Joan Jett is Everything

Q: Who do you look up to?



It was her birthday recently, so this is likely to get lost among the million things you'll have seen posted about her in the last little bit, but I have to talk a bit about how much Joan has meant to me over the years.

I remember when I was stationed in Germany for the three miserable months I was there, the bright shining light of the whole experience for me began with buying a copy of the rock music mag Circus, which had a big article on the Ramones.  It was the first time I had heard of punk rock, and it rung a very loud bell for me.  I felt the same thing I had felt as a tyke when I first heard of The Beatles.  It was all laid out -- the simplicity, the power, the uniqueness.  It was that original rock and roll charge.  I was walking around K-Town a couple of days later and spotted a record store.  I went in and started combing the stacks.  This was kind of a new activity for me, but I had done it previously looking for John & Yoko stuff.  The little record/music store in Calais, ME (where I loved for my last year or so of high school) had about 3 racks of records, so there wasn't very much to look at there.

In that store in Germany, which I wish I could remember the name of (It was on Königstrasse in Kaiserslautern, if I recall, and is long gone, I'm sure) I started with the Rs, because I wanted to get something by the Ramones, and I think I found my own copy of Rocket to Russia) but pretty soon I started to feel lost, because there was so much I didn't know, so I asked a clerk to help me (he spoke English very well) and he started pulling out records for me.  I stopped him at about 20 things, but I noted most of them for later.  I took home the Ramones, the Stranglers Rattus Norvegicus, and the first Runaways album.  I loved them all, and everyone else in the barracks hated them.  They sounded nothing like either the Commodores or the Marshall Tucker Band, though some of them kind of saw some value in Rattus Norvegicus because of the keyboards, I think.

But I was hooked!  There were no other Stranglers records, but next payday I bought the other two Ramones albums and 3 more Runaways records, and a few other things as well.  I liked the way that music was simple yet complete.  I liked the Runaways especially because I had never heard of an all-girl rock bacd before.  I was immediately drawn to Joan.  She looked tough and smart and I was a compulsive sleeve and label reader, so I knew that she was the main songwriter for the band.  My favorite of their records was the last one I got in Germany, Waitin' For the Night, which seemed more like their record than something whipped up by their svengali Kim Fowley, and had Joan on lead vocals, because Cherie had left the band.

Joan Jett is at the heart of my ideal for the way to conduct a good life. She had a dream and she made it real, blazing a trail into uncharted territory.  When that dream fell apart, she kept going and remade her dream even better.  She didn't let setbacks stop her.  They still don't.  Every hard thing that she goes through seems to be fuel for new growth.  After her band the Blackhearts lost their major label record deal, she stripped down her sound and soon was making even better records, like Pure and Simple, from which the track above is taken.  She's a year older than me, almost to the day, and she is still on the upswing.  I consider her most recent album, Unvarnished, to be her best work yet.

Here's an example:  I get this song stuck in my head from time to time:



I've known about her, identified with her, and admired what she does since we were both teenagers.  If I were anyone other than myself, I would want to be Joan Jett.

In the Midst of Denial, There's Still the Truth

Q: Who was the first person you told about being trans?

Andy Asboe (a former roommate) was someone I said something to early on. We were talking about T replacement and I said that if it were me, I would go "the other way." He was confused about that at first, but after a minute he was like "Oh..." I think that conversation changed things between us. He was more distant with me after that.

I think, though, that this was after I had spent a year in therapy trying to figure out what was wrong with me -- why relationships were not working, why I couldn't remember a time that I wasn't depressed, why I always felt wrong, etc, etc, etc. I just talked about my feelings and my history and I would mention something like how I liked it when customers thought I was a female when they walked up behind me at work. I'd say something like that and she would give me these "significant" looks. 

I was in denial. I thought being trans was a terrible thing. I had so much internalized transphobia and I didn't want any of that to be associated with me. I kept thinking about how my mom would react if she ever found out. I never admitted that I wanted to live as a woman in any session.  When it became clear that we were circling around my having to admit it to myself to move forward, I quit going.

We talked over the phone when I told her I wasn't coming back and she said outright, finally, that she thought I had gender issues, and asked if I wanted to come back and start talking about them. I said yes, but I never did go back to her. It was just too much for me to deal with.

I didn't talk to anybody about how I was feeling again for over a decade. Now I wish I had continued. I feel like that twelve years was time I wasted feeling awful and having my body get older and more T poisoned.

Diane the "Activist"

Q: Are you active in the trans community or LGBT community?

OK, I've just experienced my first block.  I'm powering through!

