Number 88

99 Days to Go

"Ninety-nine days 'til they cut my new vag,
ninety-nine days 'til they cut!
Pull the sack down,
Cut all around.
Ninety-nine days 'til they cut!"

(sung to the tune of "100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall")

Number 87

Bar Room Arguments, Commence

(With a great deal of love and respect, I dedicate this entry to my big brother, Bart. If there were a Big Brother Hall of Fame, he would get in on his first ballot.)

Nora's All Time NBA Team

First Team
Michael Jordan (sg)
Ervin "Magic" Johnson (pg)
Larry Bird (f)
LeBron James (f)
Bill Russell (c)

Second Team
Steph Curry (sg)
Oscar Robertson (pg)
Kobe Bryant (f)
Tim Duncan (f)
Wilt Chamberlain (c)

+ Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (c); David Stockton (pg)

Coach: Lenny Wilkens

Notes: I struggled most with the center position, until I finally went with the dude who has the most rings. I also figured that Russell could function as an assistant coach out on the court... If you think I should drop Stockton for Kevin Durant or some other modern day star, put on a video of Stockton dishing the rock. I'd rather have those passing skills than another shooter... I chose Lenny Wilkens over Pat Reilly and Phil Jackson because there's already enough ego in the room... I believe Wilkens gets these guys to gel as a team... You can have every other person who ever played the game, but this team will never lose a game.

Nora's All Time Baseball Team

The Field
Lou Gerhig (1b)
Jackie Robinson (2b)
Ernie Banks (ss)
Mike Schmidt (3b)
Ted Williams (of)
Roberto Clemente (of)
Willie Mays (of)
Johnny Bench (c)
Babe Ruth (dh)

The Rotation
Randy Johnson (lhp)
Warren Spahn (lhp)
Bob Gibson (rhp)
Greg Maddox (rhp)
Tom Seaver (rhp)

+ Mariano Rivera (rh reliever); Sandy Koufax (lh reliever)

Manager: Sparky Anderson

Notes: Conspicuous by their absence are Barry Bonds and Roger Clemons. Two of the greatest players of all time who didn't need to cheat to be considered hall of famers. But they did... Perhaps it's a cheat to put Babe Ruth at designated hitter, as I hate the rule, but it does allow a place for another all time player... If I couldn't have a dh, Ruth would replace Ted Williams in the outfield... Actually it doesn't matter all that much who's in the outfield, because I don't think anyone is going to touch this rotation... By moving Sandy Koufax to reliever, I'm hoping to extend his career.

Nora's All Time Football Team

Offense
Three Quarterbacks: John Elway, Joe Montana, Aaron Rodgers
Four Running Backs: Gayle Sayers, Walter Payton, Barry Sanders, Jim Brown
Two Tight Ends: Tony Gonzalez, Rob Gronkowski
Four Receivers: Jerry Rice, Larry Fitzgerald, Chris Carter, Don Hutson
Center: Dwight Stephenson
Two Offensive Guards: Jerry Kramer, Gene Upshaw
Two Offensive Tackles: Anthony Munoz, Orlando Pace

Defense
Two Defensive Tackles: Alan Page, Merlin Olsen
Two Defensive Ends: Reggie White, Bruce Smith
Two Outside Linebackers: Lawrence Taylor, Jack Ham
Two Inside Linebackers: Mike Singletary, Dick Butkus
Four Defensive Backs: Ed Reed, Deion Sanders, Ronnie Lott, Gary Fencik

+ Adam Vinatieri (k), Ray Guy (p), Darren Sproles (punt/kick returns)

Coach: Bill Belichick

Notes: No Tom Brady?? With much respect, I think TB is the pinnacle of a system guy. Trust me, as a Browns fan, I'd just as soon pretend that John Elway never lived... I love my four running backs: two that leave you tackling the wind, and two that run you over... I left off Randy Moss for Don Hutson at receiver because Moss couldn't co-exist with Jerry Rice and Chris Carter... No Ray Lewis?? Nope, in my imaginary world, he's in prison for murder. Besides, how can you deny the eyes of Mike Singletary.

Number 86

You've Come A Long Way, Baby

Older readers might recognize my title as the tagline for a Virginia Slims cigarettes ad campaign from the 1970's. Riding the crest of the first wave of feminism, they peddled their cancer sticks to women based upon the notion that choosing to put a piece of flaming sh*t in your mouth was the mark of a truly liberated female. That they also sponsored the Women's Tennis Association, while using the pejorative 'baby' makes this a mixed message of epic proportions. In any event, it nicely sums up my thoughts regarding today's entry, so I'm stealing it.

