Leaving the Box of Blonde Behind

It’s been scheduled, my appointment for color.
Bye-Bye Blonde.

But was it ever truly mine?

I was born a poor brunette child

I found my womanhood upon my 35th year of my natal birth. 2 years later, and after landing in The City, my first box of blonde was applied. Its results were redish-brassy. Sure, I had worked in a salon for 3 years, but that was a different life it seemed. The knowledge of the ages sometimes escapes me.

Red. Ginger-esque, Strawberry Blonde was what I called it.

Next came the services of a student in hair school. I was transformed to lavender-platinum blonde very quickly. It’s the famous shot from my Associated Press article capturing her talent. Her talent moved to apprenticeship after I helped her pass the state certification process. We fell out of communication and such.
So I went Back to the box!

So for about 3 years now, I have been very much blonde-in-waiting.
Waiting for what? Eh, who knows…

So after being blonde on the outside, I was socialized as a brunette and so I was never a true blonde, in the sense of always being the fair hair color and interacting the world in that manner.

This new decision, it seems, to be embracing my maturity. I have a partner now. Someone supporting your actions, enforcing your positive attributes, and being someone who depends on you-influence through love. She does the polish to my diamond exterior that had been marred and dulled by life.

I’ll follow-up once the task is complete.



You mean I’m a lesbian? Ok

(and that’s fine by all the parties involved)

So a while back, I had written a few things about the differences between the T and the LGBQ. (Lesbianism revisited)

Today, I am reflecting.

You might say “embracing.”

So when I walk down the street proudly with my partner, the world sees a lesbian.


Its ok to:

  • Wear less makeup
  • Go without a bra
  • Wear pants more often
  • Stroll with your partner in Berkeley

Really, its probably not embracing being the L in the BLT of the LGBTQ queer sandwich. Its about embracing having a partner who is of equal standing and footing.

I’ll embrace her just fine in public, as she does with me.
(There appears to be a larger East Bay population of lesbians than San Francisco proper)

So world,
Don’t judge a girl by her pants wearing or her supermodel-distinct bodily features…
or by her girlfriend.


Grasshopper, not Butterfly

Originally posted  Sunday, April 3, 2011

For Transpeople, the analogy of becoming a butterfly is used over and over. Its usage is also incorrect! We are grasshoppers!

Much more beautiful than a butterfly

We do not magically go to sleep and wake up one day all brand new. We resemble the stage before and after our current form. We do not start as grubbing little maggot-caterpillars.
We start out with:
2 arms and
2 legs and
the brain of our identified gender.
We learn that our arms and our legs do nothing for our environment which we see through our brain.

Grasshoppers are born as nymphs. Each stage they shed their skin and grow bigger. Each stage resembles the one before and after the current one. With each shedding of their skin, the wings get longer. One day the stage is reached where the wings are long enough to fly. Then the grasshopper is NOT limited by walking, or jumping, but by FLYING!


You simply cannot take a person and render them unconscious and through the magic of modern day surgery create as-close-as-born the body they identify with. Then magically wake them up to forget about their past, or their memories they learned the world through all of those senses. Again, refer to the grasshopper prototype!

I am a blank slate at my birth-my life has been recorded on me. As I have grown, I have overcome most obstacles. I have solved most of those problems. No hormone nor surgery can make you accept things about your fate/life. For example, seemingly artificial corrections will not cure a shitty attitude nor make you change your social role. Your social role changes as you change.

It’s TRUE! The longer I have lived as a woman, I still make changes on the social sense. I had not once considered going backwards through the grasshopper stages. Not once, had I thought about growing a beard and chopping off all of my hair! I may have though about jumping off of a bridge but not devolving back to something else.

I believe that your social role before the addition of hormones does play a bigger part than the magic pill fix. Even those people struggling with roles, at the very least they feel where they’d like their life to be.

So at this stage…3 years (now 5 at 2013) after I decided to live how I was born (and not how I was told), 2 years after I introduced the chemicals required to make my mind and body communicate cooperatively rather than dissonantly…I am a flying grasshopper.

However it should be noted that once airborne, there are More predators than on the ground.

Once you get a whole flock of grasshoppers its a plague of locusts of sorts.

Then one day, we shall change the face of the earth for the better.

Its 2 years since this post.
I have been flying around for sometime.

Now to find a nest!


A tale of 2 letters.

The first letter is one TO my older biological sister.
She had remained persistent about randomly communicating rants about her no-good husband and eldest daughter who is married to someone who is either in or out of jail.
Not once has a “How are you doing?” “How can I help?” Or what I would have preferred from a sibling (Ahem)..is someone to scream at the top of their lungs at the bastard who attacked me, biological brother who was not my choice for what genetic material he encompasses.So here is the dialog.

Dear Charlotte,

What am I going to say in an email that texting doesn’t allow me to do?

Here goes….

  Since having come out as a transgender woman, I have felt a lack of support from you. I am really indifferent to having you participate in my life because of this. Since the time when Brett attacked me, the rest of my world has continued to evolve. At that time I really needed open support and care – basically an ally. I did not find that in you.At a time when I was most vulnerable, that hurt me deeply.Moving away from Arkansas, I have at least been able to shed geographically the physical proximity of what was most harmful to me. Eventually I have found nurturing, positive reinforcement of my beliefs and principles in open minded friends.

