Archive for the ‘transsexual’ Tag

Full stop.

A (.) is a Full stop.

In Aviation, deciding to land, versus doing a touch-and-go, is a Full stop.

For Lisalee, deciding to help, not hurt, share, not hide, love, not hate, respect all, is a Full stop.

There comes a time in everyone’s life when you must take a stand, even if it’s just for yourself.  To choose the higher path, the more difficult road taken, the moral high ground.  To say no to oppression, bullying, evil.  To do what is right, even if it means the ultimate sacrifice.

I know you’re out there, nameless, faceless evil.  I’ve felt you lurking, scheming, acting.  Your machinations have made me stronger, and you the more transparent.

You

Will

Lose.

This is my Full stop.

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An open letter to Susan *******, author of “Enough Non-Sense”.

Susan,

I want to thank you for your rebuttal to my post from Monday.  I found it amusing and instructional.  Amusing that it took you almost 2000 words to disapprove, in part, my opinions and my actions.  It would have taken me about 150.  But you were trying to make a point.  You did kinda lose me there, though…

And instructional;  Outing people, especially when they’ve already been outed is useless and tacky.  I didn’t follow the #1 credo of Trans*women worldwide:  Thou shall not out thy fellow Trans*.  So when you deleted my comments in their entirety, I probably deserved it.  But I found this interesting:

…Trying to frame her as some sort of ‘age purist’, or a ‘teen troll’, or an ‘old hag’, is what it is. She and i are about the same age. Make your own conclusions. i don’t have any desire to engage with Liz/Cloudy or anyone who promotes HSTS in any form…  -Anonymous T Girl

Throwing someone a bone, Susan?

To the meat and potatoes, shall we?

Susan, I’m offering you…

A Challenge!

I challenge you to appear on the steps of the Capitol in Washington, DC on March 14th, 2011 for Transgender Lobby Day.  I’ll be there, along with friends, acquaintances, colleagues, and others.  You write some mean shit on your blog and have had some straight-shooting comments elsewhere, but do you have the guts to truly put yourself on the line?  Are you willing to do something greater than yourself and the entertainment value of your blog?

I am.

I plan on lobbying the most conservative representatives in my home state of Georgia, including my home district, the 11th, represented by Phil Gingrey (R-Ga.).  I’m sure you could do the same for your district, and other conservative districts in Texas.

Maybe this isn’t worth your time and effort.

Or maybe you just don’t want to be seen with other Trans*.

You could just as easily call your reps or even visit with them anytime.  But this is different.

This shows solidarity.

Not capitulation.

So what do you think, Susan?  Up to the challenge?

Or is it too much to ask.

I’ll be there waiting.

Lisalee Starkman

Edit (1)

Looks like a certain Susan (not allowed to use her maiden name), has rejected my challenge to meet on the Capitol steps on Mar 14.  So I guess I’ll have to meet with her representative myself, who happens to be Congressman Ron Paul  (R-TX), 14th district, a hero of mine.  An OB/GYN, we’ll have lots to chat about regarding medical legitimacy for Transsexuals.  Sure you don’t want to join me, Susan?

Edit (2)

Upon careful consideration, I’ve removed Susan’s last name from the title of this post.

“Long time coming…”

“Long time gone.”

I used to listen to CSN (and Y) when I was in high school, among other 60’s bands that spoke to me.  And though I was a bit young for Viet Nam and Woodstock, I felt the energy and importance after the fact, all the same.  So when I saw this blog finally implode, I felt a kind of sadness.  And vindication too,  that my, and especially my friend’s words had come true.  I had been accused of high school shenanigans, misplaced loyalties, and STALKING!  What the fuck??  All I have to say is the internet is a cruel, cruel place to play.  Always make sure your ducks are in a row before you hit the sandbox, girls.  And this person’s words, spoken over a year ago, ring ever true today:

Trust No One.

No One.

(As an aside, I think I’m the only person to be recently banned from Susan’s blog.  Whatever.)

On the other hand, I expect (but am not certain) to see both this and this disappear, vile sockpuppet vomitus, to be replaced by something more discreet, virulent, and cunning.

