Small Reactions

I am still amazed sometimes at the different reactions that Wolsey and I get now that he has transitioned. Specifically when I refer to us being together for so long. This usually occurs when we are getting food and order the same thing.

For decades we would order food that was prepared similar if not exact (I don’t like super spicy, so if there was a super spicy food option that is when it would be different). This would include the same toppings, meat, etc. Probably a result of us being close friends, then married and closer friends for so long. People’s tastes if they are focused on each other, tend to link up a bit.

spicyfood

When he still presented as a woman, he would order something and the server would look at me. If it was what I was going to order too, I would just say “Can I have the same thing”. Invariably the server would confirm what Wolsey ordered. I would smile and grin and mutter something about “being married too long” as the reason we liked the same food.

Generally this would get a smile and a “knowing nod” from the server. They have probably seen this dozens of times over the years from other relationships. 

knowing nod

Lately I have noticed when the same situation happens but now that Wolsey looks like his true male self, there are two reactions.

The first reaction happens the least, and one that seems to becoming more common is the server/cashier smiling and responding positively like the original reaction we would get (every once in awhile we would even get preferential treatment, but that is a different post).

The second reaction, more common now but hopefully fading is the server visibly wincing or reacting negatively. All because I mentioned that the guy I am eating dinner with has similarities with me because we are married.

Massimo-DAlema
I didn’t realize that would bother me, but it does a little. It doesn’t bother me in a way that reflects badly on how I feel about being married to Wolsey. It does bother me that someone is so ignorant.

What it does do is encourage me to be louder and make it uncomfortable for those ignorant people. I love being loud, and I guarantee they will hate it.

trouble
There wasn’t any big insight in this post, just an observation on different reactions from servers/cashiers.

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Gendered Doorways

I am bad at doors. I’ve always had some weird issues with doors previous to my transition, but it’s a lot worse now. Let’s be clear, I am a capable human, and can walk through a door, but when you add other humans to the equation, I have literally no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do.

Rainbow Door

At least here in the US, doors are very gendered in how people behave. This is enough of a conundrum that it’s become a tired trope for straight cis gendered guys to lament about what these infernal feminists want? I mean, they were just trying to hold the door open for a woman, right?

That’s the rub, there is a lot of loaded gendered behavior in regards to how we approach opening doors. Racing to open a door for a woman might seem great, but what if she had it? What if you just look like an ass, racing in front of her to open the door, in a less than chivalrous creeper fest?

One of a thousand image memes for the google image search "feminist door".

One of a thousand image memes for the google image search “feminist door”.

Add to that, what do you do when it’s just men? Go through, hold it for the next guy? Can you hold it open for everyone? (Surprise! Some guys get really weird about that, presumably because you only do that for women.)

At what point do you usher a feminine presenting person through, or hold the door for your masculine friends?

So, I am bad at doors. I grew up in the 80s, and there was a leftover of the feminist movement from the 60s and 70s that left enough of a mark on the popular consciousness that I was vaguely aware of the weirdness of some of my male friends racing to hold the door for me, even when it put them at a distinct disadvantage. Despite my being young, healthy, and more than capable.

This led to some weird interactions where some guys would try to enforce the man-holding-door-for-woman dynamic by literally racing ahead of me, or physically preventing me from opening a door. Often quoting anti-feminist rhetoric. I always felt this was a weird hill to plant your flag on. I mean, there is literally everything more important than door opening, and order of entrance, so for me it was a weird dispute.

At least until I realized much later that I was challenging male to female power dynamics. These teenage boys were just enforcing a gender norm they had been indoctrinated in. I was, by my own burgeoning masculinity, threatening the status quo by soundly rejecting that.

Seriously, there are literally an unending pile of these from men freaking out that women are uncomfortable with the gendered issue surrounding doors. Also, Anita Sarkesiaan is cool and whoever made this is a walking anal douche.

Seriously, there are literally an unending pile of these from men freaking out that women are uncomfortable with the gendered issue surrounding doors. Also, Anita Sarkeesian is cool and this meme is just another of a billion weird attacks on her for being a feminist.

As an adult who has transitioned female to male, this puts me in a weird position that I have no real idea what to do with doors because it also gets an additional layer of weirdness. Sometimes folks that know I am transgender will open the door for me 100% of the time as if I am a woman, putting me in a feminine role. A lot of the times it’s subconscious, because some of these folks are super cool with me.

Door Fail

Me, trying to figure out doors.

That means every time a group of us, be it coworkers or friends, goes through a series of doors, I generally have no idea what to do. Doors are my kryptonite, where I stall, and hang back if possible.

I’d like to think a reasonably competent person could navigate the door situation, with it’s weird set of gendered rules and expectations, but here we are. Under the obvious simplicity of it all, is an ocean of gendered expectations and complications.

I'll just wait here. I'm fine.

I’ll just wait here. I’m fine.

