What Are Our Rights?
So much going on in the world today with religious and world leaders bound and determined to rule over what someone does with their own body. And just what gives them the authority to say what I can do with my body, or what you can do with your body? How do they feel as if they have the final say in abortions, gender confirmation surgery, and other extremely personal decisions? Even with topics such as alcohol, cigarettes, and marijuana, I’m leaning toward let people do what they do, as long as we don’t infringe upon the rights of others. What are our rights? Well, luckily the Human Rights Campaign has put the Bill of Rights into layman’s terms, meaning something we can all read and understand: “Amendment 1 Congress can’t make any law that:
Congress can’t stop people from having and carrying weapons. Amendment 3 You don’t have to let soldiers live in your house, except if there is a war, and even then Congress needs to pass a law and set the rules. Amendment 4 Nobody can search your body, or your house, or your papers and things, unless they can prove to a judge that they have a good reason for the search. Amendment 5 Except during times of war or if you are in the military:
If you are arrested and charged with a crime:
You also have the right to a jury when it is a civil case (a law case between two people rather than between you and the government). Amendment 8 The government can’t make you pay more than is reasonable in bail or in fines, and the government can’t inflict cruel or unusual punishments (like torture) even if you are convicted of a crime. Amendment 9 Just because these rights are listed in the Constitution doesn’t mean that you don’t have other rights too. Amendment 10 Anything that the Constitution doesn’t say that Congress can do, is left up to the states and to the people.” So, now that we know our rights. We can understand what we should expect for ourselves and from our government. We also have the Declaration of Independence, which is a separate but important document. Written almost ten years earlier than the Constitution, it gives the layout of how our Forefather’s saw this country’s vision. As a place where “All men are created equal” and “Endowed with.. certain inalienable rights..” Honestly, I believe the word “persons” would be better suited here, but I know these times are pre-civil rights era. I will stick with persons for now. Leaving us with the end of the statement “Certain inalienable rights that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.” Of course that is limited to not trampling over another person’s rights, but let’s think about this. If it makes a person happy to bang some hair, most would naturally want them to pursue that happiness by encouraging them to go to cosmetology school, learn hair design, or attend barber classes. Perhaps you’re tired of the town you grew up in, have been there all your life and want to move to a brand new city in order to pursue happiness? Would you expect a negative reaction from friends or family? Potentially, but more than likely not, if they thought you would have a better life for doing so. Then why are so many transgender people told we are wrong for pursuing what makes us happy? I am happy to be James, be a father, partner, writer, and an advocate. I am just me; because that’s what makes me happy. Trying to be a gender I didn’t feel comfortable with wasn’t bringing me joy and was holding me back from pursuing happiness for myself. Being a gender I didn’t truly feel fit the inside wasn’t satisfying my life. It’s like having the outside of your house be the original 1930’s design and having the inside be completely remodeled to a 2017 fashion. No one could tell from the outside what’s within, except the ones that live there. Same with transgender people, we know ourselves better than you know us, so let’s leave the decisions we make about our bodies up to us. Same goes for individuals born with a uterus and their reproductive rights. STOP TELLING US WHAT WE CAN AND CAN’T DO WITH OUR BODIES, THEY AREN’T YOURS! When I read over the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, it makes me happy to think the basic fundamentals of a free society are hiding in there somewhere, we just have to make them apply to this century. Now, let’s go on to Liberty, yes I know I am doing them in reverse order. Liberty, as defined by the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, states that Liberty is: “the quality or state of being free; the power to do as one pleases; freedom from physical restraint; the power of choice.” I like that last one “the power of choice”. If we look at both pursuit of Happiness and Liberty together, we can understand that we, as citizens should enjoy the power to do as we choose to pursue our own individual happiness. Except there are policies and religious laws allowing people to be discriminated against or turned away from businesses, housing, and employment. The essentials to live a life is gainful employment and a home to live in. Unfortunately, it’s not the best case scenario for all individuals. Did you know that 20% of transgender youths will have experienced homelessness? The transgender population as a whole has an overwhelming number of 1 in 5 that have unstable housing (per the Gender Minorities & Homelessness Report: Transgender Population). These numbers are astrological in comparison to the cis-gender population (people whose gender aligns both inside and outside). When I think about the words written in the Constitution, my first thought is we should all be equal, there should be no discrimination. Let us delve into the Fourteenth Amendment for a moment. Constitution.org has a great resource for learning about the Constitution of our country. It states that the Equal Protection Clause should not discriminate. Initially this was racially motivated to say that the races were equal. However, I believe this should extend outward to “all persons”. Meaning, all persons should not be discriminated against. As we are seeing with our current administration in DC, they are gouging holes in our Constitution, solely based on exact wording that isn’t in our Constitution. Which is why discrimination based on sex isn’t okay, but since it doesn’t specifically include the words “gender”, resulting in legal discrimination against who? Transgender people. An easy target, since many religious sects shun us, many of our family members have fallen to the way-side, and we lose friends more often that grandma misplaces her glasses! The Wikipedia entry about the