The only difference is that we’ll be ready…

On a lighter note, I happened to chance upon author, hypnotist/therapist, and bon vivant, Tracie O’keefe and her eternal sidekick writer, Katrina Fox, here and here.

Gee, where have I seen (and heard of) these two before…?

Hugs, you two!

I dedicate this chunk of  a future poem to Leigh and Susan, the real losers here, having had their innocence snatched from them, again (ok, I’m a drama queen, so sue me!).

In A Perfect World Parte Dos

In a perfect world…

Everyone has perfect morals/

So what the fuck did you do with yours?

Memphis

For Aria…

So it’s the 17th of January and I’m sitting in my truck heading towards Memphis to make a delivery of auto parts to the Ford distribution center when it hits me:  Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthday.  How apropos.

Here’s the truck stop that I slept at the night before, IM’ing with my friend, about how she had overshadowed her message, or was it the other way around?  And I shared a video of Living Color’s Cult of Personality that I found on YouTube.  How apropos.

I’m sitting in my truck heading to the city where a man was murdered for speaking his mind, sharing his convictions, and speaking the truth.  How apropos.

So I’m sitting on a side street, waiting to enter a facility that’s closed because it’s Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthday.  How apropos.

I’m now across the street from the facility that was closed for the day, trying to get rid of a trailer that’s become a millstone, like some thoughts and opinions and biases.  I thought about Cult of Personality again.  How apropos.

I’m still across the street, trailer still attached, millstone weighing heavily, when I spy a link on Facebook from a friend’s profile professing the greatness of a certain blog.  The same blog that attacked and terrorized and raped my other friend.  How apropos.

Across the street, trailer, millstone, Facebook, cell phone, yelling at a friend to get her attention.  It’s Dr. King’s birthday, goddamnit!  How apropos.

Cell phone and headset, in the JB Hunt yard across the street from the Ford distribution center, millstone, Facebook, and oh, did I mention the ongoing chatter of IM?  Stereo blaring my iPod music, as loud as I can stand it to drown out the noise in my head from yelling at my friend.  How apropos.

Paperwork and cell phone, headset and Facebook and IM.  Saying bye bye to the millstone, the trailer, at least.  Finally, finally, finally, I get to say goodbye to the yard and street I yelled at my friend on, because of her choice of blogs, the one that raped my other friend repeatedly.  How apropos.

So I’m in my truck, driving about a mile to US-78, where there are some truck stops, to decide if I’m heading home.  And I’m at one of the two, Facebook and IM, cell phone, headset, and ringing.  I’m not answering/chatting with the friend I yelled at, just yet.  It is, by the way, Dr. King’s birthday, ya know.  How apropos.

I’m in the truck stop, in my truck, Facebook and IM and a new person appears, but not unexpectedly.  So the other friend that was raped repeatedly on that blog, the new person, and I.  The new person is the new friend.  Wait, wasn’t there a millstone?  Isn’t this Dr. King’s birthday?  How apropos.

Three hours later, IM, Facebook, laughter, tears, cell phone, ringing, texting, voice mails, loud music, the noise in my head subsiding, antacids; and a sandwich, because truck stops have fast food.  In Memphis of all places.  On Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthday, no less.  How apropos.

It’s late and I’m writing, in the truck at the truck stop with the fast food.  Noise in my head is gone, so is IM, music and cell phone.  The love of my life has called, her good night given, I love you’s shared.  All other friends gone.  Quiet, even the cat is quiet.  The engine runs, to keep me warm.  It is Memphis in winter, ya know.  On Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthday.  How fucking apropos.

To get to here, you have to start there…

I previously linked to my friend Aria’s new post here.  I’d like to add some thoughts, observations, and conclusions of my own.

I discovered, over the past six months to a year, how much I dislike fighting.  Whether it was commenting somewhere or on my own blog, I felt the same disquiet fall over me like a cold fog.  I felt dirty.  Every time.

