Posts tagged: emotion

Boycott American Women!

By , July 18, 2011 1:31 pm

Someone recently posted the following to a post. I’m not including the links because you can put in your own effort if you really want to go to this site.

Why American men should boycott American women

I am an American man, and I have decided to boycott American women. In a nutshell, American women are the most likely to cheat on you, to divorce you, to get fat, to steal half of your money in the divorce courts, don’t know how to cook or clean, don’t want to have children, etc. Therefore, what intelligent man would want to get involved with American women?

American women are generally immature, selfish, extremely arrogant and self-centered, mentally unstable, irresponsible, and highly unchaste. The behavior of most American women is utterly disgusting, to say the least.

This blog is my attempt to explain why I feel American women are inferior to foreign women (non-American women), and why American men should boycott American women, and date/marry only foreign (non-American) women.


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Hospitals and being taken care of

By , February 3, 2011 6:35 pm

Dramatic lighting not included

My gallbladder was removed in May, marking my first extended stay in the hospital since I was maybe six or seven. And, as unpleasant as the experience was, it was also an eye-opener in a really surprising way: I like being taken care of.

I consider myself very independent. I have a great relationship with both of my parents, and am wiling (unlike my brother) to accept financial help from my parents. (And, in the case of my mom, accept challah, cookies, sweaters, bras, socks…) But the idea of being given financial or material help, for me, has always somehow been different than the idea of being pampered. Of being waited on. Taken care of. Which is what a hospital stay, almost by definition, has to be.

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If only I’d transitioned earlier

By , September 10, 2010 2:07 pm

RegretEarlier today, I was interviewed by someone from the Chicago Gender Society about my upcoming remount of Trans Form. We were discussing my history, things I feel proud of, things I regret. I said that I wish I’d transitioned earlier, but I’ve been trying to remember a realization of mine: Everyone wishes they had transitioned earlier.

I’ve been told, by trans people in their forties or fifties, that I’m “so lucky” to be able to transition when I am, with the support I have. And that’s absolutely true. But it would have been nice to be able to transition ten years earlier. That’s true, too.

I imagine that, whenever you realize you want to transition, and begin that process – be it at six or sixty – you’re going to say, “If only I’d transitioned earlier!” Because being trans is about realizing something isn’t quite right, and going about fixing it. And even if that something is only wrong for a few months, it’s still wrong.

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Departures and goodbyes

By , August 7, 2010 2:49 am

Today was the last day of camp where I work. It wasn’t my last day, but it was sort of a “conclusion of summer at work” event, with a post-show dinner for the staff and lots of goodbyes to campers (some of whom had been my campers a million years ago).

There were two shows today, at 3PM and 6PM, and it wasn’t until after the second show that I realized it was going to be a difficult evening. I turned to my intern, who was helping me run the box office, and said, “My goal for tonight is to not cry in front of campers.”

I…did not so much succeed.

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Three Questions

By , June 24, 2010 3:01 pm

Another writing exercise from my director.

1. What do you love?

I love getting out of my head. The feeling of doing something purely physical: playing a song on the piano that I know really well and flowing into the music; biking along the lakefront; holding a really good handstand or whipping around on a Spanish Web; a mind-blowing and body-cleansing orgasm.

I love solving a problem that has been itching at me. Of making technology bend to my will, and deliver satisfying and consistent results. I love the relief that comes when a solution is Right and True.

I love my body when I’m able to feel feminine. I love looking down and seeing my breasts, feeling their weight. I love the wonder of skin and and bone and muscle.

I love a strong sense of community: artistic, social, familial. Of understanding, and being understood. Knowing, and being known.

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Therapissed off

By , June 21, 2010 5:03 pm

A phrenology chartLate last week, I had a session with the doctor who is prescribing my citalopram. It’s only the second time I’ve seen him, and he’s a nice guy. However, he’s (self-admittedly) ignorant of trans issues, so I’ve had to do more explaining and defining in sessions with him than with Laura, my primary therapist.

I was telling him about my frustrations with my dad, and explaining how his use of the wrong names and pronouns really hurts me. The doctor’s response was, basically, “So?”

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The male gaze can jump in a lake

By , June 8, 2010 8:18 pm

While driving to work this morning, someone pulled up along side me at a stoplight and motioned for me to roll down my window. He was gesturing to the back of my car and saying something, and I worried that I had a light out, my trunk was open, or (worst of all) I hadn’t noticed a flat tire.