Four years ago, on 2/14/2016, my life came crashing down upon me when my wife, Rebecca, died. The following year was me at my lowest ebb. Somedays, getting out of bed and showering was an accomplishment worth celebrating. How did I ever manage to move forward? The secret is... well, there is no secret. Each new day I woke up, moved through it, and pretty soon it was time for bed. At some point, in big and little ways, sometimes consciously and sometimes not, I started picking myself up off the ground. Ultimately, I had to start making decisions about my future. More to the point, I had to make decisions about the quality of my life.

Much of what happened next in my life, y'all already know - I've only been writing about it over the past few years, so there's no reason to rehash the details. And the truth is, those details still don't quite get at the heart of what I'm trying to say. If I cut to the chase, maybe it will be easier if to 'reverse engineer' to my main point.

My life is really good now. Heck, it's wonderful! Living my truth as a transgender woman fulfills me. I am happy. I am content. I am more confident and assured than I have ever been. I don't go through my days with a baseline anxiety that always used to be present. I am at peace with myself. And I am with a loving partner in a committed and healthy relationship. My life has never been better. I've come a long way from the depths I was in four years ago.

The secret? (This time there's a secret.) It was hard f*cking work. And that was the decision I had to make. Although I didn't realize at the time how hard it ultimately would become to live an authentic life, I did recognize that a sincere effort on my part would be necessary. At the time, I had enough insight to realize that continuing to live the way I had been was, somewhat literally, a dead end. Also, at age 50, I was aware that my time was not as endless as it had once seemed. "Let's get on with it," I thought to myself. And I did.

Now, thus far, this post reads like a person straining their arm patting themselves on their back. And that's definitely not the message I wish to pass on. Let me try it this way: a trans friend from FB passed on the following experience. When she finally 'admitted' to her therapist that she was trans, her therapist responded "Congratulations!" I had to think about that response a long time before I fully understood it. Finally I realized that the therapist was celebrating that this person had, after a great deal of hard work, figured out who she really was. In that light, 'congratulations!' made all the sense in the world.

This is what I hope you understand about my journey over the last few years. I am becoming my true self and that is worthy of celebration! It is worthy of balloons and streamers and confetti and noise makers! I am happy and filled with joy over what my life is becoming. I hope you're able to understand that and celebrate with me.

Number 85

On Forgiveness

48 years ago, Jane Fonda did something really stupid. While visiting Hanoi, she allowed herself to be pictured sitting at a North Vietnamese anti-aircraft gun while she was smiling and laughing with North Vietnamese soldiers. This occurred in 1972, and by then everything related to the war in Vietnam was a chaotic mess - both there and in the United States. There was a great deal of confusion and misinformation in the air. A lot of strong feeling, too - on both sides.

In any event, that photograph became an albatross around her career. "I'm not Fonda 'Hanoi' Jane" became the rallying cry of those whole felt that she was guilty of nothing less than treason against her own country. Since that time she has apologized and tried to explain the circumstances surrounding that picture numerous times. (They are but a quick 'Google' search away, if you are interested). In them she states that she realizes the North Vietnamese officials exploited her naiveté, but she also says that ultimately the responsibility was hers. As I said - she did something stupid.  For the record, my purpose today is not to defend or rationalize away her actions. The picture speak for itself, and if you want to continue hating on Jane Fonda, knock yourself out.

Then why bring this up? Well, apparently Jane was at this year's Oscar Awards. I only know because the next day I saw some FB posts about it that clearly indicated that many folks still have hard, unforgiving feelings towards Ms. Fonda. "Huh," I thought to myself, "Still." And that's when I started thinking about writing a post that talked about forgiveness, and the role that it has played in my life.

In my mind there are two types of forgiveness. The first of these is when a person forgives another for that person's actions - 'Outward Forgiveness,' if you will. In my own life, I have struggled with this a great deal. I have held on to grudges and toxic feeling about others for waaaaaay too long. There have been times, especially around discussions of HS reunions, when I realize some of the harsh feelings I harbored for a few of those classmates still linger. What earthly purpose they could possibly serve, I don't know, but they're there. By the way, my class just celebrated it's 35th anniversary. Murderers has served shorter sentences than a classmate who teased me when we were both 14! Ugh!

