Many times over the past month I’ve thought about writing, but would be in the middle of assisting Jayden with her home-school assignments, or cooking a meal, cleaning, or off getting supplies for us. In addition, I’ve also been to three in-person interviews and one over-the-phone, in an attempt to find a customer service position. I’m hoping for a stay-at-home position, that way I can work from the comfort of home and it will be easier on my body. Coming to think of each day as a list of goals to achieve, has helped me to feel more accomplished.
Recently, I asked in my groups if anyone else had things to work along with or around to achieve activities of daily living. Which I discovered, many of us do have to work around certain aspects to get daily goals achieved. Whether it be to retrieve the mail, send off emails, or clean. Every day I have either a mental list or an actual list of tasks to get done. That way, it’s more concrete. Plus, seeing it checked off the list just makes me feel better about those daily tasks I like to call “the damn dailies”. I love to feel as if I’m constantly moving forward. So, learning to live a productive life has been a challenge but necessary. Sometimes though, I’ve wanted to move forward so badly, I have made rash decisions to force my journey along. Which has resulted in finding myself in some enlightening but rather complicated situations. To my advantage, even though I’m a head first type of person, I have learned to sit on things, have a bit of patience. I think that’s one major lesson being stuck in homelessness for 32 consecutive months taught me. I’m sure we’ve all heard the saying: “Rome wasn’t built in a day”; anything worth having is worth the wait to do it right. In relationships, spontaneous moves, and other sporadic decisions I’ve found out the hard way that every situation doesn’t call for the “go all out, you only live once” attitude. Over the past several years of living with chronic daily pain, I’ve had to learn a few lessons about doing physical, mental, and emotional work, which I would like to share.
I’m sure everyone has different techniques to staying motivated and productive while living with disabilities, limitations, and medical issues. These are just the ones I find important to keep going through daily life.
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The events that took place in Virginia today were atrocious displays of hatred. Waking up to the news of this occurrence on the west coast, sent unnerving chills down my back even though thousands of miles separate me from the event. The videos and photographs from today were shocking. Punches, flames, a vehicle attack, and other hateful acts just because we are a nation of diversity. When our neighbors are being attacked due to religion or race, I feel threatened as well. When I look at my innocent children and see the difference in their skin color, eye color and think that someone would hurt one of them just because they have one different parent, which makes one have blue eyes and pale skin and the other have darker skin and brown eyes. Is this something they can control? Not at all. Katherine and I do have spiritual and religious beliefs but we tend not to make those very public, but to know that a belief in a higher power could stem into hateful attacks is horrifying. To know that race and religious differences still divide this country is so heartbreaking.
Would my blue eyed baby be attacked because she has porcelain skin, fair hair, and blue eyes? Would my youngest baby be safe with darker skin and eyes? I am already terrified to send them both to a public brick and mortar school due to us parents being transgender and in the open about it. How are other parents feeling today? I'm hoping we are all holding our little ones tight and talking to them about love, diversity, and acceptance. We should all be striving for safety and love. I don't want to bring my children up in a hateful, judgmental environment. Diversity is important and the fiber that unites this supposed "melting pot". I heard a quote once that said: the United States is not a melting pot but more a "tossed salad". Where all the components can easily be seen, recognized, and distinguished from the others. Which can be vibrant, colorful, healthy, and delicious. The ingredients that make up our country are much different from a salad since I've never seen a cucumber fight a tomato based on the fact their shape and color were different. We should be enjoying our salads; we have greens, black olives, fruits, crackers, nuts, and even a little cheese, but this is what makes it wonderful and delicious. Please let's unite our families, our neighborhoods, and our country, because diversity is beautiful. Recently, with the threat of the anti-trans military ban, the military has been on my mind a great deal more than normal. Most places I go online, many channels on the television, and several radio stations I’ve heard news about Trump’s recent tweet concerning the transgender population no longer serving in the military. It has brought back many memories from through out my life, from childhood and beyond. I would like to take this time to express those memories here.
