Number 148

 500,000

Four days a week I help serve a (free) community breakfast at a downtown church. Holy Grounds it's called. Both the people I work with, and the people we serve have become family to me - it's hard not to care about folks you spend that much time with. But just like any other family, things sometimes don't run that smoothly; and a person can find themself at odds with another person. Apparently today was my day. I didn't feel grouchy when I first woke up, but by the time I arrived at the church (late again!), I certainly felt like I had, perhaps, woken up on the proverbial "wrong side" of the bed.

But this post isn't really about me being grouchy and losing my temper. It's about something much more profound than that.

Because of COVID, our breakfast meal is strictly a take-out affair for the time being. Our guests are allowed to come in - one at a time and masked - pick up their food, and head back outside. It's not ideal. All of us would prefer to serve a meal that the folks could eat inside the building, with their friends nearby. But that's not our current reality.

In any event, one of our regulars comes in from outside, and he needs a mask. Not a big deal, really, we probably give out 3 - 5 masks each morning. The problem is, no exaggeration!, this particular gentleman needs a new mask every damn morning. Since there is an expense on our end, and our supply of masks is not infinite, we've started to be more pointed in asking him to remember his own mask.

Today he pushed back and said something along the line of, "It really doesn't matter, COVID's not a real thing, anyway." I instantly saw red, dropped all pretense of affability and replied, "There's more than 500,000 dead Americans that might disagree with you."

"It's not real. I know. I work in science."

"Well then we'd better dig up all those people and let them know."

[end scene]

I didn't write this post so that I could rant about about the many different ways ignorant people choose to celebrate their stupidity. (I've mined that particular vein in my many diatribes against Trump and the MAGA crowd.) And I didn't write this post because I feel guilty about losing my temper. (Because I don't.) I also didn't write it as a platform to discuss the politics of mask wearing. (It's a piece of f*cking cloth, just put it on and shut-up you big whining babies.) I wrote it because we have lost so, so many people, and they deserve a moment for us to stop and remember them.

Over 500,000 dead Americans. Untold millions of dead across the globe.

It is to weep.

Number 147

Trans Women and Sports

Just lately the social/religious conservatives have been pushing laws through state legislatures that ban trans women and girls from athletic participation with and/or against cis gender women and girls. Their standard line claims that they are protecting 'biological' women, and their athletic accomplishments from being 'canceled' by predatory 'men' pretending to be women. The fact that social/religious conservatives usually don't give two sh*ts about women and their rights leads me to conclude that their rationale for banning trans athletes is merely a smoke screen for their true believes: "Trans people are icky, we wish they didn't exist, so we're going to legislate them out of existence." They're just too cowardly to admit that, so they pretend like they care about women for a few hot minutes in order to push their agenda of transgender hatred.

It's no surprise that I have a deep antipathy towards these morons. Many of my past blog posts reek of my disdain for their pseudo-intellectual rants against me and my trans siblings. The problem I have with this particular issue is that while I disagree with their rationale, I don't necessarily disagree with their conclusion. But that doesn't mean I agree with their conclusion, either. What it means is, I just don't know. Maybe if I write about this complex issue, you and I might discover some clarity.

Here's a list of reasons that make this issue so very complicated.

A.    A child is born. Everyone takes a quick peek between the legs and, usually, everyone agrees on that child's sex and/or gender, ie. female or male. Our culture is slowly changing to embrace the notion that gender and sex, while very close to one another, are not direct correlates; and that while there are only two sexes, there are many different genders. Another way of saying this is that for most folks, their sex and gender are the same thing, but not for everyone. This can often lead to a point of conflict for an individual when the binary of 'biological' sex (male/female), is not aligned with their gender identity (who or what they feel they are). Two things: (1) 'biological' sex is actually much more complicated than a quick peek between the legs - don't believe me, ask a biologist; and (2) If it's a "point of conflict" for the individual when things don't match, it becomes a higgledy-piggledy mess when it becomes a focal point of our society's culture wars.

B.    For the most part, even with our culture slowly embracing the notion of multiple gender identities, athletic participation is still based upon the male/female binary. Boys/men compete against boys/men, girls/women compete against girls/women.

C.    Speaking in generalities, there are physical differences between male and female bodies. A few of these differences have implications as to why male athletic performance tends to be "higher, faster, stronger," than female athletic performance. Please note that I consider these differences to be empirical, rather than qualitative. Male athletes have greater lung capacity than female athletes. Male athletes have a higher ratio of muscle mass to body weight. Finally, male athletes have longer and larger bones, which provide a clear mechanical advantage over female athletes. I wish I could ignore this information, and pretend it didn't exist, but I won't - it's one of the key reasons this is such a hard issue.

