Number 208

 Resiliency, Maybe?

Going back to the beginning, the first question to answer is: "Why?" Why did I want to participate in the EKWL program? Three reasons, really. (1) I had just taken on a position of leadership for the Holy Grounds breakfast program, and thought the EKWL program would be beneficial; (2) I thought it would help me begin to network with other social service organizations and their leaders in the Mankato community; and (3) I felt that hanging out with a group of woman all day once a month would be a lot of fun.

The question now is: "How did all that work out?"

Interesting question, because, to be honest, the program hasn't really informed the way that I do my job at Holy Grounds. It hasn't really helped when it comes to networking with other area social service agencies. And being among a group of women all day was not the "fun" experience that I thought it would be.

Sounds like a colossal waste of time, huh?

To the contrary, though it didn't meet my initial expectations it did provide many opportunities for growth: emotional, intellectual, and, thanks to Dr. Deb, even physical. Let me give you one example.

Ceceli asked us last month to reflect upon the question of how each of us become the woman we are today, and how does that impact our individual leadership style. In the moment, that question was daunting. Now a month later, the answer seems kind of obvious. Who we are, and how we lead is purely a product of the live each one of us has lived up to this point. To that end, I am a leader who wants to set a good example for the volunteers that I oversee. I want to be a leader who can admit to mistakes (my own - not other people's!). I want to be open to questions and concerns about the way things are done, and I want the volunteers to feel empowered to make decisions on their own, without worrying about being second-guessed by me.

But I'm not sure what this has to do with the woman I am today. And that brings me to the crux of one of the two things that I want to say to all of you today. I'll get to the second thing in a bit.

Of all the subjects over the course of the program, the one that I had the most visceral reaction to was "Resiliency." In February we listened to two extraordinary women tell their stories of resiliency. They both left the country of their birth during times of horrible violence to settle in a new land where most of the people didn't speak their native tongue. "Holy shit!" I thought to myself, "I'm not sure I could have done that." (Which, I'm assuming, was not the intended takeaway hoped for by the EKWL coordinators.)

But, from there, my mind drifted to one of my least favorite cliches: The "I could never do what you do." An example: I have a friend who has a child with exceptional special needs. The list of things she must do to provide the exemplary, loving care that she does is long and exhaustive, and I marvel at her efforts. And though I may wonder to myself if I could do what she does, I've never said it out loud (well, until now). As a parent, I was not presented with the challenges that my friend must deal with, but I am hopeful that if I had been, I would have learned how to care for my child in much the same way my friend cares for hers. In other words, what seems extraordinary to me, is her normal. 

Back to our February meeting, I found myself reflecting that I have been privileged enough to never be in a position where I felt that leaving everything behind and moving to a strange new land was the best choice available to me. Could I have made the same brave choice our two friends did? I don't know, and I hope I never do.

Resiliency is, to me, the ability to keep moving forward in the face of struggle. Imagine Dory's mantra from the movie Finding Nemo: "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming." Sometimes, maybe, we might even overcome different hardships that get put in each of our paths. Maybe that should have been my takeaway from the two presentations. But "hardship" is a difficult thing to define. Often, what is challenging for one of us, is easy for another. And the infinite variety of circumstances that makes up all our lives scrambles up the concept of "hardship" even further. In my life, I have had to try and move on after my parents divorced when I was 11, a broken engagement in my early 20s, a lifetime of anxiety and depression exacerbated by undiagnosed gender dysphoria, and the sudden, way-to-early death of my wife when I was 50.

Maybe some of you have experienced the same, or similar experiences. I'm sure we could fill one of these white boards with all sorts of "hardships" we have had to move on from and try to overcome. And "overcome" is another dicey word to deal with, because 'over-coming' something can be a messy, years long process with a success rate that rarely reaches 100%. We all have scars - literally and figuratively.