I can recall being a child and hearing my family speak about my grandfather’s service during the Korean War. I can remember my uncle, his brother-in-law, also talking about war times. My grandfather was effected by the war, however he didn’t like to speak of it much around his grandchildren. My uncle was a green beret in the same war, and that’s the extent of what I know about his service years. My grandfather died when Jay was one. We both went to his funeral, he was buried at Fort Riley, Kansas, which actually happens to be where one of my great-grandfather’s is buried too. It was my first military burial. The only part I found a little disrespectful was the gunshots during the salute service were pre-recorded, no live soldiers performed. I once knew a kindly gentleman that was a senior citizen that lived in the country community I grew up in. He had been a fighter pilot in WWII. He and his wife threw the annual church pool party at their house. We attended the same church, and after his military career was retired, he bought a small nursing home in town. Which is where I volunteered as a teenager, and for my volunteer efforts they gifted me a piano for my 17th birthday. He was a kind man, but had seen great battles. He had taken many lives, but managed to leave a huge impression of blessings upon mine. Another gentleman in the area, also served in WW2, except he was from Transylvania. He lived down the road from where my step-mother worked. He has since passed, but we also went to church together, and for a high school world history project, I interviewed him about his pact with the United States military in order to serve our country on enemy territory. He was one of the key persons to locate Hitler’s under ground oil reserves and destroy them. He gave me pictures from the period to use for my project. During childhood, my dream since the age of four was to become a nurse, which I did go on to achieve, although not currently working in that field. My original plan was to join the Air Force. I carried out four years of Reserved Officers Training through an Air Force program that worked with our high school and the local Air Force Base. I went through the history of Aerospace Science, physical training, and a summer leadership training program at the Columbus Air Force Base. My plans were to join the USAF as an Airman First Class, with a pay grade of E-03 right after graduation from high school. My junior and senior years I worked along side the recruiters to come up with a physical fitness routine to get my body weight and BMI down to an acceptable limit. By my senior year, I had dropped 85 pounds, running daily, doing aerobics three times a week, and yoga twice a week. Things were lining out for those plans smoothly. During my time in AFJROTC, I began participating in the extra-curricular activity called Drill Team. This is where armed and unarmed students march in unison, performing per-determined drill acts. I was in drill team three of the four years of ROTC. As a unit, we traveled to numerous cities and towns across the state to compete against other ROTC units, to include Navy, Army, Marine, and Air Force programs. We would practice after school in the courtyard or gym, depending upon the weather. To begin, I was merely a participant, filing in unison with the other cadets at my sides. However, my junior year I applied to be the captain of the regulation drill team. Unfortunately, I was passed over for a senior. That summer between my junior and senior year, my Sergeant decided since I was interested in captain, perhaps some leadership training would be best suited for me. The next year, I came back full force going for the leadership role of Regulation Drill Team Captain. There were two finalists, me and one other person. I was ultimately accepted as the Team Captain, and I took our team to the First Place Overall in competition that year, not just first place for regulation, but first place over all the other competing schools. For that, I was awarded the title Cadet Major, which was rare at that time, there were only two other cadets that had made it to Major in our school program. My junior and senior years, I received awards signed by the President for my courage, honor, and patriotism. The Daughter’s of the American Legion award, and the National Sojourners Award. I was honored and felt as if my military career was concrete at this point. Then 9/11 happened and I felt much differently about joining the military. I felt as if I would face certain death and my dreams would no longer be able to become a reality. Yes, I backed out from joining for fear of being a part of a major war. I couldn’t bring myself to sign the papers. Instead, I worked hard to receive a scholarship to The Mississippi University for Women (MUW). I entered the nursing program, along with the Senior ROTC program through Mississippi State University partner program with MUW. I slowly realized that I no longer wanted to join the military, so I married instead. My first husband watched his friends join and be sent away one after another. We saw countless community members’ lives be devastated with the news of going to war. Many of the men in our neighborhood were gone, it was like living in a shell of a community. The families grieved, the kids cried, the spouse’s were expected to continue life as if nothing had changed. While working as a nurse in Tuscaloosa, there were several women whose husbands were shipped off over seas for the war. But there was a couple nurses that couldn’t cope and would cry on the night-shift while attempting to do their paperwork. I can recall one night in particular, when a fellow nurse on the same unit, was venting to me about how this was her husbands third tour and it wasn’t fair for him to be drafted out again. He was apart of a reserve unit and she was afraid he wouldn’t come home this time. My husband a few years into our marriage decided to join the Army. Although, I have spoken of this story before, it comes to mind again. My life has never been the same after he joined, and neither was his. I can remember the last day before he left for the service. We had gotten a large box of belongings together for the trip to MEPS and basic training. The usual toiletries, socks, running shoes, underwear, and such. We made the rounds to each of