In my more recent past, I have been significantly hurt by the actions of others. More often than not they were friends and colleagues whom I enjoyed being around, which makes those wounds even more painful. However, when I came across the aphorism: "Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die," I found a truth to rally around. It was up to me, and only me, to purge my soul of all the unnecessary bilious baggage it harbored towards other people. Doing this, though, was, and is, hard work. And sometimes that red hot coal of anger feels kinda good. But, just like a triple bacon cheeseburger and a side of greasy fries, ultimately it is not good for you. When you can finally think about the person who wronged you; and, with a tired shake of your head, just let it go, you know the hard work has been worth it.

The other type forgiveness - 'Inward Forgiveness' - is a tougher nut to crack. I have often joked with others (mostly my therapists, ha-ha), that if I talked to other people the way I talk to myself I would get arrested. When we do something stupid or mean, followed by contrition on our part, forgiveness might come from the person wounded by our actions, but letting ourselves off the hook often takes a long time. At least it does for me. There are still some relationships from when I was in college that I look back upon with shame.

I have worked hard at learning forgiveness, and I'm happy to say, I have been (mostly) successful. That my efforts coincide with my coming to terms with myself as a transgender person is, I believe, not a coincidence. Once I started ridding myself of hostility and feelings of anger, I found they were replaced with feelings of contentment and good wishes for others. Those feelings, in turn, spurred on more good thoughts and feelings. I have come to realize that living my days with a positive outlook is a much more fulfilling way to go through life.

So where does this leave Jane Fonda and her haters? I don't rightly know. But my opinion is that Ms. Fonda has made peace with herself and her actions - both the event itself, and everything that has followed it. I imagine the hostility that people still feel doesn't hurt her in the least. But forgiveness remains hard. And, it can be a slippery slope. Is Ted Bundy worthy of forgiveness? Hitler? Stalin?

The link below takes you to a video in which a mother forgives her son's killer. I don't know if I could do that, if I ever found myself in that position. But the power of her forgiveness is palpable - both in her life and in his. I know my own life is better for practicing forgiveness. I often wonder how much better the world would be if everybody were able to let go of some anger and forgive just a lit bit more.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEvGf_U9soc

Number 84

Blessings  or: Rats! I'm Not 6'2"!  I Mean, I'm Not 6'2"? Hurray!

1. My transition has alienated me from exactly zero people. All of my friends and family have embraced and encouraged me as Nora. Their universal love and acceptance is a blessing.

2. Many trans folks do not health insurance, or their coverage will not cover the costs of various gender confirmation procedures. One of my initial fears when Rebecca passed, was that the girls and I would no longer have health insurance. Rebecca, bless her ever loving heart, had us enrolled in a plan that allowed us uninterrupted and continuous coverage. This plan also covers my confirmation procedures. Having health insurance is a blessing.

3. Speaking of health care coverage, I am being cared for by many knowledgable and concerned souls. Their treatment of me leaves me feeling secure. Being cared for by competent and caring medical professionals is a blessing.

4. My father was six foot, two inches tall. My older brother is six foot, two inches tall. So when I topped out at five foot, nine and 15/16 inches, I felt dissed by the genetic cosmos. In retrospect, as a trans woman, being five foot, nine and 15/16 inches is a blessing.

5. Do you know that many transgender folks get rejected by their families and are forced to leave home and live on the streets? Very often these same people have no money and have to turn to prostitution or dealing drugs to survive. Needless to say this is both an unsafe and harrowing way to live. Having both a warm home and financial resources is a blessing.

6. I have a full head of curly hair. Being a 54 year-old trans woman who doesn't have male pattern baldness is a blessing.

7. I love to sing and have been in a variety of choirs most of my adult life. With my decision to transition, I thought I'd never be able to sing in a choral group again. But then I met the fabulous folks in the Calliope Women's Chorus. These women gave me back my voice, but more importantly, they accepted me as one of their own. Having Calliope in my life is a blessing.

8. Many relationships where one of the people comes out as trans do not survive. Mine did because of the extraordinarily fabulous person with whom I get to spend my life with. Having an understanding and sympathetic partner is a huge blessing.

9. In women's shoes, I wear size twelve (12). Almost every single shoe store in existence only carries women's shoes up to size eleven (11). Most of you are probably confused. Doesn't that make it hard to buy shoes? Well... yes, and no. It is a pain when you can't get shoes in a store. However, I can find many fashionable, size 12 styles on line. My mother always loved shopping for shoes, and I'm afraid the apple didn't fall to far from the tree. If I could buy shoes in the store, I'm afraid of what my credit card bill would look like. The other fact is, again, compared to other trans women who need to search for women's shoes in size 14... 15... or beyond, size 12 is down right petite! Wearing size 12 women's shoes, that I can only find on line, is a blessing.