I rolled down my window and he started talking across the gap between our cars. I couldn’t really hear him over the rain, complicated by his soft voice and foreign accent. I finally understood that he was complimenting me on my bumper stickers. This happens every so often, and I always get a kick out of it. I have a couple dozen bumper stickers on the back of my car, ranging from the political – about Obama or women’s rights – to the silly (“No, I will not fix your computer”). I thanked him, and started to roll my window back up, when he yelled something I heard very clearly:

“Wanna meet up some place?

I rolled up my window, turned back to the light (green, by this time), and sped away.

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An apology and an explanation

By , June 3, 2010 11:15 am

Just sent this email to my dad.


I owe you an apology. I’m sorry I hung up on you last week – it was immature and unfair to you. It’s impossible to have a conversation when one party is no longer on the line.

That said, I’m not sorry I brought up how I’ve been feeling, even though I expressed myself really poorly. I need you to know that it hurts to be called “kid” and “child,” when I know you’re doing so to avoid gendered pronouns. It’s hurts, a lot, to hear you slip up and refer to me as “he” or my old name. I have no doubt that you love me. But like I said, I think you love me as your child and I want – desperately, painfully – for you to love me as your daughter.

But my frustration over how we communicate goes deeper than names and pronouns, and I need you to know that, too. I love you. I see so much of you in myself: my humor, my attentiveness to detail, my love of knowledge and education (and gadgets). So it’s all the more painful when I feel like we’re talking past each other, something that seems to be happening more and more.

When we talk, I feel like we’re having different conversations. You’ll ask a question, and before I’m half-finished answering it you’ll have asked another. It makes me feel like a client (or, worse, an opposing witness) rather than someone you love and care about. Or I’ll ask about how you perceived Billy Elliot’s father – whether he resonated with you – and be absolutely baffled when you say, “No, that wasn’t my experience.”

Than what was your experience? What is your experience? Because, from where I’m sitting, I feel like you’re ashamed of me. Or embarrassed. Awkward and unsure how to interact, torn between loving me and wanting to be done with whatever conversation or interaction we’re in.

So that’s why I hung up on you. I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry I did, but I become so flustered and so hurt when we talk, that I lashed out.

I love you, even when you frustrate the hell out of me

Oh father of mine

By , May 29, 2010 9:04 pm

I'm not convinced my father could carry me on his shoulders these days...

Earlier this week, I asked my mom to call my dad. I hate having her act as an intermediary between the two of us, but I wanted to figure out what – if anything – he’d be doing about my hospital bills and insurance since my telling him off. He’s been speaking with the “risk management” department at the first ER I visited, because when I finally got my gallbladder out they strongly implied the first ER should have caught the gallstones.

So my mom called my dad. She said she’d thought things out beforehand, and opened by asking him, “Rebecca asked me to talk to you about the insurance situation, and if you need to return any of the paperwork to her.” (My mom knew he didn’t, as I’d provided him with copies, but wasn’t sure how to say “So are you continuing to help your daughter while refusing to speak to her, or not?” without sound like she was judging him. Which she was, but didn’t want to sound like it.) He replied, “Nope. She’s fine to speak to the hospital herself,” and said goodbye.

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A perspective flip

By , May 28, 2010 3:47 pm

No, I'm not pretending I'm the cute blond in the middle.

A few months ago, I was having dinner with some friends after our circus class. We were chatting about relationships – I was bemoaning my lack thereof – and someone mentioned how her boyfriend was an awkward geek. I said, “Well, as an awkward geek myself, I feel obligated to stand up for my fellow geeks.” Both of my friends turned to me, and simultaneously said something along the lines of, “You’re not awkward. And you may be a geek, but you’re a hot geek.”

I don’t say this to toot my own horn, because I didn’t (and don’t) particularly believe them. But I do bring it up to talk about a perspective flip I’ve had over the course of my transition: I’m now seen as the cool, geeky, girl.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this as I’ve been watching The Big Bang Theory. I think the show is pretty funny, as I’m a sucker for a show that makes good, accurate jokes about comic books, general relativity, Lord of the Rings, particle physics, video games and more. It’s funny even if you don’t get all the references, but their jokes are obviously well researched and even funnier if you know what they’re talking about.

At the same time, the gender relationships of the show are kind of predictable: four smart-but-awkward boys befriend their pretty-but-uneducated female neighbor. And I find myself very torn over who to sympathize with when they butt heads.

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