D.    Let's talk about trans female athletes and their desire to compete. First things first. Fuck every single person who defends their opinion on this complicated issue by declaring that trans woman are just "predatory men disguised as women... blah, blah, blah." Nice job reducing the experiences of every trans woman into one vicious, inaccurate, and ignorant meme. I can pretty much guarantee that: "Getting to  crush cis gender women in athletic competitions" is really, really low on the list of considerations as a transgender female comes to terms with her gender identity. I might go so far as to say it's not a consideration. A transgender female who wishes to participate in athletics is just that: A person who wants to participate in athletics. But since athletic competition is still based on the binary, we're left with the struggle of figuring out where that participation should take place.

E.    Now, let's talk about what most trans females will probably have gone through by the time they get to a point where they want to participate athletically against other females. The first thing is they've probably had lots and lots of counseling/therapy to deal with issues related to gender dysphoria. Regardless of what you may think, a person can't just declare themselves trans, and everyone in the medical and legal communities give it a thumbs up. There are lots of medical and legal hoops that must be jumped through, first. The second reality is that most trans folks are on some form of hormone replacement therapy (HRT), designed to allow their bodies to be ruled by the androgen system that reflects their gender identity. This will definitely impact athletic performance (See point F).

F.    I do have some insider information on the whole gender confirmation process that might be relevant to this issue. I have been on HRT for over two years now. If you do a blood test of my various hormonal levels, my profile would indicate that I am an average middle-aged woman. (Which is a good thing because that is what I am :) Though it's only anecdotal evidence, I know that I am not as strong as I was before starting HRT. When I was researching the physiological differences between elite male and female athletes, it was suggested that there is about a 10% difference between women and men. I'd agree that I'm about 10% weaker than I was before. Additionally, I feel as though I get 'winded' a lot more quickly than I used to.

G.    Another thing that adds a whole other dimension to this issue, is a consideration of the "slippery slope," when it comes to athletic performance. According to those that would banish trans females, their primary rationale is that trans females have an innate biological advantage over cis females. Of course, this conclusion is based on the data that concludes there is a 10% difference between male and female athletes. Keep in mind, though, points E and F. Trans females have almost assuredly had the peak of their athletic potential lowered by HRT. Be that it may, let's get back to a discussion of the "slippery slope." Are Black athletes superior to White athletes? Are White athletes better swimmers because Black people are "less buoyant?" Were people born into slavery bred to be more physically fit? Where do Hispanics or Asians fit in? I hope you were as offended reading those hypotheticals as I was writing them. But the fact remains that many ignorant, ill-informed, racist nincompoops have put forth many insane notions about supposed differences between races and athletic performance. If we start banning trans female athletes because people think they have an unfair advantage over cis female athletes, what's to stop people from introducing other capricious rationales as to why other subgroups of athletes shouldn't be allowed to compete?

Conclusion: Here's what I think. As much as I'd like to claim that every trans female should be able to participate in any athletic competition alongside cis women, I can't quite do it. Male born bodies, for the most part, have a certain physical athletic advantage over female born bodies. If, on the other hand, a trans female has had any surgical procedure that resulted in the removal of the testes, I believe that it is only logical to conclude that she should be allowed to compete with cis females. In fact, if the trans female has been on female HRT for a sustained period of time, she should be able to compete with other women, cis or trans. Listen: I know I'm weaker than I used to be, and I know it's harder for me to stay fit. Does that mean my athletic prowess has been diminished to the same point it would have been had I been a cis female rather than trans? That's a question we'll never have an answer for. But I've made a demonstrable commitment to living as the woman I know myself to be. Of course I should be allowed to compete with other women. The same thing is true of all the other trans females that have made a similar commitment.

 

Number 146

Five Years Down the Road

"So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun..."

So begins John Lennon's famous holiday song "Happy Xmas/War Is Over."  I've been thinking about these opening lines recently - not for their reference to December holiday celebrations - but the notion of "another year older, and a new one just begun..." In my particular case the specific event in question occurred five years ago on February 14, 2016. That is the day that my wife, Rebecca, died. 

