The 2% Rule

The 2% Rule
by Raven Usher

Only 2% of marriages that encounter a transsexual transition by one of the partners remains in tact.

OK, so it is more of a statistic than a rule. But that does not change the ominous meaning of it. 2%. That is even lower than the survival rate of straight Christian vanilla marriages.

On the surface the reason for that divorce rate seems kind of obvious. The husband wants to be the wife. (Or vice versa.) How could a marriage possibly survive with two wives? How could any relationship endure that kind of monumental change?

Much like the right-wing anti-gay-marriage movement, the people who ask those type of questions have obviously lost all sight of what marriage is truly suppose to be about. Almost all the marriage vows that you will hear have something along the lines of “for richer, for poorer, for better or for worse” in them. What does that mean?

It means unconditional love. The kind of love that expects the hard times and the poor times. It is the love that realizes that life is like riding the bus… it requires change.

Now granted that a wife being told that her husband wants to be a woman is way out of the realm of even the most liberal definition of “normal.” It still falls under the heading of those marriage vows. Once all the parties involved understand that, once all the difficult adjustments are made, overall life with the couple will get better. When one member of a couple is unhappy the couple is unhappy. To make the couple happy the individuals need to find their paths to happiness and the partners need to find a way to support that path. I am not trying to play down the huge impact that a transsexual transition has on a marriage and a family. The point is that a real marriage can survive anything.

Usually in order to survive a TS change it takes some self-realization on the part of the one not making the change. A wife has to come to know and believe that her husband wanting to become a woman IS NOT a failure in any way on her part. It is not because she was not enough of a woman or a lover. It is not because she is lacking any amount of femininity. It is not because she did not love or give enough.

It is quite the opposite. It is because the wife is such a strong and dependable image of womanhood, that her femininity is so well defined, because she loves and gives of herself so completely. That is why the husband is able to show her the overwhelming amount of trust it takes for him to open his heart and confess the desire that is eating him away from inside. It is why he is able to lay his entire life at her feet and ask her to make a sacrifice worthy of the most sacred martyr.

Only in the unconditional love of a true marriage can such a thing happen. And if only the partners who are asked to make that sacrifice could understand that it is their strength that makes it possible to even consider asking for such support, far more than 2% of those loving and well rooted marriages would survive.

It is not insurmountable. The partnership, the family and the marriage can endure. All you have to do is hold tight to the unconditional love that made it possible for you, as a couple, to reach a place where you can face obstacles together and, in union, overcome that which neither one could conquer alone.

Blessed Be

The 50% Rule

The 50% Rule
by Raven Usher

50% Rule: Statistic that states “50% of all transsexuals will die by their early 30’s. A small number die from violence, disease or other common causes. Most commit suicide.” - The North American Lexicon of Transgender Terms.

(available at www.glbpubs.com/lex.html)

It’s a scary statistic, isn’t it? Half. That is a lot. Look around you some time and take notice of all the people around you. Now imagine that half of them are gone. Just gone.

It can be a difficult thing being part of that group. You never really know to which half you belong. Are you safe? Are you at risk? How can you tell in either case?

The reason the so many transsexuals commit suicide is that they fall victim to intense bouts of depression. Just about any tranny can tell you about feeling trapped or oppressed. Even those who survive the 50% rule are still likely to experience depression at some point.

To contemplate your own demise can be nerve racking under any circumstance. To consider yourself being the cause of it is beyond description. Even when one listens to someone talk about it is close to impossible for the average person to get the full scope of its impact.
People do not just wake up one morning and say to themselves, “I want to die today.”

It is a long brutal progression of sorrow and pain. The thoughts creep into the back of the mind like a slow growing weed. Its seeds spreading on a barely audible breeze that whispers the unthinkable in someone’s ear. It keeps growing until the weeds are tangled so tightly around one’s feet that movement is impossible and the whisper becomes a bellowing roar that pounds like war drums in the ear. Step by step it wears away stamina and resistance until finally the last tug of a weed and the last gust of wind brings the whole structure tumbling into oblivion.
That moment is when the pills get swallowed, the knife makes its cut, the rope tightens and the gun fires. It is the point of surrender. It is the ultimate expression of sorrow.

The truly sad part of the 50% rule is that it does not have to be a rule at all. It can be stopped. The depression can be overcome. The bad thoughts can be stopped.

The problem is that by the time someone realizes they need help, they may not be able to seek it out. One of the first casualties of depression is a person’s motivation to do anything. They do not have the willpower left to take part in the things that once brought them happiness much less seek out something new.

If you are having persisting feelings of sadness and depression. Please seek help. Talk to someone. Anyone. Stop a random cop on the street and tell him you need help. Call 911. Walk into an ER. There are many people who can and will help you if they only know you need help.
If you have someone in your life who is acting strange or out of sorts, transgendered or not, take the time to ask how they are feeling. Find help for them. Do not just let them wallow in their pain. Loved ones not noticing the trouble is one of the gates to suicide.
Blessed Be.

Liberatis Tutui

Liberatis Tutui
by Raven Usher
It is amazing what the mind chooses to remember and what it forgets. There are points in our lives when we say to ourselves, “This moment will be burned into my mind forever. Surely, I will never forget this day.”
Then we get washed away in the wake of time speeding by us. Things we thought would be with us through the ages fade by the wayside while bits and pieces of trivia set up permanent residence in or minds.
Then there are the things we would like to forget but can not. Things that haunt us. Things that keep bringing the past out of storage and dropping it back in our laps. We all have the things we would like to escape. But we can not escape ourselves.
For transsexuals, the one this we want to escape the most is the gender of our births. We want to erase all traces of it. Not only from our bodies, but from our minds as well. It is one of the hardest mental challenges that face transsexuals.
Too many transsexuals develop a hatred for the person they use to be. Being raised as the wrong gender, they feel, was the source of their current sufferings. In their minds they put out a contract on that person from the past. They try to kill him. They try to wipe his very existence from the face of the earth. They think the “payoff” for the hit is the true gender of their soul. But they are wrong. Dead wrong.
The person of the past is the same person of the present. Just as the baby once carried home from the hospital is the same person as the rebellious teenager of high school. One bares little to no resemblance to the other. They think different. They act different. They look different. But still they are one person. To erase one is to erase both.
It is not an easy thing to do, to come to grips with the person you once were. It takes the healing power of time. It takes the patience to all change to happen. And most importantly, it takes the power of forgiveness.
We have to forgive the genetics of our births. We have to forgive fate and random chance for the cards we were dealt. We have to forgive those who raised us as the gender that presented itself when they changed our diapers. We have to forgive medical institutions that make it so hard to become what we should be. We have to forgive the strangers whose lack of understanding cause them to hate us without reason.
First and foremost, we need to forgive ourselves. Forgive ourselves for the accident of our births, for the fear that condemns us to inaction, for the turmoil we cause in the lives of those around us. We must forgive ourselves for being us.
That may sound harsh. But if we cannot forgive ourselves our pasts we surely will never reconcile our presents mush less build a decent future. Worse yet, if we cannot manage to forgive ourselves for those things we believe to have wronged ourselves with we will end up destroying ourselves in the attempt to destroy the dreaded past.
Don’t let you memories kill you. Liberatis tutui. (Save yourself.)
Blessed be.