Now, bringing it back to that day in February, I found myself thinking that everyone of us in that room already understood what resiliency was, as well as what it took to deal with hardship. It's hard as hell. Somedays feel like failure, and somedays it's all you can do to get out of bed, but resiliency exists in every tentative step forward. And as I think upon all of us, and our journey this year, I feel a swell of pride, because what I have learned is how incredibly strong each and every one of us is.

Now to the other thing I want to say. Thank you.

I have spent huge hunks of my life wondering where I fit in. Though this has proven to be an elusive challenge, a big piece of this puzzle fell into place with my realization a little over five years ago that I was a trans woman. But 'realizing' it was (and is), much different that 'living' it. Thankfully a perverse sense of humor helps. When Ceceli asked us to ponder about how we've become the women we are, my first thought was 'surgery.' Bad jokes aside, I was petrified last September that I would not be accepted by the rest of you...

quick aside: I don't have the first clue why I'm trans, and when I first began exploring my gender identity I did not want this to be the answer. But after 50 years I was committed to being as honest with myself as I could. When I finally declared my truth out loud one day in therapy, I felt a peace and a calm that had eluded me all my life. Still, I have no idea why I'm trans...

But you did accept me. And for someone who has spent as much time as I have wondering where I fit in, I can't even begin tell you how special that has been for me. So once again, thank you.

Number 207

 A Group of Morons...

... in eastern Oregon want to secede from Oregon and join Idaho. This is entirely political, as many of the folks who live in the eastern part of the state are Republican, while the majority of Oregon's population, which lives in the western part of the state, tend to be Democrat. The folks in the east want to join Idaho, because they feel as if they (and issues important to them), are being ignored by the Oregon state legislature. By joining Idaho, a reliably Republican state, our friends from eastern Oregon believe they will be better represented by a state legislature more philosophically aligned with their point of view.

Personally, I think this is a genius idea. Our friends in eastern Oregon are on to something. In fact I don't think they go far enough. I think we should redraw the borders to all 50 states. And in order to ensure equal representation we start by dividing the population of the United States by 50 (330,000,000/50), to get an approximate population for each new state somewhere between 6.5 to 7 million folks.

Start at the eastern tip of Maine, the southern tip of Florida or Texas, or even the western tip of the Aleutian Islands of Alaska and carve up the country in chunks that approximate 6.75 million people.

Of course that means that the New York metropolitan area, just by itself, would equal three states. And out in the west, where the buffalo roam, Nebraska, North and South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho (remember Idaho?), would combine to become a single state. Comparatively that would give New York City (alone) six U.S. senators and thirty U.S. representatives, while our new western geographical monstrosity would have two U.S. senators and ten U.S. representatives.

The area that makes up Southern California, with the San Francisco Bay area thrown in for kicks, would alone be divided into five states. For those keeping score that equals ten more senators and fifty more reps. In other words, our friends in eastern Oregon should be careful of what they wish for. If (and hopefully when), our country rids itself of the completely undemocratic electoral college and begins electing  presidents based upon popular vote alone (you know, they way every other election is settled), the results would leave them catatonic. So, yeah, eastern Oregon, thanks for the great idea.

Number 206

 Hey World, Meet Jan

Jan Foreman has long since gone to her reward. She wasn't famous by any stretch of the imagination, so you're forgiven for not knowing who she was. But once upon a time she did something amazing that changed the whole direction of her life (for the better, I might add). She spent her life (with her equally lovely spouse, Chuck), working to make the world a better place for others. For a big chunk of time, they worked in India as a Christian missionaries. When I tell you that, I'm aware that missionary work has, in many cases, a problematic history. But if you knew Jan and Chuck, you would understand that their efforts were not focused upon the conversion of others, but upon making the life's of the disadvantaged folks they worked alongside better. Theirs was a calling of service and not one of proselytism.