I’m not angry, or bitter.  Really.  I actually love who I am and the life I’ve created for myself and my spouse.  I’m at ease and content with my life.  Life has become a series of daily challenges, to be won or lost.  And, contrary to popular belief, this started before my surgeries, not after.

I’m tired of the old ways, of constantly defending myself from the onslaught of ridiculous accusations and slurs to my character, intelligence, and sanity.

I’m not on display for some man’s prurient interests, nor will I continue to respond to his overt or covert verbal violence.  If I’m not pretty enough or feminine enough, too fucking bad.  My spouse loves me just the way I am.

I didn’t “cut my balls off”, nor did I “mutilate my genitalia”.  I had corrective surgery.  It has nothing to do with you so get over it.

And I didn’t decide this in a drunken stupor, listening to country music, which I actually like.  This was decided for me before I was born.

So….

If you’re looking for a fight, go elsewhere.  I refuse to play that anymore.  I will not respond, nor let others goad me into responding.

I will not go looking for fights and drama.  I’m done with that.

I will try to be a good example for others.  I will practice live and let live.  Everyone has the right to choose their own path.

I choose the path of least resistance.

This is going to be a great year!

Own your fucking narrative, goddammit!

Aria wrote this today and I want to add something…

I’m sick and tired of people calling themselves “transsexuals” when the truth is they’re not.  Not even close.  Their lack of respect and courtesy is reprehensible, bordering on downright disgusting.  I have one thing to say to y’all…

OWN YOUR FUCKING NARRATIVE!

If you’re a transvestite, own it.  You’re not nor will you ever be a transsexual.  And that’s ok.  If you like wearing woman’s clothing, cool.  I’m down with it.  Just don’t lie and say it’s something it’s not.  The same goes for transgendered, genderqueer, etc…

And another thing, “AGP” as a condition is a LIE!  I fell for this crock of shit too.  Then I took the red pill and woke up.  If you’re TS and you’ve gone through the things you’ve read on these websites, and find yourself in agreement with what you read, stop.  Look deep inside yourself.  You’ll find the truth.

I did.

“To Real Or Not To Real, That Is The Question…”

This person should learn that their actions will most certainly have consequences.

Rise up!  Be free!  Leave the ghetto!!

In other news, today was such a nice day (for Fargo, ND) that I decided to wear my new yoga-wear.  Well, it was laundry day also… 😉

What do I smell like?

I’ve been going to Canada on a more regular basis than in the past.  When I do, my internet access becomes truncated due to cost.  I miss reading updates to my favorite blogs.  Like this one.  It’s like going to a birthday party a day late.  So after reading the entry when it was posted and having a few comments,  I figured it was a done deal.  Wrong.  Without getting into the soul searching the comments caused, and after rereading specific ones, one comment stood out in my mind.  About halfway down the conflagration,  Anonymous T-Girl made an interesting observation describing how she can tell “classic” transsexuals from TG’s.  She said, “But we can smell our own.”

What do I smell like?

Diesel exhaust (and liquid diesel when it splashes on my clothes).

Dust.

Mud.

Food.

Sweat.

Various hair care products.

“Water Lily” and other perfume oils from Auric Blends.  Great stuff and inexpensive.

Not exactly what she meant but you get the drift…

Excuse Me, Thanks For Erasing My Narrative!

I’ve never been erased before.

Now I know what it feels like.

Updated 2-22-10

I apologized last week  for my abhorrent behavior.  Sometimes, you really have to read the entire question…

They don’t need to know…

I was going to comment here about this, but decided to hold my tongue.  As a user of the VA system myself, the only people that need to know are my Primary Care (PC) and my GYN.  Everyone else accepts me at face value, and why wouldn’t they?  I don’t wear my past on my sleeve.  What I truly find interesting are the comments chastising the psych for his choice of descriptors and demanding an apology.

Apologize for what?

When has it become a crime to speak the truth?

I had a problem with a provider at my local (Atlanta) VA.  She misgendered me three times on three separate occasions.  She apologized all three times but the damage was done.  Instead of getting all huffy with her and her supervisors, I did the sensible thing.

I dumped her.