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Parents and Pronouns

My mom passed away this week on my parents 46th wedding anniversary due to long term health concerns and a broken heart (my father passed away in February just a couple days before Valentine’s Day). Both were on hospice for one to two weeks each (my dad at home, and my mom in a hospice house which was much better situation). This is partially why posts have been sporadic this calendar year. However something happened in the last few days of her life that I didn’t want to forget and not post. So I am doing it now.

My mom has always been horrible with names and pronouns. Growing up as a kid with two siblings if she was yelling for me she always ended up starting with another kid’s name, cycling through all the names and ending on mine. Such as “Derek, Jackie, Lucky… god damn you know who I am calling”. She did this no matter what name she was calling she would start with someone else. It was a weird tic she always had.

Fast forward to my mom and dad basically adopting Wolsey in. They have known  him since he was 16 and has been part of the family shortly thereafter (even before we got together at 19). They have known him under four different legal name changes. My mom always slipped and called him by a previous name at least a third of the time. She would correct herself, and she seriously didn’t mean to do it, but it was a tic.

Move ahead to three years ago when Wolsey transitioned. At this point my dad was good about pronouns. I don’t think I ever heard him misspeak on pronouns with Wolsey. My mom was different. A small percentage of the time (especially in person) she would slip up and say “she”, but almost immediately catch herself, apologize and correct. She is one of the few people I have seen do this with Wolsey and believe she totally didn’t mean it. It probably helps that I know she has a problem with everyone’s name as well.

She had been slowly doing better with pronouns though, we would sometimes go a two week period with no slips. I also attribute the slips to her bit of dementia that we think had started as well, so I had never been offended by her, and I don’t think Wolsey was. It was hard for mom to change 25 years of habit.

She went into hospital then hospice on a Wednesday and between Wednesday and her passing on the following Monday she was in and out of consciousness with the pain medication and her general declining health.

However, every time she woke up and talked to us, she never hesitated or missed Wolsey’s proper pronoun. She woke up to tell us how much she loved us and how proud she was. The entire time she referenced Wolsey as her son, even when introducing us from a half haze of drugs to the hospice people. It was the first time in the entire time of Wolsey’s transition that she referenced Wolsey without a single hiccup, hesitation, etc as being her son and my husband.

This got me thinking back to my father passing in February. My father had never failed in referring to Wolsey as a him, even on his death bed either (he had a longer, more painful death, but he grabbed me when we had assumed he wouldn’t wake up, woke up, pulled himself up and told me how much he loved both of us, and how proud he was of both of us). He referenced Wolsey as his son and how much he loved him.

I am lucky in many things with my parents (and a few things that might be considered unlucky), however even on their death beds both my parents expressed how much they loved us, their same sex marriage sons. Not once did they forget in their pain, disorientation or passing did they misgender their adopted son.

It didn’t dawn on me until this morning how incredible that was.

Mom, Dad and Jello in the most recent photo together I think January 2016, just before he passed).

Mom, Dad and Jello in the most recent photo together I think January 2016, just before he passed).

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How We Met

(Wolsey and I talked, and thought it would be easier to refer to him with feminine pronouns. It helps paint the picture of what he presented as, and how I’d have interpreted his gender back when we met. This was a long time ago, and neither of us had any concept of what being transgender even was.)

A common question I get is how did Wolsey and I actually meet? Was it fate? Was it some quirky romantic comedy? Was it maybe even a horror show? The answer to all of that was no, or maybe yes in parts. Overall though it was pretty straight forward, or at least that is how it seems now.

I had recently moved up to Bellingham right before I turned 17. The first thing I did there was meet a group of friends that I played Dungeons and Dragons with. It was a household that several friends lived at, almost a flop house. A middle aged single mom owned the house, and was taking rent for all the teens she moved in. Most of these kids were near homeless, and this was a viable option for them. One of those people I met was my future husband.

Wolsey was a damn cute punk rock girl, at the time. She was a sassy smoker, drinker, and very alternative in her outlook. She had that intensity you only see in movies. She was something between a hard rocking Joan Jett and a manic pixie dream girl. Strangely enough, even with all that, she seemed to like me and wanted to hang out.

Yep, that is hubby

Over the next couple of years, she ended up dating my best friend, Doug. I was pretty shy and had ran away from a few different girls that approached me with my Dungeons and Dragons books as a shield. It wasn’t much different with Wolsey, when she showed interest in me.

Doug has the “slash” like hair and Wolsey is sitting beside him on his left before they went out. Remember these names, you will be tested.

Funny enough, Wolsey was the one who enjoyed playing Dungeons and Dragons with me the most. Her tough exterior was captivating as she roleplayed a cleric full of healing. She really wanted to help tell a story. Unlike all my male friends, who just liked to kill everything they encountered in my games. Even Doug would give both of us a hard time for liking the storytelling aspect of the game. I should have known that this was a good since Wolsey and I continue to play these kinds of games, thirty years later.

With Wolsey dating Doug, at the time, I was around her a lot more. She became my best friend, while Doug drifted off into a world I didn’t want to follow. I would be lying if I didn’t say I had a mad crush on her for a long time. We would wander off by ourselves while her boyfriend decided to hang out at home, and I just liked spending time with her. I had no expectations she would date me. I just felt like she was a really good friend.