"Another year over, and another one just begun." The inevitably of time marching on haunts me. There is something about it that feels like a challenge. That time is suggesting to me that after awhile, I will no longer remember Rebecca or her passing. And I suppose, ultimately that thought is correct. I only hope that that moment comes after I'm dead, too; and not before it.

The anniversary of her passing also begs another uncomfortable question. "Just how long are you going to continue writing about her death. Isn't it time to move on?" I dwell on that thought a lot - especially because I strongly desire to make these remembrances worthy of her; and not the emotional equivalent of a sappy Hallmark card. That nagging voice asks: "How ya gonna make it interesting this year, Sport?"

Sometimes I ruminate on the question of "why" too much when I'm trying to figure out the solution to life's little difficulties. Cindy will say to me something along the line of: "It doesn't matter why - only that it is..." 

In this particular case, however, I think the "why" is the crucial question to the thoughts that plague me during this time of the year.

I loved her. I still do.

Number 145

 Apologies (Part II)

Back in AtRP #124, I apologized to some folks whom I felt like I owed an apology. Here's round two. Interestingly, everything here happened while I was still a teenager.

1.    How old was I in the 9th grade? 14? 15? Looking back, it's easy to recognize how ridiculously immature I was at that point. Of course, back then, I didn't have the insight or the introspective abilities to monitor my hormonally challenged tendencies towards idiotic/inappropriate behavior. Because there's a medium chance that this might be read by a few high school classmates, I intend to be very vague. I already owe one apology to a specific person - I have no desire to owe them a second one by writing about the incident in question with enough detail that others can figure out to whom I am offering my apology. 

Recently, in reaction to coming to terms with my identity as a trans woman, as well as the #metoo movement, I have spent time reconsidering my past behavior towards the women/girls in my life. I was hoping I would reach the conclusion that I had been "a perfect gentleman" throughout my pre-transition life. Alas, that was not entirely the case. (mostly, but not entirely.) In any event, back in 9th grade, my response to an earlier conversation I had with a classmate was inappropriate and objectifying. To that person, I am sorry.

2.    I've got to be a little bit careful with this one too - for the same reason as above. When I moved to Connecticut from Ohio right before I started seventh grade, it took me a few years before I found a friend group to which it felt like I belonged - the academically inclined, music and theater geeks crowd. At any one time, when that entire group got together, there was probably about 30 - 40 of us. Of course sub-groups of closer friend circles existed within the overall group. In my group, there was about six or seven of us. Chances are, when Friday and Saturday nights rolled around, it was with this group that I could be found.

One member of the group, through no fault of his own, was kind of in charge. He just kind of had an 'alpha' personality, and more often than not, it was his ideas and plans that got embraced and followed through on. For the most part, it was cool. I mean, we were all having fun, so what was the big deal? Occasionally, however, this meant that some of his worst tendencies were embraced by the group when those ideas should have been ignored. At one point, he and another member of our group had a falling out. I do not know over what. All I know is that all of a sudden one of my friends had been ostracized from our group, along with a very unsubtle message that the rest of us should discontinue our own friendship with this person. To my regret, I followed through with this unwritten edict. All of a sudden, this person was on the outside looking in, abandoned by virtually every friend he had had. I'm not even sure if he knew what or why it had happened. It must have been painful. If I gave it any thought at the time, it was probably to think, "Thank God it wasn't me." I was a chickenshit coward to one of the few close friends I had in high school, and to him I offer my humblest apology.

3.    Between my first and sophomore years of college, I worked at a summer camp as a lifeguard, etc. (The "etc." part involved a lot of bathroom cleaning and dish washing.) The specific job requirements, as well as the geographical location of the camp meant that's where I lived, too. Most of the camp's programming during the summer was for children who were in 3rd - 8th grade. In other words, my horny 19 year old self had little in the way of visual temptation. However, the last three weeks of the summer were reserved for "Band Camps." Three different high schools brought in their students who were band members in order to work on their half-time routines for the upcoming football season. Suddenly, there were a lots of (almost) appropriately aged females for my horny 19 year old self to gaze upon. And since I was a 'college man,' I felt a confidence that had always eluded me back when I was in high school myself.

I do not remember her name or her age, but I recognized that she had a crush on me. It was flattering, and I was lonely (as well as horny), so I didn't discourage her. Actually, that's not quite right. I believe that, more accurately, I encouraged her. In any event, for three or four evenings running, we found ourselves a quiet spot to engage in activity probably best described as "rounding second base, heading for third." Perhaps, like me, she was only interested in a little bit of teenage carnal delight with someone she would probably never meet again. But she did give me her address on the last day, telling me she "hoped I'd write." Gulp. In retrospect, I took advantage of her, because the power dynamic between us wasn't quite equal for a few different reasons. So, I'm sorry it's taken me 36 years to do this, but, where ever you are out there, I'm sorry.

