Embryo of Philosophy

( Senate Approves Broadened Hate-Crime Measure )



Now, there are a lot of fear-mongering myths out there about hate crimes legislation. Let's put those myths to rest.

( Preaching the Gospel Would be Against the Law! (And Other Hate Crimes Myths) )



Perhaps the most pervasive objection is that of the "thought crime." It shouldn't matter why you kill someone, just the crime itself. That's exactly right. That's why we always judge murder on the exact level. It doesn't matter if it was premeditated, accidental, or in self-defense. Everyone who kills someone else gets judged the exact same way.

Except that's not true.

If I'm ever arrested for murder, if anyone argues that it was premeditated I'm going to scream "thought crime". Why does it matter what was going through my head when I did it? My civil liberties are being violated!

And I'd like to say that hate crimes do terrorize an entire group of people. When I learned that Angie Zapata had been murdered not far from where I live, it scared me. When I hear that transgender people have a one in 12 chance of being murdered (the national average is about a one in 18,000 chance of being murdered), that scares me. When two Boulder citizens were gay bashed within days of each other, it scared me. ate crimes are bigger than the one person attacked. They send a message: if you are Black/gay/disabled/Jewish/whatever we will hurt you.

Of course, as mentioned in the last article, hate crime laws have been on the books since 1969. It's only now that they're being expanded to include GLBT people that there's an uproar. Hmm, I wonder why that might be?

There's just one more step before this becomes law, and Obama has previously said that he supports the bill.

Oh, and can I just congratulate the Democrats on actually using their brains to get this thing passed? And I thought they had forgotten how to do that!

I've been putting off this post for too long.

On May 28th, two of the hosts of a Sacramento morning radio show called Rob, Arnie & Dawn in the Morning spent over half an hour encouraging and promoting the physical and emotional abuse of transgender and questioning children. No, seriously.

( Read more... )

Well, it feels good to get that off my chest.


EDIT: Carl's Jr/Hardee's and Verizon have also pulled their sponsorship! Yes!

EDIT AGAIN: Well's Fargo is also no longer advertising on KXRQ!

EDIT TAKE THREE: Nissan's pulling their support as well!


RETURN OF THE EDIT: AT&T and McDonald’s are gone too! That's ten big name corporations so far.

First of all, what the fuck, Colorado weather? I've gotten used to the seventy degree January days, and I've realized that it's never more wintry than in late April, but it's nearly June, so these grey, wet days have to stop. Or at least don't go changing it so much. Google weather said it would be seventy one degrees today, so I dressed for that. When I got on the first bus, it was warm. When I got off, it was chilly and windy. I was not alerted to this possibility! It was still chilly when I got on the second bus, but by the time I got off, it was warm again. Oh, Colorado, I will never understand you.

I had a doctor's appointment today, to check on my boobs. It was somewhat of a trek, just because walking still hurts a bit.

On the bus I encountered a wacky conservative Christian whom I had debated last semester at CU. He was quite eager to talk to me. I was trying to write, so I didn't really want to talk to anyone, but especially not a fundamentalist Christian. He was pleasant and polite, certainly. I have no doubt that many fundamentalist Christians are overall quite good-natured, with concern for others. However, this man, however nice he was, thinks that I'm going to hell. He believes that I face endless agonizing torment after death because I like to kiss girls, and because I pray to a goddess and the wrong god. Not only will I suffer unceasingly for eternity, but quite deservedly so. It's hard for me to think of someone who believes that as a truly good person.

However, he spoke about a talk he was going to give at his church about various literary genres in the Bible (didactic, poetic, apocalyptic, etc.), which sounded genuinely fascinating. (I'm a religious studies minor for a reason.) Of course, he's probably one of the people who thinks that the vast number of different genres and literary styles in the Bible prove that it was written by God, rather than offering evidence that it was written by a great number of people over a very long time. But what are you going to do?

Also, I saw a road sign on the way to the doctor's office that gave me pause. It was next to a creek and said "Ice may exist." And, yes, all right, I know what it meant, but it sounds quite existential to me. "Ice may exist. But perhaps it's simply our subjective perceptions telling us that the ice exists. Who can say?"

...Well, I was at least amused.

I did finally make it to the doctor. I'm healing nicely, and she removed most of the steri strips. And now I can shower! Seriously, bathing became a serious chore when I couldn't get my chest wet.

