As of yesterday, on the 24th, it’s been 6 months since I began my transition journal, and it’s flown by unbelievably fast.  My life has been so full since coming to terms with myself, and bringing those around me to be on those terms.  So much has changed- mainly, my respect for myself and my own standards.  I’ve dropped the practice of hiding behind the wrong gender and pretending to be what I’m not just because it’s easier, or because I was afraid.  I’ve gained more friends and more respect for coming out than I would have kept by keeping it all inside.  Most importantly, I’ve gained a father who knows me- not just someone who looks like a girl verson of me- and my father has gained the son he didn’t know he had.  The richness of life this has brought has made my life an unbelievable dream come true.

Just six months ago, I probably would have still worn makeup and even female garb if the situation called for it.  Today, I wouldn’t put those things on if someone told me they would reject be forever if I didn’t.  And on top of that, I’m comfortable enough with my gender that, if I wanted to put on a girl costume just for the fun of it, I could probably do that without any serious emotional injuries.  The point of all this, as contradictory as it seems, is that I don’t wear what I wear for anyone else’s approval, because of fear, or because I believe that what I am is unacceptable.  What I look like in any given situation is now my choice and mine alone- nobody can tell me what to be.

I’ve learned that people in general are very, very stupid.  The 95% majority of them are not educated in the least on the problems that people like us have, and the ones who are usually are misninformed, ignorant of the more important subtleties, insensitive, bigoted, or just plain prejudiced.  A lot of people will go out of their way to let me know that what I’m doing is wrong, but that they still love me anyway, even though I’m going to burn in Hell.  Others will tell me that they’re very sorry that I feel the way I do and that it must be very hard, but as long as I still haven’t had surgery, still sound, smell and look like a girl, I will be a girl in their eyes and there’s nothing they can do about it.  Even the people who do accept and support me 100%, put in the effort to educate themselves, and do their very best to make people like me comfortable in a harsh and cruel world… are simply not equipped to deal with something this complex.  Most of the people in my life are not college graduate gender theorists, majors in psychology or left-wing social workers.  I have to keep in mind that even I have such a hard time sorting everything out, and I’m steeped in this information and situation day in and day out.  There is nothing about this that is easy for anyone.  I have to be grateful for the people in my life who at least don’t make a big deal of it, and certainly for the ones who don’t want to kill me.  There are certainly enough of those in the world.

I’ve also learned that people are very, very different and very unpredictable.  There’s no way to know how they’re going to react to my situation until I tell them.  Some of the people I thought would reject me, hurt me or try to fix me have turned out to be the people who are most supportive- the ones who try the hardest to get the name and pronouns right.  And sometimes, the ones I thought would be behind me 100% all the way turned out to be most resentful of my transition, if for no other reason than I “killed off” the person they thought they knew.  I’ve had to learn to accept and work through the feelings of betrayal that some of my friends have had since this started.  It can be just as hard for me to understand the way they feel about this as it’s hard for them to understand why my female aspects are abandoning them forever, but we all have to work together if we want to get through this in one piece.

I’ve learned that there are places in this world that are surprisingly accepting of people like us, all evidence to the contrary.  I’ve learned there are places that are suprisingly dangerous, all evidence to the contrary.  I’ve learned of the unbelievable bigotry and ignorance in the LGBT community, the place I was convinced I could turn, the people who should understand gender issues more than anyone.  There’s a big difference between queer and trans- in the eyes of the world, queer people LOVE the wrong gender, and trans people ARE the wrong gender.  But we all fall under that same umbrella: the world rejects us because of some relation to the wrong gender, and if we can work together to dispel the gender stigma, then we’d all be better off.

I’ve learned that my own issues run deeper then I thought they did.  Since I’ve developed a healthy sense of self respect, I’ve learned there are things I’m not okay with.  I’m not okay with being touched in certain places, or used in certain ways.  I’m not comfortable with wearing long hair while I still have the soft, round features indicative of the sex my body still is.  I’m not comfortable with being dominated most of the time- I’ve learned of the delicacy of the male ego and the paradox that comes with that.

And of course, I’ve learned all the logistical facts and skills, like how to bind in a matter of a few seconds, use an STP, shave my face, walk and talk like a dude.  I’ve tasted the victory of being “sirred” in public, being read as male at least until I opened my mouth, and being told by some people that my being male “really does make sense of a lot of things” with me.  I’ve been told to put the toilet seat down, to stop being such an insensitive Guy, and to sit with the dudes.  I’ve been called by Tommy at least as much as by my legal name these last couple of weeks, and that, I know, is a huge improvement and a sign of respect and of being taken seriously by those who care.