TDR - Nov 20

TDR - Nov 20
by Raven Usher
November 20. Transgender Day of Remembrance.
Violence against transgendered people crosses every line of division you can imagine. For both assailants and victims, trans-violence comes in every race, class and age. It crosses ethnic barriers. It ignores age divisions. It overcomes economic lines. It defies social strata limits.
Victims range in age form infancy to retirement. This year three-year-old Mikey Vallejo-Seiber was murdered by his mother’s boyfriend when the boyfriend tried to toughen the boy up. He wanted the child to be a soldier and not a sissy. Assailants start in the early teens of the junior high school years and continue as long as they can muster the strength to raise a fist.
There are plenty of places to place blame; basic prejudice, inadequate education, fear and panic, insecurity needing a scapegoat, religious condemnation, apathy and inaction form law enforcement, failing to use safe practices and even plain social morays.
Those reasons are all just empty excuses. The things on that list are NOT reasons why trans-violence happens. Those are the reasons why people get away with it. The truth is, transfolk are easy targets for violent people. A violent person are going to find a victim. And the victim is going to be someone who makes the assailant feel good about himself when he does his violence.
How does a heterosexual man prove his manhood? He gets as many women as he can. If he is unsuccessful and gets shot down too often his manhood suffers. This is specially true if the failures are witnessed by his peers. But not getting a date is nothing compared to getting the wrong date.
Getting shot down can be remedied by getting the next girl. But getting a girl who is not really a girl requires more drastic action in the heterosexual male mind. There are four basic ways a straight man can defend his manhood when he thinks he’s been attracted to another guy.
If he is very secure with himself he can laugh at it. Shrug it off and say, “She was still hot.” He will even be able to endure the jokes and taunts of his buddies.
Or he can bury the secret and never let anyone know it happened. Eventually he will even be able to deny it ever happened even to himself. Of course, this only works if nobody else catches on at the time of the encounter.
Sometimes even if no one else notices, the event weighs so heavily on his mind that it creates guilt. Then he needs take more direct action to prove himself a straight man. To do that he goes out and has sex with as many women as he can as fast as he can. He may even resort to raping someone.
When the encounter creates anger instead of guilt, it can only be reconciled by purging the feelings through physical action. In layman’s terms... he has to destroy what “tainted” him. He has to go beat up and/or kill the other person.
It is textbook psychology. Each one of these options indicates a specific level of self security. The less secure he is with himself and his own manhood the more drastic his reaction will have to be in order to counter hurt.
That is the one and only true reason why violence against transgendered people happens. Because heterosexual men are insecure with their own manhood.
So, on November 20, please join me and others across this great nation in paying homage to the transgendered victims of pointless violence. Light a candle. Say a prayer. Let a trans person know you support their right to live.
Blessed Be

Exploiting the Stereotypes

Exploiting the Stereotypes
by Raven Usher
Everyone has something that is expected of them. When those expectations are generalized and imposed upon a group of similar people they become one of two things; either a societal norm or a stereotype. It is in the gray area where stereotype and societal norm overlap that transsexuals achieve the magic of a passing transition.
For the transsexual, the first part of transitioning is identifying the stereotypes and norms or the gender they aim to achieve. These include: current fashion, hair styles, mannerisms, speech patterns, behavioral dictates and popular body image. Some of these are norms that are flexible and will change time and time again through out the course of our lives. Others are stereotypes that persist regardless of how fervently some people tilt against them.
It is these unwavering stereotypical images that transsexuals exploit to achieve a successful transition. But why? Why strive to achieve stereotyped imagery in a world where so many fight to break down those very barriers?
Because they are unconscious markers of recognition.
The sight of large breasts and round hips triggers an unconscious judgment that the person sporting them is female. The sight of facial hair and broad shoulders are markers of a male. Smooth shaven legs - female. Hairy legs - male. There is a host of these unconscious markers that we, as human beings, key on every day. They influence our impression of other people as well as the way we react to them and act towards them.
Some of these markers are biological. They concern body shape. The soft curves of a woman opposed to the hard lines of a man. To achieve these markers transsexuals subject themselves to years of medications and numerous medical procedures. This is the level that surgical alteration of genitalia comes into play.
Some of these markers are of physical appearance. They concern body image. Long hair, make-up and long painted nails for women opposed to shorter hair, short cropped nails and a face free of colorization for men. To achieve these markers transsexuals need only the patience and will power to allow hair and finger nails to grow and the knowledge of how to make them stylish.
Some of these makers are societal. They concern fashion sense. High heels, skirts and plunging necklines for women opposed to three piece suits and neck ties for men. To achieve these transsexuals only have to keep up with current fashion and have money to go on a few shopping trips.
Some of these markers are behavioral. They concern how a person conducts themselves both in personal presentation and in mannerism. These are the most difficult markers to achieve. Indeed they are the markers that are most often responsible for a transsexual being read. For the average person these markers are unconscious. They are things so subtle that they include the gait at which a person walks.
Go to a public place and watch people’s feet. Men’s feet follow a bi-linear path where women’s feet follow a mono-linear path. This is connected to body shape. The different gaits develop naturally as we learn to walk and our bodies develop. Most people do not even think about it. They just walk.
That is the big trick of a transsexual transition. Thinking about what nobody thinks about. Consciously controlling the little details that everyone else does unconsciously. It is willfully taking on the stereotypes that are imposed upon others and then outwardly presenting reactions to those same stereotypes that mimic the reactions of the people who have the stereotypes imposed upon them.
It is a neat trick. And the way you know it has been pulled off correctly is that no one knows they are seeing it.
Blessed Be

Why Me? The Etiology of Transsexualism

Why me? The Etiology of Transsexualism
by Raven Usher
Etiology: The science of assigning causes.
I can not count how many times I have heard a distraught transgender person utter the words, “Why me?” Sometimes they say it through a haze of confusion. Sometimes it spills out with a river of tears. Sometimes it is spit at the heavens in anger. It is always a sign of confusion.
So let us attempt to dispel some of the confusion. Why you? Because you were born this way. Do you feel like an X-man yet?
Let us talk about scientificly proven fact first. Every human embryo begins gestation as female. In half of pregnancies, a hormone is introduced during gestation. That hormone causes the embryo to mutate and become male. The body of a fetus develops separately from the nervous system. So this hormone introduction happens twice.
It happens the first time at approximately six weeks of gestation and effects the body. The vaginal opening closes and the clitoris elongates and becomes the penis. (If you look at a man’s scrotal sack you will see a line down the center. That is where the vagina sealed itself shut.) It also effects skeletal structure and body mass placement.
Five or six weeks after that change has been initiated another hormone introduction takes place. This one effects the developing central nervous system. The delay is to accommodate the nervous system’s delay in the beginning of its development. It is like building a house. You can not put up walls until the foundation is solid. The nervous system needs the solid foundation of a physical body before it can begin its own development.
For transgendered people one of those hormonal additions is weak or incomplete. In the case of transsexuals, one of the two do not happen at all. For male to female transsexuals the body gets the signal to change but the nervous system does not. So the body becomes male but the brain remains female. For female to male transsexuals it is just the opposite. The body remains female while the brain changes over.
Those are the scientifically provable facts. What is still unknown is why this happens. There is no evidence that supports any causation for the inconsistency of the mother’s body introducing or not introducing the hormones at the right time. There is plenty of supposition. And some possible causes have been ruled out.
Smoking, drinking alcohol and taking drugs during pregnancy have all been discounted. While these things do cause other birth defects later in gestation, they do not effect the introduction of hormones at such an early stage of fetal development.
The most likely causes, although they have not been proven yet, are conditions that effect the mother and her own hormone levels. These are things like depression, anxiety and high levels of stress. All of these conditions are proven to wreak havoc on a person’s body as well as their mental and emotional states. It is highly likely that if a woman has one of these conditions during the earliest stages of pregnancy, the introduction of developmental hormones could be altered or stopped all together.
The problems with proving any of these theories is the early stage of gestation when the hormone introduction happens and the low prevalence of transsexualism. It would next to impossible to be observing 30,000 developing embryos at six weeks of gestation and again at twelve weeks in the hopes of catching the one occurrence of those hormonal introductions not matching. Most women do not even realize they are pregnant until they are eight to twelve weeks along. By that time, the future has already take root in the present.
So why you? Best guess... Mom was freaking out about something when she got knocked up.
Blessed Be