Hubby

It was sometime during this time period when my parents had met Wolsey. They already knew Doug, and he brought her over, and they liked her. For a time, Wolsey lived a half a block down from my family and my father went over to borrow the phone regularly. That is when he noticed that Wolsey, who was presenting as a woman at that point was cute, and seemed to be focused on me. This went on for a while, when eventually my mom and dad asked how serious Wolsey and Doug were as a couple, and that they thought Wolsey would be perfect for me. I could not take the suggestion seriously because they were my friends and dating. I also just couldn’t believe that she was interested in me like that.

Eventually Wolsey and Doug broke up, and Wolsey asked me out to meet her for coffee. I freaked out. I wanted to be with Wolsey and I was positive she didn’t feel that way about me so I ditched her . . . at least twice. I look back now, and I can’t help but think I was such an idiot. At the time, I felt there was no way in the world someone as cool as Wolsey would want me and that I would just be making her uncomfortable.

This is me, with my dog Mucho and no clue about girls

Some time went by and I lost contact with Wolsey, as I became involved in my first live-in relationship. That partner decided to jealously block several communication attempts by Wolsey, something I hadn’t heard about until I broke up with that partner a few months later.

After this first major relationship breakup, I moved into a room at the same house I had met Wolsey. This time I was the one living there and not Wolsey. During this time, I had jumped four or five jobs in the space of a few months and was working in the paint department of Kmart.

That’s when I got an announcement over the intercom saying there was a phone call for me on line 3. I remember it with clarity.

I pick up the phone and it is Wolsey’s voice. She seemed excited and maybe a little out of breath. All she asked was what time I was off. I was confused and excited. I hadn’t seen Wolsey in months. I had missed her but I figured she was off dating someone and doing her own thing. Her words to me on the phone were, “Don’t go anywhere.” It was a pretty commanding tone and I agreed to wait.

Seriously, I worked for Kmart, I was not really good at life choices on my own, I am glad she made some of the decisions.

Twenty minutes later I hear stomping boots coming down the aisle and there she was dressed in a leather jacket, facial piercings, a very tiny shirt that revealed her feminine body quite explicitly, a mohawk, makeup, and the cutest purple crinoline skirt. I was getting off work about this time and she came up and hustled me to her truck and took me home.

We spent the next hour and a half talking. Over the next couple of weeks, we talked a lot and she kept showing up at my room. Wolsey was homeless at the time, but that didn’t bother me. I invited her in to my room and let her stay on my single-wide bed. I left out cans of ravioli, with a can opener and a spoon, for her to eat if she was hungry. Wolsey was always hungry and this was the one thing I knew she liked to eat.

Within a couple of weeks and we were fulling dating and she moved me out of that horrible room and into our own apartment. We had a tumultuous first seven months and spoiler alert… ended up breaking up for six months. I had been working graveyard shift as a taxi dispatcher, and it had created a huge scheduling problem between us.

There I am, in my full asshat bloom.

While I might have dated another woman and lived with her, this was the first relationship I wanted to last permanently. I had a lot of preconceived traditional, unexamined, views and expectations. I was confident though, so I asked Wolsey to marry me. I was surprised when she said no. I think I was too surprised to be crushed. I wouldn’t be crushed until later.

Now as I am older, I can admit I didn’t handle the relationship in the most mature way, and I suspect she thought I was someone I wasn’t. I kept putting forward this ideal of a relationship that didn’t exist anywhere. Instead of following my parents lead, or maybe one of my friends in a successful relationship I clung tighter and dug deeper.

Wolsey during our brief seven month initial relationship

The whole time, these decisions felt like a mismatch that would almost fit, but not quite. Wolsey was trying to get her hair styling degree and I pressured her a lot to pay attention to me. I was trying to work 18 hours a day and I can’t do 10 hours a day, let alone 18, without becoming someone I don’t like.

The relationship ended quietly a few days before Thanksgiving, and our third roommate decided he was going to move out with Wolsey and one of her friends who didn’t like me. I was left without roommates, in an apartment I couldn’t afford.

I ended up living with my old best friend, Doug. Unfortunately, he had developed a more serious drug and alcohol problem, and I still ended up paying all the bills on my own. When I complained, he brought me pizza he had found in a dumpster. This was not an easy time in my life.

The next six months were brutal and I drifted through multiple jobs and had multiple places to live after I had grown tired of living in that situation with Doug.

Trying to walk away from my junkie roommates

I ended up living with that same ex-girlfriend from before and her boyfriend. This time I was just as a roommate with another person sharing my bedroom.

Throughout all of this, all I could really think about was Wolsey, and how I had made things bad and how I could have handled things better. Even the things that really bothered me during the relationship now seemed insignificant.

What I knew was that Wolsey had gone hitchhiking with another gutter-punk down to California. I didn’t know if she was ok. I didn’t know if she was dating the guy, and it really did rip me apart. It bothered me so much I ignored other women that pursued me.