his family’s residences to have last goodbyes. We had a nice private walk with one another down to the creek in front of our house. We kissed, promised to write each other, then I drove him the 45 minutes over to Tuscaloosa. I was scared to loose him, since he had signed on for the infantry. Not long after he arrived, I got a message on my answering machine that completely shook up my world with the news that followed the call-back. He had went AWOL, stole a milk truck with the milk man inside. The poor milk guy had been inadvertently kidnapped. He fled the base, eluding the military police, and involving the civilian police. The authorities had to shut down 60 miles of interstate due to the high speed chase, he was headed south bound in the north bound lanes. He was driving without the thought of anyone else in mind. He had snapped. He told me after he had been detained that the people there had threatened my safety and he believed them and came to care for me. He looked at me with the most heart broken look from behind the glass. That was the first time I had ever been inside of a jail, and his first time as well. He cried and begged for me to forgive him and not to divorce him. But the thought of that snap, the thought of him endangering so many lives on the highway that day, knowing he had tried to kill a police dog, and himself, made me terrified to stay with him. To this day, I live with this on my conscience. What if I had stayed? What if I had gone back to him? Would he still be alive today? He took his own life after this, because I divorced him over it. I was frightened of what may come between us. The fights, the broken dishes, the dents in our truck, the shouting matches, the scars on my heart felt more painful, bigger, amplified, and horrific even. All the bad that we had been through together combined with this incident had a monumental effect on my heart, mind, and life. I wasn’t the same. After our divorce, I would cry myself to sleep, write him letters, and rip them up. I would compose notes, letters, and cards each week but never could bring myself to do more than tear them up. Although, I have not served in our military forces, it has effected my life time and time again. The military has changed people’s lives in positives ways and negative ones. How has the military effected your life? Has this recent banter over trans folks serving in the military brought up memories for you too? Have you served in the military? If you have served, I want to take this moment to thank you for your sacrifice. In Denver, we first lived in a small dodge neon, it was red, with butterflies on the back. I called it “Flutterby”. That car was in my life for five years. It was my first car I bought after the horrible incident with Allan’s death. It saw me through the last of my nursing career and left with me to go to Texas. It was there when Kat and I first became an item. It was the car both of our babies rode home from the hospital in. We made trips to the park, to the doctors office. Spent many nights back-road driving, music listening, car packed full of kids, or besties. It was the roof over our head when we first were facing homelessness. It too, had been a piece of our lives, the transportation to hundreds of memories.
In Austin, in 2013, we were forced to make a decision in order to keep Flutterby running. The clutch had went out, first time in 3 years of having the car that I had ever had an issue other than the regular maintenance and flat tires. We limped the car to a mechanic shop. Put the car in for the repair, and waited for the estimate. Later that day, we found out it would be over $900, and in addition to a clutch, it also needed a shifter cable. We had two options at that point. The first was to allow the shop to put a governor with gps tracking in the car ensuring we wouldn’t leave the state, and pay monthly installments to the shop. The second option was a title loan, that didn’t require a gps tracking device, and did require monthly payments. We surrendered the title, made the repairs, and went on with our lives. Not knowing the trouble awaiting us just weeks down the road. That was in July of 2013. In the early part of August, I was rear-ended. I was taken to the hospital, the car was still drivable so we skipped the repair, but took out a lawsuit against the driver. I recovered as best as I could from this accident. Toward the end of September, we found out we were expecting Joshua. The defining factor resulting in our move to Mississippi, is when I had the second car accident, while five months pregnant, someone side swiped me on the driver’s side. The doctor ordered bed-rest which forced our income to be severely lacking. Flutterby’s repair bill had to wait... Fast-forward to Denver, at the end of the year of 2015, I was expecting the settlement from the car accident from August of 2013. It really couldn’t have come at a better time. It was perfectly timed right after the falling out with the folks we had lived with for six weeks. We used it to travel around Colorado in search of a used RV or camper van. Knowing our time was running short with Flutterby. I hadn’t been able to make payments on the title loan and they were done working with us to extend the time frame. I hadn’t been able to secure more than a few families worth of housekeeping work and part time work driving cars for the auctions. We were scraping by on public resources, and what I could manage to get working. After months of cleaning, weeks of working outside in the snow, and months of sleeping in an upright position, my body wasn’t handling the stress of living in a car very well. I knew we had to have something bigger. With the kids growing and our family needing more stability, we had to find something quick. We made the trek from Denver to Pueblo, then across to Grand Junction, north to Fort Collins, Silverthorne, and Central City. The money ran out before we found the right fit for our family. We headed to Boulder, which was one of our safest and favorite spots to camp. We decided to stay there until we could get our tax returns back from the previous year. Which was only six weeks away. A few months earlier in the same camping area, we met a couple named Fork & Spoon. They had a minivan and saw our tiny car, us, our kids, and all our belongings crammed in