10. Having a full beard as a trans woman is incredibly dysphoric. Laser hair removal and/or electrolysis are the only permanent ways to git rid of facial hair. The problem is they both hurt like a motherf*cker. My brother is one of those men who could grow a beard in a day. On the other hand, I never had a huge amount of facial hair. Having a minimal amount of facial hair is a blessing.

11. Hearing other people refer to you by using your new name and pronouns is tremendously affirming. It is a blessing to be surrounded by people and friends who do this as a matter of course.

12. Having a community of people where you can feel comfortable being yourself is something that is good for everyone. Until very recently in human history, most trans people felt like they were the only person who had feelings of gender dysphoria. What an extraordinarily lonely feeling that must have been. Living at a time where finding people who understand your struggles, or have gone through the same themselves, are only a few mouse clicks away is a blessing.

Finally, lucky 13. This entire entry reflects a conscious effort on my part to reject negativity and embrace a more positive outlook on life. It wasn't easy, and it's taken awhile, but I think Eric Idle was on to something when he told us to "Always Look On the Bright Side of Life." Acknowledging my true self helped an awful lot, too. For whatever reason, my old self tended to have a much bleaker outlook than I do now. Living a live full of blessings is, in itself, a blessing.

Number 83

Both Sides Now

I belong to a number of Facebook groups for transgendered folks. Recently, someone new to our community posted the following question: "How hard is it to transition?" Many of us responded with details about our own journeys, as well as words of advice and offers of encouragement. (By the way, the transgender community tends to be tremendously supportive of one another. It's a really cool fringe benefit of being trans.) My own response was fairly succinct: "It's the hardest thing I've ever done. But it's also the best thing I've ever done."

With this blog, I have tried very hard to explain that statement. Both the hardships I've had to face; as well as the reasons why it's so crucially important for me to transition. Hopefully I have succeeded in doing this. It's important to me that you understand how extraordinarily positive, in the long run, all of this has been for me. It has freed my soul from a prison it didn't even know it was locked up in.

There's another little gift that trans people get to experience that cis people never do. Living parts of our lives being 'bossed around' by two different hormonal realities is a fascinating experience. I've touched on this a few times - describing changing feelings and attitudes - in the past, but the point I want to stress today is the insights I have gained by living through this. Perhaps you'll accuse me of trafficking in gender stereotypes, and, I suppose, to a certain degree I am. But as the song and movie title suggest: "the girl can't help it."

Take aggression as an example. It's one thing to state factually that, generally, men are more aggressive than women. It's another thing entirely to live that reality. I've gone from a person who occasionally lost my temper to someone who rarely feels the need to get assertive. In the past, in those moments when I would lose my temper, I felt powerless to control myself. Now I wonder why it seemed so hard. Interestingly, when Rebecca and I would have a 'marital disagreement', I would feel myself losing control and wanting to shout and yell. She, on the other hand, would remain calm (angry, yes, but calm). It drove me nuts. "I'm very angry at you," she would say in this excruciatingly quiet voice. "Then shout and yell!" I'd want to scream back. I never understood how she was able to stay calm. Now I do.

Another example. I used to imagine myself as the Marlboro man, but without the cigarettes, horses or chaps. You know, a stoic dude who shows no emotion and doesn't need any friends. I thought that conveyed strength. Maybe it did. But now,  looking back, it just feels lonely, and gets to the heart of what I mean about "freeing my soul." A life lived on estrogen has me craving the intimacy of close friendships (with other women). The challenge here is that, at age 54, I've had much less practice/experience with the give and take of these types of relationships than most cis women. So I spend a lot of time, watching, observing, and in some cases mimicking. I'm particularly fond of hearing a group of women laughing. I delight when I am part of that group.

I have previously discussed how many more colors my emotional palette has acquired since starting on estrogen, so I'll only mention it in passing as another example of the yin and yang of hormonal change. Although the spikes of anxiety I have to deal with now are one of the few downsides of my transition.

The biggest change in my my life since beginning HRT is how it has enabled me to grow (slowly) into my identity as Nora. When I went public with my transition, I felt like an awkward pretender in the land of women. Now, almost two years later, I feel like I belong.