Our town was small, and I heard Wolsey had gotten back from California when I noticed her in the video store. I did everything I could to avoid her, my heart was pumping so loud in my ears I couldn’t hear the TV’s on display. I didn’t say hello, but turned away.

A couple of days later I was told I had a visitor by a very annoyed ex-girlfriend and roommate. I came downstairs and answered the door, and there was Wolsey. She looked tired, hungry and a bit sad. She looked worried. She was the most beautiful person I had ever seen and sadly enough I almost shut the door on her right there. I was so terrified I didn’t know what to do.

Fortunately she did, and she stayed in my room a couple of days while we talked about things. I followed her back to her new place (the one with my old roommate and supposed friend.) Their household broke up within a couple of days of me visiting Wolsey and it ended up with Wolsey and I renting the house, with new roommates who were much better.

Wolsey decided to change, I can’t tell you exactly what happened but she cut her mohawk off, and got a job at Mervyns at the mall in the shoe department. We started working out our finances and she made it clear how much she loved me.

An actual photo of her getting ready to go to Mervyns. Also of me braving my death.

She asked me to marry her on the couch while I was playing one of the iterations of Megaman on a Nintendo gaming system. She said she never wanted to be with anyone else in her life and I replied the same. There was no way I wasn’t going to accept the proposal, she was everything I had dreamed about for years.

a picture of her the day she asked me to marry her.

We were married on Halloween of 1992, it had been less than four months since we had gotten back together and while we were married by a judge who was inappropriate, it was the most fantastic evening of my life. Marrying my spouse is the only decision in my life I have never regretted.

Getting married, still a lot of white male privilege there in me, but it would eventually be scooped out.

To this day I can’t see a cute girl in a mohawk, a can of ravioli, or smell the smell of cigarette smoke on a person without thinking about Wolsey and how much I loved him when we met.

That my friends is how Wolsey and I met and got together, well in a few words at least.

Oh, and here is how we are now. Just as much in love.

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Is it different now?

I have always been a gamer. I love video games, tabletop miniature games and especially running roleplaying games. I have done the first and last (video and roleplaying) my entire life. The needed pieces for those games is easy to transport. I have always had a good selection of players for my RPG, and opponents are easy to find online.

Miniature gaming is a little different. It takes meeting with people in the real world, hauling boxes of miniatures (sometimes more than a hundred miniatures taking up 4 boxes, depending on the game). However, as a teenager and into my mid twenties I played a lot of tabletop games.

Space Marines

This is what I lived to do as a teen.

When I was younger and played in the gaming stores, I fit in pretty well. I was young, white and heterosexual. I remember our normal conversations consisted of fighting over rules, strategy discussions, horror and sci-fi movies and in general young male focuses. I have to admit though, most of my tabletop people I played with, I didn’t actually make close friendships with those people though.My friends all came from my RPG group (which consisted usually of at lest 50% women). This was mostly because a lot of the players who were at the store, were the stereotypical guys who would never see a girl naked. Even talking about sex was awkward with most of them.

Bad panorama of a recent gaming group.

Bad panorama of a recent gaming group (just pre-transition for Wolsey).

Turn the clock forward a decade and my tabletop gaming had dropped off. We started moving around, I got married and tabletop miniature gaming takes a lot of time, both in playing and in prep (not even counting money) so I played less and less and I found RPG and just spending time with my spouse more enjoyable. In addition at this point I realized how misogynistic in general the people who frequented the store were. There was a reason they were “forever alone” fedora wearing guys. I decided at that time I didn’t have time to play miniature gaming.

Even in the 90s they were around

Even in the 90s they were around

Fast forward to just before Wolsey’s transition began. I was fifteen years older, with a lot more disposable money and kept thinking how great it was to game with people using miniatures (in the down time I have played a lot of extensive RPGs, and video games that mimicked what we used to do in the store). Call it a sense of nostalgia but I found myself really missing playing with people in person at a store setting, and using miniatures.

Memory-Ln-Thingy

I jumped in it by playing in a blood bowl league (think of a truly fantasy football game involving elves, dwarves and demons), warhammer 40k (the titan of tabletop gaming), and bolt action (a world war 2 miniature game that really gels with my favorite type of strategy gaming). I have bought an army or more for each game, and the paints to go with it (don’t think those are cheap either).

Blood Bowl, more like soccer/rugby then football.

Blood Bowl, more like soccer/rugby then football.

Now that I have played a few times, I discovered something disquieting. The game stores are a lot more misogynistic, homophobic and transphobic. In fact the poor treatment of others even extends to other hobbies that people don’t understand. Let’s not even get into the what they say about civil rights for people of color. Also in full disclosure I think I was also turned off by hygiene and play style of the people, but that was a minor turnoff.

One of the reasons I got back into this hobby is that I have friends that play regularly. They know who they are and they are nothing but supportive good people who have been there for me. They go in and deal with it regularly (and many of them fall into the LGBT)

8d8ded3f23d9d73d66716dec1638caea

When I first went into the store, it was right before Wolsey’s transition, so they met him as my wife. I gamed a bit at that time, but  even then I should have realized something was off. The demographic of most of the gamers was slightly younger then myself but still consisted mostly of white heterosexual males.

