Help Not Wanted : A Letter to the Transgender Community

     I feel like I should start this letter off by saying I am Cis-gendered male and I am gay. I have known I was gay since I was five years old and I have never yearned to be female in any way, shape or form. True, I love the female ability to dress wildly and accessorize outrageously, but I would not give up my penis for the world.

    Now, with that said, I am tired of being considered less... by my own community. Because I am  a cis (equals biological) male, I am apparently assumed to be close minded and judgmental about the other parts of the rainbow. I am told that I can never understand what it is like to be a woman, or a black man, or a transgender-ed person because I was not born any of these. I am told that I am unique because I don't take issue with racial or physical differences when looking at my friends and loved ones.

    When I suggested helping start a Transgender support group, I was told I would look like a predator or that my being there would make any trans-men feel uncomfortable.That my being there would be counterproductive of the meeting and that I would be force-ably outing the trans-men in my community. And my question is: If I am a true ally to all, why must I be made to feel that my help, my support is worthless?

   And I am not alone. I have watched as many were told, "We appreciate your support, but you don't understand what it's like?" And one can only be told that so many times before walking away, feeling useless and ashamed that there is nothing we can offer.

   We are all of a life journey to find and realize our true selves. How is it that my experiences are less valuable because I am a cis male and white? Have I never been the minority? Have I never felt unloved or unwanted? I submit that we, as a human species, are all subjected to judgment from the masses, from our families and friends. And to be told that I'm not good enough to help anyone understand is insulting and perpetuates the same anger and frustration that my transgender counterparts feel.

   As a human being, I feel that as long as we continue to fight against each other and even those willing to help, we all lose. As long as we continue to talk about how your struggle is tougher than my struggle, we are not focusing on the things that will help us grow. As long as we tell ourselves and others that their help is not needed, their advice is not wanted, and their life experiences are invalid, we deny ourselves the ability to see the common themes and change so that all people are equal, dignified, and loved.

  This is the final battle: to be able to see and accept love from all who offer it and to believe in good intent even in the hardest of lessons. We will always fight hate in it's various forms, but it is only when we forget the power and healing of love that we are truly lost.

The Real World (in Reality)

"Saturday- Barbara Ann and Betty were fighting about who had larger breasts. It resulted in a whipped cream fight that went deadly. The cops were involved.

Sunday- Jose went on another bender, getting drunk and having gay sex on the pool table in front of the entire household. And the crew. And even neighbors were peeping in through through the glass windows. It definitely didn't help that his parents were visiting from Puerto Rico. And were playing pool.

Monday- Today was a fairly quiet day, until the screaming at midnight. Apparently Bubba was sleepwalking around the house in nothing but his boots and cowboy hat. And then he mistook Ahmed's bed with the toilet and proceeded to "golden shower" him. He wasn't nearly as Quiesha, who happened to walk by, see his bright white ass and start screaming at the ghost of her long dead daddy."---   The Real World, Fiction

      Having roommates changes everything. Especially going from a seven room house to an apartment. Granted, "the apartment" is a three story townhouse which is very nice but there is still an adjustment. For the most part, the move has been a purging process, allowing us to start fresh. We gotten everything from the house moved into two rooms at the townhouse. But now comes the conflict . . . the furniture wars, the space issues, and did I mention the cat that wants to clain every part of the house as his?

     At this point, I am waiting for Frankie, our cat, to serve us an eviction notice stating he can't live in this small a space. And this is after two days of him living here. And I'm scared, because he's a scarey little shit when he needs to be.

      And the boxes. who knew we had this much crap? And most of it, we just couldn't imagine leaving behind. Unpacking is a daunting and right now, very offputting and put off task.

      Thank you to our new roomies who helped us move. And to our old roomie, you da bomb.
And for all those who saw we were moving and didn't care, well you probably won't be reading this, so Oh Fucking Well.
 
     So far, the most drama seen was on TV, watching Roseanne (season 5, the one where Fisher beats Jackie, and Roseanne and Dan come to the rescue).

     I think I like the new place, and our roommates, despite us all being so different. But only time will tell. Here's hoping there is lots of fun, without so much "reality".