Courage Under Fire

Courage Under Fire
by Raven Usher
It never fails. They say it. They mean it as a compliment. But I still get irritated by the misconception.
In truth, I usually do not dispute the misconception. I simply smile and thank the person for the compliment and console my desire to correct them by reminding myself of their wonderful display of admiration. That is the important part of it, after all. That they are showing acceptance and support for a transgendered person.
As much as I like to see an average person, gay or straight, expressing acceptance for a transgendered person, I am still bothered by the misunderstanding of the driving force behind transition. I like getting compliments. I like the fact that others are inspired to offer compliments. But the truth seeker in me pains at the compliment coming from source that is not entirely accurate.
Sooner or later the people who get to know me will invariably say something along the lines of, “I really admire your courage.”
They are referring to my transition. This comment comes at a time when they have grown comfortable enough to ask me specific questions about what transition entails. They learn about the hardships, the prejudices, and the personal and financial costs of it all. For some reason people think that going through it in Idaho makes it even harder. I have not figured that logic out yet, but I am working on it. They calculate it all in their heads and imagine having to face the same or similar obstacles in their own lives. The prospect seems overwhelming to them and they make the assumption that I possess an excessive level of bravery.
It is a phenomenon that is not unique to just me. Other trannies get it as well. I have traded stories with many of my t-gurl friends and they are all very similar. In all fairness, I have to say that I do understand that point of view. And I find people’s ability to admire a transgendered person for any reason to be a sign of better times to come. It is a signal of hope. It is a promise of a future.
Still though, it is a misconception. My transition has absolutely nothing to do with courage. I did not shine up my armor, ready my sword and shield and head out to slay the dragon of intolerance. Quite the contrary. I slinked and crawled through shadows, avoiding as much as I could for as long as I could.
It was not my bravery that started me on the path of transition. It was my fear. My fear of living a lie. My fear of never being whole. My fear of dieing by my own hand.
I did not bravely face a year of androgyny. I did my best to camouflage it and keep it hidden. I did not bravely declare my transsexuality to the world. I put off those conversations until the people who love me cornered me and forced me to talk. I did not bravely go forth and fight to become a woman. I did it because my only other choice was death. And no, I was not fighting death. I was running from it.
I have gotten over most of those fears. I have learned enough and accomplished enough that I can stand tall and face the intolerance, the hatred and the discrimination. I have grown strong enough to fight back. I have built up the courage to meet the onslaught head-on. In short, I have become the person that so many others have mistaken me for when all this craziness started.
Or...
I could be completely wrong about the whole situation. Maybe they are all right and I did show courage. Maybe my point of view keeps me from seeing it that way. Maybe courage can only be seen by those who witness it and not by those who perpetrate it.
When I was a Marine a Drill Instructor once told me, “Heroes do not set out to become heroes. They are made heroes by acting when all others lay down.”
I was afraid. I hid in shadows. I even ran away. But I never laid down. So maybe they are right and I was brave. Still though, I never felt brave about it. Not then. Not now. And I still have trouble accepting that compliment.
Blessed Be.

Communities in the Cross Hairs

Communities in the Cross Hairs
by Raven Usher
I have a neighbor who is a Navy wife. Her husband is out on ship and she is at home with her young son. I have another neighbor who is a stay-at-home mom with two young kids. Another is a Grandfather who has taken in his divorced daughter and grand children. Then there is a pair of dincs (double income no children). A family of Bosnian immigrants are living the American dream on the corner. There is a retired couple across the street. Three doors over is the mother and stepfather of the teenager my daughter calls her best friend. And there is a mixed race couple who’s daughter I make sure gets home every day after school.
It is truly a neighborhood of diversity. All the kids play together. They make the neighborhood rounds. One day they are at my place climbing the huge poplar tree or playing on the swing set out back. Then they are at Sam’s place on the trampoline. Or at Luke’s house watching DVD’s. They ride their bikes together. They play at the neighborhood park together. They go to school together.
The adults watch all the kids. We hand out drinks and snacks when the stampede ends up at our corner of Sesame Street. Even the dincs hand out juice boxes. We are friendly and amicable with each other. We even trade plates full of home made cookies from time to time.
As editor, I am constantly bombarded with the worst news of the LGBT community. I am the first see or hear the stories of injustice against gays and lesbians. I shuffle through them deciding which ones to pass on to the readers and which ones to let go. It can be a lot to deal with. There are times when the burden of so much knowledge of hardship becomes overwhelming. My stress soars. My spirits fall. My outlook of the world threatens to become jaded and I my urge to strike out at faceless shadows of oppression boils. Sometimes I get angry. Sometimes I get depressed. Sometimes I want to quit.
Politicians rant daily about how gays and lesbians destroy American family values while they get arrested for misusing government resources and driving drunk. They pontificate about defending hypothetical institutions like marriage while they strip money away from real life institutions like schools. They totally ignore the moral codes of the religious doctrines they use to justify their hate-lined prejudice. They sacrifice the true goal of their jobs, securing equal human rights for everyone, so they can turn a government temp job into long lasting political career. Even when we vote for things like term limits, they ignore our collective voices and stick to their self-serving rhetoric.
When the fiction of real life politics gets to me I have an escape. I go out front, sit on the veranda with a cold glass of iced tea and look out on my little neighborhood. I wave to neighbors. I smile at playing children. I might even tease the neighborhood men by putting on a bikini top & washing my car. (I am not completely sure, but I think that may be teasing the Navy wife too.) It is my proof that the hate-mongers are wrong. It is the evidence that shows that they need to demonize a scapegoat and LGBT people are the easiest target at the moment.
The family values of my American neighborhood are in tact and as strong as ever. The average middle classers in this suburban community are friendly and accepting of a multitude of diverse people. The immigrants, the military family, the people of color, the retired seniors, the Goth teenagers, the career chasers, the home makers and the children of all ages live in peace and harmony together. Even the house with the two moms is accepted as one of the whole.
This is the true cross section of America. It is what we should be trying to achieve. One nation standing together united. Not chasing division and forcing barriers against people who have a degree of difference. It is what the politicians have lost sight of. It is what they ignore so they can earn the votes of hatred to stay in office. It is the truth that stands against the lie that they build their counterfeit careers upon.
We vote soon. It is time to take the bad people out of office. The new century deserves new attitudes and new leaders.
Blessed Be

Man I Feel Like a Woman

Man I Feel Like a Woman
by: Raven Usher
Being female (biologically or engineered) and being feminine do not always go hand in hand. The gap between the Timberline boots and the stiletto heels can be a gapping chasm or a subtle bump in the road. Feeling female inside does not guarantee an outward presentation of femininity. Looking like a Angelina Jolie may not stop you from feeling like Joe Pesci or vice versa.
One of the reasons for the gap between “female” and “feminine” is that there are no hard and fast rules to being either one. You do not even have to be both. You can pick just one and run with it or you can try to balance the two. The internal self perception of them does not even have to match outward presentation. It can be quite the circus act.
Some women have a natural balance. They do not encounter anything that makes them question their femininity or the physical condition of being female. They are comfortable in their bodies and at peace with their own self image.
Some women, while thoroughly enjoying being female, have issues with the presentation of femininity that is expected of them. Some say the societal norms that demand women wear skirts, heels and make-up to “fit in” is unjust. They rail against these age-old stereotypes both in their manner of dress and in their refusal to conform to traditional personal and business roles that women were once pigeon-holed into.
On the other side of that coin are the women who want to become the Hollywood ideal of feminine expression. They subscribe to the more classical images of beauty and strive to achieve those benchmarks. They enjoy the pretty clothes, the variety of shoe styles and the artistry that can go into applying make-up.
The common denominator of these very contrasting women is idea that regardless of how they present the image of femininity, being female is the bomb. Should anyone be so unenlightened or ill-fated as to try using their femininity as an excuse to block them from their personal goals, he will not just have that one woman on his neck. He will be the target of a maelstrom of women that would make a swarm of bees seem warm and inviting.
Then there are those whose conflict is not with the presentation of femininity but with the physical being of the female form. Some view being female as a privilege they are denied. Others see it as a curse they cannot escape. These are the people who are on the front lines of the war of womanhood.
They have not achieved the right to equal pay in the workplace because they have not achieved the right to be themselves. They have not reached the hallmarks of admiration of their beauty because of the prejudices that call their very existence ugly. They do not have the right to marry because in some areas they do not even have the right to breath.
As long as I can remember I have felt feminine. As a child I was often accused by other kids of displaying a misplaced girlish appearance or mannerism. Even during the height of my presentation of masculinity as a U.S. Marine my internal pull to all things feminine retained a strong grip on my psyche.
My endeavor to acquire the “female” that matches and balances my “feminine” has been the saving grace of my life. It is a journey I still endure. I know that even when I reach my ultimate goal of having the physical female form I covet, it will be a mere shadow of the femininity that prevails in my heart. When my citizenship to the female world is finally granted, I will still be but an immigrant to the land of which I have always dreamed. There will always be a part of me that is a stranger. There will always be the ties to my origin.
I will revel in it all! No regrets. No sorrow. No apologies.
Blessed Be.