When I first met the Foremans, they were an elderly couple in my church. She was of short stature, plump, and slightly stooped. By contrast, Chuck was ramrod straight, tall, and thin as a rail. They were effortlessly kind, and carried themselves with a modest sort of elegant dignity. It was impossible not to like them.

The story I want to share with you concerns a decision Jan made in her late teens. I found myself thinking about her experience while I was considering the steady stream of hateful, misguided comments and legislation directed at transgender folks that is sweeping this country like a "Beatlemania" of toxic ignorance.

Jan came of age in a small Ohio town in the 30s and 40s. It was very cloistered, and it was very white. Another word might be racist. In any event, when she was 18, her church youth group went on a mission trip to Newark, New Jersey. Before she left, her father pulled her aside and said: "If there are any of 'those' people there, you call me and I'll come get you." In this particular case, you can probably guess that 'those' meant people who were Black. Jan, purely a product of her upbringing at this point of her life, said she would.

Well, you can guess what happened next. There sat Jan, in some church basement in Newark, surrounded by 'those' people. She found herself struggling with what to do. On the one hand, she had the indoctrinated hatred of her upbringing, based on ignorant hearsay, but on the other she found herself liking the Black youths she was meeting. In her telling of this story she always reflected upon how her experience with her new friends was so different than what she had been told to expect. 

Would she call her father or not? 

Jan: This tiny, young ,white woman from small town Ohio - who had been fed a steady diet of vitriolic stupidity about Black people all her life - decided not to call her father. She stayed in Newark and made new friends whose skin was a different color than hers. 

I've often wondered what might have happened to Jan had she called her father. Would she have become the wonderful, big hearted, generous soul that I met in the twilight of her years? A person who toiled to make the world a better place for others? We'll never know. But in a moment of choice, she allowed herself to be swayed by her own experience rather than falling back on bullshit lies. I've explained my experience as a trans person on this blog ad nauseam for a variety of reasons. One of which is that someone who has never met a trans person might recognize my humanity. And perhaps begin to understand that I'm a person not much different than them. The challenges we each face might be different, but the trying to overcome them is often very similar.

So world, I encourage you to be like Jan. Embrace new experiences, allow yourself to learn new things, and maybe allow preconceptions - based on nothing but fear and ignorance - to be washed away.

Number 205

 (unheard) Elton John

A few weeks ago on FB, I told folks about a series of playlists I have curated on Spotify. In case you missed it, they're easy to find - just search for "KNLH" and you'll find them. ('KNLH' are the call letters of my imaginary radio station). I'm constantly editing them so don't be surprised if they change from one listen to the next. I'm also open to suggestions for individual songs or ideas for new playlists. 

Now, in the past, I've often derided myself for all the time I spend on music (as opposed to doing all the many things I thought I 'should' be doing instead). I beat myself up: "Why are you wasting so much time 'playing' with music?" But this is where things get interesting. If you look back at all my past blog posts dealing with music, I always brag about how y'all should follow my recommendations because I'm so good at identifying great music. This is funny on two fronts: (1) I am usually my own worst critic; and, (2) My introverted nature abhors drawing attention to myself. Something about music brings me out of myself, and I've finally learned that this is actually a good thing. And sharing my love with the world makes it even better.

Without further ado, here is a description, in reverse order, of my (currently) available playlists:

KNLH # 17: (Unheard) Elton John     I was recently watching Elton John's final U.S. concert (from Dodger's Stadium in LA), and found myself thinking that I knew very little of his music beyond his greatest hits. While it is true that he has many 'greatest hits,' it is also true that he has released over thirty albums in his career. A few of them suck out loud, but I discovered that most of them had great, great music that I had never heard before. By the time I got done going through his discography I had found over 80 songs. If you've ever been a casual fan of Elton you'll probably know a few of these songs already, but so what? FWIW: The version of "Saturday's Alright For Fighting" is a live, ass kicking take (which is why it's included).