I have a long way to go.  I still have to get back on medical insurance so I can get consultations for getting on T, but the paperwork is in the system.  I’ve worked out that I will just barely be able to afford testosterone with the paycheck I get now, but I’m prepared to put a lot of other things on hold so I can get my life going in the right direction.  I have to quit smoking before I can get on T, but so far I’ve cut so far back that, when the time comes, it will be a piece of cake.  I still need to buy a real binder, but I think I’ll have that in the works by the time I get back from San Francisco.  I have yet to come out to any of my extended family, but I’m sure they’ll figure it out once I start showing up with facial hair.  I still look female, but my genetics dictate that the T will have a nearly catastrophic effect on my body- my father and mother both grow hair prolifically, and both had very male, broad physiques.  I’m not exactly built with the most feminine structure as it is.  Quite frankly, I can’t wait to get the stuff in my body- it’s going to feel great!

The new year will bring a lot more revelations, to myself and to the world, or so I hope.  I would hate to remain static in this state, either physically or mentally.  I have a lot still to learn.  My opinions on what I may have done surgically, for example, are not the same as they were 6 months ago, and they probably won’t be the same in 2 years.  I’m sure that the effect the T has on my mind and body will direct that.  But to put it all in one sentence:

I’ve walked further on this path than I thought I had, I’ve got longer to go than I thought I would, and over all, I’m just happy to know that I’m finally on my way home.

Merry Christmas to everyone!

Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas whoever you are and whatever you believe … or whatever you are and whoever you believe … or something like that.

All the best to you and yours … and if you see other people … all the best to him and his, her and hers, and them and theirs.

I’ve got me and mine covered.

note: I can never get tired of singing Jingle Bells Batman Smells.

double note: I’d wish everyone a Happy New Year, but I don’t have my new calendar yet … and I’m not sure exactly when it will be next year.

triple note: don’t worry about me … I’ll be knee deep in turkey, stuffing/dressing and cranberry sauce before all you in North America have even gone to bed with visions of sugar plums dancing on your heads.

quadruple note: now I have to go cry while watching “Its a Wonderful Life” for the billionth time.  It ain’t Christmas without Mr. Gower smacking George’s bad ear.

quintuple note: I’m not really going anywhere … I’m just clicking the mouse a few times and sitting right here to watch it.

sextuple note: Japanese kids think it’s funny that I always got a few mikan/mandarin/Chinese oranges in the bottom of my stocking as a kid.

septuple note: Wow is “It’s a Wonderful Life” really 63 years old? It seems like it was just 43 years old the last time. 
I may have to hunt down the ghost of Alister Sims too tonight or tomorrow. He’ll be waiting for my visit I’m sure.

.

notes to myself #94

Great aunts and uncles, grandparents, and even your parents are like those chocolate Cadbury Easter eggs; they are around for a limited time only. Enjoy them while they last.

Have you noticed how political correctness has dumbed down America?

Opps, can I say “dumbed”?  Actually, “dumb” means unable to speak as in “mute”, but I’m sure some disability group will object to me using it in this context.  So be it.

Anyway, I was using a professional networking site and chose to forward a contact’s information on to another contact.  Here’s what I got as a suggested message:  (slightly redacted, of course)

“I found XXXXX  XXXXX, XXX’s profile on LinkedIn and thought you might be interested. I would be happy to introduce you to them through my network.”

See the problem?

LinkedIn doesn’t know how to handle the possible gender differences users may encounter so rather than say “…introduce you to him…” as we used to be able to do pre-Feminist movement, or even less acceptably say “…introduce you to her…”, we instead have to violate the rules of grammar by using a plural pronoun to describe a singular entity.

Apparently, we would rather sound ignorant than to resort to the ages-old tradition of defaulting to the masculine form when the subject could be either gender or when multiple subjects are being referred to.

English is not really that hard to learn.  It’s just that we seem to have no conventions to which we are willing to adhere (as opposed to “It’s just that we have no conventions we are willing to adhere to“).  But then everyone knows that you don’t end a sentence with a preposition, right?

MORE:

http://grammar.ccc.commnet.edu/grammar/pronouns.htm

Went to a coffee shop last night, ordered a mocha.
The barista called me sir and made my coffee.
He didn’t ask how I pee or have sex, he didn’t ask if I knew that I will never be completely biologically male.
He just made my coffee and called me sir.

For the sake of world peace and all that’s good about the holiday season, let’s focus on the common mistakes that impair our ability to communicate and declare a truce on bickering over the fine points of grammar.

So I’m repeating my three-part series aimed at the biggest, ugliest targets, doing my best to avoid flash backs of catatonic English teachers.

The liveliest comments were on my IABC and Melcrum Linkedin groups, where fellow communicators get quite feisty about language.

9. The war on bad grammar: possessives, contractions and words that sound similar

And here are the links for the companion posts on me, myself and I as well as that, which and who and snd more pronoun insanity.