$hemale Value$

$hemale Value$
by Raven Usher
Everyone who says they do not like sex, stand up and tell your lie now!
It is not uncommon for a transperson to get involved in the sex trades in one fashion or another. Being trans can be very expensive. The sex trades are lucrative, paying well above the average American wage. They are easily accessible to clientele. It is easy to find employment. And most importantly, the sex trades are the most accepting and inclusive employment industry in the nation for “shemales.”
I know, so many transpeople do not like that word. They think “shemale” is a dirty word and take offence to it being use to referred to them. My thoughts... get over yourselves. It is just a word.
Finding work in main-stream America can be difficult for transfolk. As I write this, my best friend is at her very first day on her very first job as a woman. It took her six months to find the job. It is part time, the hours suck and the pay is low. And she is excited as hell to have it. I am excited for her.
Her story is not original. So many other trannies have been, or will be, in her shoes. She was lucky enough to be able to survive six months without working. Most Americans can not. Some would have trouble lasting six weeks. That is why shemales turn to the sex industry. We become phone sex workers, nude models, exotic dancers, escorts, porn stars and prostitutes. Some do it because they like it. Some just need a job now. Some do not have any other options.
Most career sex workers actually get a sense of power doing their jobs. The ability to get another person to fork over handfuls of cash in exchange for intimate interactions is a serious ego boost. Think about it. There are literally thousands of people out there in the singles bars trying to give it away for free and the sex workers are getting money for it. So if you think sex workers do it because of low self esteem or that the clients are too ugly to get intimacy any other way, you are dead wrong. Being a sex worker takes a strong will, high self esteem and a thick skin.
Selling sex is the world’s oldest profession. Until recently (in the last three or four hundred years), it was an honorable and respected profession. No man got married without first learning the ropes from a pro. Wives were grateful that there was a place for their husbands to go to slake their lust. Bordellos drew sailors and other travelers by the score to otherwise unknown towns and set the foundation of economic existence for the entire community. All that bleached blonde hair that is so popular today originated in ancient Rome. It was the professional banner of prostitutes.
Before some politically correct nut-job goes off in a tizzy...
No, I am not suggesting that all trannies should go find employment in the sex industry. Quite the opposite, in fact. Most of the transfolk that I know do not have the emotional fortitude to deal with the brutal demands of the trade. Sorry gurls and bois. Be offended if you want to be. But it is the truth. As a group, you have some delicate psyches.
For the ones who can take it, I say look into your options. If you have the body to be on stage, learn to dance with a pole. If the camera likes you, get some lingerie and find a professional photographer. If you like being watched, find a film crew. If you have a voice that melts butter, put your phone to work. Take it to the limit. Go as far as you can safely go without breaking the law. The sex industry actually reveres shemales. They are a rare, exotic and desired commodities that draw in big dollars.
Trans people have value. We have value as human beings. We have value as members of society. We have value as friends and lovers. We have value as parents, siblings, sons and daughters. We have value as employees and wage earners. We have value as the individual survivors of a harsh existence. We have value as a community come together fighting for our right to live. We have the value of our own self worth.
How much are you worth? An unemployment benefit? Minimum wage? A dead-end paycheck?
My life is worth the well being of my children and the love of my wife.
My voice is worth the civil liberties of you all.
My wage is worth $2.00 per minute.
Want the number?
Blessed Be!

Pinocchio's Sister

Pinocchio’s Sister
By Raven Usher
Transsexuals are not the only people who endure hormone therapy. There are a lot of reasons why someone might start a hormone therapy regiment. Older women take estrogen to relieve the symptoms of menopause. Younger women take it after having a hysterectomy to stave off early menopause. Men often take testosterone after having their testicles removed as a treatment for testicular cancer. And that special stuff that grows hair… loaded with testosterone. And there are plenty more reasons.
One thing that everyone who goes through hormone therapy has in common is that we all focus mainly on the physical aspects of taking them. We think about the benefits that get us what we want. To a lesser extent, we think about the possible side effects and health risks. One thing that we never really think about, or do not understand fully, is the effect hormones have on our emotional states.
Hormones have a profound effect on our emotions. When we first start taking hormones it sets our emotional states completely off kilter. It takes months to regain an emotional equilibrium. And even then, we end up with a whole new emotional balance. Love, sorrow, anger, fear… we feel them all differently than we did before hormone therapy. They are stronger, more intense.
Yes, you feel like a fool when you burst into tears watching a car insurance commercial. And the looks you get at the service counter when you enthusiastically cash in your $2 scratch off ticket can be irritating. So irritating that by the time you get to the parking lot you are so angry at all those morons who were judging you that you want to drive your brand new SUV through those ugly glass doors and run down every one of those jealousy laden wish-they-were-you losers!
OK, so hormones make you a lot more sensitive.
The point is, that it is not a bad thing. Being able to feel your emotions more in a more intense way does shake you up at first. But once you adjust, it is a wonderful thing. Yes I cry at the occasional greeting card. But it feels good to express those emotions and it gives me an excuse to wander down that isle. And yes, I have the occasional mood swing that would make a pregnant woman stare in disbelief. But when everything swings back into place they can provide a good laugh.
I began taking hormones for the completely selfish reason of achieving their physical effects on my body. I have fully accepted the risks of taking them. I endure the unpleasant side effects they cause such as hot flashes that allow me to pop a pan of jiffy pop just by holding it. And I exalt in the unexpected benefits that make my life better on every level.
Sometimes I become awash in the uncontrollable emotional earthquake of an irrational mood swing. Sometimes the tears flow like flood water from a cloudless sky. Sometimes I feel like Pinocchio’s little wooden sister begging some starlight fairy to please let me be a real girl. But even when all that happens, I know deep I my heart that I have done the right thing by starting hormone therapy.
I know I did the right thing because the good emotions are amplified as well. The love I feel for my kids is heightened. The joy I share with my wife is more enveloping. The bond between myself and my parents is closer and stronger. The satisfaction I get when the new issue of Diversity hit’s the stands fills me more. And the peace I have found with myself continues to grow.
I am not, by any means, suggesting that anyone should run out and start a hormone regiment just for their emotional effect. Hormone therapy can be dangerous. Anyone who has a valid reason to take them needs to consult with a doctor to assess the risks to personal health. But you should not be afraid of them either. Taking hormones is the best thing I have ever done for myself.
We all have to decide for ourselves what the best path in life is for us. If hormones are part of your path, be smart about them. Consult a doctor. Be aware of the risks. And enjoy what they do for you. I sure as hell do.
Blessed Be

Return to Sender

Return to Sender
by Raven Usher
Well, it finally happened. After over 4 years of hormones, doctor visits, court dates and enough drama to fill an entire season of some television drama, it finally happened. I lost a family member over being transgendered.
The prospect of losing friends and family members is not specific to transgendered individuals. It is something that every member of the LGBT community has to face when they come out of the closet. Nearly all of us lose someone. For the lucky ones it will be an extended family member like an aunt or an uncle who they only see once or twice a year anyway. If your luck wanes a bit you might lose someone a little closer, a friend or a grand parent. The really unlucky ones lose best friends, siblings and parents.
Of course there are two sides to this coin. Quite often coming out and sharing such a deeply personal aspect of your life draws you closer to another person. When I sent out the announcements that I had changed my name, my Aunt Christine called to congratulate me. We became closer than we had ever been before. She even attended my wedding in Las Vegas last May. At the family Christmas gathering, my brother’s fiance and I got along great and I can see her becoming the sister I never had.
That is the shiny side of the coin. We do not hear about the shiny side simply because it does need any maintenance. It is the tarnished side of the coin that gets the attention. I think too much attention. We should spend more time and energy maintaining the polish on the shiny side. That is where we will find the rewards. That is the side that will make us happy.
The tarnished side of the coin is corroded because it is forever in the mud, grime and darkness. It is face down in the dirt. And it shelters the growth of slime and other icky things. The unfortunate aspect of slime is that it likes being slime. There is no amount of light or cleanser that will turn it into anything other than slime. Instead of trying to save the slime we should just scrape it off, toss it aside, and let it go somewhere else to be slime. Then we can concentrate on polishing as much of the coin as we are able.
My coin has stayed fairly well polished. It got tarnished in a few places along the way. But I have managed to polish most of dull spots. Sometimes it took a hell of a lot of elbow grease to get it done. But nothing worth while is easy.
The family member who cut ties with me is my Uncle Greg. He is my dad’s brother. He is one of those ultra-conservative far right-wing bible thumping self-appointed vessel of God’s judgment that makes life so interesting for the LGBT community. The judgment he passed on me is the same as the judgment he passed on my Aunt Christine, his sister. I have not actually laid eyes on Uncle Greg since I was about 15 years old. So it was not a huge loss. It still hurt though. What hurt the most was the way he did it. A letter or phone call explaining his views and feelings I could have respected. That show of integrity would have been an act or honor that I would be able to honor in return.
History has shown us that the religious right is neither honorable nor respectful. Uncle Greg displayed that dishonorable disrespect in grand fashion. He sent the Christmas card I sent him back to me. It was unopened and had “return to sender” scribbled across the front.
I do not bear Uncle Greg any ill will. I am trying not to at least . It is not easy when he is so blatant in his hatred of family members. Such cruel actions, specially towards his own sister, are hard to forgive. And using religion to justify harmful actions is despicable. I hope Uncle Greg is happy in the life he has created for himself. Although I can not imagine how anyone can be happy in a world built on bigotry and hatred.
Blessed Be.