KNLH #16: Cover Tunes     Almost every song is a cover of a rock or pop song made famous by someone else. In a few cases, the cover has become the more famous version ("All along the Watchtower," for example), but for the most part I tried to avoid those situations. I also tried to avoid cover versions that didn't really do anything different from the original version. I've had a lot of fun with this one, and I'm adding to it all the time.

KNLH #15: Nora's Playlist     My own personal greatest hits playlist. I add to this one intermittently. One day it will have the most songs by far. If you're interested in knowing what makes Nora tick...

KNLH #14: Pop Favorites     A personal favorite. The included songs are all 'pop' songs (by my definition). I love how it skips around over many different decades and styles.

KNLH #13: 60's pop, rock, & soul     (self-explanatory)

KNLH #12: 70's rock     (self-explanatory)

KNLH #11: Goddess's of Pop    Another favorite. Powerful women singing across genres and decades. From Billie Holliday to Aretha to Lady Gaga (and so many more ass kicking women).

KNLH #10: 10+ Epix    This playlist is a bit of a lark. All the songs on this playlist are at least 10 minutes longs. Except for one that is nine seconds short of the mark, and "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" which I included because it is such an epic piece of musical cheese.

KNLH #9: Power Ballads    Break out your Bic lighters for this one folks.

KNLH #8: Broadway & Movies    Favorite songs from a variety of broadway shows and movies.

KNLH #7: Oldies    A great selection of songs from the 1950s and early 60s. 

KNLH #6: (Un)hard R 'n' R    I hate the term 'soft rock.' This is a great group of songs if you're with a group of people and you don't know their musical tastes. It's also great if you enjoy singing along.

KNLH #5: Heartland    Rock with a shade of country. Country with a shade of rock. Maybe a slight touch of folk.

KNLH #4: Dance Mix    This started as an homage to the disco music of my youth (that I abandoned in my teenage years). It has grown to include any song that puts a little wiggle in your fanny or a tap in your foot.

KNLH #3: Cyn's Playlist    'Cyn' is my beyond awesome sister-in-law. I put this together for her. (If you see her, tell her I need to add some more songs.)

KNLH #2: RnR     A long time ago I thought I would eventually grow out of my love for rock 'n' roll. It hasn't happened yet.

KNLH #1 Popular RnR    Of all my playlists, the one that's the closest to an actual radio station. But without all the commercials.

Number 204

 Grief, Guilt, Guns

Six innocent people are dead in Nashville, including three nine-year old children. I try to imagine what it must be like for those parents, but I can't get there. It's impossible to know what it must feel like to send your child to school in the morning only to learn later that day that they are dead - your child's body torn apart by a murderer's bullets. It's all so fucking pointless. And so, I feel grief.

____________________

This morning they're reporting that the shooter was a trans person. Just like me, except not. In the same way that a Black person doesn't know every other Black person, or that not all gay people know one another, I don't know every other trans person. In fact I only know a few. But that's not really the point I'm trying to make. What I want to say is that us trans folks are a very diverse group. In fact, I would guess that we probably have a person among us who is either sociopathic or mentally ill enough to perpetrate a mass shooting at roughly at the same percentage level as any other group you wish to mention.

I only bring this up because I'm sure the shooter's identity as a trans person will only encourage those that already use our existence as an excuse to aim ignorant, hate-filled rhetoric our direction to do so at an increased volume. I wonder if these same people speak out against white men (as a population), with the same vehemence every time a mass shooter is identified thusly. Still, this time the shooter is a trans person, and as a person who also shares that designation, I do feel a small degree of guilt.

____________________

Now, about guns. About a month ago I saw a bumper sticker attempting to school me on the evils of gun control by claiming: "It's not about the guns - it's about the freedom." I say "attempting," because to me, that statement is a huge 'self-own,' on the part of all the NRA backed wackadoodles out there. How so, you might ask. I'll get there, but let me back up for a few minutes here.