This is a hard one for me because I have a very nebulous idea of what "active in the community" means. Does this refer to how I fit in, or how much time I spend in my life talking to members of the community, how hard I'm working for the community or what working for the community might entail, or some combination of those things plus some other intangible.  Maybe the measure of what "active in the community" is comes down to the amount of gratitude one feels and how one uses that gratitude in one's life.

I am in the transgender and TLBG community, like it or not. I can't help but be. I love trans people. I have many trans and queer friends. I get excited every time I meet someone new who is also part of my community. I want to see us all become happy and live productive, creative, connected and happy lives.  

Am I being asked to quantify what I give back? Probably I don't give back enough, but I do contribute. It's worth noting that all of us contribute by being visible and living our authentic lives. Visibility is crucial. It brings with it two statements. It says "This is what it means to be trans*" and it also provides an example for those who come after us. "Yes, you can live a happy and fulfilled life. If you are feeling the need to change your alignment in regards to gender in the world, if you've been told you're one gender but have never felt like what they tell you about yourself is the truth, you have my example to consider. Happiness is not at all impossible."

Along those lines, I feel a lot of gratitude towards so many who came before me:  Bethany, Gina, Ariana, Maggie, Janet, Jenny, Laverne, Namoli, Brenda, Meghan, Jerica, Erin, Renée, and Paris are just a few of the ladies who have shown me that what might be possible.  Thank you for being my examples.  I know that your lives have not been without struggle, but I see that you have come through and gotten to a better place.  You have all shown me that I could be happy.  Thank you.

Oh, Family. Oh, Love.

Q: How did your family take it when you came out? If you are not out, why aren't you?

Yeah, they know about me now. The reaction has been predictably mixed and to some degree inscrutable. I expect I will know more in coming weeks when I travel to Texas and then Colorado to visit family around my Mom's birthday. My brother Michael was immediately supportive. Mom sounded supportive at first (with a few caveats), then took a nosedive around the time that Chaz Bono came out, but has come around to being fairly accepting.

Family in Texas is a little bit of a mystery to me, they're all very hardcore Christians and I haven't heard much from most of them, with the exception of one cousin who is guardedly welcoming. I have pushed the issue with her probably a little more than is necessary (talking about sin, etc.) but in my mind it comes down to are we both the same people we've always been? That's hard to answer. I think on some levels we are, though we have both been through a lot of life since we both lived in the same town as kids and she was my favorite person in the entire world. I just can't help but look forward to seeing her, no matter how anxious I am about it.

The rest of the family there really is an unknown quantity. None of them have reached out to me, but to be fair, I haven't reached out either. In fact, I realize that I am not officially out to many of them for that reason. My sense is that right now I am not well thought of in certain circles, but I won't know that for sure until I cross that Rubicon.

Colorado family is somewhat a different story. There is the same Christian history and activity, but it's not quite as pervasive there, and I know that in some circles I have been and will be welcomed. There are, however, those in that branch of the family who have not sought me out and likely won't. I could expend a lot of energy fretting and regretting, but I am not going to. I will talk to and, if allowed, embrace any and all of them.

I'll be more upset if my mom or my brother are taking any flak on my account. That will be harder for me to forgive.

Determination

Q: Have I ever been outed?

I feel like I out myself every day just by how I look and how I sound, but...

As for anyone "blowing my cover," I have to say that in general, my friends have been supportive and considerate. Also, as time goes on, my concerns about being read and/or being misgendered lessen slowly.

Where I've had trouble it's been with strangers, a couple of times early in my transition when I was most vulnerable, and once with someone who was an acquaintance but not a friend. Being read is bad enough. I often try to avoid this by telling people I'm trans right up front. Worse than being read is when someone clocks me and then feels the need to announce that they've done so to their friends. This has happened 4 times that I can recall.

They'll have some sort of facial twitch that lets me know I've been read, but then they'll "discreetly" tell their friends about me. One example is when I was in line at a burrito place and the guy who was making my lunch looked up at me, smirked, then looked down at his work, giving the guy working next to him a little nod and said "Es un hombre."

Subtle!

Another time I was out at a coffee shop, intending to sit there and read for a bit. I ordered an iced coffee, and as the guy behind the counter looked startled for a second. This was really early in my transition, so I hadn't learned to recognize that look yet. I found a table and sat down to my book. A few minutes later, I heard a commotion from the back room: two guys were laughing. I knew something was up but I had decided by this time that I wasn't letting people's ignorance stop me, as I had for all my life up until then. As I was walking out a bit later, the guy who had served me my coffee quickly raced back to find his friend, but I didn't wait around for them to gawk at me.