The Truth in Having Fun

The Truth in Having Fun
by Raven Usher
I was watching a brand new episode of one of my favorite irreverent comedies when one of the main characters turned to another and said, “It’s fun being me. Is it fun being you?”
“Yes it is,” came the reply.
I know that I was only watching a sit-com. It is just a television show designed to entertain and make me laugh. Profound thought is not the goal of sit-coms. Yet, in humor we find many of the truths in life.
Is it fun being you? I find that to be a deeply profound question that threatens with answers that could have a deep effect on every aspect of personal living. A “yes” answer will heighten your joy and be quite a boost to your self esteem. A “no” answer will lead to introspection and prompt you to think about the changes you can make so that you can answer yes.
Is it fun being Raven Usher?
Well now... there is a question. On one hand, I have a rather easy life. My wife provides for all my financial cares. I get to spend the majority my days with my children. I have friends. I have hobbies that fulfill me. And I know that I am truly loved.
On the other hand, my wife’s career takes her on many out-of-state business trips that leave me alone for long periods of time. My youngest child has started school and the house feels oppressive to me when it is empty. I have responsibilities that make hard demands on my time and energy. And I know that by living as a transsexual I am a target for hatred and violence.
These are the realities of Raven’s World.
It is quite a balancing act. But if you take stock of your own lives, I am sure you will come up with similar off-setting aspects. The trick to the balancing act is to minimize the negatives while maximizing the positives. (No this is not a marketing lecture.)
Yes I am a target for hatred, but I counter that by targeting hatred right back. I speak out against it. I draw it into the light where it can be seen in all its ugliness. I combat hatred in any way I am able. As far as violence goes... I am an ex-marine. Bring it on if you feel strong.
I do not, will not, live my life in fear despite having reasons to do so. Why? They are stupid reasons that do not deserve my attention. Just because someone wants me to be scared or feel bad does not mean I am going to do it. Someone wants to send me a hate e-mail? Fine. I am going to publish his e-mail address. And I am going to laugh about it! That is the kind of bitch I am.
The truth is, I enjoy my life. I enjoy being a kept woman. I enjoy the time I have with my kids. I enjoy the pastimes I have when my kids are away from me. I enjoy living up to my responsibilities. I enjoy standing up, standing out and being seen so that everyone knows that I and other people like me exist. And I really enjoy screwing with, and laughing at, the morons who think their little-brained hatred can cause me any kind of discomfort what so ever.
Back to answer Denny Crane’s question. “Is it fun being you?”
Yes! It is a hell of a lot of fun being me.
Now go out and make it fun to be you. I know you can do it. And that is the truth. No joke.
Blessed Be.

Nov 20 - TG Day of Remembrance

Nov 20 - TG Day of Remembrance
by Raven Usher
Every November I write an article about the Transgender Day of Remembrance. Held on Nov. 20, it is a day that has been set aside for the LGBT community to remember and pay homage to the men and women who have lost their lives at the hands of violence for being who they are; for being transgendered. The yearly average of transgender murder is nearly 13 per year. That may not sound like a lot. But let us look at the numbers more closely.
Robert Binenfeld, Location: Monroe, NY, Cause of Death: Strangled by Jason Bardsley.
Felicia Moreno, Location: Hollywood, CA, Cause of Death: Shot twice by Patrick Edward Vallor, an active-duty U.S. Marine lance corporal.
According to the U.S. Census Bureau there are approx. 297,265,590 people in the United States. At a capita of 1 in 30,000 for male to female and 1 in 100,000 for female to male, the population of transgendered people in America is approx. 12,880. (9,908 M-F & 2,972 F-M) That means .11% of the TG population is being murdered every year simply because they are transgendered.
Ryan Shey Hoskie, Location: Albuquerque, NM, Cause of Death: Undetermined; body did show signs of upper body trauma.
Ronnie Paris, Jr., Location: Tampa, FL, Cause of Death: Beaten by his father, Ronnie Paris, Sr.
Still does not sound like a lot? Consider this. If .11% of African Americans were being murdered each year simply because they were black, 394 people would die every year from that violence. Racially motivated murder was not that high even during the height of the civil rights movement of the 1950’s and 60’s. What would Dr. King think about those numbers?
Eddie Chung Chou Lee, Location: Daly City, CA, Cause of Death: Multiple stab wounds.
Ashley Nickson, Location: Dothan, AL, Cause of Death: Shot multiple times.
I will admit I have never done any serious research about Dr. King and his ideologies, but I do understand what he was trying to accomplish. I also understand his passion and his willingness to stick his neck out for others who faced the same obstacles that he did. Knowing that, I am willing to venture the guess that he would be as upset with those numbers as I am, if not more. And I know for certain that he would not keep quiet about his outrage.
Amancio Corrales, Location: Yuma, AZ, Cause of Death: Violent trauma.
Julio Argueta, Location: Miami, FL, Cause of Death: Stabbed twelve times, allegedly by John Valdespino.
I do not scream and yell as loud as some people. I do not have access to national coverage that reaches millions of people across the nation. There are no news crews clamoring to catch my every word. In fact, when I do speak out, I am not always sure if anyone is listening to, or even hearing, what I say. There are times when I want to quit; when I think my time and effort is being wasted.
Timothy Blair, Jr., Location: Louisville, KY, Cause of Death: Shot multiple times.
Sometimes I feel as if taking the time every year to publicize the names of the victims of trans-hatred driven violence is not paying them the honor that I intend. But I am not going to stop doing it. I do not know if I really owe these fallen people anything at all. I do not know if I am doing any good by saying a prayer for them every time I read their names.
Kasha Blue, Location: Chicago, IL, Cause of Death: Stabbed.
What I do know is that I will continue this as long as I can. Months. Years. Decades. There is a ghost that hovers around my head constantly telling me that the louder I speak up the less time I will have; that if I do not shut up, I am going to end up on my own list. But you know what? It is a fair trade.
R.I.P.
Blessed Be

