Every woman I know who has completed their transition from male to female has described the beginning of a new chapter in their life.   For months and even years, the very act of transition consumed immense effort in not only surviving but retaining any semblance of control behind the wheel.  Having transitioned myself, I’d even argue that it seemed at times where there was no one behind the wheel.   And perhaps transition can even be seen as being teleported through time and space, having the very atoms that comprise your soul and body split apart hopefully to be reassembled this time in perfect order.
If only life was so perfect. But change turned out to be good, and I’m glad I materialized on the other side of the teleporter in a wholly unique and new fashion.

Now I stand where so many of my friends have stood, at the end of the road I chose when I first stood at the Crossroads.   “Where to?” I ask myself.  I fear and wonder if anything else will happen in my life that will cause me to exhaust my last ounces of strength.  After all, cancer and a host of other health issues run in my family and I’m not always going to be in great health.   I can only hope that if such an ailment bewitches me that I will have learned to tap that powerful force that I never knew existed until I stepped out for the first time as my authentic self.

Life is relatively mundane for me right now.  I’m not complaining.  Finding rest along the way was absolutely critical for my success.  Learning to appreciate no pain is just as empowering as reeling from emotional and physical pain.  Remember what it feels like to have a splitting headache?  If you don’t have one at this moment, you smile and thank whatever Maker you believe in…or you pick up your Chihuahua and kiss her cold little nose at the very least.

I’m excited about the future, even though I don’t know what direction to take.  I’m also scared as hell.

I guess that means I’m as normal as the rest of y’all.

When I came out as a transsexual woman three years ago, I wasn’t sure what to expect from those closest to me.  After all, I’d done essentially everything possible to keep it hidden from them for 36 years.  As a child, I feared being called a “maricon,” a “joto,” or even “faggot.”  The expectations placed on hispanic males in the 70’s demanded they be a man’s man, a macho vato, and he had to be straight as a nail.   Meanwhile, my young spirit began to decay even then I cried at night that God would turn me into a girl by morning.

Looking back over the last few years, I count my blessings, especially when compared to others, concerning acceptance and support from friends, coworkers, and especially family.  My mother, though initially stricken with her own feelings of guilt as if she’d done something wrong to “cause this,” came through the other side of this accepting me with the same loving spirit she’s always had.  And many other close relatives followed suit.  Transition is never easy on anyone.  Believe me, I knew this was hard for those around me to swallow; it was even harder for me to have to be the one to step out at the precipice and trust that God’s invisible hand would be there after all to catch me when I leaped.

And He did.  His hand, his fingers, were made up of the very fibers of love of those who cared about me.

I’m proud to live authentically and embrace who I am now.  Life is by no means any easier than it was three years ago.  But I have a resilience and strength to face new challenges that I never had before.  Time and time again I feel God’s strength renewing me and lifting me up for another sprint down a never before seen road.

But I feel bumps in the road at this juncture in my life.  Just when you think you’ve upgraded your shocks a jagged rock slams into your tire and you feel the pressure reverberate through the center of your core.

So it is with being T.  I often wonder if some of the people who verbally showered me with love and support were doing so with ulterior motives.  I don’t know their hearts and I don’t think I care to.  But there are times, times when I’m at my most vulnerable and stumble very, very hard, when it seems like I’ve used up The Forgiveness Card.

The Forgiveness Card is a term I’ve made up to represent a point where someone finally grows tired of supporting someone, and looks for and uses the smallest excuse to spew and vent their frustrations upon the person who needed forgiveness.

I need forgiveness, over and over again.  You see I’ve taken many chances, calculated ones in my book, but chances nevertheless to finally get past the internal terror that so few but those like me truly understand.   I was locked into that deep, dark prison cell and needed to risk it all so all could eventually survive.  It really was about remaining alive.

People seemed to eventually understand my need for transition.  They eventually saw the scared little girl inside me after I revealed my heart like an open book for the world to see.  I took a chance.  I needed others by my side.

There came a point, though, where it seems that they grew tired of having to deal with my “issue” for whatever reason.  Maybe I reached out too much.  Maybe I cried one too many times in front of the little lens on my Macbook.  Maybe they just tired of transitioning with me.

Like I said before, I need forgiveness a lot.  I’m only human and I’m prone to making big fucking mistakes.  Especially since I’m relearning how to live my life as a woman.   When I’m called on the carpet for being an asshole, I usually swallow my pride and seek forgiveness from those I hurt.   I’ve known hurt for much too long to have any desire to hurt others around me, especially those who’ve loved me through this storm.

But I now wonder if some people threw down their last Forgiveness Card for me.  Maybe there’s no forgiveness left.

The words of apologies now worthless,

The actions of doing what’s right, meaningless.

The Forgiveness Card has been used up.   “You’re on your own, buddy.”