Still another experience along these lines happened at the Whole Foods near my electrologist's office. I'm a former employee of that company (which wasn't very trans friendly when I worked there) and when I walked in, I saw a former coworker, and I could tell that he recognized me.  I said "hi" and went on with my shopping. I thought nothing of it, other than that it was good to see him, but the next few times I came into the store his name would be called over the PA almost as soon as I entered the store. He also began posting anonymous comments on my blog, which are still there, somewhere. I knew it was him.

All of these incidents happened early in my transition. They don't seem to happen any more. I think there are two reasons for that. One is that the incongruence between my appearance and my presentation has subsided a great deal. I have curves, I've pretty much killed my beard, the texture of my hair has changed, and my skin has softened. You have to work a little harder to see the evidence of testosterone poisoning. The other reason is the increased visibility of trans people in general. I have to express my gratitude to people like Laverne Cox, Janet Mock, and Jenny Boylan for their efforts on behalf of all of us in the trans community.  Their support, their articulate and dignified presence, and their willingness to advocate for all of us has made a huge difference.

I have one more experience to tell you about. It was the first time I was ever outed. I was in the early days of working out my gender issues with the help of a therapist. I had not begun HRT yet, but I was taking my first tottering steps into womanhood. I had just started going out into the world in the clothing of my true gender.  It was a step I had to take, even though it was really scary for me. I had always been very worried about the 70 bus. That's where this happened, one of the very first times I rode on it dressed as me. It was a cold day and I had on my new jacket, and that's what started things off. There was a teenaged girl sitting behind me with her boyfriend.

"Hey," she said, loudly, "that's a girl's jacket." I thought for a second about responding, I half turned around but then thought better of it. She shouted at me again, repeating herself. I didn't react. I was scared of a confrontation, and I was on a crowded bus. What would happen if I got into a "situation?" As humiliating as it was, as done as I was with taking crap for being who I am, I just sat there. We got to Central Square, I stepped off of the bus, and that was the end of it. It was a relief and a little bit of a victory.

Me Chama Diane

Q: How did you choose your name, and what names were you thinking about using and why?

I've talked about the process of choosing my name before, and the associated weirdness based on there being a cousin of mine with the same name. To summarize, I picked my name when I was 6 or 7. My Dad always told me that if I had been "born a girl" (surprise! I was!) I would have been named Mathilda, after the Australian national anthem. I didn't want to be Mathilda (which felt very old fashioned and uncool and not me), so I decided to change one letter in my former middle name and go by that instead. I've been "Diane" since then. I legally changed it in December of 2011.

Addendum: My old name is actually my Mom's family name, also changed by one letter. She wanted me to carry on her family name since hers disappeared when she married. I sympathize but I hate that name and I don't like hearing it and I am not typing it into this post.

Sorry Mom. Sincerely. I understand your feelings, but this is my life. I deserve to be happy and at peace with myself, if it can be managed.

*The Portuguese in the title of this post is there because I am learning that language now.  It makes sense to me to do that because this post is about the words we use and how they relate to our identity. 

Discovering My Trans Identity

Q:  When did you realize the term "transgender" referred to you?

I am flippin' old.  

That's not a complaint, it's an observation I'm making as I think about answering this question.  It comes to me because my awareness predates the first time I heard that term by decades. 

I'm not going to go through my whole intake interview with Fenway Health (that was a hard, heart-wringing hour, and we barely scratched the surface!), but maybe I can bullet point a little?  I've always been female identified.  I have never been comfortable with a male identity as applied to me, and when I tried to live under that burden I hated me every day.  I felt like a failure.  I felt wrong.  It was like an ever-present low grade electric current running through my body.  I didn't want to be touched.  I felt disgusting, always.  I would have these little moments where somehow I would be in a feminine context one way or another and the whole earth would shift on its axis and the Sun would come out and shine down warmly.  And then I'd feel guilty and foolish and sad again.  It was kind of unbearable, more so as life went along.  I never had any hope or any faith in myself.  That's slowly changing now...

The other approach to this question is to talk about the first time I heard that particular term.  Sadly, I don't have a specific memory about hearing the word "transgender."

Like I said, I'm flippin' old.  What I remember is Dr. Renee Richards, the ophthalmologist and professional tennis player, who transitioned in the mid seventies and fought to be recognized as a woman by the United States Tennis Organization so that she could participate in tournament play as her true self (she won.)  The word I heard was "transsexual,"  and I knew immediately that it applied to me.  I also heard everyone around me saying the most awful things about her.  And though they didn't know it, I heard every one of those remarks as being about me.  