Coming Out for Dummies

Coming Out for Dummies
(revision 2005)
by Raven Usher
Coming out of the closet is not a one-time event. It is an on-going process that can take a great deal of time and effort. True, you can make the “grand announcement” at some family gathering, spinning everyone you know into a whole new dimension of drama and gossip. But unless you are going for some sort of twisted revenge plot, that really is not the best way to go about telling the people you love that you are gay, lesbian or transgendered.
The best way to come out is to take the feelings of others into account and do what is in your power to lessen any possible hurt. You may be perfectly comfortable with your own sexuality but do not assume that your own comfort implies the comfort of others. Despite what many angry activists demand, it is not anyone’s responsibility to be accepting of homosexuality. It is your responsibility to present yourself in an honest, respectable and forthright manner so they have the opportunity to be accepting.
Shoving something down someone’s throat is not a good way to get them to be receptive. It is better to use a feather instead of a rock to deliver news of this sort. Luckily, we do not have to suffer through an endless 12-step program to do so. We only have six steps. And depending on your courage, they can go rather quickly.
Step one: Choose who to tell.
Part of why coming out can be so scary is that we consider trying to tell everyone we know at one time. That prospect is usually so overwhelming that it discourages us before we even have a chance to make a decent start. We give up and try to put off the inevitable.
Instead, we should tell those we love one or two at a time. It will be easier for them. It will be easier on you. Make a list of all the people you need to tell. Prioritize them in an order that lists the most understanding , accepting person first and the most homophobic, least accepting person last.
With every person you tell you will gain comfort and confidence in your ability to do it. By starting with the most understanding person you lessen the initial shock on yourself and you increase your chances of building a cushion of support. By doing this, when you get to the last, least understanding person you will have gained the experience you will need to face their disapproval.
Step two: Choose the medium of communication.
Coming out in person is the best way to go about revealing yourself. Not everyone is comfortable talking face to face, though. Sometimes distance and time make a face to face conversation impossible. Luckily, in today’s communication driven world we have a number of mediums at our disposal.
If they cannot see your face, try to let them hear your voice. Your sincerity is conveyed in the tones and inflections of your voice. Your concern for their welfare will show in your speech. And the personal expression of taking your time to talk to them will also help ease woes.
The trick is to find the method of communication that is the most effective for you. Do not be afraid to come out in a letter or e-mail. The written word is a reliable way to make sure that you are saying the right thing in the right way. Do remember that you are sharing an intimate part of yourself. A hand written letter is much more personal than an e-mail.
Step three: Ask permission to confide.
You have a burden. It is the burden of secrecy. You are about to ask another person to relieve you of that burden. Just dropping such a burden in their lap without warning is completely inconsiderate.
Tell the person that you have a very serious matter you need to talk about and ask them for their permission to confide in them. This accomplishes two things. It will set the tone for a serious conversation. And it will give them the opportunity to brace themselves for your news.
Step four: Come out!
The best way to come out is to use as few words as you can. Do not try to sugar coat things. Do not get poetic and lyrical. Do not drone on about series of events that brought you to the moment. Just say the words. Be precise. Be direct. Be honest.
“Mom, I’m gay.”
Once you say the words, shut up! Do not add background information. Do not offer an explanation of any kind. Sit there and keep your teeth together. Waite for their reaction before you do anything else.
Step five: Offer to answers questions.
After they have supported you by allowing you to share your news, it is time for you to support them and help them try to understand what they have just been told. Offer to answer any and all questions. Whether the questions come up right then or a week or a year later, you must answer them with complete honesty no matter how personal the question may be.
By coming out to this person, you have begun to share your life with them. You will, for a while at least, need to continue to share. If mom asks about your sex life, tell her. If dad asks you some stereotypical panic question, reassure him. You can not, you must not, tell someone you are gay, lesbian or transgendered and then refuse them any further information.
Step six: Saying thank you.
Regardless of the reaction you get, good or bad, the person you just came out to did you a huge favor. It may be the biggest favor that they have ever done for anyone. That requires thanks on your part.
Even if they scream, damn you to perdition and throw you out, they deserve your thanks. They may not want it any more than they want the knowledge of your sexuality. But that should not stop you from offering it. Even if you have to scream your thanks through a closed door from the sidewalk out front, do it.
Saying “thank you” is as much for you as it is for them. It is your closure. It is the confirmation that you have done what you needed to do for your own well being. No matter what becomes of the relationship with the other person, whether it gets stronger and continues or withers away to nothing, you will always know that you did everything in your power to make peace.
That is what coming out is all about. Making peace. Peace with yourself. Peace with those you love. Peace with the world.
Say “thank you” to them, to yourself, and to what ever higher power you subscribe to. It is your pathway to happiness.
Blessed Be.
And thank you for reading.

A World of Firsts

A World of Firsts
by Raven Usher
One of my favorite old sayings is, “There is a first time for everything.” I wonder who said that for the first time?
For kids there are a lot of firsts. It is just the nature of growing up. First step, first word, first day of school, fist time swimming. Once we get to a certain age we start thinking our firsts are all behind us. What a mistake that is! There is no ending to the firsts. They keep on coming and coming.
Of course we all have different numbers of firsts as adults depending on how we have chosen to live our lives. Some people choose a path that keeps them to themselves, secure in the familiarity of an established routine that rarely varies into the unknown of first times. Some people choose paths of excitement where they go out of their way to seek out all the excitement and thrills of as many first times that they can find. Then there are those of us who’s path in life meanders through a forest of first times giving us no choice but to face them.
The transgender life has a myriad of first times that I never anticipated and it seems that the fates exalt in springing them on me. I do have to admit. They certainly do keep life from getting boring.
When we reach adulthood we fool ourselves into thinking that the majority of our first times have been experienced. For the average person that may be well and true. But I am constantly surprised at the every-day mundane occurrences that pop up offering me a new first time. The ironic part of it is that many of them are my second shot at a first time.
I know what you are thinking. “How can I have a second first time at something?”
That is a simple answer. I am getting a whole new set of first times with my new life as a girl. As a boy, I went through the world hungrily experiencing all the firsts times I could find. Now as a girl, all those first times are ahead of me once again.
When I finally saved my own life by making the decision to transition, the last thing on my mind was all the things I would have to do for the first time again. As a matter of fact, there was no way I could have possibly consider them all. Some were not the least bit surprising. The first time going out in public, the first piece of official identification, the first doctor’s appointment, using a public restroom; all these kinds of things are easy to anticipate.
It is the little things that catch me by surprise: The first time a store clerk called me “Ma’am.” The first time I noticed that my breasts cast their own shadow. The first time a man stepped back and allowed me to go ahead of him in a line. The first time I had a conversation with someone who could not manage to continuously look me in the face.
On the first weekend in August it was the first time I walked up the bank of the Boise river into Anne Morrison park... wearing a bikini. Actually it was the first time I wore one of my bikinis in ANY public forum. I was wearing shorts and a tank top shirt when I went into the water. I was not nearly so covered when I got out. I had been having so much fun playing in the water that I did not think about walking through a crowded public park until I was a good fifty yards into the middle of it.
I am quite use to people, especially men, helping themselves to an eyeful of my wares. I particularly enjoy it when a passing admirer stumbles over his own feet or runs his grocery cart head-long into an end cap. But as provocative as my manner of dress tends to lean, I am never as uncovered as that bikini left me. It is so easy to feel naked when you practically are.
Of course no one was watching me (aside from the young admirers who had made a sport out of watching all of the women coming out of the river). I had a momentary urge to dive back into my other clothes. I shook it off and went about my business in the park. I even played a game of tag with my kids.
By the time I was in the car and on my way back home, I was feeling pretty damn proud of myself. Being that exposed in a place with that many people was one hell of a first time! I made it through with a smile and some laughs and I ultimately had a pretty good day in the park.
The point is, my dears, that we cannot allow our fear of new things allow us to let those all important first times go by without experiencing them. Yes, it can be scary. The unknown and unexpected often are. But what is life without a little excitement now and then? It would barely be worth living.
Blessed Be