I wish I could have found it in you.

I am not comfortable with being a person who just is someone to talk to because you need to vent about your life. Doesn’t anything good ever happen to you? Has nothing positive ever happened you can talk tome about? I feel like you are not openly supportive of me to our family and the world and that upsets me.

I have adopted an attitude traditionally held by survivors of the Shoah: “Never again!” That means I do not perpetuate things that are ill or are toxic to me. I don’t have to tolerate anything I don’t want to. Much of the Jewish Holocaust was carried out because neighbors didn’t question, nor speak out, or help when their neighbors and friends were being hauled away to the camps.I am not responsible for for Brett beating me. I don’t speak to Larry either because he was never supportive of anything long before my transition. He is where Brett’s attitude originates from. You openly support Brett.So that’s why I really question even talking to you.

I get to edit my life and keep the all good stuff. Loving supportive people that ask for help, offer a kind ear, nurture a wound or two. I get whatever time I am allotted to enjoy in my life. I would love you to be a openly supportive and nurturing part of my life but it doesn’t seem like you want that.


By keeping all the good stuff, I mean I don’t share my loves with those who do not love and have a basic ignorance for the attacker/attackee retationship.

It is 5 years since the attack. No pologies, no effort.

Her reply:

Hmmm. I’m sorry you feel I haven’t been supportive of your transformation. I’m not quite sure what you mean about not being supportive. I have only expressed concerns about you making this permanent before you are really ready and that’s what friends do. They don’t blow your dress in the air, they give you honesty and caring. And they don’t run off without a good-bye.

As far as Brett goes, I have talked to him about that situation and I believe him to be sorry(1) for the way he went about handling things. I have heard it from him that he wished he could go back and do that over. People tend to revert to their primitive brain when they are under stress(2). He loved you as his brother for many years – scaring off bullies, etc. I’m sorry you aren’t able to find forgiveness and understanding to those you feel have wronged you. That’s too bad. Because it can bring alot of peace to your life, without turning to people that only provide “lip service”. Sibling creed: Love hard, fight hard(3).

Now for Dad. We talked the other day about the situation with you. He said he loves you “my son, my daughter”, whatever you want to be. He’s sorry he couldn’t say it(1). But I say go ahead and give him the “old dog, new tricks” card. Dad needed time to grow up too.

You have had time to change things in your life. You didn’t just jump put of bed one day and get plastic surgery done and all the other stuff that this kind of thing entails. Your family has called you son and brother, since the day you were born and it takes a while to make that switch. And if you can’t have patience with your family, it’s a good thing you moved instead of allowing them time to get used to the idea. Its also true you can make up your own story, but my brother, B(identity), is part of your story, whether you want to acknowledge he ever existed, that’s up to you. Hell, John’s nephew was called “Graham” for years and decided to go by “Dylan” – I still call him Graham from time to time, but for most of his life, that’s what he went by. That’s just a fact. He doesn’t get offended by it. He knows who he is. His “new” friends call him Dylan because that’s all they have known him to be. He’s still “Graham Dylan” to me. I really don’t see him often enough to get used to calling him “Dylan”. He will probably live with my slipping up the once every couple years when I see him. His wife is a pediatrician in Tennessee. I think he’ll be okay.

And btw, I try to share good things with you. You are too busy or too bitter to correspond so that’s why you don’t hear as much of that from me. Perhaps you might think of the conversations we have had…the only “good” thing I’ve heard from you is about your tattoo status. It’s always about you. Always. When I start to talk, you have to go. And you don’t have NEAR the responsibilities that I have. Not to your children or anyone else. But God loves me. He made me. And so do my kids +1(4).

I love my brother B(identity) and I love you too. Take it or leave it.


“You know they are apologetic because they don’t speak, right?” Bite me.

2 That shithead said the entire time saying “I love you” while he was beating and choking me. His “primitive brain under stress” was him pulling me out of my house by my hair.

“Love hard, fight hard” I owe a few people a little something according to this thinking.

Its important that your god love you so that your behavior is just.

(identity) is censored and really something that people new get hung up on what is past-more than anyone knows this is me.

Charlotte’s correspondence in the last 5 years has been such great things as “Hey, I think Lady Gaga has her own disco stick” “You know, she’s a man, right?”

Trans people always seem to have family that miss out the fact that they have known someone the longest, you saw something hidden coming.

I am allowed  to “not having patience” with people who have either attacked me or turned their backs on me when I needed it as I was renting from the token Shithead and suddenly had to move. Nobody offered camping on their 5+ acres of land. I was given $20 and a list of homeless shelters from my biological mother. I was given no quarter, no kindness, no solace.

So anyone will understand why there were no “goodbyes.”

I delete you from participating in my life.If that’s the love you offer blood relatives, then my debt is paid-and we are not relatives.



Lately, have you…?

Have you told your partner/spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/mate lately that you love them?

I don’t mean “love you” as you run out the door to work. I mean eye-contact and saying “I love you.”
Sounds easy? Its harder for some, but simplicity does not imply that it has no meaning.

Do you want to say it really like you mean it? Then say it without looking away.

If you’d like to share your experience with this experiment, leave a comment.

If you are single/widowed/non-attached status, tell a great friend, child, elder “I love you.” If you have nobody in your life that this applies to, then perhaps some improvement is in order.