For the past six months, Doug has been keenly interested in birds and other wildlife. He’s had us take him to local (and not-so-local) nature centers, installed with our help an elaborate configuration of bird feeders in the back yard, and been reading his collection of field guides (acquired mostly in one go, for his birthday) more or less cover to cover. He and his mom will have conversations about what they saw at the birdfeeder during the day.

“I saw a hairy!” he’ll say.

“And I saw a downy and a red-bellied,” his mother will tell him.

“And I saw a couple of woodpeckers!” I’ll put in. Other birds than woodpeckers come, too. We’ve had mourning doves, juncos, starlings, purple finches, nuthatches, titmouses, cardinals, and sparrows, which I’m slowly learning to identify. But more often, if I see something interesting at the feeder, I’ll say, “Look at that!”, and Doug will say, “What is it?”, and I’ll say, “A bird!”

Meanwhile, last week we got our annual letter of concern from Adam’s school, notifying us officially that he’d missed more than ten days of class. This happens just about every year, because Adam gets sick so much. As if to celebrate the occasion, Adam announced on Sunday afternoon that he felt bad, and had a fever of 100.5 to back it up. So now he’s spent two more days home sick, and I’ve been prompting him at every turn to get through some more of the makeup work he still has stacked up from his earlier absences, especially now that I’m picturing two more days’ worth piling up on his desktop at school.

As he was completing the questions on his worksheet about the prefix dis-, he suddenly said:

Sometimes they can be singular.

“Oh?” I said, trying not to divulge anything. “Give me an example.”

Adam showed me the question: “What might cause you to distrust someone?” His answer was, “One thing is if they let you down.” Someone was singular, and the they was talking about that someone, so they was singular here.

“You’re right, Adam!” I said. This was amazing to me. It was only a few weeks ago that his teacher gave them all a worksheet on personal pronouns, summarizing facts for case (e.g. I vs. me), person (e.g. I vs. you or he/she/it), and number (e.g. I vs. we). I’d gone over the worksheet with Doug and Adam during supper one night, and I suspect Doug forgot about it as soon as he knew he wasn’t in danger of me asking another question about it during the next five minutes. But Adam had evidently kept the information, and was now realizing that it didn’t completely match what he knew about his language. He made my day!

“You’re thinking like a linguist!” I told him. Doug, meanwhile, was just as amazed that Adam could notice this kind of stuff as he was that I could.

“You know what I think of when I think about me and sentences and pronouns and stuff?” he asked me. “I think of you and birds!”

: : : : : : : : : : : :

My hair.  What did you think?

Anyway, I’ve been running a discussion over on the TransQueer Nation forums (which, if you don’t have an account, you need to register for because it is an absolute wealth of information, support, and fellow Tguys).  It was based on good haircuts for heavy guys, and after a lot of… well, what I considered to be slightly… off suggestions, I finally owned up to having something completely different in mind:

Well, I’ve taken all your suggestions under advisement, but I’m going to roll with my gut and get this classic cut:

I wanted something conservative, but not too short, and I think Ewan McGregor has enough of a round, innocent face to sort of mimic and give me an idea of what I might look like with this cut, especially after I get on T, but before I start growing facial hair. I know how fast my hair grows and it should be past my shoulders in about a year, which, if anything about my what my genetics tells me is true, should be about when my facial hair starts to darken and come in. I want to have long hair again once I have enough male gender cues to indicate that I’m a guy with long hair and not just a chick with long hair and some facial hair problems.
Anyway, I did a little research and found a barber’s joint in San Fran that I really want to visit- I’ve read TONS of reviews and 98% of them gave 5 stars, and on top of that, I read a few by trans guys who said they felt welcomed there!
LET ME REPEAT THAT:
I’ve found a barber shop that’s friendly to trans guys.
Joe’s Barbershop

Apparently the rate is $25, which is pretty damn good for a safe experience with nice (and talented!) barbers. Spread the word; I know I’ll be crossposting this to my blog. I’m probably going to be down there getting the cut the morning of the 28th; I’ll be sure to post some before and after pics and my own review of the place.

Wish me luck!

So yes, I feel that making this find may be my biggest contribution to the trans community so far- at least, the trans community that lives in the Bay Area and wants their hair professionally cut by someone they don’t already have rapport with.  Wow, that’s actually kinda pitiful.  Oh well, we do what we can.

…

In other news, I’ve just told my dad tonight that I’d prefer to be called by Tommy.  After he realized the significance (a hint: “The dog was called Indiana!”), he actually said that he’d be proud to call me Tommy.  I told him I’d give him a lot of leeway and not get dramatic if he forgot to use the right name, because my friends who have known me less than 4 years now have trouble, and he’s been calling me by my birth name for 21 years in a row.  He seemed to really appreciate that.