Something seemed a little off, but I didn’t really notice it until after Wolsey started transitioning. The new people I met I introduced my spouse as my husband  during conversations. People would freeze. As in literally stop and stare at me. These were people I hadn’t played before, so they had no history so it was obviously because it indicated I was gay.

The people who already did know me had a different reaction. They froze as well confused.  They seemed confused and a couple asked if I had divorced my wife and if that was why, but were even more shell shocked when I said no, that my husband was transitioning from being my wife. Honestly, most of them accepted that pretty quickly on the outside at least. Please note, this does not include the people I consider my actual friends and know me outside of the gaming store. They knew as things happened and have always been supportive, this is about the gaming store only guys.

It was during this time that I noticed a lot of the players kept saying the word “fag” or “faggot” and would talk about things being gay. I even had the words tranny used around me twice. Although before I flipped my lid on them, I do have to say others would rush up and whisper in the offender’s ear and then both would look over at me. Once word had spread I was gay and my husband was trans all the comments stopped, but it was uncomfortable.

awkward

I also noticed at this time other groups were being targeted, made fun of and those people usually never came back. One of our games took place at a restaurant that specialized in serving gamers. It allowed people to run games at the tables. It was at one of these that my group started targeting other people in the restaurant. Their targets included bronies, furries, and Pokemon players.

I realize this doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it was at this point that I realized that this same group’s conversations always shifted when I came in the room. I realized they probably said the same thing about gays, transgender people, and anyone else that didn’t fit in the group. It was here I also realized I had not seen a single woman or person of color actively involved with the miniature games. There are a few exceptions (especially in the card games) but it isn’t reflective of society.

bullies

I found that day I wasn’t having nearly as much fun as I thought I would, and definitely not as much fun as I remembered having when I was younger. Now I am debating if I want to quit trying to engage in miniature gaming. I can play almost all the exact same games (or things close enough) in a video game setting, or I can run a roleplaying game that is a much more diverse group.

Then I worry if I had missed something when I was younger. Was the homophobia there when I was younger. Did I miss it because I was a heteronormative white male at the time. I definitely know I missed the misogyny that occurred until I started dating and realized how they talked about women.

Watching this now as a man in a same-sex marriage I don’t think I can enjoy myself here anymore. This is definitely an unexpected shift due to Wolsey’s transition, but not something I regret. What I regret is that I didn’t see this before the transition. I never realized how much I must have accepted that behavior when I was younger.

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You are so great!

I never thought I would say it, but I hate any variation of “you are so great”, “you are so patient”, or just about any other phrase that someone makes saying how great a person I am for staying with my husband because of his transition. As if someone like Wolsey isn’t innately worthy of being with someone who loves him.

lovewins

I never thought this would be a problem. I was surprised when Wolsey did transition to find that the majority of husbands do not stay with their spouse. I guess that is because I have more exposure to trans-feminine side and women tend to stay more, so I had just assumed people tried to stay. A lot of sources claim this is because women’s sexuality is more “fluid”. Not sure I believe it, but I am not an expert.

how-being-vulnerable-will-make-you-a-better-designer-empathy-in-design-2-638

I know Wolsey was worried when he came out that I would leave. I know relationships break up all the time for “less stressful events”. I still don’t understand it myself, but I can’t judge others since I haven’t walked in their boots. This is not a “great sacrifice” on my part though. This is me staying there for my lover, best friend and spouse.

The thing I have grown really annoyed with is when someone tells l me how great I am that I stayed with Wolsey, usually in that voice that indicates it must be a struggle for me and that my self sacrifice is noted.

sacrificenoted

Let us clarify one thing, this is said usually in one of two different ways. I am only offended by one way it is said, the other way is perfectly acceptable and appreciated. If you have commented you think it is great I stayed, please understand you probably made me feel good and didn’t pull the “douche” meaning I outline here. I would have told you if I took it in a “douche” manner.

Not this kind of douche.

Not this kind of douche.

The first way is people say they think it is great that I am with Wolsey, even with all the additional stressors it adds to me that I didn’t sign up for. They usually say this in a friendly way with no judgment on Wolsey or on the situation. I really appreciate this. This is usually said by someone who are either in the LGBTQ community, or are an ally. By all means it is ok with me to be told this, the key is not implying there is something wrong with Wolsey.

It is the second way it is said that bothers me a lot. Usually they lean over and whisper how great it is that I stayed, but they say it in a manner indicating that Wolsey should be grateful I stayed, as if he was choosing to do something horrible and yet I am still staying with him. It reeks of that same tone that people use when they find out someone has cancer and they say “You are so brave” but in a whispered way as if it was a dirty secret. I always wonder if people even realize how transphobic that is. It doesn’t matter if you are straight, gay, asexual or whatever. There is nothing wrong with someone who is transgender.

sobrave2

Yes there are difficulties in my marriage now that I didn’t original anticipate. I am in a same sex marriage with a man that is a gender I didn’t marry and which I had never intended to be romantically engaged with. We get called slurs and some people get really judgmental. However it isn’t that I stayed with someone who was sick and I was “so brave” to do so. Life changes marriages… ALL OF THEM. I love my spouse, it doesn’t matter if he transitioned, or stayed a she or became a demon from the seventh level of hell. I love that person and will stay with them.

ok, if he became Baal we would have to work on the attraction thing.

ok, if he became Baal we might have to work on the attraction thing.

