Bionic Woman vs. Inspector Gadget

*Warning, again, that trans violence appears

I’m getting ma’am more often in boy mode. That’s cool. I’m also receiving negative comments more frequently in boy mode, now. That’s not cool. What’cha gonna do, though? I’m unwilling to be scared into a closet; I’m not about to make the same mistakes I did in high school. Fun fact #37– no one says anything derogatory with my partner around. Maybe that validates I might be straight. More likely, I think people like to pick on people alone. There’s strength in numbers.

Every negative comment I’ve ever received has been from a guy. The person who got mad when we were dancing and sliced off my finger tips? That was also a guy. PS– them tips got reattached and I’m as good as new. See, people think they’re holding me down, but really they’re just turning me into the bionic woman. I can rebuild. I have the self-confidnece. Gosh, that’s so corny, I should really delete that.

But, anyway, that’s a conundrum when you’re into guys. The only people who’ll screw you over, by and large, will be men. Granted, that population of homophobic and transphobic men is probably pretty small. I’ll go, oh I don’t know, one out of four. Guys who, in the right circumstance, would get violent on a trans woman. I can’t even guess what the stats are for violence against trans men; I wouldn’t be surprised, though, if it were worse. Now imagine you’re attracted to guys. Dating suddenly becomes Minesweeper.

Your dates are squares– hurrr– yet most turn out safe enough. Every once in awhile you choose one with the potential to end badly. To be safe, you try to read the red flags to ensure that you’ll never be in that situation. End metaphor. It’s hard to do that, though. Life is long and with enough dates you’re really playing against the odds. Sooner or later, a situation where violence is possible comes to light. Better hope you chose well. We’re averaging >100 dead per year, and that’s just those who go reported. Most violence is from people we know, too.

The whole thing is enough to make some trans women date women, even if their heart inclines them elsewhere. So many things make me grateful I don’t have to date. So so so grateful. My partner thinks she’s hindering me from dating men. I don’t know if she understands how much I love her. And, who knows, maybe she’s saving my life.

Who knows? I didn’t expect the guy who drew the knife to draw the knife. F–k, we were in public. Maybe another moral to the story is it’s unwise to be underage, dumb, and willing to bump and grind with guys unaware of your status. Things I wish I could redo in my life? Plenty from about age 12 on. Best believe I’m pounding these keys down. I wish I could just forget so many of the stupid things I’ve done.

Go go bionic woman retrograde amnesia. Or maybe that was Inspector Gadget.

 

Making Friends with “The Other”

I was reading recently on a blog about how it’s easier to make friends with people with whom ya share common ground. You know, you’re both Baptists, or you both loved Legos as a child. She was talking more about socio-economic status, age, and whatever, but you follow. Legos. So, anyway…

I agree with all that. When I was 22 I was dating a really, really cool girl. She was beautiful, sick-smart, and her parents loved me. The only problem was that she was rich. You’d think that’d be an asset, but I kind of disagree.  She laughed– kindly– that I didn’t own anything by fancy Italian designers. But, oh, at least I wore North Face. Don’t laugh, that was in at the time. And, on a different topic, ugh people who wear North Face not because they’re outdoorsy, but because it’s cool… just stop. You look ridiculous; that s–t clashes with your Gucci, mang. So, anyway, she also thought it was quaint that I did my own laundry. Quaint. Well shhheeeeooot, sweet thang, I ain’t nebber been called that before.

Sometime later I was commenting that I felt awkward not being able to take her to the nice places to which she was accustomed. She laughed, reassured me, and said no worries, “I don’t judge you because you’re poor; you can still be a good person.” That’s word for word, ya know, it stuck in my mind. My first thought was, damn girl, are you trying to tell me most good people are rich? That was something directed at her. The second thought was more damning, it pointed the finger back at me. I had an epiphany. I know, me of all people. There was this “moment of clarity.” Me and my quaint self, I realized I’d been judging her because she had money. And, not just her, I’d judged pretty much everyone on campus who was loaded. I was being prejudiced. Ya wouldn’t have thought, what with my quaint ways, huh.

We didn’t end up lasting, although in an unrelated story, she did ask me to marry her. Saying she was forthright would be an understatement. And, just to toss those stereotypes about Asian women being passive prudes, she was Korean-American.

All this to say, yeah, it’s hard to get close when there’s little common ground. We rarely even approach people when we feel we’ve little in common. What a mistake. Those are probably the people with whom we most need to connect. Even if it’s harder, and especially if it’s harder.

But hey, that doesn’t mean ya need to date them to do it.

And from all this, I don’t know a lot of people who share more than one or two things in common with me. I feel torn between two worlds in two ways. There’s my past living as a man and future as a woman. Then there’s my past with poverty and future with plenty. I can find people who can relate to one transition or the other, but I don’t know anyone who’s dealing with both. Believe it or not, the latter transition is even more rare, if the people I know are any guide. Not a lot of us from the ghetto went to college, or a so-called elite college at that.

Our financial aid motto is, “Elite, not Elitist.” If you ever try to squeeze a dime from them, you’ll know why that’s funny. I have felon parents, was raised on food stamps, and still have plenty of loans. Some private, because public loans wouldn’t cover it. Yeah, not at all elitist. Take mercy on me, I’m quaint.

So, to wrap this all up, to pretend it has continuity, let’s review. It’s easier to be friendly with people with whom we share a lot in common. It’s also important to be friendly with people with whom we don’t share anything in common, even if it’s more difficult. Sometimes, when our struggles seem unique, it’s hard to find people who can relate to more than a piece of what we’re going through. Last, Ivy League finaid sucks the big one.

To end on a positive note, I’m about to go to church. Bet ya didn’t see that one coming.