In fact, he made a hell of an effort just this evening- he was talking to someone and said he was “proud to have K_____ as my daughter.  No, proud to have Tommy as my daughter.  As my CHILD.”  I couldn’t help but beam with pride at his obvious efforts.  He’s taking this more seriously than I ever could have hoped, and catching on real fast.

…

Finally, about that San Fran trip-

We’re going on the 27th and it’s going to be a rabble rousing, gut busting two-night affair of escaping the humdrum, pretend-to-fit-in existence of living in East Jesus Nowhere.  I plan on going in drag EVERYWHERE, the first night Sunday the 27th, we’re going to a techno club or something-whatever and that’s when I’m having my Severance Ball.  Then on Monday morning, I’m getting my hair cut, and I plan on going as masculine that day as possible, possibly even to the point of costume.  Not sure what we’re doing that night, but we’re leaving for home some time Tuesday afternoon and I’m sure we’ll find something to do.

So, if any of my fellow transguys live out the Bay Area and know a good joint to hang, hit me up and maybe we can meet up and have a drink or something.  Frankly, it would just be nice to know I’m not the only one that exists.

Bill Mounce?

http://www.koinoniablog.net/2009/12/emphatic-pronouns-and-salvationmatt-53.html

or Steve Runge?

http://www.ntdiscourse.org/2009/12/emphatic-pronouns-and-other-urban-legends/

I’d like to say right now that I’ve passed a milestone.  Just a few minutes ago, I had the first female in my life ever to tell me to put the toilet seat down.  Aside from the slight embarrassment (and huge flush of relief that came to realize that she saw it up before her mom did), I felt a sense of… becoming- not quite pride, but accomplishment; the feeling of passing on into being not just a boy, but maybe even a man.

My 21st birthday is in 3 days.

I’ve been thinking about it for about 5 months now, and I’ve finally decided that I am, in contradiction of everything I’ve said before, going to cut my hair.  Yes, I’ve said before that I don’t:

1)  go around wearing what I wear or looking what I look like just to make things easier for everyone else.  I do this for ME.
2)  follow gender stereotypes, because if I think that’s what makes me a man, then I might as well just pack up and go home.
3)  want to go through transition for the sake of being a man, I do it for the sake of being MYSELF.

I still hold to those standards, but the funny thing is, I feel like a completely different person today than I did five months ago.  I feel that short hair would suit me better as I am, that I’m really not trying to live up to that scruffy biker/metalhead image anymore, that I want a softer, shaggy, more boyish cute faggy look as I settle into my male self.  (Plus Hilary Swank looked awfully cute in short hair in Boys Don’t Cry.)  In fact, I could go on listing a thousand reasons I’ve changed my mind- it doesn’t matter.  I will never abandon my resolution to be myself, and if I tried to hold to an image that I was before but not now, just to prove something to anyone else, then I’ve lost sight of that.

This cutting of my hair will also mark the passing of another landmark, no matter how I try to downplay it.  I’ve had long hair for my entire life, as long as I can remember, and losing it will almost be a point of no return.  I may grow my hair long again, in the future when my features have masculinized again, but for now, this is my aggressive visual act of manhood to those around me.  It says, “this isn’t just something I’m saying, or a phase.  I’m serious about this.”  If nothing else, I hope that it will be a constant reminder of what pronoun to use.

So, I’ve decided that, the night before I get it done, I’m going to make almost a ceremonial gesture, an act of severance to the female life behind me.  My friends and I are going to go out for a night on the town, and I’m going in full drag as a female.  There will be nothing questionable about it- I’ll be gussied up in every way possible, from corset to makeup and hairdo, head to toe.  It will be very symbolic as the last time I ever don the female garb, and at the end of the night I’ll remove every piece and say goodbye to the life behind me.

I’m calling it my Severance Ball: my rite of passage from a female body into a male one, and I feel that at the end of that night, I will have no regrets and will never look back.

Open your herstory texts to page 3...

Ah, pronouns, those pesky, troublemaking, rabble-rousing parts of speech. What would old Strunk have thunk about all the hoo-haw regarding the perceived offensiveness of generic male pronouns?

One thing’s for sure: the use of the plural “they” as a singular generic pronoun accounts for more bad writing than Robert James Waller and L. Ron Hubbard combined, and that’s really saying something. Consider the following:

If you’re getting together with an Internet date for the first time, you may want to meet them in a public place. You also may want to bring a friend for protection — making sure they understand that they should leave if you like them.

What? Who are we talking about here? In an effort to address readers of both genders, we’ve just muddied the linguistic waters to the point of ridiculousness. I understand the whole movement toward inclusiveness — we don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, after all. But let’s get over it already.

One way around this goofiness is to substitute “he or she” or “him or her.” This, of course, will weigh your prose down like an Acme anvil.

