"How Do I Learn This Calm?", "Planting Seeds", "Lively Discussion of Gender"

July 11, 1999

"Bored"

This morning, we all were sitting in the living room, glumly staring into space. Laura's got carpel tunnel of the wrist, Julia's got a bad backache, and we're bored. The solution in the past was to go on up to Border's and SPEND, SPEND, SPEND. Well, we're broke. Nevermind the house is full of books that have not been read, CDs that haven't been heard (except maybe once) and computer games that haven't been played. We have all sorts of parlor games, as well. But we have 'nothing new'! So I'm feeling sorry for myself, quite unable to swallow my own medicine. I'll at least be merciful to you, and be brief. When one is complaining, the kindest thing one can do is be concise. Talk to you all later.

later this day . . .

I'm not quite so hideously bored now. Laura's got a low threshold for boredom! So she pushed us out of our lethargy. We gathered up some old magazines, books, etc, and headed into the Bookman's in Mesa. Their option to bring in the old for trade has taken us through more than one financial dry spell. It's always fun to look, even if you don't find anything. I happily unloaded an awful Chanticleer album of constant dissonant wailing (COLORS OF LOVE) on them, and came home with a photobook of San Diego. There's one picture of a dancing lady whirling huge skirts around her I hope to draw.

Afterwards we went to Sam's Club (Of course, they have a credit card system.) So we came home with various goodies! We'll have tasty things later today.

July 12, 1999

"All The Tasty Things . . ."

6:30am - piece of blackberry pie, glass of milk

9:30am - watermelon

10:30am - mug of water

12:30pm - boneless skinless chicken breast cut up with rice and mild green chili salsa, mug of 7-up

3:30pm - two pieces egg bread toasted with a gourmet cream cheese - artichoke-crab

5:00pm - two pieces egg bread toasted with a gourmet cream cheese - this stuff is good!, mug of 7-up

8:00pm - half a cup of water

July 13, 1999

"How Do I Learn This Calm?"

I'm in a thoughtful mood this morning. The following was the Thought of the Day. I had to chew on it a bit.

Understanding does not arise as a result of thinking. It is a result of the long process of conscious awareness.

Thich Nhat Hanh

Hmmm, conscious awareness, THAT'S what happens when I visit with that space inside and listen to what it tells me. So I pulled up a blank screen and heard:

What do I do when I'm filled to the top?
what do I do when emotions overflow,
pulled by the tides of events?
How do I find an inner calm?
It cannot flow out from me
if it is not within me.
How do I learn this calm?

That is what I need to meditate on today.

~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~

Although I didn't post here yesterday, I've had some things entered in ATTWT. Sunday evening, I had a bit of a blue spell. A sad poem resulted, which I then sent up Monday, along with a brief happier note. Still, it seemed quite a downer. I didn't want to alert you all to the new entries until I had a more optimistic one to follow. Today's entry in ATTWT is quite amusing and revelatory. Laura's Mother is One Hip Lady!

July 14, 1999

"Until Regrets"

Quarter to seven in the morning, it is 81 degrees (28C). That's nothing unusual for desert summer mornings. But this humidity is! I'm dripping in sweat! At 6:45am, I'm dripping in sweat!

The huge fan is roaring its breeze upon me now, and I feel better. I found this quote yesterday, which heartened me:

A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.

                                                --John Barrymore

I take it to mean I'll not grow old. Certainly as I grow older, the pile of regrets grows higher, but my dreams have not lessened. Possibly, even, they've grown in intensity.

Planting the Seeds If a regret weighs heavy, it's there. It will always be there, the thing that can't be lifted away, ever on the landscape. You'll stumble upon it when you least expect it. But as time goes by, and footing grows more nimble, new green shoots grow up around the ugly boulder. As hopeful green things multiply, that once unbearable weight submerges into the background. But now I am just planting the seeds.   JAL, 7-14-99

July 15, 1999

"The Sound of Crickets"

Up at 4:00am, I awoke to find Laura up, playing a computer game. Her back and shoulder is hurting her, won't let her sleep. So she's trying to distract herself. Restless, I decided to join her. Opening the front door to let the fresh air in after the rains, I was surprised at the sound of crickets, I wondered at first if they were real. One computer game Laura used to play had crickets as one of its sound effects. But, no she's playing Heroes III. No digitalized crickets in that game. These are the genuine thing out there, with their 'mighty chorus'. I feel blessed by their concert.

~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~

The music of crickets is not the only rain benefit. At sunset, the gray skies turned ablaze with color:

The light coming in through the living room windows took on a golden glow, so I rushed out with the camera, not even stopping to look for shoes.

July 17, 1999

"Lively Discussion of Gender"

A new web site on Transgendered Women and the Feminist Movement has provoked a lively discussion this morning at our household. Who's Welcome in Women's Space? It's a good question. Do transsexual women belong in groups exclusively designed for women? Some say no. A Jessica Whyte presents this view:

There are several reasons why women may feel uncomfortable with the notion of transsexuals using women's only space. The strongest of these is a belief that a person who has spent all their life as a man, could not possibly be entirely free of patriarchal conditioning. It is the conditioning which teaches men that they are superior to women, and causes men to exploit and oppress women, that women's only space seeks to protect women from.