Let me use my "Pool Buddies" to explain this. I used to get together weekly with a three men to play pool (and eat a sublime greasy hamburger). They were among the first people I told about my transition, and they all accepted me without hesitation. In any event, we continued to play pool weekly, though I was now attending as my true self. At first this felt fine. But as my new life began to gain form - aided, no doubt, by my new hormonal makeup, I became more and more ambivalent about 'pool night.' As it happened, other circumstances came up which ended the weekly pool games before I had to tell my three male friends that I was going to bow out. I loved those guys (still do!), but our time together was no longer fulfilling a need for me. You need to understand it wasn't the activity that left me flat, it was being in the company of (three of the finest) men. Today, if three women asked me to play pool with them, I'd be there in a flash.

Of course, I'd probably still get one of those greasy hamburgers - not everything has changed.

Number 82

I've Got a Surgery Date!

For the past two years, I have been engaged in a variety of activities associated with the gender confirmation process. No surprises there. I've got two years worth of blog entries telling you all about such things.  As a metacognitive metaphor, I like to think that everything I've been doing is a little bit like water circling the drain. Of course my overall goal is not an empty tub. Rather it is the surgical procedure euphemistically known as "bottom surgery." For the less coy among you, it's also called vaginoplasty. Again, this has been discussed in previous posts.

This entire process has been an extraordinary exercise in patience. I think I have, for the most part, acquitted myself pretty well. But there have been plenty of times I wanted to scream, cry, yell, or in many other ways just totally lose my shit over how slowly things were happening. As I inched closer and closer, it became harder and harder to remain patient and calm. Every morning as I stepped out of the shower and got dressed for the day my feelings of dysphoria regarding my archaic genitalia has became especially challenging.

In December I cleared a giant hurdle when my surgeon OK'ed me for surgery. Then I had to wait five weeks to receive 'prior authorization' approval from my insurance company. But of course it wasn't that easy. The University of MN hospital where the surgery will be done was considered 'out of network' even though the other University hospital was considered 'in network.' It took two weeks to work that out, but finally the insurance company gave their complete approval.

Time to schedule the surgery, right? Nope. First my surgeon needed to review my case, and only then would he forward it to the person who schedules surgeries. For the last two weeks, I've been staring at my phone waiting for it to ring. This afternoon, it finally did. The phone call I've been waiting over two years to receive finally came.

July 16th may be five months away, but I've got a date! No more wondering and waiting and then more wondering and waiting and then even more wondering and waiting. Having an actual date makes being patient a ton easier. And I'm first in line if a surgery date becomes available sooner than that (which the scheduler suggested was a 50/50 proposition). No matter, though, because I've got a date!

Number 81

Why I'm a Liberal

This is another case of having someone else articulates thoughts that I am thinking. As for all the folks out there who think this makes me a "butt-hurt snowflake," the correct phrase is actually "outraged American citizen."

Why I'm a Liberal
by: Lori Gallagher Witt

1. I believe a country should take care of its weakest members. A country cannot call itself civilized when its children, disabled, sick, and elderly are neglected. Period.

2. I believe healthcare is a right, not a privilege. Somehow that's interpreted as "I believe Obamacare is the end-all, be-all." This is not the case. I'm fully aware that the ACA has problems, that a national healthcare system would require everyone to chip in, and that it's impossible to create one that is devoid of flaws, but I have yet to hear an argument against it that makes "let people die because they can't afford healthcare" a better alternative. I believe healthcare should be far cheaper than it is, and that everyone should have access to it. And no, I'm not opposed to paying higher taxes in the name of making that happen.

3. I believe education should be affordable and accessible to everyone. It doesn't necessarily have to be free (though it works in other countries so I'm mystified as to why it can't work in the US), but at the end of the day, there is no excuse for students graduating college saddled with five- or six-figure debt.

4. I don't believe your money should be taken from you and given to people who don't want to work. I have literally never encountered anyone who believes this. Ever. I just have a massive moral problem with a society where a handful of people can possess the majority of the wealth while there are people literally starving to death, freezing to death, or dying because they can't afford to go to the doctor. Fair wages, lower housing costs, universal healthcare, affordable education, and the wealthy actually paying their share would go a long way toward alleviating this. Somehow believing that makes me a communist.

5. I don't throw around "I'm willing to pay higher taxes" lightly. I'm retired and on a fixed income, but I still pay taxes. If I'm suggesting something that involves paying more, well, it's because I'm fine with paying my share as long as it's actually going to something besides lining corporate pockets or bombing other countries while Americans die without healthcare.