Before, when my breasts were still numb, I expressed concern that it might be the first stage of horrible zombie disease, and that I had zombie tits. My fears were allayed today. No, instead, I have frankenboobs! (I just can't decide if that should be capitalized or not.) They had to cut off my nipples then reattach them, so it's quite gross looking. (That, uh, might have been more than you wanted to know.) But it's only eight days after surgery, so I'm not worried. Plus, the doctor told me that I'm still quite swelled up, and that my breasts should get even smaller. I'm so excited!

Just like I'm oh so certain that you care about the state of my breasts, so I assume that you care about how my writing is going. I've finished one of my springkink stories, and started the other one. These stories are the reason that I've been researching Victorian carriages and trains. Don't laugh, I find it interesting. And my remixthedrabble entry is in beta.

All in all, my life is going well. This scares me. Surely something must go horrible wrong soon. Well, I'm starting my summer class on Monday. That will probably count.

So, I had my breast reduction surgery a few days ago. Things are definitively smaller, though I'll have to wait until the swelling goes down to get a fully accurate picture.

I'm only feeling a little pain and discomfort right now, but I'm definitely not up to 100%. It feels like I spent more time sleeping the past three days than anything else. Well, that and throwing up, at least the first day. I don't know what kind of anesthesia they gave me, but my body did not like it. So, for the first day, I was in pain, throwing up, and hopped up on Viocdin. It was just like what having my period used to be like! Except I was was far more nauseous, and for all that having people carve up your chest hurts, my menstrual cramps were way worse. It's so good to have these standards. Actually, my mom was worried that I would have a terrible pain because she recently had a cyst removed from her chest and she was going on and on about how much it hurt. This all made me a little worried until she said that she had to take two Vicodin to deal with the pain. At that point I had to explain to her that I used to have to take three Vicodin just to manage my cramps. Sometimes I believe that I even took four. Because I hate my liver. So, I'm not afraid of a little two-Vicodin pain.

But, anyway, I'm very excited to see what the final result will be once the swelling goes down and everything has shifted into place.

And they said that it couldn't be done.

So, this is where I go fishing through my inbox to find interesting articles.

First off, something I agree with so, so very much.

( 'I Was Raped' Should Horrify -- But Our Culture Has Stripped the Word of Its Power )


And this next article for a healthy daily helping of rage, along with a bit of hope. I disagree with Obama on some things; I'm not always satisfied with his decisions, but thank god we have him instead of another Republican.

( How Bush and Co. Broke the Law to Keep Women from Using Birth Control )

Now, maybe you thought that I was too harsh with that last comment. Just because Bush and his cronies were immoral morons when it came to sexual health doesn't mean that all Republicans are, right? And it's not like I'm impartial. I'm a liberal who believes in equality, and personal liberties, and the First Amendment, and all those other pinko commie things. But if you won't take my word for it, would you listen to Meghan McCain, who's not just a Republican, but John McCain's daughter?

( The GOP Doesn't Understand Sex )

But, I do have some unabashed good news.

( Washington, D.C., Council Approves Recognition of Out-of-State Gay Marriage )

And

( N.Y. Assembly Passes Gay Marriage Bill )

And now I feel slightly less guilty about all of my fandom posts. And we are all so edified, aren't we?

I am on the verge of losing my mind. The slightest thing sends me sobbing uncontrollably, I'm nigh constantly nauseous from stress, I keep hyperventilating. It's not pretty.

My grades are just a not pretty. I only have one class that I'm doing truly atrociously in, Spanish; but my grades are slipping all around.

It's hard for me to describe just how insane school makes me. I think I'm just worn down by years of stress and misery every damn semester.

I'm also pissed off because the anti-choice group that goes around colleges bringing huge billboards of bloody fetuses is at CU. I really loathe these people. Not only are they disgustingly manipulative (LOOK AT WHAT YOU'RE DOING TO YOUR DARLING LOVELY INNOCENT BABEEEE), they're outright liars. No, morons/assholes , abortion and breast cancer are in no way related. Then again, they wouldn't know a scientific fact if it bashed them over the head. These people make me want to go out, get pregnant, get an abortion, then send them a graphic description of it, telling them that they inspired me to do it. Of course, I wouldn't actually do this. Think of the time and expense!

Another thing I'd like to do is go up to one them and say that we don't yet live in country where women understand that they are dirty, dirty sluts who shouldn't dare do things like make decisions, but I'm glad to see that they're working on it. I also won't do this, as the resulting confrontation would be both futile and annoying.

These people aren't pro-life. If they were pro-life they would be equally against the death penalty, war, putting animals to sleep when they're old and sick, and the use of pesticides. (They claim that the "right to life" begins at conception. Why doesn't a grasshopper deserve life as much as an newly fertilized egg? The grasshopper has higher cognitive functions.)