there. They told us that day, we should buy a very big van and we could make it through this fine. They said that we shouldn’t be scared, that thousands of folks choose to live this way and if they could make it, so could we. We drove down to Manitou Springs, a town adjacent to Colorado Springs. We had seen two different ads for camper vans, we wanted to look at them to make our final decision. With the tax deposit day approaching, we wanted to be sure we had a selection made to get something as soon as possible. We test drove both, but ultimately decided on the newer one that had been converted to an actual camper on the inside. We were over-joyed to finally have the right one picked out. Now, we just had to wait on the taxes. The night before we were to get the money and meet the owner to buy the camper, we had a blow out on the car. We put the spare on, and two miles down the road, it was flat also. With no money at that moment to do anything, we were stranded, in Denver, an hour and a half away from our new camper home. We were parked at a McDonald’s a few blocks from downtown. We rang Kat’s father, it was late, but he answered. We asked could he buy us greyhound tickets from Denver to Colorado Springs so we could get our van and just leave Flutterby at the nearby Wal-Mart, that allowed overnight parking. He agreed, and were all set to go down to Colorado Springs in the morning. We had only a few short hours of sleep that night, as having to limp at about ten mph to the Wal-Mart, from the McDonald’s took nearly two hours, and as I said, it was already late when this first happened. We were up at 6am, headed to the bus stop to get to the greyhound station. Joshua was ten months old, and Jayden was four, they were excited for the trip. We made the bus ride down with mountain ranges on all sides. It was a beautiful day and we were so hopeful. After we exited the greyhound, we had to walk several blocks to the city bus line, to make it to Wal-Mart, where we were to meet the owner’s brother to make the exchange. We only had thick, black, leather jackets that were given to us by a friend before we left Mississippi, so I think we were a little off-putting and he came across as being sketchy of us. A family of four homeless folks that rode in on a bus, and we had never met this guy’s brother. It was really a strange situation, we could feel the weirdness. To make it worse, when we got to Wal-Mart, the large amount of money that we were supposed to be getting wasn’t allowed to an out of state ID. We had to explain to this person meeting us with the van, that we had to find another location to pick up the money, could he please drive us there, in the van. Which, he did. While driving over he kept saying little things like “My mom was the type person to teach us to trust people until they give a reason not to”, and “In my family we were raised to be kind, understanding, and to remember the golden rule”. Though I’m sure he also had some thoughts along the lines of what our true intentions were and did we really have the money coming. Thankfully, he did trust us for a few minutes that day we were able to get the tax return from the second location, we paid him the money and drove him home. Then, we were off in our bigger, more comfortable home, headed back to Flutterby, to clean it out and get our belongings situated. After all that, we stayed parked to Flutterby, took a nap in our camper, called the title loan company and surrendered the address to the location of Flutterby. The following day, we awoke, Flutterby was still there, but we had to drive away and leave her there to be retrieved. We transitioned smoothly from Flutterby to our camper. We named it, Our Beast. The day our van was towed away was like discovering the family dog was missing, our stomach was knots, our hearts sank, I was panicked and knew it would mean a fortune to get it back, if we were able to at all. Katherine was certain from the start, that failure was not an option for us. We had to get the valuable member of this family back!
When we put the status on Facebook about our van being taken, along with the estimated amount for the bill, we got an immediate donation that was used the next day to send off for the title from Colorado. Our next step that day, was to search for a charity, a church, or other organization that had funds for assistance for things like transportation costs, and eviction prevention. Not much to our surprise, each one had a reason why they couldn’t help. A couple places said they were out of funds for the month but we could apply for the next month. A small number of them stated their services only helped people with leases or mortgages; since we live in a flexible living apartment home, we didn’t qualify for rental assistance. The final location we called, told us they no longer had funding to run the program and didn’t offer any financial assistance, only a food bank and thrift store. As our readers know, we had been homeless two years and eight months, so having credit to get a bank loan wasn’t an option. When we came out as transgender, we lost all of my family members, and all save one of Kat’s. That one person is her father, who is not in a position to help us with a sum of that amount. We were literally hoping for a miracle. A few days past from our first Facebook post, our friend Tori, from Australia, sent a plain message asking how much we owed for the van and rent. I told her and she pretty much just said “Okay, well I can help, I will send you what you need on Sunday”. That she did. We were able to pay our rent up until Kat’s next check. We were able to combine what she had plus what Kat got with her last check and hold back for the registration. We were able to get insurance back and I donated plasma today to afford the smog test. We got a permit to park and we are as legal as we can be. It feels so nice to be falling into place. Although we still have to pay her back, it won’t be loosing everything to gain a foot. Thankfully, with help from people like Tori, we were able to keep the stability we’ve worked hard to accomplish. Yay, our van has returned home! We were greatly wanting this new home to be a breath of fresh air after being homeless for so long. We were road weary but still wanted our option to drive. We are ready for calmness and peace.