Another tactic is to alternate using masculine and feminine pronouns. This method can add to the convolution, plus you have to go through your document and count all the “he”s and “she”s up to make sure they’re absolutely equal.

Or you could write around it, avoiding pronouns altogether like vinyl car seats on a hot day, like so:

If you’re getting together with an Internet date, set the meeting for a public place. You may also want to bring a friend for protection — making sure the friend knows to leave if you like your date.

You could rewrite it by making the subject plural:

When you get together with your Internet dates for the first time, you may want to meet them in a public place. Bring a friend or two for protection, making sure they understand that they should leave if you like your date.

(None of it’s good writing, but I’m working with what I have, okay?)

I recently edited a client’s nonfiction book about identity theft, in which she used plural pronouns for singular subjects. After batting around several ideas, we came up with a fifth alternative. We included the following paragraph in the foreword:

Throughout this book, I refer to perpetrators using “him,” “he” and “his.” Women commit identity theft too, but in the interest of clarity and brevity, I use generic male pronouns.

Controversial? Certainly. Scandalous? Perhaps. But more importantly, we’re offending female identity thieves in a grammatically correct manner.

English makes a distinction, as in the following sentences, which seems not to be found in either German or French:

The house I saw yesterday was not for sale. (Relative clause defines which house we’re talking about.)

The house, which I saw yesterday, was not for sale. (Relative clause, being non-defining, contains no more than additional information, so can be removed without destroying the meaning of the sentence.)

In German and French it is impossible to tell which sense is meant:

Das Haus, das ich gestern gesehen habe, war nicht zu verkaufen.

La maison, que j’ai vue hier, n’était pas à vendre.

Unless someone can tell me otherwise.

Whoa! How do you make two mistakes in a single word? If you write for Yahoo! Shopping, it’s pretty easy:

Even if the writer had used the possessive pronoun its (instead of the contraction it’s), the word would still be wrong. Why? Because the antecedent of the pronoun is jackets, a plural. The correct possessive pronoun is theirs.

Could it be this description from Yahoo! Shopping?

The writer seems to be suffering from a bit of schizophrenia, unable to decide if Ugg is an acronym deserving all caps or a simple proper noun. Even more serious is the mismatched subject and verb and the weird use of the contraction it’s. Even changing the contraction to its wouldn’t fix this mess. It’s just uglier than Uggs.

Writers should check for themselves that the words they use actually exist; otherwise, they could be creating a brand-new pronoun and error, like this one on Yahoo! omg!:

The chorus of Beyoncé’s smash hit “Single Ladies,” contains four befuddling pronouns. And while both “yous” seem to refer to the same ex-boyfriend, listeners might find it troubling to assume that both “its” also share a common antecedent. If, for example, the first “it” refers to the singer and the second does as well, then the singer becomes an “it” herself. Or, if the second refers to a finger and the first does too, then the singer becomes nothing more than an embodiment of that finger.

Of course, women who turn themselves into an “it” or define themselves simply by their ring fingers are self-demeaning. But Beyoncé’s unglued pronouns might point to something deeper about pop music and those who sing it. As the song makes clear, the “you” indicates an ex-boyfriend. But on another level, it is also speaking to the song’s listeners. Here, we become just as guilty of letting the singer slip away as the ex. And when the singer refers to herself as an “it,” she might actually be showing us what she looks like under our demeaning (and demanding) gaze.

In a pop song, lyrics are often written simply to fit a bouncy rhythm. But in this one, the singer uses vagaries of language to fight back. Just as the ex-boyfriend glares on in envy as the singer dances with other men, we gawk in confusion as she becomes a chameleon before us: she is at once the “it” we want her to be, and she is not. If pop stars inevitably realize they are prisoners of their own image, Beyoncé’s chorus statement is a kind of powerful shape-shifting. It is the breathless singer taking rightful charge of her identity. She will flash what she sees fit. All we can do is try to catch a glimpse.

-Lucas Southworth

The Star is supposed to find pronouns confusing. Someone who is ’she’ in one situation, can suddenly start being ‘you’ or ‘I’, ‘we’, ‘they’ or possibly even ‘he’ in another. “But my name is ‘you’,” the Star is assumed to be thinking. “What’s going on?”

So you have spent the last seventeen months sounding as though you are commentating someone else’s life, as if it wasn’t enough that you are now forced into talking constantly about every last detail of the weather. The colour, texture, smell and taste of food on its way down and up and out. The movement of squirrels, dogs, passers-by, cars, buses, taxis, vans, motorbikes, trains, boats, planes, helicopters and leaves. The shape of your ears. The exact amount of pain you feel when the Star yanks your hair, bites your leg or pinches your cheeks. The reason why crapping on the carpet or widdling on the kitchen floor is not a good idea. The correct method of washing up. How to separate clothes for washing. Why books should not have pages ripped out. The fine art of putting toys away. And the importance of sleep.