So, yes, dealing with them all week hasn't made my mood any better.

I don't think that this is connected to the tragic loss of my "I asked God, and she's pro-choice" button, but it's an annoying coincidence.

But, I don't want you to think that my life is one hundred percent misery. There is some pretty amazing news. On May 19th, I'm getting breast reduction surgery. The doctor also seems much more understanding of what I want than last time I met with her. I printed out some pictures from the Title Nine website to give her an idea of what I'm hoping for. She looked at the picture that I like best and noted that the woman had a smaller frame than I do, and that on me that breast size would look very masculine. I told her that I was just fine with that. My mom chimed in, asking the if the doctor was familiar with "butch" and that that was the look that we were going for. When I assured the doctor that there was no such thing as too small, she wrote it down. So, I'm hoping that things will go well. Dude, it's happening in a month.

I'm hungry, so I'm going to see if I can work up the emotional energy to cook (from a box) and then eat.

So, I had consultation for breast reduction surgery today. Good news: I like the surgeon. Bad news: It's highly unlikely (nigh impossible) that insurance will cover it. My breasts aren't big enough for insurance to deem it "medically necessary." Which is annoying, because, as the surgeon explained, it's not about size, it's about how proportional your breasts are to your frame. I have narrow shoulders and a small ribcage, and my breasts are not proportional.

But, despite insurance not covering it, my mom wants to go ahead with it. She actually worked to convince me. Admittedly, I think she's hoping that if I do this, I won't want to get chest surgery (i.e. a double mastectomy) further down the line. That idea really freaks her out.

At first, the doctor and I were on very different wavelengths. She's a plastic surgeon and wants to make my boobs pretty and feminine, and I'm transgendered and want my boobs gone. What we have here is a failure to communicate.

I had decided not to bring up the transgender thing for a variety of reasons, but I did come out as a lesbian just to stop the idea that I would want to attract men. Also, my mom and I used it clumsily to kill the "you won't be able to breastfeed and there will be scarring." Of course, there are lesbians who want children and want to breastfeed them, and who care about having pretty breasts, but... well, we were doing our best to be understood while not outing me as trans. Not as easy as you might think.

Nicely enough, my mom explained in the car that she understands that I'm not a lesbian, but that she wanted to keep things simple. (As did I.)

Anyway, when I started talking about wanting "athletic breasts" the surgeon began to understand. Though, I'm not sure if she really thinks that I want to play sports or if she figured out that "athletic" was a euphemism for "I'm trans!" It was hard to be all that subtle by the end.

I'm glad to say that everyone has been very supportive. My mom's totally gung-ho, and even her husband, who's a total miser, thinks that it's a good idea.

So, I think I'm going to go through with it. It's going to be terribly expensive, but my mom will pay part. This would be such a change. I've hated my body for years. It won't be exactly what I want, but if I never again break down sobbing in the dressing room while bra shopping just because I hate myself so much, then it will worth the price.

Why do people continue to Not Get It? Today's post isn't about stuff that's jaw-droppingly rage inducing, but still makes me go "Argh!"

Yesterday, in my lesbian lit class, we were discussing Stone Butch Blues. Since the book deals with Diné/Navajo culture and transgenderism, it's no surprise that the topic of of third genders within Native American Cultures would come up. The problem came when one woman used the word "berdache." While this is indeed a word used to describe non-gender-conforming native peoples, it's an insulting word, first used by European conquers to insult the people they were destroying. Also, using berdache as a blanket term ignores the multitude of differences across tribes. (I really hate it when I hear something described as a "Native American custom." Which tribe are you talking about? Cheyenne? Arapaho? Iroquois? Mohawk? I demand details!) When I brought this up, I was all but attacked, with the woman insisting that the work should be used for convenience's sake. The professor tried to cool the situation and made a note that perhaps someone should research the history of berdache. Which is exactly what I did. I looked in Transgender Warriors by Leslie Feinberg and Sex Changes by Patrick Califia, and found confirmation for my statement. (I would hope so, considering those books are where I got the information in the first place. But it's nice to have straight textual evidence.) I fully plan to bring this up tomorrow. The professor better have meant it when she said that someone should look into this. I do my research! And my research does not support the "Yay Western Imperialism!" viewpoint.

By the way, a blanket term for gender nonconformity within Native American Cultures that actually used by native people is two-spirit. That's respectful. Of course, if you come across someone who doesn't like the term, you shouldn't use it to describe them. (I shouldn't have to point that out, but.)