Since being in this situation, we've been using public transportation. The first bus ride we went on, I over heard a person describing Las Vegas as a money trap. They continued, that they try to drain as much money as possible from anyone, especially out-of-towners. The person used the example of the bus tickets being $5 around town and $8 on the strip, for "unsuspecting tourists". When the legal advocate returned my call yesterday, they told me "that's Vegas for you, and the tow companies are brutal to everyone, no matter who you are." I spoke to another local, he told me most of his friends had their vehicle impounded here too, and he'd had it done to his car twice. When a neighbor saw me a few days ago, he told me he looked for me the day it was tagged but never saw me out and didn't know my apartment number. He also happened to have a security guard over for a visit, just as friends, he explained that's just the rules here and it's happened to a lot of people. We are striving to get over this hurdle as well, as life keeps seeing fit to test us for now, and here we go.. heads down, determined stride, heart wide open, and shields up! Cole is living in California, and is going through a divorce after a 10 year relationship. She is a parent of three daughters, two of which are her step-daughters. She has raised her step-daughters as her own since they were toddlers, now they are teenagers. Also, she has come to understand she is transgender. She says she has known about being “non-male” since she was five years old. However, Cole wasn’t out as transgender when her biological child was born, she is listed as the legal “father” on her daughter’s birth certificate. Cole and her former wife have been through a great deal since their separation. Majority of it has been legal battles and Cole believes being transgender may have complicated her case.
Cole’s former spouse, we will call Xhe. Despite knowing that Cole was gender variant when starting their relationship, when Cole came out as transgender Xhe went through what some call “transgender panic”. Xhe went as far as to file a protection order against Cole, which resulted in visitation troubles with the three children. Xhe was claiming Cole had been abusive. Once she was presented with the protection order, Cole went to the court house to file a response: Declaration in response to Respondent Ex Parte. The Declaration described that Xhe had filed the protection order based solely on “transgender panic” and that the abuse claims are unfounded. Shortly after Cole filed a Motion to Relinquish parental rights. Based on past experiences as a couple and the youngest child coming forward to reveal signs of physical abuse, Cole wishes to see a full psychological evaluation performed on Xhe. Cole wants to see supervised visitation until Xhe is deemed “safe”. Also instead of the visitation being on a schedule, Cole would rather visits occur with the children’s consent and request. Cole has raised three children and desires to communicate with all three of them, to include her two step-daughters. Since the youngest confessed to Cole that Xhe had left the marks found on her body and that this is an ongoing occurrence, Cole took pictures of the marks. One mark was around her throat showing strangulation, the child said it was from a necklace she was wearing, the mother used to squeeze her neck. The second was around her wrist which were fingernail marks and around her ankle were squeeze marks. Cole wants custody of her biological child and wishes her step-daughters can go to a safe home as well. Since she didn’t adopt the two step-daughters during the marriage, she is not legally tied to either of her oldest children. Unfortunately, this means she isn’t able to visit with them either. How this began: Sadly, after Xhe voluntarily took herself off her medications which led to an attack of aggressive mania, Xhe withheld all visitation from Cole. Xhe claimed Cole being transgender “confused” the children. Cole was finally able to see herself for who she was inside, and that felt right. Cole had several conversations with her children about being transgender and they were understanding. Cole claims Xhe manipulated the children into fearing her by using words such as “crazy” when speaking to the children about her. Cole tells the story that she was simply living her life for a decade, raising her three daughters, and helping to care for her mentally impaired wife. Once she came out as transgender, her life started to change in less positive ways. Cole was given a motion to vacate the premises, pushing her out of her home, into the streets to sleep in her car. After the upheaval of her entire life, Cole ultimately had to make the decision to give up her computer programming obligations at that time due to the chaotic situation. She was also refused the right to see her daughter for two periods during a 16 month time-frame. In the battles of divorce, custody, and visitation a great deal of overwhelming information has come to light about the living conditions of the children, for the rest of the article we will be focusing on one child, the youngest, the biological daughter, we will call Xin. Since Cole has no legal parental ties to the oldest two children, she has no legal say in their care or well-being except to report to CPS (Child Protective Services). She is fighting for her daughter’s safety and possibly even her life. Xhe claims Xin demonstrates Oppositional Defiant Disorder, or “ODD”. A condition where a child has extreme defiance towards authority figures, having uncooperative and sometimes even hostile behavior. Xhe claims the child is worse at home, which is often times the case in kids with ODD. Cole disputes these claims, saying Xhe is the confrontational one, not Xin, the child. Cole has interviewed teachers and other adults that work with Xin, to inquire as to whether they noticed signs of the disorder in Xin. All of them have denied the presence of these symptoms. There are