I admit to being ambiguously attracted to first person shooter games. I say "ambiguously" because I feel like I shouldn't enjoy them, but I do. And in the movies, when Arnold Schwarzenegger arms himself with some ridiculously huge firearm, I'm totally on board with the ballistically charged ass-kicking he is about to deliver. But in real life, no, I don't like guns. I don't own one, and have no desire to change that. Because it's unrealistic to suggest a world where guns didn't exist, I won't go there, but I sure do want to live in a world that has a lot less guns in it. 

But what about the 2nd Amendment? Ahhh, there's the rub, isn't it? The right to own guns is right there in the U.S. Constitution. Except it's not in the constitution - it's one of the amendments. You know, the way we keep our Constitution a living, breathing document by allowing us to change (or 'amend'), the rules or laws by which we choose to be governed. A new amendment curtailing the ownership of guns could theoretically become the law of the land at some future date. I don't believe that will ever happen because guns have become so fetishized by our culture. (Don't believe me - pick up any magazine devoted to firearms and look at the pictures of the guns found therein - they can put the centerfold pictures in Playboy to shame.) That I believe the second amendment has been grossly abused and intentionally misunderstood by those championing 'gun rights,' is besides the point, though.

"It's not about the guns," the slogan went, "It's about the freedom." Except, and this is where the wackadoodles end up with egg all over themselves, the ownership of fire arms by private citizens is not an absolute right. None of our "rights" are absolute when you come down to it. Freedom of Speech? You can't yell "fire" in a crowded theater. A Free Press? There are slander and libel laws to ensure that we don't knowingly lie about one another. If the right to bear arms was absolute, I would be able to go down to the local Chevy dealer and buy a fully operational Abram's tank, and Wal-mart would have a 'flame-thrower' section.

The fact of the matter is that restrictions on fire arms already exist. Creating new restrictions and/or enforcing those already on the book doesn't eliminate the already NON-absolute right, whatever it might be, that is guaranteed by the 2nd amendment, they only change the parameters of legal gun ownership. 

So. You want a handgun at home to help you feel more secure, I'm fine with that. Have a couple. Your family loves to hunt? Don't invite me, but you do you. And once again, you probably need multiple guns depending on the season. Just be sure to keep them safely locked up at home. But if you believe that you have a 'right' to a semi-automatic something or other with bump stocks so you don't have to stop and reload, we have a problem. The only herd an AR-15 seems to cull is innocent people

So, until you're ready to walk into the living rooms of those three families that lost a child yesterday and explain to them why your 'freedom' is more important than the life of their child, it's time for you to shut the fuck up, and try to be a part of the solution instead of a heartless obstacle.

Number 203

 Year Seven

Dear Rebecca,

You would be 62 this year. When I type that, it seems so young. Then I subtract seven years and arrive at 55. Christ, I'm two years older than that now. All of it feels impossible.

It's been a big year. Grace graduated college last Spring, and Emma got married in September. They are both so spectacularly beautiful it makes my heart hurt. Whenever I'm with them, I sense your shadow upon them. The hardest part remains celebrating these precious moments without you. 

I continue to put one foot in front of the other, even though moving on still feels like betrayal. I know it's not. And I know that I really have no other choice, but doing so hurts nonetheless. Sometimes my steps are sure, and other times they are tentative. Sometimes I detour down a dead end, and other times I feel like I might soar. It's funny. In both situations, thinking of you can either set me on the right path, or bring back to earth. In much the same way, I sometimes feel like I give your memory too much reverence, and other times I feel as if I don't give it enough. If that's confusing to you, I'm of no help. It's confusing to me too.

Just lately, I've been haunted by feelings of guilt. It seems as though all I can think of is all the ways I failed you when you were here. Thinking I did my best feels so inadequate and trite. Then I think of the financial and healthcare security you left for me, and I feel like an exploitive beggar. How did I get so lucky? What did I do to earn this?

I wish you could let me know it's all okay.

I love you.