Later the same day, in my Christianity and Democracy class, I encountered a different time of privilege. We were discussing Christianity and Democracy by John De Gruchy. Of course, it's severely difficult to discuss the problem knowing that it's highly unlikely that anyone reading this has also read said book. To give you an overview of my issues, I'll just put up my response paper that I wrote for the class.

( Read more... )

All right, there you go. Little more than you strictly needed, but you understand my issues.

There are times when something seems incredibly clear to you, and you're shocked to find that people disagree. This happened in class. Two people thought that De Gruchy wasn't privileging Christianity. That's right, saying that an ideal society would be modeled after the Holy Trinity has nothing to do with concept of Christian supremacy. One woman couldn't see what the problem was. "If you like his ideas," she said, "why does it matter how he expresses them?"

I wonder what it would be like to go through life seeing absolutely nothing oppressive about saying that people not believing in the Christian God is responsible for society's ills, or that God should be a "necessary working hypothesis with regard to science, ethics, or art." It's classic Christian privilege. (Of course, it's possible that the woman wasn't a Christian. There will always be people who defend oppressors without being them. Look at the sheer number of sexist and misogynistic women. But I find it more likely that she's Christian.)

I'm reminded that in the same class, someone expressed the belief that the presidential inauguration wasn't explicitly Christian. Multiple preachers, swearing in the president with his hand on the Bible, and reference to God in the speech, and it's not Christian! People don't seem to get that the concept of Christianity as default in our society is problematic.


But now we reach our last point for today. And this point deals not with other people's privilege, but with my own. (So much harder to deal with.)

I'm not sure how much any one person on my flist has been keeping up with Racefail 09. I know that there's a lot that I've been missing. If you want to catch up, rydra_wong has an extensive (and impressive) collection of links.

A post that really stuck with me is this one by seperis. To quote:

Speaking for myself, sitting here in comfortable privilege and mulling how much new material I have to read, I'm ashamed that in this, I had nothing to lose and everything to gain and I've profited immensely by way of clicking links like some progressive online course. And I have to be grateful, and sickened by it.

This is so true. And it's not just this one instance. It seems that every time there's an explosion of racism in fandom, I get to learn stuff. I find fascinating, worthwhile information from brilliant people. People of color? Well, they get stepped on and hurt.

Does that make me a bad person? No, of course not. Privilege 101: Having privilege does not make you a bad person. But it's something I need to keep in mind. Something that frustrates me.

That said, the least I can do is plug some lj communities that are trying to make a difference. 50books_poc challenges you to read fifty books written by people of color over the course of year. Or more than a year. Or read fifty short stories. Or keep count of the books you read that are written by people of color. Or just read books written by people of color and post reviews. The point is to read work by people of color. I want to fulfill the original challenge: fifty books in a year, but right now, with my school schedule, the idea of being able to finish a book for fun seems like a distant dream. But I'll make the effort. I read What I talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami earlier this year, and right now I'm in the middle of The Wind Done Gone by Alice Randall.

Also, Verb Noire is a small press publisher dedicated to celebrating "the works of talented, underrepresented authors and deliver them to a readership that demands more." They're currently accepting submissions. Check them out!

Ok, I should probably get started on tidying up the condo, just a little.

Last night I got to see Watchmen. (For free!)

( Spoilers for both the movie and the comic )



So, in conclusion, I recommend the movie.

In other news, as you know, I've been trying to buy a binder. rockeandroll told me that it's easier if you can get someone else to measure you, so I asked my mom when I was at her house last night. At first, I tried to avoid telling her exactly what I was going to buy (she's supportive but still not entirely comfortable, and I feel that the less I share about my specific plans, the better for both of us), but I wasn't going to lie, and so the truth came out. Then, I was babbling on about all the difficulties of measuring, and the irritation of trying to return anything, and the possibility of physical pain, when my mother interrupted and asked why I didn't just get breast reduction surgery. A little surprised, I explained that I'm planning on getting a double mastectomy somewhere down the line. She then asked me why I didn't just get the reduction first. She bluntly points out, "Your boobs are too big." (And she's right, in that I'm not particularly proportional.) She notes that while I'd have to pay for a double mastectomy myself, we might be able to get insurance to cover a reduction. (I do have backaches. The cause has not so far been pinpointed. But strain from my breasts makes sense.) I'm still decidedly surprised, and I begin babbling about our insurance. (Essentially, we pay a really high deductible, then after we meet that, everything's free.) This billing year, we're fine because my mom's husband's cancer treatment easily met the deductible, but next billing year, we'll be back to paying for everything. When I noted that we'd have to pay full price, she just said, "Not if you get it before July first." At that point I moved beyond surprise into shock. She has a coworker who had the surgery, and she'll call her on Monday.