over a dozen professionals and other adults in Xin’s life willing to testify in the child’s favor, disputing the claims of the disorder. Cole has tried to get Xin’s testimony to hold accountability, but so far it hasn’t. Xhe has taken Xin to the county therapist in 2015 to examine and work with Xin, but Cole feels this decision should have been agreed to by her. Cole even tried legally to have a say in the provider that Xin was going to see, but failed in the attempts to be active in the decisions of the child’s care. Cole has been denied the right to have any say in what school Xin attends, and in other parental aspects of Xin’s childhood, Cole is being excluded. During court hearings, the Judge has referred to Cole as “emotional”, which any parent would be emotionally disturbed by these accounts from their child. Cole feels this Judge is trans-phobic, wanting to suppress her side of the case, and desires the case to be reviewed by a different Judge. She firmly believes this will result in a much different outcome than how the case has unfolded so far. She wants the court to see the bigger picture. That picture being a concerned, loving parent that has been wrongfully accused of atrocities and knowingly has to sit by until a judge will hear the testimonies fairly, review all evidence and make an honest decision based on the condition of the child’s experiences and safety. Instead, she feels her gender identity is getting in the way of justice for Xin in this case. If you or someone you know is an attorney practicing family law in California and can help Cole’s case, please see her website and contact her today! Xin & Cole need your help. http://coleprime.com/ There once lived a little girl that grew up lonely, isolated, misunderstood, mislabeled, and abandoned at birth. At a few weeks old, the child was chosen by a couple, who after the wife went through a horrible bout with Hodgkins Disease, couldn’t have her own child. The adoptive couple raised the kid as an only child, and as a son, despite her being born with ambiguous genitalia. The young girl grew up in a rural town in the Southern United States. The adoptive parents weren’t as active in the child’s life as she had longed for. Many lonely evenings after school were spent alone in her room, while her parents took a nap or sat in front of the television. On the occasions she would get to go out with either of the adoptive parents, she would be elated, soak up the attention, and crave even more. Exploring by wandering through the area, playing with neighborhood kids, and even little league was a great way for her to express childhood folly. She and a close friend would play dress up with the playmate’s mother’s clothes and shoes, both were assigned male. Many fond memories were made, until it was time to come back home, then it was back to being alone in her room. The little girl spent countless hours in online chat rooms, message boards, and social media to numb the sting of loneliness. Being seen as a male, began to become a problem at an early age. The natural desires of the child were to be kind, gentle, loving, to play dress up, to shop with “mom”, and be more “feminine” in characteristics. Unfortunately, the adoptive parents were strict religious conservatives and punished her repeatedly for any feminine qualities, displaying to her that “feminine” equaled wrong or bad. This is a common theme, especially in the south, to be forced to “act like a man” or to be told “that’s not for boys”. The adoptive mother hailed from a wealthy, white plantation family. The adoptive father was the descendant of a long-line of white, mid-western farmers. Together, they tried to mold a clean-cut, college educated, white, Christian male, that was destined for “success”. This child was Katherine. Today, as most of you know she is a transgender woman, mother, wife, advocate, and a shift manager of the Trans Lifeline. Never being able to conform to her adoptive parents standards of masculinity and expectations placed on her, she had to forge her own way in life. Leaving behind an oppressive and abusive home at just sixteen years old, Katherine moved to South Carolina. Where she lived with a person she had met over the internet. After several months of conversing through chat and over the phone, she was convinced she would be better off escaping her current reality. Not knowing what to expect, she boarded a greyhound bus, with her backpack and what few belongings she could carry in it. There she set out on her journey to find where she would fit into the world. South Carolina brought with it new challenges and new experiences. Ultimately it ended with an enormous amount of violence, trauma, and pain. There are intense scars that remain all over her body, as well as in her soul as lasting reminders of her time in the Carolinas. Having her first apartment, first full time job, and first live in romantic partner made for many growing pains, learning opportunities, as well as mistakes. She has explained to me that while living there she was active in the hardcore punk scene, attending lots of shows. She was able to explore her gender and sexuality while living away from her controlling parents. Her partner even used a feminine nick-name as a term of affection. Her first full-time job while living there, was for the Intercontinental Hotel chain. At first, she began on the call center floor, but rapidly moved up to the “specialists” team, of a few select members of the employees that would handle higher tiered callers. The special team would also be flown around the country visiting hotels, attending dinners, discovering the perks of the hotels she was selling reservations for, first hand. She got to go places like D.C., Cincinnati, Myrtle Beach, and many others in between. She told me of the fancy suites she was given complimentary with the position, the elaborate restaurants they would dine in while on these business trips. She even explained to me that she was able to meet Concepcion