The leader of a women's spirituality webring that I used to belong to surprised me a few months ago with this addition to the admission requirements:

**Now, I need to mention that sites that are made by men are *not* allowed in this ring. This ring is for women only. This does not mean that you can pose as a woman to join this ring, this also means no transgender, and no transexual applicants. I am not trying to be sexist, but men are to be included in the men's ring. No men pretending to be female will be included in this ring. Believe me, we've come across this before and we don't like being played for fools, and we don't like being used as targets for your email mass marketing tactics.

At that time I expressed my objections, and they did change the wording. However I decided not to rejoin the ring. I don't care to be a part of ANY gender specific group any more. I recognise the need of some female women for such groups. But it's not something I need. But what of those females who do?

Laura understands their needs. In a post to the Sapphire Circle e-mail list, Laura declares:

Gender variants are physically male, and reconstructed or not, can not and do not have the sensitivity to the women's issues of those who are born physically female. And many of us, thinking we are women, speak out with authority and knowledge and confuse the very issues born female women desperately need to discuss between themselves.

In short, we are not female ... however much we imagine ourselves to be women, and however much we define ourselves by surgical and hormone alterations. A few hormones and a doctor's knife do not make a female, nor do they make a person who feels like a woman. SRS is cosmetic ... no more, no less.

We also are not men, although we are by definition male. All the posturing aside ... we are males who have some, but not all, the characteristics of born female women and we lack some, but not all, the characteristics of born male men. We are a blend and all of us, pre-op or post-op have more in common than we do with either born female women or born female men.

If we, as a community, fail to define ourselves with reason and appropriateness ... the flaws in our presentation will come back to haunt us, and not only will we not have the space we desire to co-opt ... we will not even have our own space, a space where we do belong.

IN SUMMARY:
We can not in good conscience demand to be included in groups of born women and then turn around and create and belong to groups exclusively devoted to males who cut off their penises and take female hormones. It is inconsistent, hypocritical, and if we do not see it, the world will see it and we will be condemned for it as surely as we have been condemned in the past. In my opinion, an honest and objective portrayal of ourselves as gender variants, or gender blends, will gain us more support and acceptance than aggressive demands to be included in space where we patently do not belong.

Her position will possibly be seen by many transsexuals as threatening to their attempts to gain equality. But as it's been said in regards to the larger issues between men and women, they are equal, yes, but different. A better solution would be to recognise the other gendered, that the world can't be neatly divided into two opposing groups, men or women.

Until society recognises this, transsexuals will always be nomads, 'false women' ('notha mulier' - latin - [from Catulli Carmina LXIII]), but not granted the genuine position that is theirs. This is the esteem towards which all efforts should be aimed.

Prehaps, until then, an intellectual de-emphasis on gender will have to suffice. As I've said, I avoid gender specific groups altogether. There are so many realms in the larger world for me to expouse my thoughts, and I want to address as many people as possible. I don't want to single out only female women as audience. Let those who need such groups have them.

Sadly, we are even further behind in the understanding of gender issues than I'd thought. I'd read a while back ago that Gender Identity Disorder had been removed from the American Psychiatric Association's "Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders" after a long campaign to that end by transgender activists.

Unfortunately, the news item was a HOAX! Transgendered journaller Columbine has the details. Apparently the hoax is the work of some transgender "performance artist" who wanted to see how quickly and how far such a hoax could be spread.

Sadly, the battle for even a crumb of recognition, let alone EQUALITY, goes on.

Posts have been flying back and forth furiously on the transgendered Sapphire e-mail list. Meanwhile, I keep thinking about the tragedy of John F. Kennedy's missing plane. Kennedy, his wife and her sister had been en route to Cape Cod and a Kennedy cousin's wedding. The plane's last known location was about 17 miles southwest of Martha's Vineyard. Where is it now? However, some luggage has been found. "Erin McCarthy, 31, of Boston, said she saw the black bag in thewater. Attached to it was a business card with the name of CarolynBessette Kennedy's sister, Lauren Bessette, she said." (from APS story) Also " a wheel, a headrest and part of a plane support known as a strut had washed up, said Coast Guard Lt. Craig Jaramillo."

It doesn't look good. But until definative evidence appears that shows they didn't survive, I'll keep my fingers crossed.

~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~

A radical change of subject, but one having maybe a teensy tiny connection to all of today's thoughts, re joining groups geared soley to females. There's a new journal burb out called Breasts of Doom! "This burb is open to anyone who feels like they've got Breasts of DOOM, or maybe even breasts of impending danger. Large tits are not a requirement. And umm... neither is being female. It's all in your outlook honey." No, I don't want to go there, no. There's a surprisingly large group of people in it already. I could qualify with flying colors (or is that 'flying boobs'?) But I blush, no, I just don't think so. One of the glories of the web is that people judge one by the mind alone and not how huge one's mammaries are. No, I'm ever so grateful that my boobs are NOT 'on display' here. Thank you ever so much!

The new burb sorting journallers to their eye color is a lot more to my speed.