1-800-Get-A-Job

1-800-Get-A-Job
by Raven Usher
In April’s edition of “Raven’s World,” I briefly explored the idea of re-entering the work force. It has been an intimidating prospect. After more than five years of staying home with the kids, my comfort zone has changed dramatically. As a housewife I do not have to answer to supervisor. I am my own boss. I do not have to watch a time clock. I do my chores when I want to and if I decide to let it slide for a day it does not matter. I am the boss and all the people here do it my way.
More than that, being a housewife has given me a refuge from bigotry, discrimination and random acts of hatred. I have been exceedingly lucky that I did not have the extra added stress of transitioning on the job. No matter how inclusive and protective an employer’s corporate policies are, the hardships of a workplace transition are going to happen.
Supervisors who have a personal problem with a TG employee may get even more unreasonable when they do not have the option of getting rid of the employee and make the work environment inhospitable. Other employees are going to express their opinions in ways that make it uncomfortable to work alongside them. During the androgyny stage of transition the customers will notice and react, possibly effecting the employee’s ability to perform the job productively. Any of these, and countless more, can be used in underhanded tactics to get rid of the TG employee.
I have also been very lucky in that my wife has a career that allows the household to operate without a second source of income. I did not have to face workplace hardships against my will because I was dependant on the cash flow. That was a HUGE deal. Being transgendered can be very expensive. The loss of a job can be a huge setback in the transition time frame not to mention the havoc it can wreak on living conditions and personal finances.
I did put in one application merely for the sheer fun of it. I just wanted to be able to say that I did it. I went down and put in an application as a Hooter’s Girl. I never heard back from them. But since I do not have any waitress experience at all, that did not come as a surprise. Who knows? Maybe in another year I will try again. Would that not be too funny if I got that position?
The truth is, I am glad I did not get that job. Besides having not wanting to contend with punching a clock, I did not think that such a fast-paced, high stress job would be right for my first job back in the work force. Working with the general public was not a concern. I have always been good at dealing with people. But the “hurry-up faster” pace of working at a restaurant would be overwhelming.
So... what I was looking for was a slower paced job that would allow me to set my own schedule and let me to work independently in an environment that made me feel comfortable. Does that sound like a tall order?
Well, it was.
I do not know how many times I have thanks the Gods for the internet. It really is a TG’s best friend. It helped me find friends and support groups, information on meds and treatments, doctors and services, apparel and shoes... everything. I freaking love the internet!
Now, once again, the internet has provided me with the solution I needed. I have found, applied for and accepted a job. I set my own schedule. I am my own supervisor. I work in a place where I am completely comfortable. The other employees have already become friends. The customers are happy with my service. And the company if fully accepting and supportive of me being transsexual. I have hit the honey pot!
It is a customer service job. I work on-line and with a telephone. And I do it from the comfort of my own home. I post advertisements on line to draw customers to the business. Then when the customers finds what they like, they call a toll-free number. Their calls are routed to me and I process their orders. It is so simple I can not believe they pay me to do it. I have gotten very lucky in yet another step of my transition process.
The point is that there are accepting and supportive companies out there where a TG can find gainful employment. All you have to do is look for them. Do not let the fear of losing a job interfere you living a happy, healthy life. Yes, the search may be more difficult than most. But that is the pure essence of transgendered life. More difficult, yes. But also more rewarding.
So work, earn and be productive. The world is out there for the taking. Reach out and grab your piece.
Blessed Be.

Reading Between the Lines

Reading Between the Lines
by Raven Usher
Every transgendered person who ventures out into public while displaying an outward image of their gender dysphoria faces the prospect of being read. Being “read” is when we are recognized as gender other than what we are trying to display. It does not matter how well we pass or how often we pull it off. Sooner or later, we will be read. It is inevitable. Someone somewhere is going to be able to tell.
Any transgender, M to F or F to M, who considers being viewed publicly has to come to terms with the idea of being read. It is a fact of tranny life. Ironically, being read is not the unnerving thing. What scares TG’s the most is not knowing how that person who reads us is going to react. Will they be accepting? Will they ignore us? Will they spout off disparaging insults? Will they be violent?
Another huge concern is where will we be when we are read. Having it happen in a crowded mall is a minor concern. It is easy to get lost in a crowd that big. And the chances of someone getting violent with that many people around is extremely low. Being read in a half empty dark parking lot on they way back to your car after an evening at the club is a truly terrifying thought. That is why you do not typically see trannies closing down the bars.
It never fails to surprise me about where I am when I get read or who it is that recognizes me. Most of the time it is other women who read me. Women have the eye for a “true” female form instead of the Playboy Bunny ideal that men foster. Women will also look beyond deep cleavage and shapely legs to observe body language and mannerisms. The funny part is that they never read me when I am doing stereotypical female activities. They do not spot me when I am shopping for groceries, getting my hair done, or in a form fitting bathing suit while swimming at the YMCA. I get read at the hardware store buying home repair items or at the firing range popping off a few rounds.
Another large portion of the people who read me are children. Kids have that wonderful ability to look at the world without the prejudice or peer pressure of societal expectations. They can see the fairies in the garden and friendly ghosts that play with them when the adults are too busy. So why would they not see me? A child’s world is one of endless possibilities and seeing me for what I use to be is not a big jump from that point of view.
Then there are the men. I never expect men to read me because they simply do not do it. I do not know why that is for sure. Maybe they can not get past my breasts. Maybe they just do not want to. Maybe the image of the ideal female form clouds their vision. Or maybe (what I think is most likely) men have been bombarded from every area of life their whole lives with images of women as sexual conquests that they do not possess the instinct to look past a girl’s body and the possible pleasures it affords.
Men do read me from time to time. The last time a man read me, I was in line at the pharmacy. Two men with the remains of a day at a construction site on them were in line as well. As I stood waiting for the pharmacist to fill my prescription, I heard them discussing me. Or more accurately, my body. They liked what they were viewing. After a few minutes of their admiration, I proceeded to the counter to pick up my RX. Doing so I must have turned or walked in some way that gave me away. As I signed for my meds, I heard one of them say, “Hey, I think that might be a guy.”
Not being able to predict how a man will react to that news, I paused in what I was doing and listened closely for his companion’s reply. It was a reply that made me feel good and still makes me giggle when I think about it. It just goes to show that there is indeed hope for all transgendered people.
“Hey, I think that might be a guy.”
“I don’t care.”
Blessed be.

Trans Anger

Trans Anger
by Raven Usher
Occasionally Diversity Newsmagazine receives books, movies or music releases from distributors that specialize in LGBT products and/or publications. Recently I received an audio CD of Athens Boys Choir’s newest release, “Rhapsody in T” from Daemon Records.
Athens Boys Choir consists of two female to male “gender benders” (their words). Rocket and Katz present a series of spoken prose on everything from the president and politics to social prejudices to personal experience. “Writing is our hobby, passion, and therapy. In a world where there are always new questions, new wrongs, and new calls for revolution, there is hardly a lack of things to write about,” the duo says in their press pack.
Being transsexual myself, I was rather excited to see a CD written and performed by transgendered artists. It is my personal belief that the “T” of LGBT gets far too little press. I eagerly stuffed the CD down my boom-box’s throat and poured the voices of Athens Boys Choir out over the room. After listening to the CD, one thing was quite clear. These guys are pissed off!
Rocket and Katz are angry that society does not openly accept trans-folk. They are angry that the government does not pass laws to protect us. And they are angry that big religion demonizes us. As disappointed as I was that “Rhapsody in T” did not have a more positive outlook, I could not deny that trans-anger has become common place.
Transgendered people are angry that even gay and lesbian activists who fight for legislation that guarantees them the right to be themselves leave gender expression out of their proposed bills that would let transfolk be themselves until trans-activists point out yet another exclusion. T’s are angry about having to hide in the shadows. They are mad at having to live in fear of violence and discrimination. If the trans community gets any angrier we are going to reach a whole new dimension of pissedivity.
That kind of anger is not healthy. It is bad for the individuals who feel it. It is bad for the community that must endure it. It is bad for the society that does not understand us to see it. And it is bad for the activists who are battling to secure our rights when they have to combat negativity from the very people they are fighting to protect.
It is hard enough to educate people on a severely confusing subject when the people involved are amicable and welcoming. Angry, confrontational people trying to force the subject on others only galvanizes their resistance. The trans community needs to get over its anger and realize that this is not a fight we can win by force. This is not football. It is chess. And to win we need strategy, finesse, awareness and most importantly... patience.
Despite the propagation of anger that “Rhapsody in T” promotes, Rocket and Katz do touch on a number of important social issues that require attention. They also vividly demonstrate the similarities between today’s fight for LGBT rights and the fight for civil rights in the 50’s and 60’s. A fact that anti-gay organizations continue to deny or claim is purely a coincidence.
As a member of the trans community I am able to identify with the issues brought up in “Rhapsody in T.” In particularly, the “dick not jane” piece spoken by Rocket captured my attention. The artistic value of the spoken prose was a refreshing change from the too loud pounding bass lines that infect popular music today.
As much as I am able to identify with “Rhapsody in T” and expect that other trans folk will as well, I doubt that anyone who has not known the hardships of transgendered life will understand it. The sharp, explicit imagery of the work is just too specific and it lacks a common reference point for even gay and lesbian listeners, not to mention the straights. Props to Athens Boys Choir for the artistic prose. But how about toning down the pissed off angle.
“Rhapsody in T” is available for purchase at www.daemonrecords.com.

What T's Up, Doc?