6. I believe companies should be required to pay their employees a decent, livable wage. Somehow this is always interpreted as me wanting burger flippers to be able to afford a penthouse apartment and a Mercedes. What it actually means is that no one should have to work three full-time jobs just to keep their head above water. Restaurant servers should not have to rely on tips, multibillion dollar companies should not have employees on food stamps, workers shouldn't have to work themselves into the ground just to barely make ends meet, and minimum wage should be enough for someone to work 40 hours and live.

7. I am not anti-Christian. I have no desire to stop Christians from being Christians, to close churches, to ban the Bible, to forbid prayer in school, etc. (BTW, prayer in school is NOT illegal; *compulsory* prayer in school is - and should be - illegal). All I ask is that Christians recognize *my* right to live according to *my* beliefs. When I get pissed off that a politician is trying to legislate Scripture into law, I'm not "offended by Christianity" -- I'm offended that you're trying to force me to live by your religion's rules. You know how you get really upset at the thought of Muslims imposing Sharia law on you? That's how I feel about Christians trying to impose biblical law on me. Be a Christian. Do your thing. Just don't force it on me or mine.

8. I don't believe LGBT people should have more rights than you. I just believe they should have the *same* rights as you.

9. I don't believe illegal immigrants should come to America and have the world at their feet, especially since THIS ISN'T WHAT THEY DO (spoiler: undocumented immigrants are ineligible for all those programs they're supposed to be abusing, and if they're "stealing" your job it's because your employer is hiring illegally). I'm not opposed to deporting people who are here illegally, but I believe there are far more humane ways to handle undocumented immigration than our current practices (i.e., detaining children, splitting up families, ending DACA, etc).

10. I don't believe the government should regulate everything, but since greed is such a driving force in our country, we NEED regulations to prevent cut corners, environmental destruction, tainted food/water, unsafe materials in consumable goods or medical equipment, etc. It's not that I want the government's hands in everything -- I just don't trust people trying to make money to ensure that their products/practices/etc. are actually SAFE. Is the government devoid of shadiness? Of course not. But with those regulations in place, consumers have recourse if they're harmed and companies are liable for medical bills, environmental cleanup, etc. Just kind of seems like common sense when the alternative to government regulation is letting companies bring their bottom line into the equation.

11. I believe our current administration is fascist. Not because I dislike them or because I can’t get over an election, but because I've spent too many years reading and learning about the Third Reich to miss the similarities. Not because any administration I dislike must be Nazis, but because things are actually mirroring authoritarian and fascist regimes of the past.

12. I believe the systemic racism and misogyny in our society is much worse than many people think, and desperately needs to be addressed. Which means those with privilege -- white, straight, male, economic, etc. -- need to start listening, even if you don't like what you're hearing, so we can start dismantling everything that's causing people to be marginalized.

13. I am not interested in coming after your blessed guns, nor is anyone serving in government. What I am interested in is sensible policies, including background checks, that just MIGHT save one person’s, perhaps a toddler’s, life by the hand of someone who should not have a gun. (Got another opinion? Put it on your page, not mine).

14. I believe in so-called political correctness. I prefer to think it’s social politeness. If call you Chuck and you say you prefer to be called Charles I’ll call you Charles. It’s the polite thing to do. Not because everyone is a delicate snowflake, but because as Maya Angelou put it, when we know better, we do better. When someone tells you that a term or phrase is more accurate/less hurtful than the one you're using, you now know better. So why not do better? How does it hurt you to NOT hurt another person?

15. I believe in funding sustainable energy, including offering education to people currently working in coal or oil so they can change jobs. There are too many sustainable options available for us to continue with coal and oil. Sorry, billionaires. Maybe try investing in something else.

16. I believe that women should not be treated as a separate class of human. They should be paid the same as men who do the same work, should have the same rights as men and should be free from abuse. Why on earth shouldn’t they be?

I think that about covers it. Bottom line is that I'm a liberal because I think we should take care of each other. That doesn't mean you should work 80 hours a week so your lazy neighbor can get all your money. It just means I don't believe there is any scenario in which preventable suffering is an acceptable outcome as long as money is saved.

So, I'm a liberal.

Number 80

Female Preachers Rock!

Last week, I reached out to a very important person in my life. Mary was the pastor who performed the wedding ceremony when Rebecca and I got married back in 1994. More than that, she had been my pastor for the previous decade - during my late teens and early twenties. Together, we had chaperoned a group of teenagers on a mission trip to help folks in Florida after a devastating hurricane. As she was also married to my first boss after college, it's fair to say that we were close to one another.

