and roadblocks in the way. And even if you navigate all of them, there still is no guarantee of being truly welcomed. Sometimes they don’t want you, and sometimes you’re turned back. It’s the risk an immigrant takes.
When Words Fail: The Limitations of Labels
Frankly, I don’t know what I am. I am a woman who loves another woman, who has enjoyed men’s bodies but can’t relate to them exceptionally well at all, who likes to look at either form. But I love Evangeline. She loves me. Perhaps that’s the only label we need.
When Words Fail: The Limitations of Labels
Frankly, I don’t know what I am. I am a woman who loves another woman, who has enjoyed men’s bodies but can’t relate to them exceptionally well at all, who likes to look at either form. But I love Evangeline. She loves me. Perhaps that’s the only label we need.
Life: 30something to Today
I love Evangeline. Love her heart and body and soul.
Life: The Not-So-Gay 20s
When he finally leaves, I take a shower and get ready for work. I tell only one person, an ex-boyfriend who had claimed to be a feminist. He says I was stupid to let it happen. And I feel stupid, but tell myself that what has happened won’t change me. I swear it won’t …
Life: The Not-So-Gay 20s
When he finally leaves, I take a shower and get ready for work. I tell only one person, an ex-boyfriend who had claimed to be a feminist. He says I was stupid to let it happen. And I feel stupid, but tell myself that what has happened won’t change me. I swear it won’t …
Life: the Teen Years
My grandfather is dying there of lung cancer, except no one will tell him he has lung cancer. He’s kept doped up on morphine. On our last day there, I play him a song on the violin and he calls me over for a hug.
“My darling, you came here a girl, and now you leave here a woman,” he said, and I blush awkwardly. “Now, we have to get you on the pill.”
Life: the Teen Years
My grandfather is dying there of lung cancer, except no one will tell him he has lung cancer. He’s kept doped up on morphine. On our last day there, I play him a song on the violin and he calls me over for a hug.
“My darling, you came here a girl, and now you leave here a woman,” he said, and I blush awkwardly. “Now, we have to get you on the pill.”
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