My mom's mostly focusing on the reduction as a matter of pure physical comfort (No more backaches, yay!), rather than the transgender aspect, but if that makes her more comfortable, then that's fine with me.

I'm getting all excited about this, I hope it doesn't fall through.

Argh, so much shit to do, but let's fit a post in.

We're reading Stone Butch Blues in my lesbian lit class. It's the third time I've read it. What's really interesting is the different way it's affected me each time. The first time I read it, I was thirteen or fourteen and just beginning to understand myself as queer, and it shaped my understanding of queer history and culture. (I still find myself surprised when I meet someone in the community who doesn't understand the basics of butch/femme dynamics.) The second time I read it, well, mostly, it really depressed me. Being queer isn't puppies and sunshine right now, but at least no one's going to arrest me because I'm not wearing three pieces of woman's clothing. But this time... this time it didn't make me sad at all. It made me feel proud of who I am. And more than that, it made me feel ready to stop thinking about what I want to do in the future and start thinking about what I'm going to do right now.

I've been looking up the necessary steps for a name change in Colorado. Bloody complicated and expensive, I'll tell you that. But I'm tired of that little flinch I feel whenever I use my birth name. So, I'm going with a gender neutral shortening of my birth name, and my middle name will no longer be the very girly "Marie," but the gender neutral "Leslie." (Yes, after the author of Stone Butch Blues.) I will be left with completely gender neutral name. I'm planning on starting on that over spring break, with my mother's help. (She's a paralegal, and so knows far more about law than I do.)

Speaking of my mother, I keep forgetting that she's not the same judgmental, bigot that she used to be. I mean, sure, she still blames herself for my queerness, and may very well believe to her dying day that my transgenderism is a phase, but that matters far less to me than the fact she's being supportive and helpful. I was really nervous about telling her about the name change, but she was great.

What's really amazing is that she feels she can joke about it. She told me that instead of Leslie, I should change my middle name to Mario, as it would only require changing one letter.Also, she thinks that I should change my first name to "Bosco." See, that's what she and my dad called me before they knew what sex I was going to be. (Which was so very helpful in the long run.)

The other thing I'm trying to do is buy a binder. Not a three ring binder, I mean something to bind my breasts. This is a bit troublesome. First, there's deciding what to get. I've decided to get something from Underworks, which has experience with ftm (female to male) clients. There's still several choices though. I've narrowed it down to the Power Compression Vest. We then get to my biggest problem: measuring myself. It turns out that I am as incompetent at this as I am at everything else. I'm pretty sure that "under the bust line" is 29 inches, but the site tells me to measure "over
the fullest part of your chest. Again not too tight but not too loose." I do not know what too tight or too loose is! I'm pretty sure that the most accurate average of the two measurements is 31.5 inches, but there's some margin of error there. This is problematic since an extra small is 29 to 31 inches, and a small is 32 to 34. And if I can wear a small, then I can get the double layer vest, which offers more compression. I'm probably going to call their helpline tomorrow and ask for advice. I really don't want to get this wrong, considering the expense.

Being transgender: a bloody awful lot of work.

Er, anyway, I have paper to write.

Yesterday, my mom called me up.

Her: We have a problem.

Me: We do?

Her: Yes. Not only did you kill Jesus*, you're also destroying the rain forest.

Me: I am?

Her: Yes. The Pope has said that "saving" gays is just as important as saving the rain forest. "Saving humanity from homosexual or transsexual behavior was just as important as saving the rain forest from destruction." He also said that "The Church should also protect man from the destruction of himself. A sort of ecology of man is needed." And "The tropical forests do deserve our protection. But man, as a creature, does not deserve any less."

Me: I see.

Her: Yes, "behavior beyond traditional heterosexual relations" is "a destruction of God's work."

Me: Right then.

We talked a little more, and laughed about my role in the destruction of the rain forest. I should explain, that my mother is joking. She does not actually believe that I killed Jesus, nor does she think that I'm destroying the rain forest.

Anyway, today I found an actual article on the Pope's statement.

( Pope likens 'saving' gays to saving the rainforest )


*A few years back, my mom and I were waiting in line at the grocery store, and we saw a magazine that had some headline about Jesus. My mom whispers in my ear "Jesus died because you're gay." We both crack up. There we are, cackling like loons in the grocery store, and no one else has the first clue what's so funny. If we were a more religious family, this would probably be my big homophobia related trauma. However, since we're not, it's just a continuing inside joke.