What T’s Up, Doc?
by Raven Usher
Do any of you know how profoundly weird it is to have a full breast examine followed by, “turn your head and cough?”
As funny as it sounds, the unique health concerns of transgendered people is no laughing matter. Health problems are often compounded because far too many trans people self medicate due to a lack of trans-friendly medical professionals in their areas. On top of that, many avoid medical check-ups out of fear of persecution or maltreatment.
Far too often, transition is treated like a covert military op. We keep our actions as secret as possible for as long as possible. We camouflage the results until we have advanced enough that there is no way for opposing forces stop the onslaught regardless of the resistance they mount. Then we occupy the city while the inhabitants are sleeping and off guard.
The problem is that when we are in stealth mode we tend to neglect our health. A certain level of secrecy during transition is a must. But it is a major mistake to stay secret from the people who can keep us from becoming victim to our own path in life; our doctors.
The stress of facing society’s prejudices can cause severe depression. 50% of all transsexuals die by their early 30’s and most commit suicide over gender issue driven depression. Transfolk are also more susceptible to all the other health problems related to depression.
The side effects of hormone therapy can be life threatening if not properly monitored. Extended hormone use can cause liver and kidney problems. Self medicating will let these problems go undetected until they pose serious health risks. The unsupervised use of Spirolonactone (an essential part of M to F hormone therapy) can lead to blood clots forming in the blood vessels of the legs. They cause extreme pain and if they break loose and travel to the heart, they cause fatal heart attacks.
Transfolk also have to be aware of two sets of gender specific health concerns in addition to the unique health concerns of trans people. No matter how tragic a case of bitch-tits a man has, he will never have to be subjected to the dreaded mammogram machine. Regardless of how bad the penis envy gets, no woman will have to “face” a prostate exam. Transfolk have to deal with it all. So we need to be aware of it all.
Not every transgender person makes a full gender transition. In this context, they are the lucky ones. They do not have to face a second puberty that wreaks havoc on the body, mind and emotions. They do not have to face years of drug regiments and surgical procedures. And their doctors can remain safely unaware.
The rest of us do not have that luxury. Blood pressure means more when you are taking strong medications. High cholesterol is more of a concern when your body is being forced to redistribute its fat deposits. And something as simple as proper diet and exercise is ultra important when you are developing a whole new body.
Too many transfolk spend too much time and energy thinking about other people when they should be thinking about themselves. We think about our family’s reactions, the consequences to our jobs and how society will treat us in daily life. We should be thinking about our body’s reaction, the consequences to our health and how we are treating ourselves from day to day.
Regardless of who you are, you should have an eye on your health. If you are transgendered it is even more important. TCC has a list of LGBT friendly doctors in the Boise area posted. If you need a regular doctor go down to TCC, look at the list and get one. If you have a regular doctor... when was the last time you saw him?
Blessed Be

Work is a 4-Letter Word

Work is a 4-Letter Word
by Raven Usher
I quit my school bus driving job in February of 2000 to stay home and take care of my kids. I love being a housewife. It has been more rewarding than any other job I have had. Watching my children grow, progress and succeed gives me a sense of accomplishment that is unrivaled by anything else in my life. I truly believe that being a homemaker is the career the Fates wove into the tapestry of my life.
But the warp and the woof of a tapestry are subject to an intricate weave. Threads that are pressed closely together in one place may not touch at all in another. Every time the loom cycles, the tapestry changes.
The loom is about to cycle.
In a few months my youngest child will start school. When my empty nest syndrome is not making me curl up in an overly-emotional ball on the couch, I think about what I am going to do with my time. I could take up a series of arts and crafts projects like my mother. I could utilize my interior design background and turn my house into a showpiece. I could open my home and spend my day caring for someone else’s child. Or... I could venture back out into the world and get a job.
Get a job. That does not sound difficult, does it? People do it all the time. And I am not unskilled. I have even kept up with my CDL. I have options.
The prospect of re-entering the work force has me facing an aspect of transsexualism that I have not had to deal with thus far; being transgendered in the workplace. I count myself lucky that I did not have to worry about losing a job or wrecking a career during my transition. 85% of transsexuals lose their jobs when they transition. I did not have to face ridicule from co-workers. I did not have to worry about a transphobic boss firing me.
A homemaker re-entering the workforce is not an easy change for any woman. After many years of staying home, you may not have verifiable past employment. (Most companies simply do not keep records that long.) You have to start at entry levels when you are middle-aged. You may not be up-to-date with current business technologies. In a nutshell, if you do not have some kind of degree or certification, you may not be marketable. Or you might be transgendered in a conservative community.
I pass. Even without make-up I successfully display a female gender expression. But I have not held a job as a woman. That may not sound like a big deal. But think back to your first job. Were you unsure of yourself, intimidated by the people who already worked there, nervous about doing something new? The job probably sucked too. Now imagine that sundae topped with the cherry of being transgendered.
I have been watching the “help wanted” signs around town. I have seen a number of jobs that would either utilize my skills or just be fun source of extra income. There is, in fact, an establishment that I would love working for. On one hand: It would put me in the public eye under close scrutiny. Maybe even closer scrutiny than I have been under as a woman thus far. On the other hand: I am a bit of an attention whore and I would probably get off on being seen so much.
Oh, what the hell. I will do it. I am going apply for a job as a Hooters girl!
Blessed Be

Uncle Sam's Misguided Children

Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children
by Raven Usher

According to the North American Dictionary of Transgender Slang, a macho trap is “an activity or situation that a transgender embarks upon for a period of time in an attempt to deny or suppress feelings and/or desires stemming from gender dysphoria.”
I am a veteran of the United States Marine Corps. I served eight years under the banner of the eagle, globe and anchor. Honorably discharged - July, 1994. If only my old Marine Corps buddies could see me now!
I am also an early onset transsexual. I first became consciously aware that I was “different” at about age six. Those feelings came to their first major conflict when I hit puberty. That is the time in a young boy’s life when his hormones run rampant and set his desire ablaze with the urge to grow breasts and become a strong vibrant woman. Oh, ok. So that was just me.
At seventeen years old I was being pulled in two directions that could not be more blisteringly opposite. The internally driven rage to become a woman versus the externally driven push to become a man. That is a hell of a lot of pressure to heap on to a kid’s shoulders. I was fast approaching high school graduation. A host of people; friends, family, teachers, guidance counselors, television and movie heroes were relentlessly bombarding me with the idea that it was time for me to grow up and “be a man.” There were two problems with that. I did not want to be a man. And I had no idea what it meant to be a man.
Then I crossed paths with a person who claimed to have the answer. He was a Marine Corps recruiter. He came to my school in his dress blue uniform. As sexy as men in uniforms are, there is no uniform sexier than Marine Blues! I am not sure, but I think he noticed me because I was staring at him. He may have been the first adult who actually talked to me as if I was an adult. He had me hooked.
I only caught a portion of his sales pitch. Somewhere amidst his “benefits of being a Marine” speech a thought tunneled into my head. If anyone knew how to turn a boy into a man (even a boy who felt less like a boy than the other boys), it had to be the Marines. So I suppressed my feminine feelings and dove headlong into something I knew to be wrong. I joined the Marines. And thus my macho trap was sprung.
I gave in. I succumbed to the peer pressure of family, school and society. I became a victim of the expectations imposed upon what was between my legs. I turned my back on my true self and set out to become what I became. I did became a Marine. I thought I had become a man. What I truly became was miserable.
Being a Marine made that host of other people see me as the man they all dreamt I could be. It was an image that far exceeded the person it surrounded. Wearing that image as a disguise for all that time made it all the more difficult for others to accept me as woman I really am.
Had I retained the effeminate image I had in school when I lettered in dance, my transition would have been less shocking if not expected. But when a hard-as-nails, rough-and-tumble leatherneck breaks that same news the believability factor drops dramatically. That is the news of the sissy kid who was the home-ec teacher’s pet, not the only son of three who followed dad into military service.
I am proud to have served in the Marine Corps. The strength and courage the Corps instilled in me are largely responsible for making it possible for me to endure the hardships of my transition. But I also have regrets. I lost nearly a decade of my life as a woman. I made other people part of my life; a wife and kids. They too had to endure my transition and I am responsible for inflicting that pain upon them.
We play the cards we are dealt. I have had to bluff a lot. But I still come up with more winning hands than losing hands.
Blessed Be.
PS: Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children... USMC