Archive | October 2015

Common sense and decency prevails in the case of Tara Hudson

Tara Hudson

You may be aware of the case of Tara Hudson, a transgender female who was sent to an all male prison in the UK last week.

Despite having lived as a woman for her whole adult life and having undergone substantial gender affirming surgery, Tara has not yet legally changed her gender from male to female.

The good news is that she has finally been moved to a female prison to serve out the rest of her sentence, but not before over 150,000 people, including myself, had signed up to an online petition supporting that move and her having suffered 23 hours a day confinement and substantial and traumatic verbal taunts from other inmates.

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One Lovely Blog Award – It’s nice to feel appreciated

one-lovely-blog

Had a headache all night and woke up with it this morning. Bummer. 😦

Going through the emails and suddenly “WT….?!”, I find that a blogging friend of mine, Lennon Carlyle, has included me in the list of blogs she nominated for the “One Lovely Blog Award”. Are you kidding me?!

Like her I’m not really in to these things, but it is always nice to feel appreciated and to know that people do care about us, like what we scribble and how we present our thoughts and experiences, so here goes …

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Another step in the right direction

It hardly seems possible that it’s already a week since my GIC appointment.

I’ve been in something of a numb state since then, not really able to take it all in. After all the nervous build-up and the tension everything was so simple. Effectively I’d done all the hard work at my first appointment and last week was just a review and rubber stamping exercise, which was the last thing I’d expected.

About the only thing that has gelled with me over the past week has been the realisation that with the best will in the world I’m never going to “look right” with my own hair, unless the hormones combined with the Finasteride can somehow work miracles, and so a wig finally rose to the top of the pile as far as necessities are concerned.

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Brelyn Bowman, a woman of virtue

After the exertions of the past few days, not to mention the emotional roller coaster, I’m fairly exhausted. Had to get up to take wifey in to work this morning, but I went straight back to bed after I got home and slept until gone 3pm. Now I’m on the Tramadol because my body still aches so much, but at least it’s helping.

Today I’m going to leave aside matters of gender completely to discuss “respect”.

Reading through some of the stories on Yahoo I came across this one about a woman, Brelyn Bowman, who presented her father with a “Certificate of Purity” on her wedding day.

Yep, that’s right, a “Look, Dad, I’m still a virgin!” message.

As is always the case with anything to do with someone’s “personal choice” the reactions to this online have varied from support to vilification, but in commenting on this story I want to concentrate on it from a very simplistic point of view.

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I think she’s got it! … I think she’s got it!

I really don’t know where to start, so let’s start at the end …

It seems I have my diagnosis !!!  YAY !!! WOOT !!! *dancing around the kitchen like a demented squirrel*

In the words of Henry Higgins in My Fair Lady, “I think she’s got it! … I think she’s got it!”

Here’s how it went …

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If happy little bluebirds fly …

Early night for me tonight, after I’ve painted my nails, so that I have time for all the other preparations in the morning before heading off to get my hair done and then on to the GIC … with the faint hope of getting my hormones.

I heard this again this morning and the symbolism really cut into me.

Lyrics to Eva Cassidy’s version of “Somewhere Over The Rainbow”

Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There’s a land that I heard of once, once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream,
Really do come true.

Someday I’ll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops,
Away above the chimney tops,
That’s where you’ll find me.

Someday I’ll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops,
Away above the chimney tops,
That’s where you’ll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream,
Really do come true.

If happy little bluebirds fly above the rainbow
Why, oh why can’t I?

A tough 48 hours ahead

As I am writing this it’s a little under 48 hours from when I should be on my way home from the Gender Identity Clinic (GIC) and it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

My wife is Chinese and for both cultural and personal reasons has never accepted my desire to be accepted as female. “Never in my lifetime” is the expression she tearfully uses to describe her feelings when the possibility of her having a transgendered husband is ever discussed, which is extremely rare anyway.

I belatedly told her about my first GIC appointment, some months after the event, but tonight I’m going to have to tell her that I have my next appointment on Wednesday, that I’ll be needing to get up early on Wednesday morning so as to prepare, I’ll be getting my hair done on the way there, and that as time on Wednesday will be so short I will need to do my nails on Tuesday evening.

This won’t go down well!

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Recollections (More GIC practice)

When I was very young Tony, a next-door neighbour of ours, adult male and the “son” in the family, used to make dresses for his niece. As I was about the same age and size as her I would often go round there to “model” them so that the fit could be checked; sometimes with my parents present, sometimes alone. I’m reminded now of those pins sticking into me as I walked around in the dresses and scratching sometimes as the dresses were put on and taken off. eep!

I loved putting those dresses on. I loved the feel of the material, the styles, the hang of them, the lovely little puffy sleeves … they felt wonderful!

But what I also remember very vividly, and have always remembered, is when I would walk into the living room and his parents, and mine if they were there, would say things like “Oh, doesn’t he look pretty!”, or “He looks so beautiful in that!”, “Gorgeous!”.

Sometimes I would go round next door to put on a “finished” version and toddle (metaphorically speaking) back round to ours to show Mum how “beautiful” I looked in it, and when I stepped out into the summer sunlight wearing those sweet little dresses I felt absolutely fabulous!

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Just when I needed a hug …

It’s been a bad week.

I’ve been feeling really low for many reasons and it got to the point yesterday when I realised that other than my 30-Something nephew J who gives “brotherly” hugs, and who I don’t see often enough, I haven’t actually had a hug for almost 3 years.

Sure Danny and I hug in Second Life, or at least our avatars do, and knowing that he’s there for me wanting to be with me and holding me close, that’s the highlight of my day even though we’re only in simulated physical contact. I share “symbolic” textual hugs with S, Z and other close friends in Second Life too.

But what my innermost self needed was to feel that squeeze when you and someone else really take hold of one another, hug, and mean it.

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Doing a lot of reading

One of the ways I’ve benefited since starting this blog is that the WordPress Reader has enabled me to focus in on some interesting material with regard to the whole process of transitioning that I wouldn’t otherwise have come across; useful tips and guidelines, the experiences of other people both as transgendered individuals or their friends/relatives, and motivational posts or wordings which help to boost my confidence.

Ever since my accident 9 years ago I’ve had great difficulty with committing myself to reading much because of the concentration it takes and trying to justify the “worth” of it because within a very short space of time I’m so likely to forget that I ever read things in the first place. It’s because of that very fact that I’ve completely given up even trying to read books.  As much as I would dearly love to settle down for a day and devour a good read from cover to cover (my old way), trying to read a book in bite-sized chunks, such as a chapter a day, would be impossible both from an organisational and “keeping up with the story” viewpoint; I’d have forgotten what I’d read before, who any characters were, the interactions between them, etc. etc.. (In the eyes of the medical profession, of course, this in no way inhibits any aspect of my daily life).

But blogs are different.  Blog posts can be spoon-fed to me, and it really isn’t that important a lot of the time to be able to remember what happened yesterday or in some previous post by the author. If I need to refer back to anything to help in my understanding of anything or to contextualise anything in particular then I can just do so by switching to a different tab in the browser.

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