Okay, has the world just decided that it wants to make me furious and sad? Is this some grand conspiracy? Because Jesus H. Christ on a freaking pogo stick.

Somebody makes a post at fanfic rants about an author using "gay" as an insult. Irritating right? I hate when people do that. But if that's all it was, I wouldn't be making this post.

In come the Lesbians Who Aren't Offended By Anything. Watch as they blow off valid examples of homophobia! Thrill as they say that people are "looking to be offended!" Their ability to be total assholes will astound you!

I'm in there sporadically (mostly making snarky comments), but my main confrontation with one of the people is here. It's amazing how anyone can be that ignorant, condescending, offensive, and factually wrong all at once.

On the upside, the person who originally made the "gay" comment both changed her wording and apologized. That's how to be a class act, people. However it is not nearly enough to alleviate my rage over the whole situation.

Today in Abnormal Psych, we went over Gender Identity Disorder. It went better than I was anticipating. (The section of the book on GID is horrid. The case study is a man who thinks he's a woman, but actually turns out to be just only confused, and he simply needed the therapist to talk some sense into him! And very little attention payed to the fact that that's not normally how it goes, damn it.) The teacher had some pronoun issues, but it was clear that he knew what pronouns he was supposed to be using, he just kept slipping up. And he'd correct himself. As unofficial transgender ambassador to the cisgender world, I filled in blanks in his knowledge, and he was grateful for it. (I was worried that he'd see me as a stuck up know-it-all. Which, okay, I am, but that's beside the point.) And none of the students said anything stupid or offensive! I was pleasantly surprised.

I am under massive stress, but I'm dealing quite well. I'm firmly convinced that the world is a horrible, evil place, but it's a relaxed, matter-of-fact sort of opinion. And I think it should largely dissipate once I a) get more of my mood stabilizers and b) am finished with finals.

Stupid NextRX. All I want to do is order more drugs. Why are you making it so difficult?

Just for the hell of it, some articles. First, something cheerful.

( Obama critized for using complete sentences )

Now, not so silly.

( Red Sex, Blue Sex. Why do so many evangelical teen-agers become pregnant? )

In the spirit of the discussion in psych class:

( Atlanta's Intersex Police Officer Seeks Awareness )

I wanted to post this yesterday, but I was working.

So, as many, if not most, of you already know, yesterday was the anniversary of Mathew Shepard's death. It was also National Coming Out Day. I did not come out to anyone, but I would have had the topic arose. (At this point in my life, all the people who really need to know that I'm queer have been told. Now, it's on a need to know basis.)

I really don't think that there's much I can say here that hasn't been said better by others, so this is mainly a gathering of other content. After all, what should I say? I'm not eloquent enough or smart enough to put all of this into words.

bitterfig has a really eloquent post here.

An article from 365gay:

( Why the Shepard murder was different )

If you choose not to read that, at least know this: "[Barack Obama's website] says: 'Obama will strengthen federal hate crimes legislation, expand hate crimes protection by passing the Matthew Shepard Act, and reinvigorate enforcement at the Department of Justice’s Criminal Section.' There isn’t even a 'Civil Rights' section on the McCain site under 'issues,' much less a statement of support for specific hate crimes legislation."

The Bilerico Project has this to say:

( Matthew Shepard found, let's find the others now )

Hey, want to hear some good news? No, seriously.

( Connecticut’s Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage on the 10th )

Honestly, I'd rather see a stronger hate crimes act, or better housing and employment protection, but this is good too. (And I think that my thoughts on the way marriage takes center stage in the fight for GLBT rights would be better saved for another post.)

This weekend I was supposed to go on the OASOS camping trip. I had been planning it for months. Then I screwed up my schedule at work, and couldn't go. It's disappointing. The camping trip was one of the few things I still really like about OASOS, and this was my last year to go. But I think it's telling that I'm only a little disappointed. OASOS saved my life, but I've moved on. I don't connect with the other members (they're 13-15 mostly; how much connecting can there be?) and I'm continually frustrated with not being able to relate to the facilitators as adults. The only real question remaining is whether or not I'll wait until September to leave.