It is the implication that something is wrong with Wolsey that bothers me. There is nothing wrong with him. He isn’t a “crippled broken thing” that should worship the ground I walk on because I am with him.

He is a great guy. Full of intelligence, beauty, ideas and warmth. I am incredibly lucky to be with him. There is nothing broken, nothing “eccentric” (now there is a term I have heard used that pisses me off for some reason), nothing in need of me.

Jello hanging out and looking good.

What is not to be lucky about with this guy?

This bears repeating a thousand times. I am fortunate he stayed with me.

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I get it…

Definitely check out Wolsey’s post, he did a better job at this :).

I get it…

Now-I-get-it

I mean, I always got what the whole Gay Pride thing in June was, and especially the Seattle Pride parade was about, but I think I finally get it. Before going to it yesterday I was happy that it happened, I was glad people could attend but when asked if I was interested I was usually “meh”.

Seattle-Pride-2016

However, after a close couple asked us to go (Wolsey and myself) we decided we would try. I still wasn’t sure at the time, I was in Denver all week, then on Saturday I was in Bellingham (over a hundred miles from my house) dealing with my father’s headstone purchase. I really wasn’t sure I would go. I thought maybe I would bail out at the last minute.

I am out!

Master of last minute bailing!

However, we had a good trip to Bellingham, woke up the next morning and both Wolsey and I’s normal shut in type personalities were not on. We were good with going so we went.

We showed up early, thanks to M. I really appreciate that M showed up hours early, got us a secure spot in the shade towards the end of the parade. There I met T, R and I along with my friends Vince and Lisa. There Wolsey and I set up with newly purchased camp chairs from Target, in the shade and waited.

the-waiting-game

The waiting was fun. We talked with our friends and newly met acquaintances and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. I still didn’t really understand how this worked. Everyone was nice though, and there was a lot of glitter and bright colors. It reminded me of some of the white trash outings I had as a child.

Wolsey reflecting our white trash roots

Wolsey reflecting our white trash roots

I really couldn’t tell you what specifically changed with my experience. I was quiet at first, watching the parade go by. The happy people, both crowd and marchers was fantastic. The dancing was very uplifting, and the open acceptance was new. By the end of it I was cheering loudly for each group that went by. It didn’t matter if it was a small group of individuals who looked nervous, or a huge, corporate backed entourage. I felt I wanted to encourage everyone to come back next year.

Equality Scouts

Equality Scouts

Nice Wings

Love the wings!

"These aren't real honey"

“These aren’t real honey”, that was my favorite saying from the person talking to the little girl.

We did have an encounter with the “God Hates Fags” type people there. I think I will probably post on that separately in detail. However, suffice to say there were enough people who cordoned them off and kept them out of the way (proudly I was part of that). 

Douchebag didn't like his reception

Douchebag didn’t like his reception

I was also happy to see the church people. I am personally a combination of deist/buddhist because I find so many unreconcilable issues. However, I felt I should especially welcome those religious people who come out to show their support for the LGBTQA community. I realize why a lot of people don’t give them an inch, I can understand that reasoning. I just believe things don’t change unless both sides can forgive and mend the bridges.

Supportive religious people.

Supportive religious people.

There was a sobering part of the parade on a personal level. A work friend of mine met up with us. They were chatting away and mentioned the “T” word in passing… Yes, in a group of people we were standing with, and which the friend knew there were transgender people, they uttered the T word in passing, as if they had a right to it.

oops_sign

I still really haven’t approached that situation. I know I need to speak to the person about it, but I am trying to figure out a way that won’t either leave me rolling over and tolerating it (Wolsey was so angry) or making my life a hell at work. I think I will just talk to the person and explain it is absolutely unacceptable and hope for the best.

unhappy

The friend went off with their other friends for lunch and we went back to the parade, enjoying ourselves and while it took awhile to forget, the joyous celebration eventually made me so entranced I didn’t think much about it until it was over.

By the end of the parade I was yelling louder for those at the end of the parade. I found myself really irritated that everyone was leaving before it was over. It is that weird “momma bear” vibe I sometimes get. I really just wanted those people at the end to not feel like people got bored and moved on.

Brown-Bear-With-Cubs-e1451598207142

As the parade ended I found myself both disappointed it was over, and happy it happened. I found myself anticipating next year and that is when I finally realized it…

I get it…

I-get-it2

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2016 Pride Seattle

This year marked the first year that I have ever gone to a pride parade. My friends, Lisa and Vince, brought us with them. Honestly, Lisa did the planning, and my husband and I arrived at their house at the appointed time. It was that forethought and planning that sent one of Lisa’s oldest friends there first as an advance scout to secure us a big site under a nice shady tree. Without Lisa, Vince, and their people, I would have never gone.