After that, the kinder, gentler umbrella term we use now was hardly difficult to hear.

Why Trying to Explain How I Shouldn't Feel Dysphoric Won't Work.

Dysphoria is a symptom.

I'm not trans because I hate my gender. Actually, I'm pretty happy about my gender.

No, the problem arises because gender is invisible. Because gender -- as opposed to sex -- is defined within a person, by means we don't fully understand, we can only determine a person's gender by what each of us genuinely expresses based on our subjective understanding of ourselves.  

Because the culture we live in values objectivity over subjectivity, people like me, who define ourselves as something other than what any quantifiable standard dictates, find it very difficult to defend our feelings, or justify any pronouncement we might make about who we are.

That is the source of dysphoria.  Because I have a lifetime of not being able to reconcile my internal reality with how the world sees me, I am dysphoric.  

I was essentially invisible for most of my life.  It was traumatic, every day.  Because I was asserting an indefensible belief about myself, I also doubted.  How could I be a girl?  Girls have vaginas. I have a penis. That's what I thought, even as I found myself deeply uncomfortable with male aggression and insensitivity, and only felt happy and in any way at ease with myself when I was socializing with other females, even as I rebelled against my body and the changes I went through in puberty (I used to cry in the shower, praying to a God I believed in less and less to change my body to what I thought it should be, and to go through female puberty instead of what was happening to me), even as I got more and more depressed as I went through my teenage years, and into a twilight zone of denial and avoidance through much of my "adulthood."  I wanted to be anyone other than who I was, anywhere other than where I was, because I couldn't possibly be who I felt myself to be.  Anything was preferable to how I was living. That was how my dysphoria manifested in my life.  I hated myself, both because I couldn't be who I felt I was, and because wanting to be myself was impossible and foolish and, by the standards I was raised to, morally and logically wrong.

So, because I am trans, I hate being seen as the gender that is not mine, because a whole lifetime of experience has forced me to be associated with it.  It's like everything in the universe has conspired against me. Dysphoria is a type of PTSD.  Dysphoria is not reasonable.  It does not respond to logic, not least because logic has always indicated that I couldn't possibly be who I actually am.

Trying to explain to me how something that has aroused my dysphoria actually shouldn't make me feel that way is exactly the wrong approach to take with me.  My situation defies reason, at least any of the common reason available to an imperfect objective understanding.  Telling me not to feel the way I feel brings up all of the old horrible feelings I have always had.  It makes me wrong to feel the way I feel.  It drives me deeper into a depression I have not completely overcome, and may never be entirely rid of.

You can't "cure" me.  There's nothing for me to be cured of.  I am as I have been made, and that will never change.  You can't take away this suffering.  You can't explain how I shouldn't feel the way I feel.  The only way for you to help me deal with my dysphoria is to support me as I struggle to cope and to move forward in my life.

Sympathize.  Empathize.  Don't negate.

Intersectionality (a GeoPoem)

I am a transsexual woman.
     I need to love my body.
I am a singer.
     I need to sing.
I am a writer.
     I need to write.
I am a student.
     I need to study.
I am a Buddhist.
     I need to chant.
I am a wife.
     I need my baby to be happy.
I am a teacher.
     I need to learn as much as I can.
I am a work in progress.
     I need to stay positive and believe in myself.
I am a White person.
     I need to fight against racism.
I am a seeker of the truth.
     I need to let go of my attachment to lies.
I have the capacity to be happy.
     I need to fight for that happiness, and never give up on it.

Where Am I?

I am not here all that often, though I've been finding motivation lately. I'm on the web a lot, though, so where might you see more of me?

You can find a lot more content than I put here at my Facebook, though my privacy settings may frustrate the casual browser. Send me a friend requests, though. I'll likely add you.

I also have a twitter, and my handle is @transcreativity.

Those are probably the best places to see what I post on the web.

Liturgy For the Day After They Announced the End of the World

It's beautiful.
It's not ours.

Your stupid smart phone
Times a billion
Is destroying us.

Your dirty car
Times a billion
Is destroying us.

Your damned lies
Times a billion
Are destroying us.

It's beautiful.
Can't you see?

The sun, golden!
The river, dancing!
The trees, like shamans!
     Waving!
     Embracing!
     Staying!
     Swaying!

Us.
We're beautiful
We don't even see it.

The air.
You can't see it.
Still, it's beautiful.

Dance in it.
Glow in it.
Love it.
Embrace it.