Picciotto, a permanent protester in DC, that resided in “The Peace House”, a tent across from the White House at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Concepcion continuously remained homeless and protested for peace from August 1981 until her death in January 2016. While Katherine was with her, she donated all the money she had, and handed out fliers for several hours along side Concepcion. After three years and a pretty harsh falling out with the romantic partner in South Carolina, she returned to Mississippi. Trying to move on with her life, she got another call center job, got her own apartment, and casually dated. A few years went by and a few jobs too, she met a dating partner that turned more serious. They got a home together and tried to give it a go. By this time the gender issues were enormous and hard to deny any longer. To her sadness, her partner was not affirming of the gender variance, even to the point of degrading Katherine for the gender expressions that came naturally to her. The relationship was on the rocks, Katherine was depressed, using alcohol and prescriptions to medicate through the roughest parts. Eventually, Katherine’s parents found out about her cross-dressing and her gender variations. She had recently attempted to end her life due to the torture of living as the wrong gender and feeling as if she would never be able to access transition related care. The response from her parents was a court order for a year of conversion therapy in south Alabama. After four grueling months of uncompensated labor, suppression of sexual expression, hours of therapy which amounted to cis-men asking her extremely personal questions about her sexual habits, rigorous prayer schedules, and brain-washing religious instruction, she finally managed to escape. This time she was convinced that her gender variance meant she was a gay feminine male. She explored her sexuality further, by being in a relationship with a long time friend. She and him moved to Texas and it is there that they spent six months together until she needed a way out, due to several drunken fights between the two of them. Serendipitously, I had moved to the same area in Texas just a week before their last fight. I got a phone call at about five in the morning, with Katherine upset, crying, and begging for a couch to sleep on for a while. A little over a year later, we left to start our life together. Before we decided to be together, Katherine confessed to me that she was truly a female, my response was simply “I know”. After shopping, facials, mani/pedis, and many, many hair sessions together I could just tell deep down she longed to be perceived as a female. In our relationship, it was the first time either of us could genuinely express the person on the inside, but at first only at home. I wish I could say that we lived happily ever after at that time, but that isn’t the truth. My previous entries have explained further the trials we’ve faced since being together, but not all of them. Majority of our relationship has been isolation, we’ve had to choose one another over everyone else. What we could see in one another, what we could understand without really having to explain made our connection that much stronger, closer, and true. Having a mate that is also transgender has been the most rewarding, and amazing relationship because of HOW we can understand to the depths. In Austin, I was working as a contract nurse at the state mental facility and Katherine was working a logistics job at a large online sign company. We began in a tiny studio apartment with a shared kitchen and bathroom. The landlord kept raising our rent to push us out, after we reported to them a laundry list of code violations. They sabotaged our car, put a deadbolt on our door, and so we reported them to the tenant council, ultimately shutting down one of the landlord’s apartment buildings. We decided it would be best if we moved into a hotel. We lived for two months at the Super 8, while we looked for a better apartment in the city. Soon we were able to get into a two bedroom town home in North Austin. We didn’t have any furniture, but we had clothes, dishes, toiletries and a futon mattress. We weren’t there long before I had a car accident and wasn’t able to work due to the severe and debilitating pain. We couldn’t keep the apartment because we couldn’t afford rent with one income. We left Texas, making the 750 mile trip back to where we grew up in Mississippi. We were five months pregnant at the time, expecting our youngest. We stayed six weeks with Katherine's parents, but for Katherine that meant confronting her past. Being in her family’s home brought back many painful memories she wasn’t ready to face. Most days she couldn’t get out of bed until late afternoon due to low energy, depression, and not resting well because of nightmares. Being brought back there after her parents had her court ordered into conversion therapy, made for rather sore moments. We grew closer than we had been up until that point, venting about controlling, abusive, neglectful parents. We talked about her feelings of abandonment from being given up for adoption. We discussed in depth the turmoil being perceived as “different” had caused within her. She expressed the rebellious behaviors as a teenager, as a cry for help with her depression as a young person. She explained how she drank alcohol from a young age to self medicate her anxiety, depression, and feelings of isolation that radiated pain throughout. Once our tax returns came in we paid the deposits on a town home in Hattiesburg, where Katherine previously held a position as a landscaper, prior to moving to Texas. She was granted her former job, and we prepared our home for the arrival of our new addition. At the time, Katherine was still a daily drinker. She hadn’t come out officially as transgender, although we had discussed it several times. It wasn’t until after our child was born that we both confronted our gender issues