She was another in a long list of people I should have contacted after Rebecca's passing, but never did because it just hurt too f*cking much. Slowly, I have begun reaching out to all the people on this list and, I am happy to say, been very successful in re-establishing long dormant relationships. Of course what makes all this extra interesting is the whole "Nora" thing. It's kinda like: "Remember when Rebecca died, and, oh yeah, I'm a trans woman now! What's up with you?"

Facetiousness aside, my contacting Mary got me thinking about something else. In the last year or so, I have had a handful of interactions with different pastors that have all been incredibly affirming and wonderful. A few of them are Presbyterians, a few are Methodists, and one came from the United Church of Christ. They are, everyone of them, wonderful. The other thing they have in common is that they are all women.

Last spring, I sat down with Erica. She coordinates a community breakfast at her church. Six days a week they provide a free, hot morning meal for anyone in the community - no questions asked. I was looking for a way to volunteer my time, but wanted to be sure that I would be welcomed. I wasn't yet entirely comfortable being out in the world as "Nora," so I needed to know that "Holy Grounds" was an inclusive place. She was tremendously open and welcoming, and she assured me that I would be accepted as my authentic self. Even so, she understood my nervousness, and was there on my first day to help me feel more at ease. She was right. I was instantly accepted by the other volunteers and the guests.

Erica has a co-pastor named Michelle. The first thing I noticed about Michelle was her amazing fashion sense. I was instantly jealous of every outfit she wore! The next thing I learned about her was her depth of empathy and compassion. She reached out almost immediately and made me feel welcome. As it turned out, she and I had a lot in common and we have had many meaningful conversations. There have been times when I have felt particularly vulnerable and she has been there with a kind word and a hug. She recently preached an impassioned sermon that left NO doubt, that regardless of what the national Methodist Church policy might be, I - a trans woman - belonged in her church.

J.C. is a pastor in New Haven, CT. She is the current pastor at Mary's old church (remember Mary?). When I made the decision to spread Rebecca's ashes at various, important locations, the church where we were wed was an instant choice. From a far distance and a computer keyboard, I reached out to J.C. to make sure it would be OK to do this. She assured me that it would. That was the easy part, though. I still had to walk into that church one Sunday morning to greet people I hadn't seen in over a decade. For them, they would be meeting Nora for the first time. J.C. was the first person to greet me, and though I immediately started weeping, she immediately put me at ease, and let me know I was welcomed there. She was, of course, right.

The church Emma found during her time at Iowa State University became especially important to her after her mother died. Pastor Eileen is the lead pastor there, and I knew from many different conversations with Emma, that Eileen meant a great deal to her. Last November I visited Ames to spoil Emma one last time before she graduated. I also wanted to meet Eileen and thank her for looking after my kiddo.

Now, as it turns out (and by complete coincidence, I promise!), Eileen had dedicated the service on that particular Sunday to be a "Trans Gender Day of Remembrance." How many of you are surprised that I wept through the entire service? Anyone? When I greeted her after the service, she took my arm, looked me dead in the eye and said "You are honoring God by becoming the person you were meant to be."

What Eileen didn't know when she welcomed me with those words was how tattered my relationship with God had become over the four previous years. Starting with Rebecca's passing, and for a few other reasons, I had put a great deal of distance between God and myself. I had recently been struggling with vague wonderments of how to heal this rift. With her words to me, Eileen gave me a clarity of focus that had been eluding me. What a powerful gift.

One of the "few other reasons" I mentioned above dealt with my "divorce" from a Presbyterian Church here in Mankato. Briefly, during a time of great upheaval in the church, a situation occurred that left my daughter Grace feeling personally attacked by church leadership. I couldn't abide the situation, so I left the church. There were others involved on both sides, and the only thing everyone agreed on was that it had been an ugly situation.

I had grown up Presbyterian and been an active church member most of my life, wherever I lived. Perhaps the denomination name on the front of the church shouldn't matter as much as it does, but that's a topic for another day. In any event, I began to ruminate on the whole situation, and felt very strongly that I didn't want the way things ended at the church to be the last chapter written in the book, My Life As a Presbyterian. The problem was, I didn't know how to fix it by myself.