By this time the Star has heard his immediate family’s names ever and over and over again. Yet oddly enough, despite being able to respond confidently and accurately when asked to point to any number of everyday objects, the three words the Star seems to have trouble with are ‘Mama’, ‘Papa’ and ‘Babushka’.

He can be relied upon to point at B when asked where his Mummy is and you for his Daddy. Or sometimes at you for both or B for both. Sometimes he just points at his Babushka. Sometimes he points at you when asked where his Babushka is. Or B. Very occasionally he gets it all right, but you can’t help but think it’s a fluke.

You wonder whether it’s because he just sees you three as interchangeable food and fun producing units.

Or whether it’s because he can’t separate each of the people around him out because you are using names, which doesn’t allow for a clear distinction between self and others.

ich, du, … εγώ, εσύ….

Οι αντινωμίες χρησιμοποιούται πάρα πολύ στη γερμανικη. H αγγλική, η γαλλική, η γερμανική και άλλες γλώσσες χρησιμοποιούν πάντοτε προσωπική αντωνυμία μαζί με το ρήμα. H ελληνική γενικά παραλείπει τις προσωπικές αντωνυμίες, εκτός α) όταν δίνεται έμφαση στο υποκείμενο (π. χ. στη φράση «εσύ δεν έχεις να φοβηθείς τίποτα») και β) όταν υπάρχει κίνδυνος συσκότισης του υποκειμένου, όπως στην περίπτωση που συζητάμε, οπότε χρησιμοποιείται η προσήκουσα αντωνυμία ή το όνομα του υποκειμένου.

Personalpronomen -Προσωπικές αντωνυμίες

Singular - στον ενικό

• ich  
                      (εγώ)    
• du  
                         (εσύ)          
• er  
                          (αυτός)         
• sie  
                         (αυτή)          
• es     
                       (αυτό)       

plural – στον πληθυντικό

• wir  
                       (εμείς) 
• ihr   
                       (εσείς)
• sie  
                        (αυτοί, αυτές, αυτά) 

Όπως βλέπετε, το τρίτο πρώσοπο του πληθυντικού  (sie)  δεν αλλάζει.  Για άνδρες, γυναίκες και παιδία χρησιμοποιούμε την ίδια λέξη. Sie έχει και άλλη σημαντική χρήση:  άμα θέλεις να μιλάς  σε άνθρωπο στον πληθυντικό ευγενείας, χρησιμοποιείς  Sie στα γερμανικά,  και όχι ihr (εσείς) όπως στην ελληνική.  

Για παράδειγμα, αμα ρωτάς για φωτιά  σε ενα φίλο, λες στα γερμανικα: ” Hast du Feuer?” 

Αλλά στον πληθυντικό θα’λεγες:  ” Haben Sie Feuer?”  

Καλά, δεν είναι δύσκολα, απλά φαίνεται λίγο περίεργο στην αρχή. Τι να κάνουμε, έτσι είναι, ..αλλά καλύτερα να αλλάξουμε λίγο θέμα.   Πάμε να κλίσουμε ρήματα!

h:  mommy needs coffee

m: yep

h: my* No drahnk coffee

m: Nooooooo. coffee is Yukkie!  (sips coffee loudly)

h: my Yes! DRAHNK coffee

I’m feeling baffled and lonesome today.  Not only did my car break down so I couldn’t go to any trans sympathetic events today, but all of my friends seem to be busy.  But if I have to light a candle all by myself today in remembrance, I’ll do it.  This day is weighing heavier on me than I thought it would.

I couldn’t sleep this morning.  I got up before 6 and started writing my coming out letter to my dad.  It’s now probably around five or six pages, and from here it’s just paring it down into something he can process.  I needed to start working on it today, even though I’m planning on not coming out until shortly before my 21st birthday next month.  I want to have time to let it sit and ruminate, decide what to share and what to keep.  Even now I feel I’ve left a ridiculous amount out, but I don’t think it’s the kind of thing he can take in one sitting, anyway.  I want to provide him with so much so that he can understand it- I just don’t know how much he can get his head around in one letter, and if he can’t, what the most important thing is to include on his first experience with this, just in case he won’t want to listen to any more of it.  I may post my rough draft next time I post.

…

I’m on a quest to find other trans people in the county, because I’ve heard rumors through a friend of a friend about a friend or two they may have.  I don’t really have enough information to go on, but I’m pretty good at internet sleuthing, so I feel that if I dig around with just the right nugget of information, I may uncover something.  I just feel like I’m on the coattails of finding someone around here who’s like me.  I don’t find much support in the queer community, that’s for sure- I’m tired of hanging around with people who either need to be educated, or don’t want to hear it.  I need to get to know someone who already knows.