head on, for the first time admitting who we were to the people around us. Family turned away from us and some friends weren’t accepting either. Katherine was happy to finally be free of the secret she held deep inside, but it came with the devastation of loosing loved ones. She was slapped in the face with abandonment once again, as her adopted mother refused to have anything to do with us. It was an enormous heartache she had to adjust to, since they were close before the two of us became an item. The both of us coming to terms with and admitting our gender issues, was the breaking point for many people in our lives. When we first became homeless, many worried we wouldn’t make it. Rumors surfaced of us leaving to pursue a life of drugs and addiction. Actually, what we had decided before leaving was to radically shift our entire existences in order to bring happiness into our lives, honestly for the first time. We became vegetarian, gave up alcohol, pills, and street drugs. There were moments while intoxicated or high that we felt a relief from the sadness and guilt, but this time we wanted to be free of these caging emotions and addictions for real. We knew we had to work through an enormous amount of pain, especially Katherine, since she hadn’t been responsive to traditional therapies throughout her life. She insists it was because she wasn’t allowed to live as her true self, and I have no doubt she is correct. Mainly, because I experienced the same thing until I began to live and identify as my authentic self. Once we hit the road for Denver, it gave us a chance to be whomever we wanted to be, instead of the way folks had always known us to be. It gave us a chance to really change, because the new people wouldn’t have a false image of us in their minds. There was no longer a reason to conform to other peoples views or standards. We could finally live how we wanted. We didn’t have to see all the people that we had disappointed a hundred times with our failures, our mistakes, and our identity crises. Since coming out and beginning hormone therapy for transition, Katherine has had monumental progress with her feelings of burdensomeness, isolation, and guilt. We may have been spit out of the south by prejudice, bigotry, hate, and violence, but we were determined to make the best of what we had left.. each other and our children. But where would we fit in? Where would be our home to belong? How would we figure out a way to survive until we could figure that out? We spent months traveling, working, and spending every penny we could scrape up. Only making enough to get by until the next day. Forget living week to week, it was literally day by day. We were afraid of being homeless forever. We would look at our babies, cry, hold them, and promise to make their lives better, no matter what. Katherine had a difficult time having confidence enough to go in public when she was first transitioning. Not only did her social anxiety cause issues with accomplishing tasks, but also the fear of being attacked for being a transgender person. Over time these fears began to cause less and less anxiety. Another big issue she’s faced is learning to navigate her world through the constant trauma of being homeless. We both have really, but I think for Katherine it was compounded by the crippling anxiety she faced. Being swept by the cops, being belittled by people in public, being targeted for harassment due to being homeless and transgender, put an extra weight around her neck. Although it effected us both greatly, Katherine’s fears of the world began to rise considerably. Not having her parents for emotional support gave her a gaping hole no one could fill. Once she began to transition, layers of sadness began to slowly chip away from around her heart. Like the Russian Matryoshka dolls, more appeared once a layer was removed, exposing a very beaten and raw soul. The soul of an abandoned child, that was abandoned not once at birth, not twice, but three times. For her birth mother contacted her years after giving her up, then turned her away again after a year. Then when her adopted mother put her away as well, it was just too much to bear. Overwhelming sadness, a feeling of being completely unwanted and unlovable was all that remained in her heart in place of a mother. Finding her way to loving herself is a work in progress. She is regrowing her confidence, regaining her footing, and reclaiming her life. The journey to find a home has also turned out to be a journey to find ourselves, and a family. Which we’ve found in the form of a friend-family along the way. Adding new members as we’ve journeyed along. We didn’t know where this journey would lead, and honestly we still don’t. For now it’s Las Vegas, but who knows after this. We are seeking our permanent place in the world, the one place we can finally feel as if we belong. Katherine is the one I worry about the most, because I’m home wherever my three loves are. She, however is still wandering at heart, even as we sit in this apartment today, she plans our next adventure. As the journey for a home has come to an end. There are still questions as to whether we truly will fit in and if this is where we will find acceptance. For many of these entries I’ve spoken about our journey since coming out, our relationship, and children. However, I haven’t said much about Katherine’s life, mainly since I was hoping she would be able to write of her own accounts. We don’t have the same upbringing but, we both have longed for acceptance and to belong for our entire lives. Have we finally found a home to belong to? Yes, at least, for now... |
Authors:James and Katherine are a transgender couple raising two kids. They were southerners when coming to understand themselves as trans. Ultimately it lead to a nearly three year road trip to find home. Now they are re-housed and still focused on outreach in the transgender community! Archives
October 2020
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