Within the span of a few days, I made and devoured a batch of coconut macaroons. I hope this recent baking trend continues. I've long had the desire to make things, but I'm hopeless at all things visual arts related, and I've been stagnate on the poetry front for months and months. I'm surprised at how easy so many things are to make. To me, coconut macaroons seem like they should be difficult, but it's just mix the ingredients, drop them on the tin foil covered cookie sheet, and pop them in the oven. Bourbon balls, the treat I'm making for livelongnmarry, are just as simple, especially if you have a food processor. As my mother said, the vanilla wafer people have done the hardest part by making the cookies. She mentioned finding a recipe for "quick and easy" bourbon balls, and I cracked, "Is that when you buy the vanilla wafers pre-crushed?"

I'm currently baking, but I'm still not cooking. Everything I make at home comes from a box or a can, and when I work I always eat at Taco Bell. (I know, and I am deeply shamed. But it tastes good!) I feel bad about it, but cooking is such a hassle. So many freaking ingredients! I never have what I need, and then I have to buy too much, because a can't find a decent portion size for one person that isn't heavily packaged, so the extra rots. And then I end up doing something wrong, and it's just all very frustrating.

Oh, and here's something I should have alerted you folks to a long time ago: my mom's husband has cancer. But don't freak out! He's responding really well to chemo, and things are currently looking ok. But it's still really hard on both him and my mom. My mom already had to go through this once with my dad. (She wasn't in love with him anymore, but she did love him.) I wish things were easier on my mom. Her life has been one big hectic mess for years. She still frustrates (frustrate is the word of the day, apparently) me though. I found out the other day that she still thinks that she did something wrong and "made" me queer. At this point though, I find it more perversely amusing than offensive.

Finally, the song I'm listening to now: "First We Take Manhattan" performed by Jennifer Warnes? I'm freaking addicted to it. I've been listening to it nearly nonstop for days.

It's almost bidding time over at livelongnmarry. I'm excited, but also a little worried. Will I win any of the things that I have my eye on? Will anyone bid on my bourbon balls offer? Oh, the suspense!

Of course, given my financial worries, I shouldn't even be thinking of bidding. But money burns a hole in my pocket, and I'm a sucker for a good cause.

Speaking of good causes, there's hardly any time left to help the breast cancer site get $10,000 in extra funding. It's so close, but I'm not sure if we're going to make it. I take full responsibility. I should have plugged it sooner.

I didn't go to OASOS today. I went to the youth board meeting, but didn't stay for group. The topic du jour was STDs. There's an STD presentation at least twice a year, and I've been attending for five years. I've got the t-shirt.

Going to OASOS makes me feel depressed. How long has that been happening? I feel like I'm ready to move on, but I'm stuck in such a rut that I won't be leaving until they kick me out at 21.

When I was younger, OASOS was vitally important to me. I even turned down a job at women's bookstore that was offered to me because I would have had to work Wednesdays. Now it's just something I do because I do. All too often I don't actually stay to attend the group.

I don't relate to any of the youth there. Maybe it's just an age thing. It's a young group these days, a lot of middle schoolers. There were more people in their late teens and twenties when I first started going, which worked well for me. I've long been most comfortable with people a few years older than me.

We're changing the time of the youth board meetings. For as long as I've been going, they've been held an hour before group. But no one's coming; they can't be bothered to show up, apparently. So we're going to try holding the meetings at 6:30, half an hour into the introduction part of group. I'm opposed to this, but was outvoted. I don't like splitting the group up, for one thing, but frankly, I'm annoyed that we're catering to people who can't be bothered to make minimal effort. If they can't even work up the energy to come an hour early, what does that say about their commitment all around?

I do understand that there are some people who just can't make it, but while that's genuinely unfortunate, it's just life. A few years ago there was a guy who would have been perfect for youth board, but his job kept him from attending. Did that suck? Hell yeah, especially for me, since I was crushing on him. (Self absorbed? Moi?) But that was how it worked. There are groups I can't attend because I don't drive. It makes me sad, but I don't ask that the groups change their time.

Maybe I'm wrong about this. I was outvoted, after all. But it bothers me.

( Pictures from the OASOS talent show )

So, OASOS (the queer support/activity group I attend) is having its annual talent show on Wednesday, and I will be doing drag. This means that I had to go shopping for girl clothes. (I perform as drag queen. Dressing in men's clothing wouldn't be anything different than what I normally do, and besides, I don't identify as female.) All I wanted was to find a simple but still slightly sexy white top to go with a really cute skirt I already have. In the process I was reminded of what I had almost forgotten.

Women's clothing is evil.

It is! First of all, it's unnecessarily complicated. For hilarity, imagine me in the thrift store dressing room flailing around going, "Augh! Too many straps! Why so many straps!" Then I couldn't get the damn thing off!