God damn it,
Save us.
Love us.
Love me.
I love you.

Accept this gift.
Give it back.
Give it forward.

It's beautiful.

Damn!

Damn! Damn!
I missed the bus now.
Damn! Damn!
I missed two busses.

Standing here in the snow outside, I
Know that I will be late to work now.
Can't you see me pelt down the sidewalk
Praying for the change of signals?

Damn! Damn!
I missed that damned bus!
Damn! Damn!
There's two together!
Damn! Damn!
Maybe the second one?
Damn! Damn!
No, the second one dashed by.

Snow flakes reach their destinations.
Sun is blocked by clouds of snow.
Under the snow there must be crocus.
Under the ground there must be tulips.
I can't see them, they must be there.
All I'm seeing is the falling snow.
Damn it! When's the springtime coming?
Damn it! When's the next bus coming?

Damn! Damn!
I missed that bus now.
Damn! Damn!
There's a van getting towed now.
Damn! Damn!
I feel sad for them, but
Damn! Damn!
Here comes the bus now.

Confession #2

I need to sing.
That is how I'm built.
I've sung since I was little
And that was a long time ago.

I need to sing.
When I don't do it intentionally
My soul will sing to me.
My ears will latch on to any song
And I will sing it back to myself
Until the next song comes along.

I need to sing,
But as I say so often,
I hate my voice.
My voice is counter to who I am.
My voice sings in a way that
     No longer sounds like me,
     No longer communicates my soul
     But is what the voice that I have can do.

I need to sing,
So I sing in other ways.
I sing through my computer keyboard.
I sing by smiling and walking a little faster
In the morning down the street
To the bus stop.
I sing by telling my sweetie
That I love her
Over and over
Every five minutes
To the point where I'm annoying.

I need to sing, so
I sing ridiculous songs,
     Letting the humor shine my light,
     The irony itself twisting my pain
     Into a lopsided smile.

I need to sing
Because there's too much
That can't be expressed in any other way.

I need to sing
Because I know that the universe resonates
To the sound of a singing voice.

I need to sing
Because I also need to dance
With you
And singing as you dance
Is the best music.

Bricks

Note: This was written yesterday.

The bricks you amble down
Take the message of your shoes
Facing up but carrying
The passage that you're making
A short distance now
But continued and continuing.

If your mantle ever
Billows out around you
As you saunter from here
To there, and in the shadows
Beneath that cloak I see
A little bit of secret truth

Of course I will wonder
As I tread different bricks
On my own walk.

I see that your bricks
Are like the ones beneath me
And my own black mantle
Billows, though I try to hold it closed,
Casts light into my own shadows.

I both worry
And hope
That you might see.

Spiritual Diagnosis

In the morning
I get this shot of joy
It lasts for about a half an hour
And then fades.

I know what it is:
It's the light.

I live in a cave.
No windows in my office.
The sun goes down before I go home.
It's only in the mornings that I see the sun.

I need a vista
I need golden light
I talk about sunlight on leaves
And people think it's just something I like.

It really isn't!

Going Out on a Limb Here...

Nobody thrives on abuse
It doesn't make you stronger
Dishing it out is not power
Taking it is not strength

I've made that mistake
Learned that thinking too well
That costs too much
And it keeps costing.

The Buddha sat under a baobab.

What is power to a tree?
The power of a tree, I think, is
     to take in light and
     to make nourishment for itself.

What is strength for a tree?
The strength of a tree is
     to give shade,
     to grow tall and spread out its limbs,
     to give small things a home, and
     to grow fruit.

Great Tunes

I hear birds outside!
There is the sound of hope
On a March morning.

Black snow piled high in my yard
Ice on the sidewalks
Freezing in this house most all of the time

But right outside
On the power lines
I hear a promise.

Confession #1

Anyone would think that maybe there was a way
To ask for the things we need
Without giving ourselves over to the worst
Feelings of inadequacy.

I am a person who has felt self loathing
my whole life.
I am a person who realized she was smart,
But didn't feel like she was doing what she should

And because of that
Because I felt that way
I deprived myself of things I needed
Because I thought I didn't deserve them.

We all deserve happiness.
We all deserve to have our feelings acknowledged.
Me included
As hard as that is to accept sometimes.

Channel 5 Said

They must silence.
They must fashion
For themselves
A life of small things.

When they are not special
When nobody could have been
Then without our eyes
They must move on.

Then, you know,
Then we asked ourselves
As they showed themselves
What it is for us:

A time for many
As one of many
When all of us
Can praise each other.