I have some baggage with the LGBT community, spanning back to the 1980s, when the prominent Seattle LG groups were still trying to argue that B and T should not be involved. I was from a smaller town up north, but got the newsletter. As a self identified bisexual kid, with gender issues, I was very aware who did and didn’t want me around.

Feeling safe

One of my friends came back from a Seattle pride parade in the 80s. She’d been told, because she was openly bisexual, that she didn’t belong at pride. Her friend was a part of Dykes on Bikes, and found her crying, and had said fuck that bullshit. She had my friend on the back of her bike to actually be in the parade. My group of baby bi’s were also filled with baby leather dykes, so we really looked up to those women. They were one of the few lesbian groups that consistently accepted me, and my bisexual gal pals.

This, and many other issues from the 80s has led me to be consistently wary of large scale LGBT events.

It was with all this baggage that I went to my first pride event. When Dykes on Bikes blared through after the opening Batman roller blade guy (It’s a Seattle thing), I noticed they had transgender folks with them, and I felt this was a nice sign that we are all included.

Nothing makes me feel safer than a lesbian in leather with a buzz cut.

Nothing makes me feel safer than a lesbian in leather with a buzz cut.

In fact, I saw so many transgender folks, mixed in quietly amongst the crowd and the parade floats. I saw a good dozen transgender men, because I guess shirts off is what we do, pre surgery or post surgery. (How do you do the mental high five to other trans guys without outing them, or looking like a dorky fanboy?)

To see so many of us represented there, and welcomed with open arms . . . I just don’t have words for how huge it is to see that. It was deeply moving.

I also can’t remark enough on the people I went with. They made me feel not only safe, but that if something went down, they’d have my back. I’m old enough to remember being chased, punched, and screamed at for being queer. Safe is good, but having your back? That’s better.

One of my favorite highlights was listening to Lisa tell the kids in our group about the Stonewall riots, and how pride parades started. Watching these young girls learn about a history that is usually hidden or forgotten was pretty cool.

Not all of it was good, though.

IMG_1844

The street preachers with big signs and megaphones were in force. They shouted through their megaphones that we should all repent, and that we were going to hell.

Orlando had just happened, and to see these straight white dude-bro’s with signs doing this at the pride parade was a low blow. When I caught sight of them, it was gut wrenching. Even more so because this was a pride parade, and how fucking dare they?!

When they threaded behind us, we all stood up and glared at them. I’m short, but I hear I can be a bit intimidating with the hate glares. My husband is 6’4”, and was flanked by Vince who was also huge. We ended up in this weird silent glare, and the guys with signs got visibly nervous. It was a substantially large group, along with the people on either side of us silently glaring at them. It didn’t stop them from coming back. Probably, in hindsight, because we had made a point out of the whole thing.

They set up shop right behind us. This meant I saw the folks in the parade as their eyes hit the signs. I saw float after float go from smiling to grim. Some were angry, some were obviously pained by these people.

Assholes be Nearby

I liked the one young gal that was marching with her church group that broke away to tell the crowd that those guys were assholes, and had nothing to do with god. I appreciated her anger because I was so angry at these assholes for hurting so many people.

Then, a hero emerged. The sign assholes backup up to a balcony, and a young man who looked very red and black, if you know what I mean, grabbed the sign and yanked up up and away, never to be seen again.

The hero Seattle needs.

The hero Seattle needs.

The crowd went crazy with the applause and screaming, and the kid just sat back down to vape as cool as could be.

It might have been a spur of the moment reaction, but the kid derailed the asshole sign marchers. They lost their megaphone might, and spent literally the next six hours arguing with cops quietly about the loss of the sign. They were effectively neutralized to our small area.

At one point one of the hate organizers ran to the cops in cop cars that were a part of the parade to say his hate sign was stolen. The driver listened for a few minutes, then looked over at the rest of the hate brigade, then sat back in the drivers seat, and held up his rainbow hand sign, and keep driving along the parade route.

The cops in general were obviously unhappy with these assholes, and that might be why the cop that went up to that balcony came back and shrugged that there was no sign of any lost hate signs.

My husband and some of our group had further altercations with these assholes throughout the parade, and I was very glad of the people I was with. I felt they had my back. Lisa and Vince, and the people they hang with created an aggressively safe space, that not only included our group, but all the people around us. You couldn’t find better people to hang with.

For my part, I am tired of fighting with the assholes. I’m tired of them being everywhere. I’m not interested in getting into a fruitless argument with them. Unless I need to put boot to head, I’m not interested in playing with them at all.

Our group was loud, and cheered for everyone going by. We were at the end of the parade route, and to see the parade participants perk up, and look happily at our group was worth my lost voice later.

It wasn’t that long ago, that marching in a pride parade was tantamount to career suicide, so I appreciated the hell out of every person that made that parade happen.

Since it’s 2016, I think it’s time I let go of some of that baggage I’ve been carrying from the 1980s. I’m not sure I will ever stop feeling astounded by the acceptance I encounter, but maybe I can stop flinching quite so much.