But, of course, there’s the whole problem of said possibly-existant person being the sort who loves their stealth and doesn’t want it uncovered by anyone, even other trans people.  I don’t know how to broach that line.  All I know is, I don’t want to be alone in this anymore.

…

One of my old friends from high school- one of the first friends I made, in fact, in Math- I just came out to him.  He sort of figured it out on his own.  I was never actually too incredibly close with him, he was just more of a fun guy to be around but not listed among my top friends.  But the funny thing is, he’s taking this trans thing like a regular pro, treating me just like one of the guys- just the way he’s always treated me, really- and trying harder than anyone to get my name right.  It’s great, he’s like a brother.  We got in an arm punching contest yesterday- I think he stopped pulling his punches when I punched his arm with such force that he stumbled back into his porch door.  It was awesome.  Now I have some bruises that feel just great.  No, I mean that.  I’ve never actually been in a fight before, and I don’t count slugging contests either.  I don’t think I have nearly enough battle scars.  It feels good to get some aggression out once in a while and I’m thinking about getting into some kind of combat class, maybe a martial art, maybe boxing.  I know for a FACT I want to start working out at a gym of some sort- I wish I could afford a membership, but I think the community college equipment is available with permission.  But I’m really getting off track here.

It’s just awesome to have a guy friend who I can joke around with and be a guy with- a straight guy friend, no sexual tension, I’d like to emphasize- and one who really knows what I’m about.  I think this is a major uplift in my life right now.

…

I’d like to do only one thing for sure before the day is over.  I’d like to rent and watch “Boys Don’t Cry.”  I think one of my other friends is coming over to pick me up today, so I was hoping we could stop and grab it at the video rental.  It’s important to be able to watch it today, on this day, if nothing else.  I wish I could spread the word to as many of my friends as possible about the dangers of being trans, but for now all I can do is keep writing, light my candles and watch a movie.

I feel a little… useless today.

I want male pronouns to be assumed. I hate that their occurence (except for rare occasions when I’m passing) is generally the result of an understanding between that person and I.
Those moments when I do pass and someone uses male pronouns (generally when I’m not talking) are encouraging, but the moments when I actually feel validated are a result of 1) looking in the mirror the right way to see in reality the body I have in my mind 2) when a friend uses male pronouns. I feel recognized instead of ignored- I am encouraged that my transition isn’t invisible.

I’m undecided about whether I should tell my students to use male pronouns next semester. Everyone else in my daily life, teachers, friends, and cohorts, will be asked to use male pronouns. I’ve already asked the majority of those people and their response has been overwhelming. Family may or may not ever transition with me.

He, his, him, sir, DZ, Drew

This synopsis of tonight’s “Top Chef” on Yahoo! TV takes the cake:

Though there’s nothing grammatically wrong with using both remaining and left in the same sentence, one of them would have been sufficient. (When you’re writing for the short attention span of Web readers, fewer words are always better.) But there’s a mistake in the use of its, which should be the contraction it’s. And the use of combines might politely be called a typo.

This past week was Transgender Awareness Week and it was both a time for the trans community to come together, and a time to educate the cisgender public about issues facing the trans community.

On Tuesday night, I attended an event as a photographer and ended up with some nice photographs.  It’s funny how when I am photographing an event, I’m not sure if I’ll come out with anything I like.  Once I am at home and sorting through the photographs I realize that I actually did quite a good job of documenting the event.  I have also realized that I have my own style, even with documentary photography.  I know my personal style with more formal work, but it’s exciting to see my own artistic style developing.

Thursday night was the big night for me.  I am producing a documentary about a church’s involvement in Transgender Awareness Week, and we had our big shoot on Thursday!

When I first agreed to the project, I was a bit skeptical.  I am not a religious person.  I also have had some negative experiences with religion in the past, and have never been made to feel that God (whoever/whatever that is) loves me.  The project was born out of a conversation I had with a good friend at the Trans Pride Parade in Northampton at the beginning of October.  She attended the parade with members of her church, and was really excited to bridge the gap that so often exists between the LGBT (especially “T”) world, and the church world.  Quite possibly on the same day, this friend of mine also had a conversation with the director of the transgender rights organization I am interning for.  They decided that the church should hold an event during Transgender Awareness Week to continue to bridge the gap.  Once that was decided, my friend asked if I would be interested in shooting the event and putting together a short documentary piece that the church could use for their website to show how inclusive of a community they are.

Although hesitant about being involved with a church, I liked the idea of connecting these two communities.  I couldn’t think of any real reason not to get involved.  I figured I could bring my little HD video camera and then put together a short piece with final cut pro.  The more we talked about the event over the next few weeks, the more I realized how much bigger this project could be.  I’m taking a video production class this semester at school, and decided that I would make this a much larger documentary shoot and use it for my final project for class.  I then reached out to students in my class, and also found some students in a documentary production class who were also interested in getting involved.