Lindsay is the current pastor at this church. She was called to be the pastor a year or two after the ugliness. I felt a strong need to tell her my story of what had happened. I didn't know quite why, and I didn't know if she would even be open to meeting with me, but when I reached out to her, she quickly agreed to sit down with me. It was an extraordinary meeting. It didn't really 'solve' anything, but I felt listened to, and she validated the pain I felt. She left me with the feeling that healing was possible. As it stands right now, I am planning on attending services there for the first time since I left. I would never have reached this point without Lindsay's help, and I am grateful to her.

But now, here's the rub. The link below takes you to a You tube video in which male pastors read aloud comments that their female colleagues have had to endure. It's both jaw-dropping and infuriating. It makes you realize that our culture still has a long way to go when it comes to creating a society that values the gifts of its women as much as its men. These women have each touched my life in very meaningful ways. I honestly don't know if their "femaleness" is the only common denominator, or if it is something else. Frankly it doesn't matter. That they are women, and that all women are still working to overcome barriers, both large and small, is what's important. What an incredible tragedy it will be if other people miss out on the extraordinary gifts that Mary, Erica, Michelle, J.C., Eileen, and Lindsay have to offer for a reason as picayune as their gender.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=share&v=wmC5N0Hcjac&fbclid=IwAR0hqjL9F4WXjayf7mbh7Q5BArW3Glt9I_ZIC9IMmxKC0Vr4ndARwOUnFCc&app=desktop

Number 79

A Biologist Drops the Mike

I'm not gonna spend a lot of time here. Somebody much smarter than me recently posted an on line response to all the "experts" who think sex and/or gender is as simple as a glance between the legs. Rebecca R. Helm, Ph.D. is a professor at the University of North Carolina, Asheville. The floor is hers...

Friendly neighborhood biologist here. I see a lot of people are talking about biological sex and gender right now. Lots of folks make biological sex seem really simple. Well, since it’s so simple, let’s find the biological roots, shall we? 

Let’s talk about sex. If you know a bit about biology you will probably say that biological sex is caused by chromosomes: XX and you’re female, XY and you’re male. This is “chromosomal sex” but is it “biological sex”? 

Well… turns out there is only ONE GENE on the Y chromosome that really matters to sex. It’s called the SRY gene. During human embryonic development the SRY protein turns on male-associated genes. Having an SRY gene makes you “genetically male.” But is this “biological sex?”  Sometimes that SRY gene pops off the Y chromosome and [heads] over to an X chromosome. Surprise! 

So now you’ve got an X with an SRY and a Y without an SRY. What does this mean? A Y with no SRY means physically you’re female, chromosomally you’re male (XY) and genetically you’re female (no SRY). An X with an SRY means you’re physically male, chromosomally female (XX) and genetically male (SRY). But biological sex is simple! [Therefore] there must be another answer.

Sex-related genes ultimately turn on hormones in specific areas on the body, and reception of those hormones by cells throughout the body. Is this the root of “biological sex??” “Hormonal male” means you produce ‘normal’ levels of male-associated hormones. Except some percentage of females will have higher levels of ‘male’ hormones than some percentage of males. Ditto ditto ‘female hormones. And when you’re developing, you’re body may not produce enough hormones for your genetic sex. Leading you to be genetically male or female; chromosomally male or female; hormonally non-binary; and physically non-binary. 

Well… except cells have something to say about this. Maybe cell are the answer to “biological sex??” Right?? Cells have receptors that ‘hear’ the signal form sex hormones. But sometimes those receptors don’t work. Like a mobile phone that’s on “do not disturb.” Call and call, [but the cell] will not answer. 

What does this all mean? It means you may be genetically male or female; chromosomally male or female; hormonally male, female, or non-binary, with cells that may or may not hear the male, female, or non-binary call; and all this leading to a body that can be male, non-binary, or female. Try out some combinations for yourself. Notice how confusing it gets? Can you point to what the absolute cause of biological sex is? Is it fair to judge people by it? 

Of course you could try appealing to the numbers. “Most people are either male or female,” you say. Except that as a biology professor, I will tell you the reason I don’t have my students look at their own chromosomes in class is because they could learn that their chromosomal sex doesn’t match their physical sex, and learning that in the middle of a 10-point assignment is JUST NOT THE TIME. 

Biological sex is complicated. Before you discriminate against someone on the basis of “biological sex” and identity, [Let me ask you]: Have you seen YOUR chromosomes? Do you know the genes of the people you love? The hormones of the people you work with? The state of their cells? Since the answer will obviously be no, please be kind, respect [other] people’s right to tell you who they are, and remember that you don’t have all the answers. Again: biology is complicated. Kindness and respect don’t have to be.