Fourteenth Amendment lists this as the description of the Equal Protection Clause: “The clause, which took effect in 1867, provides that no state shall deny to any person within its jurisdiction, “the equal protection of the laws”. Why is our own government denying it’s citizens equal rights and equal protections? Why are states ripping citizen’s rights and protections away to favor religious organizations? Perhaps because we are different. But different doesn’t equal wrong, or bad. It just means unique. I’m sure we all have traits that set us apart from others, even our relatives. I heard a quote once that said “If everyone in the world was exactly the same, it would be a boring place”. Before I go off on a very long tangent, I should wrap this up. But not before saying this: Think about it: What if the next persons to be discriminated against is people like you? http://www.ushistory.org/declaration/document/ https://www.livescience.com/4995-declaration-independence-changed-world.html https://constitutioncenter.org/interactive-constitution/# https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Life,_Liberty_and_the_pursuit_of_Happiness https://constitutioncenter.org/interactive-constitution/amendments/amendment-xiv https://constitutioncenter.org/interactive-constitution/amendments/amendment-xiv/the-equal-protection-clause/clause/20 https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/liberty http://www.nhchc.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/in-focus_transgender_sep2014_final.pdf https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Equal_Protection_Clause
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Last night after waking from a nap, I got the idea to turn the television on for the first time in over a week. Upon doing so was the horrifying news there was an active shooter on the Las Vegas strip. Not knowing how many lives were affected at the time, I sat and watched in horror as the events unfolded throughout the night. First reports were wildly inaccurate as the accusations were stating multiple casinos were involved. However, it was discovered later that those were just hype since people were so on edge. It was difficult to believe my eyes as tweets, Facebook posts and social media videos began to surface about the incident. Almost immediately locals took to Facebook crisis response offering help in the form of rides for stranded visitors, temporary shelter, food, clothes, and even some baby items like diapers were available for the victims.
Being just a few miles down the road from the carnage, made for a very scary night. Especially, since the initial reports included a “suspicious device” in an SUV that was parked at the Luxor. Bringing the threat of safety to a much wider area than simply the Las Vegas strip. As I sat and watched the live scenes, it was a gruesome account as bullets were flying, bodies dropping, and the death count rising. The first toll said 24 injured, 2 dead. However, the survivors fleeing from the scene, detailed a very different count of numbers as they were interviewed. As the night became the wee hours of the morning, the sheriff gave an even more frightening number, this time the report was 50 dead, more than 100 injured. Katherine and I watched the live footage, which had taken over all of the local news media channels. Many national and international media crews were in town already for the release of O.J. Simpson from the Nevada prison. This made media access very easy. The tales of the helpers that were plugging bullet wounds with their bare hands, or their fingers in a bleeding hole, the people throwing themselves in harm’s way for their loved ones, began to surface shortly after, as survivors came rushing from the scene. We weren’t sure as to what to do, except to check on the people we have met in Vegas since living here. The weight of this tragedy has been far reaching, since many of the victims that died, were from several other states around the country and Canada. Today, reading over some of the victims list, I found listings from California, Tennessee, New Mexico, Canada, along with Nevada residents. There were people from varying walks of life. We very well could have been among the fallen, thankfully we were home with our children, resting for the week ahead. However, we’ve been discussing doing more activities here in Las Vegas. Now that this has occurred, it’s sent a massive shock to over 500 hundred directly, and people like us, indirectly. Although, we were home safely, we were still scared stiff. We were unable to sleep until after 5 in the morning, even though the incident happened at few minutes after ten pm. Our PTSD had been affected and there isn’t anything we can do, except cope and keep going. For the hundreds of people whose lives have been forever altered, that’s what they will have to find a way to do as well, as best as they can. Is to pick up the remaining pieces and keep going forward. There will be a sadness hoovering over our community for a long time. We will still be picking up the pieces here to feel safe in our neighborhoods, in our community, and home. I’ve seen the difference today in the faces of the others I’ve met in passing. While out and about the frowns looked more resounding; the “hello’s” sounded more concrete; the “how are you’s” seemed more genuine. People’s faces and demeanor had changed from the week before. The promise of tomorrow isn’t a solid one, even though the sun will most likely rise, we may not. Knowing there was such awful events the day before, made thankfulness readily available to those spared. The monstrous events yesterday, also made sadness, grief, and fear inevitable. I cannot begin to imagine the grief brought about by actually being in the event of such a massacre. Being on the outside looking in, being just a few miles outside the carnage zone, doesn’t make one feel safe either. Having PTSD will most likely be a reality for the survivors, in addition some may experience survivor’s guilt. Both are hard to live with, and at times difficult to manage. Living with post-traumatic stress disorder, taking on only what I’m comfortable with is best. I’ve learned a few things that have helped me when in a PTSD flare.
This will not heal the broken heart, but it can help you to feel safer, loved, and to get through until it is mended. 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. 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! |
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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