The final crew that I ended up with was amazing.  There was only one student who was a bit of a weak link, but in the end even he pulled through.  I planned the shoot, and worked with my friend from the church to make sure we were on the same page.  I am extremely proud of my communication skills and my ability to plan ahead and follow through.  I am also extremely proud of all the hard work my friend put in to organizing the event at the church.

The evening was broken down into two separate parts.  There was a worship service that focused on understanding transgender identity and then a queer open mic night.  One of the incredible things about this church service is the inclusiveness to all identities, and religious ideologies.  There is no one set belief that everyone who attends this service believes in.  People come from all different backgrounds, and all come together to for this special community.  This community is very LGBT friendly, and takes you exactly as you are when you enter the door.

The shoot itself went pretty smoothly.  We had a few problems with audio during the first part of the worship service, but we found a way to make it work.  The open mic was fantastic, and quite a joy to shoot.  The people who performed  did a range of different things.  Some read poems, some told personal stories, some acted out skits, and some sang and played guitar.  After a short intermission, Leslie-Ann Rios sang and played guitar while my friend from the church who organized the event got to drum alongside with her.  It was exciting having Leslie-Ann at the open mic night.  She was the first runner up at the Miss Trans Northampton Pageant, and has become quite the “transelebrity”.  Her performance was by far the most fun to shoot with the camera, and the entire crew was really excited and passionate about the whole event.  Our shoot just kept getting better and better, and by the end we really bonded as a film crew.  There is something really exciting about shooting a documentary.  The energy you are capturing is raw and in real time and can’t be re-created.

So everything was very successful from a documentarian’s point of view.  On top of making sure my shoot went smoothly, I was trying to deal with my separate worlds colliding.

About half way through shooting the worship service, this man that I have a history with entered the church.  I’m not sure if this man is homeless, but I know he bums around near Park Street.  I hate to say this but, he smells terrible and creeps me the fuck out.  I’m sure he means well, but He is someone I really don’t like to see around the city.  This man comes into the strip club every now and again.  If I am working, he will not pay attention to any of the other dancers.  A few weeks ago, he was in and be bought three lap dances from me and tipped me about $30.  Where did he get this money?  I don’t know, and I really don’t want to know.  Anyway, so I was on camera shooting the worship service and simultaneously trying to monitor the audio levels when this man walks in.  I panic because I know he saw me.  He came up to me, while I was holding this giant camera mind you, and tries to hug and kiss me.  He is saying things like “you are so beautiful, I love you, kiss me, I love you” etc. and I was trying so hard not to loose it and completely freak out.  It would be one thing to see a normal customer at church, but this guy? Absolutely not OK.  The idea that I was stuck and couldn’t leave was terrifying.  I had to stay and deal with the situation, no matter how difficult it was.  

I hate the idea that this man, this dirty nasty man, has seen my naked body.  I hate that this man has had be dance naked on top of his crotch, and that this man has probably jerked off thinking about me.  And then there he is, in front of me, in church of all places. Great.  As soon as the worship service was over I tried to avoid him as he stood around but he came up to me again.  After another hug and his repeated attempts to kiss me, he finally left. 

The open mic portion of the evening was up next, and we only had about 20 minutes to tear everything down and move it from the chapel and into the other room.  Once we got into the room that the open mic was held in, it was already packed.  There was standing room only, and I was aquatinted with more than half of the people in the room.  Some of my friends were there, which added another pressure for they were watching me at work on my documentary shoot.  This part of the evening was the part I was originally most nervous for.  This was the part where my queer community and my emerson community would be coming together.  One of my close friends who I met through my internship sang a couple of songs with her guitar.  When she got up there, she thanked our friend who organized the event and thanked the Emerson film crew for being there.  She said something along the lines of :

          ”Just want to say thank you to Emerson College for being here doing an amazing job, and specifically to Jesse, he            is organizing this shoot and he is doing such a good job, and I am really proud of him”.

Bam.  Just like that.  Outed to the entire room.  And my film crew.  I was wearing a name tag with male pronouns on it earlier, but ripped it off when I saw that man come in during the worship service. There was something absolutely terrifying about being outed, but also something wonderful.  It felt good to have it said out in the open. It felt good for someone else to say it.  Hearing her say that over a microphone made it feel very real.  I know my crew members heard it, but none of them said anything about it.  I also realize that this moment was captured on two separate tapes, which again, makes it all the more real.

The whole night was a giant endorphin rush.  I was just going, going, going with no time to stop.  I’m excited to see how this changes things with those people in the future, but I’m also a bit scared because this may be the event that triggers everyone at school finding out how I identify.

I do apologize for the novel, but this was one of those really important days in my life.  I have a feeling I am going to remember it forever.

- Goddess Lacey