Thank God my God is a faithful God to whose forgiveness is as far and wide as the east from the west.

I’m usually treated with professionalism and respect.  I’d like to think that it’s because I treat everyone I work with with the same level of professionalism and respect.  I do my best to be not only friendly, but to meet the needs of my employees.  And event though I bring the baggage of my personal life into work with me occasionally, I do my best to make sure those who work for me go home knowing they were appreciated.

Let’s face it, everyone hates to work for an asshole.  Having that horrible feeling of dreading going into work day in and out eventually takes its toll on other aspects of my life.  I’ve got enough to deal with.

Today, in the course of “just kidding around,” other people thought they would be cute to make light of the fact that I’m quite different than the other men who work there.  Granted, I can usually play the role of Mr. Macho, but today for some reason my “gayness” was exploited.   I can usually handle a barrage of jokes when I know people aren’t intentionally being insulting or trying to hurt my feelings.  We all need thicker skin.

But once I tell someone they need to cool it, and they continue to taunt, I become incensed at their lack of maturity to slow down and remember we’re in a professional environment.

I wasn’t the only one who could see people were pushing the limits of respect.  A friend looked over at me at one point and gestured if I enjoyed being a pinata and if I was going to spill candy on the floor.  Later on, when he told me he felt uncomfortable with the level of crudeness going on, he thought of telling the other guys that there was “blood in the pool,” an image he used to identify that I’d really taken the barrage of their verbal refuse.

I tried to hold onto my pride.  I ended up later retreating to my office, where I finally let out a few tears knowing I had to be stronger than that, and that I would have to confront them once again to let them understand that I expect to be able to work in a professional environment.

I feel like they missed the dog on the way to work and kicked me right in the gut.

Yelp.

But even a dog will bite back if it’s kicked too much.

REPOSTED FROM MY FRIEND LORI’S SITE:

Wow, sometimes teenage girls amaze me.

Usually, they annoy me. I know I kind of AM one right now being in the middle of a second puberty. My spouse tends to think so.

But this time, I’m just peeved. Today I stumbled onto a video on YouTube of a couple of teenage girls sitting in class listening to their teacher try explain the differences between being gay and transgender. As the teacher rambled on, apparently clueless that a video was being recorded, let alone even aware that a majority of the kids weren’t even paying attention, the two girls kept studying an entertainment magazine that had images of the then “Pregnant Man” Thomas Beatie.

I noticed that this video had dozens of replies to it, so I decided to keep watching to see what the fuss was about. Watch and judge for yourselves:

The video was stupid. I was stupid for watching. Their ignorance is beyond comprehension.

But I noticed something positive happening as a result of this trite video: It was all about the video responses by everyone else. (If you double click on the video above and go directly to the video’s youtube page, you’ll see the posted video responses below.)

I actually took the time to watch every one of them. Here’s what I came up with:

32 = number of responses decrying their opinions as ignorant and hurtful, calling for the girls to remove it from YouTube.

1 = number of responese who were upset with others’ responses (i.e. calling these young girls “bitches, dumb ho’s, etc.).

And the number of responses supporting their opinions or their actions in keeping this video up:
ZERO.

I initially contemplated not even justifying a response. However, seeing the nearly unanimous SOLIDARITY of trans and non trans people alike for them to remove their video, I can see how we as a community can take what was clearly done out of ignorance and use it to promote understanding.

Another thing, there are always “haters” on youtube. They seem to troll for videos of trans people just to tell them how “like, freakish and stupid you are, ” or how trans people are going to burn in hell, citing out of context passages from the Bible.

But I don’t know many people who actually DO a video adequately justifying being hateful and intolerant to anyone transgendered. In light of the Angie Zapata murder, and knowing that people young and old are still uneducated about trans issues out there, we have a lot of work cut out for us.

So I’m glad this video is out there in a way. I hope others will see not only the video, but the overwhelming response by those who support not just trans people, but who support a message of tolerance.

The girls, they’re young. This is the time to educate them and hopefully show them how painful and oftentimes tragic it is to be trans. Other young teenagers will no doubt stumble upon this and judge for themselves as well.

Me? I’m about to post my own video response.

Our opportunity in reaching them awaits.

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

PART 8

Welcome to my celestial oasis.  I hope you find yourself surrounded by angelic hosts and enveloped in a sea of love and nonjudgment.

Jadzia.  My name means “female warrior.”  I’d like to believe I am one.  I’d like to believe my strength has grown enough to fight the battles in my life.

But for now, I’d like to just be me.

I have not been killed.  Another symbiont has not taken me.  I live and breathe in this Deep Space where I am free to believe, and to love freely, no boundaries, no rule books.

I sometimes feel as if I could have lived seven lives.  Our conflicts and endeavors make me oftentimes feel like an old man.

So I slip into reverie in an attempt to escape reality, yet they are one…
and we are the same.