Thank you to the nice young gal who ran across the parade to give me this.

Thank you to the nice young gal who ran across the parade to give me this.

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Telling mom

I was going through some old posts, and I realized I had mentioned briefly the phone call my dad had with me when Wolsey first came out (see post at https://accidentallygay.com/2013/10/09/unexpected-support/). I do have more to follow up on that, but I realized I never talked about when I told my mom face to face (or maybe I did and I can’t find the post, either way it is a story worth telling multiple times).

Wolsey and I had been really worried about what my parents would say. Like I have said previously, I come from a biker family and there is a weird conglomeration of old school values and incredibly progressive viewpoints. Those viewpoints slid around a bit depending if my dad was currently drinking (alcoholism makes everything in a family unsure).

I went up there in September of 2013 without Wolsey. I honestly don’t remember at this time why that was (it might have been school or he might have been sick), but I went up in our normally bi-weekly visit. When I got up there my dad was going to multiple doctor’s appointments, so that left me alone with my mom. I do remember it was a rainy grey afternoon, and we were sitting in a parking lot in my car waiting.

We had been putting off telling my parents for awhile. My folks had been on a drinking binge, and that made things more difficult. However, my mom just stared at me for a few minutes, and then asked me “What is going on Lucky, something is up. Are you and Wolsey ok?”.

I panicked a little, but reassured here that nothing was wrong with Wolsey, or I.

I turned to her and said that I had something important to say. I could see my mother breathe deeply and prepare for bad news. I suspect she thought I was going to say something about quitting my job or some issues with Wolsey.

I touched her leg and in what I now only remember as a blur. I told her that Wolsey and I had been talking and that Wolsey believed he was transgender man. My mom’s eyes squinted at me for a minute as I explained in a very clumsy way that he was becoming my husband, and I would appreciate it if both my she and Dad refer to him with a male pronoun.

She stared at me for a couple more minutes. I could tell she was worried. Finally she nodded, and said of course both her and my dad would accept that. They would refer to Wolsey as a man. This wasn’t nearly as surprising as when she went into a very intellectual explanation that she understood that Wolsey’s gender identity didn’t match with the expression of his body. She also went on to mention she understood that Wolsey probably had dysphoria.

She leaned over and hugged me, and told me it would be a rough road but they would be there for me and my husband (yes she used the word husband). She smiled at me and told me to wait on telling my dad. She said she would talk to him because even she wasn’t sure how he would respond. (I found out later if you follow the link above that he was fully accepting, but there is a whole set of unexpected circumstances and reasons for that, that I may talk about later).

The reason it was hugely unexpected was because my family’s highest education is one high school graduate (my mom) everyone else dropped out in high school (including all my siblings). They are ravenous consumers of tv, and they watch any documentary from  TLC to Discovery Channel. I never imagined they would understand what Gender Identity was, let alone dysphoria.

I never expected her to react that way. The phone call from my dad was even more unexpected. It makes me thankful not only for my wonderful husband, but also for my broken, but beloved parents.

I just thought I would share that today, oh and just realized what a pain posting from my phone is 😉

(6/21/16 21:45 Clean up and editing done later by Wolsey because, Hoo boy! Phone posting.)

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Just a general update

I just wanted to give you folks a general update of life. I think for now I will avoid the Orlando attack as a subject until my internal thought process cools down. There are far more eloquent people who are writing about it now, I think I will leave it to them until I have processed it.

Jello is finally going public with his name. His name is Wolsey, and so if you hear me refer to Wolsey, it is just Jello’s meat space name.

Now, you may ask why he is going public with his name, it has to do with two reasons. The first is he is in a safe space for work and personal life. Everyone in his life knows he is trans, his job, his peers, etc. So he has no fear of that. The other reason is the book we are working on, we had a long talk. I always use my real name in references and we decided we would use his name in the book as well since it would be easy for anyone to find his name anyways.

We are now going through the blog and trying to put together something. We both noticed that my writing tends to slow down or skips over things that personally stress me out, or just general stressful points in my life. This means there are huge holes I could drive a semi-truck through in the blog. Along with this we noticed that my writing has dropped off.

I want to apologize for my lack of writing this year, the unexpected death of my father has made me shut down in a lot of ways. I haven’t gone out a lot, and I definitely haven’t written a lot. The sad thing is I have a dozen starts on articles, but very few that I followed through with. I hadn’t realized this, and now I am going to push myself to write more. I really think it is good for me, and especially about this facet of my life I get a lot of support from all of you, and I will take advantage of it.

The second thing looking over the old blog posts that I realized,  is I have evidently avoided writing about certain key aspects of my life during Wolsey’s transition. I was sure I had written about telling my parents about Wolsey’s decision to transition, but now that we look through it I can’t find anything about it. That has to change, I need to write the rest of the story, and quit subconsciously avoiding it.

This means you may be subject to posts about older situations. I just wanted to share with all of you my discovery that evidently I wasn’t as open as I had thought about and I will change that from this point over.


Thank you everyone for your support. I don’t think I can express how much I appreciate it.

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