But, really, that's not why it's evil. It's truly evil because I genuinely suspect that it's designed to make women feel bad about themselves. I have many neuroses, but worrying about my weight is not one of them. I weight somewhere between 130-140 pounds (I don't own a scale, so I can't be sure), and I've always considered myself slender. If my jeans stop fitting, I take it as a sign that I need to buy new jeans. I always figured that the lack of worry simply meant that that specific aspect of female socialization had missed me. Plenty of others had firmly lodged themselves in me, so it's not as if I didn't have other shit to worry about. Now, I'm beginning to suspect more and more that my lack of anxiety about my weight comes from not wearing women's clothing (aside from shoes and socks) more than three times a year max since I was thirteen.

Putting on dresses, I begin to worry about my stomach sticking out, and I see how long I can suck in my breath. Today I began wondering if size 11/12 is considered fat these days. (I don't know what size I am, but I think it's over a ten.) I thought, "I could ask people on lj." Then I thought, "NO I CERTAINLY WILL NOT. BECAUSE IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER." I really was thinking in capslock. (And seriously, don't tell me. It doesn't matter, or, at least, it shouldn't matter, and I'm not going to validate that kind of thinking in myself.)

Also, what are women's clothing designers thinking these days? All I really wanted was a simple white top. Why was that so much trouble? Because everything I tried on was so thin as to be practically see through. I'm fairly certain that ones nipples shouldn't show through one's shirt if it can be avoided, and I'm very, very certain that one's areolas should not show through. I was wondering if I just have unusually pointy nipples, but a call to my mother assured me that shirts are made like that these days.

Speaking of my boobs, there's another reason that shopping for women's clothing is such a headache for me that's more personal: I'm not proportional. Tops and dresses that fit me in the arms, waist, and length all too often don't fit me in the chest. Simply put, my boobs are too big. This creates problems. I remember looking through hand-me-downs from my mother's best friend's daughter. We were the same weight, and her clothes were often designer brands that hadn't even been worn. But, you guessed it, they wouldn't fit around my chest. I was looking a nice white top at Buffalo Exchange (a ritzy second hand store--the thrift store yielded no results) that was my size, then noticed a ring of lace around the middle of the chest area. "What the hell?" I thought. "Why is the boob area full of holes?" Then I noticed two triangular pieces of fabric above the lace. I realized that my boobs were supposed to go there, except there was no way that was enough room.

I'm not used to these problems. Normally, when I buy shirts, I go to the size I wear, and find something I like. No mess, no fuss. I got so fed up, I eventually bought a blouse that's too tight, and only slightly see through, just because I was so sick of the whole thing.

But, but, but! I don't want you to think the whole day was unpleasant. You see, I really do love cute/sexy/beautiful women's clothing, and I came away with some real finds. (Well, I like them.)

The first is a top that's so gloriously tacky that I soon as I saw it, I knew that I had to have it. It's fuzzy pink and purple leopard print with a hood and a zipper up the front. I love tops with zippers up the front. It's incredibly sexy. Actually tops that fasten up the front are sexy in general. There's nothing sexier to take off than a button up shirt. Unfastening the buttons one by one, going ever so slowly, teasing your lover with your eyes... mmm. Zippers are not as sexy to take off, because it goes too fast, but they're much sexier to wear. You see someone wearing something with a zipper in the front, and the first on your mind is how easy it would be to pull that zipper down. (Er, well, it's the first thing on my mind.)

This leads well into the other top I bought. I saw it and literally thought "That is the sexiest piece of clothing I have ever seen. I think I might like to have sex with it." It's black vinyl with a zipper up the front (of course), and it's very short. I kept raising my arms above my head and jumping, worrying that I'd end flashing. Of course, it's not as if I'll get much use out of it. The only times Id feel comfortable wearing it are to a Rocky Horror Picture Show showing and with someone I was in a deep and intimate relationship with. But I couldn't not buy it.

So, er, yes. Was that a little too much sharing?

I really hate lj cuts. I always screw them up when making big posts.

Here we have a very interesting book review/interview. I need to look into this book.

( Survival Guide for Life in a Sexist Society )

Finally, a little good news. (That's a month old. Sorry.)

( Canada Law Hinders Focus on the Family’s Deceptions about Sexual Orientation )

Take that, ya bunch of bigots!

And one more. (I have more to post, but I think that this enough for one day. You don't have to read all of these at once. Come back over several days, and take you time, if need be.)

( Anti-Choice and the Woo Factor )