Number 144

 Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before...

Of late my depression covers me like a fog. Situationally, I'm sure, this is directly related to the realities of living a quarantined life. But having knowledge of the reason why seldom matters when it comes to depression.

"Hey, Depression. My life is kinda tough right now. You know, the whole COVID thing? Ya think you might take it easy on me for awhile?

"No."

The other thing I'm pretty sure of is that my depression is primarily fueled by bad brain chemistry.  

"We've got another bridge out on the serotonin uptake highway and the dopamine is really backed up. If you can avoid that area of the brain today, I'd advise it. Now back to Nan at the news desk."

But again, so what? Where it comes from matters just as little as why it's there. The end result is always the same - learning how to live/survive/co-exist with it. And right now it's relentlessly hard.

For me, it results in almost endless brooding. I do things to try and distract myself from it - listening to music, walking the dogs, watching shows on TV, surfing, playing phone games - but those only offer a fleeting diversion, for as soon as I finish a thing, I'm almost instantly back to the brood. It's interesting to note that there's usually not a thought or situation involved in the brood - It's just a pervasive feeling of emptiness and dread.

The most insidious part of my depression is the loneliness. It leaves me feeling all alone in the world. It leaves me feeling that I have no friends, and that no one cares about or loves me. Intellectually, I know this isn't true, but that doesn't stop the feeling. If anything it almost makes it worse, because now there's another part of my brain criticizing me for letting depression get the better of me.

Of late, my depression covers me like a fog.

 

Number 143

 Quick Hits

1.    I can't even begin to understand just how - and I'll use a clinical term here - nuts Mike Lindell has become. He had to have some kind of smarts and business savvy to run a successful business all those years, right? He had to have at least a casual relationship with reality. What caused him to turn into the type of raving lunatic one sees in Times Square that even New Yorkers, who are nonplussed about most things, do their best to avoid?

2.    Speaking of crazy, Marjorie Taylor Greene was in the news this week. All my life I've heard conservatives/Republicans decry how permissive liberals/Democrats are. That they have no moral code, and lack the ability to accept responsibility for their actions. I think things might have gone a lot better for her had she demonstrated a small amount of humility, and accepted culpability for her actions. Instead, she double-downed on her own brand of stupidity and ostracized herself even further.

3.    It was really cold in Minnesota today - below zero all day. And yet it was a beautiful day outside.

4.    I owe Tom Brady an apology. Last year, when I picked my three all-time quarterbacks for my all-time football team, I chose Aaron Rodgers, Joe Montana, and John Elway. Of Tom I said: "No offense, I just think he's the best 'system' quarterback ever, and not one of the three all time best." In other words, I was crediting Bill Belichick with some of Tom's success. In light of yesterday's Super Bowl, I, obviously, was wrong. The good news is I can get rid of Elway - which as a long suffering Browns fan is entirely satisfying - and put Tom in his place. Tom, I'm sorry.

5.    I miss going to the movies.

6.    I miss going to the Coffee Hag and writing my blog there.

7.    I miss visiting with friends in person. I miss hugs. I miss singing with all my girlfriends in Calliope.

Number 142

A Day In the Life (Of a Mentally Ill, Transsexual, Stone Cold, Psychopathic Freak)

Below you will find a small sampling of comments from the interwebs that people actually wrote/said about me and my transgender siblings. It didn't take me terribly long to find them. Now I am quite sure that the three readers of my blog will be as appalled as I was when they read them. I know I'm preaching to the choir for the most part. And, in spite of the horrific vitriol contained in these comments, my intent is not to shock. My readers are smart enough to know that neanderthal buttheads like these folks do exist. Nor is my intent to try and explain how hurt I am by the hateful ignorance that oozes from these comments. Sure, the comments kind of make me sad, but seriously, these folks are dumb - why would I invest in them the power to hurt me? No, I have another purpose today, but before we get there, go ahead and read the prattlings of morons...

 

"Those transsexual freaks can go piss in the bushes."

"If you want to learn the awful truth about "transwomen" just spend a little time on twitter do a search on jk rowling. These people are the furthest thing imaginable from real women. The majority are to all appearances extremely narcissitic and/or autistic sociopaths who tend to react with VERY violent rhetoric and threats of rape and death to any real women... they deem to be less than 100 per cent accepting of their "womanhood." Stone cold psychopaths."

"Why do you pick a mentally ill person to be HHS Secretary? This one looks like an aging male bar band rock wannabe to boot." 

 

"Can't figure out what you are? Look between your legs. Still don't know? You failed biology. You are a special kind of stupid."  

 

"If the "it" ends up committing suicide the world will be a better place." 

 

"What the EFF is a transgender??? This is ridiculous! There are boys, girls and mental patients! End of story!"

Interesting, yes? 

So in light of my depraved psychopathy, I thought I would detail what I did yesterday in order to corroborate just how fucking strange this particular trans woman is.

4:37 AM    Woke up to pee. I'm 55 now, and rarely make it through the whole night without at least one potty break. Thankfully, after a few hands of solitaire on my phone I am able to get back to sleep.

8:10 AM    Scrambled out of bed for a quick shower. I volunteer four days a week at a downtown church that serves a community breakfast. I'm supposed to get there at 8:30 - I'm already behind. I dress in my workout clothes, because I go to the gym after serving breakfast.

8:35 AM    Walk out the back door and head to the garage.

8:36 AM    Run back to the house for my f*cking car keys that are not in my purse where they belong! Did I remember to take my morning meds?

8:43 AM    Do the breakfast thing.

10:16 AM    Arrive at the gym. It's an aerobic day, so I ride a bike for 40 minutes. Plus an ab set - there's always an ab set (sigh).

11:45 AM    Pick up a small salad from Noodles for lunch. Back at home, I eat lunch while I watch one episode of "CSI." I'm slowly working my way through the entire series thanks to the magic of streaming.

12:56 PM    Okay, I watch a second episode. Blame it on COVID induced lethargy.

2:10 PM    The winter weather is half-way decent today, and the dogs have been cooped up for a couple of days. I whisper two words - "dog park" - to them, and pandemonium ensues. I'm immediately annoyed with myself for doing this because I forgot to put the special 'no-pull' collar on Max first so I must accomplish this task while two 70 lbs. dogs wrestle with one another.

3:47 PM    Last summer I realized that one of the basement window frames was rotted out. Ever since then, I've involved myself intermittently with a project of building a new frame and window to replace the old one. I decide it's time to finish the task. One sliced finger later and with hair full of ancient spider webs, I kind of get the new window in place. Of course it doesn't fit exactly right, but it will have to do for now. Hopefully I'll remember to take care of it in the spring.

5:00 - 7:00 PM    Cindy and I sit together surfing our various electronic devices, each privately hoping the other will take the initiative and make dinner.

7:10 PM    After determining that mutually assured starvation is untenable, Cindy and I work together on our dinner.

7:43 PM    We sit down for dinner in front of the TV. Sue us. I am in charge of entertainment - a job I take seriously. As a trans woman, the irony that I'm in control of the remotes is not lost on me. I decide tonight will be a sit-com night. One episode each of "30 Rock," "Fraiser," "The Andy Griffith Show," and "Schitt's Creek."

10:21 PM    The dogs are summoned with a call of "last piddles and treats!" After which, all four of us head upstairs to bed.

11:03 PM    After a last surf, or a chapter or two from the latest book, it's lights out. Did I remember to take my nighttime meds?

Here's a question. Did any of you cis-gendered folks recognize yourself in there? I'm hopeful you did. And that is just the point I wish to make. Yes, I am a transgender woman, and there are certain times on certain days that I do things that are distinctly related to that, but for the most part, my life is, for lack of a better word, normal. In the spirit of full disclosure, a few of the meds referenced above relate to my hormone replacement therapy (the others are an anti-depressant and a sleep aid). And there were a few moments during my day that were specific to my trans identity; but seriously, if you were detailing your day, would you share all the intimate, private (non-sexual), moments of your day? There's a reason most of us like to close the bathroom door. 

I don't understand why there is such a loud, strident group of people who are so disturbed by my trans identity. I've shared the details of my personal journey of discovery before, so I won't do that again, other than to reiterate the point that my mental health is soooo much better now than it was before. So to hell with them. They don't know me, and I have no desire to try and untangle the knot of their intentional ignorance. I'm just another person in this world doing my best to make things a little bit better - just like most of you. That I'm trans has nothing to do with that.