I needed this today . . .

Yesterday, this whole election really, was brutal.

My candidate did not win.

The winners have made walking back protections on families like mine

part of their campaign promises,

and given the VP Elect's record in Indiana I have to believe that

they will work to accomplish those promises.

So today, I needed a reminder that those communities

(Women, LGBT+, People of Color, Muslims,

Latinos, the Disabled, the Media, etc.)

that the President Elect has spent the last 18 months

ridiculing and denigrating have pulled together before.

And we will do it again.

The movement is hurting and tired,

but our momentum to make the world kinder, more inclusive

and less fearful has not been lost.

My daughters were watching this today,

and I realized just how much I needed to see a diverse group

(even one as nonsensical as multi color anthro ponies)

support one another, lift each other up and rally together to make things better.

We are stronger together.

We will make it through this.

We will protect each other.

We will not let our momentum falter.

And until then . . .

We have singing anthro ponies.

Arguing with Myself: Won’t Someone Think of the Children?

I saw something today that made the little voice in my head

(the one that doesn’t stop until I’ve written down what it has to say)

start gnashing its teeth.

As I left the parking lot where I was waiting for my wife to text me back, a pick-up truck with a confederate flag license plate pulled in.

Now, let’s be clear . . . I’m white.

Not quite blind you with reflected sunlight,

but my heritage just doesn’t get called into question.

My parents were staunch Republicans

(my dad is now an Independent and my mom is a Libertarian, *headdesk*).

In fact one of my dad’s favorite denigrating phrases, for years, was to call anyone who was at all socially progressive a

“Jane Fonda Pinko Commy Faggot.”

It was his favorite insult up until about a decade and a half ago.

My mom (who now denies this conversation ever took place) told me point blank that gay couples shouldn’t be able to get married because the law to legalize same sex marriage (this was probably around 2000, not sure which specific bill) included wording allowing same sex parents to touch the genitals of their children (for things like diaper changes, and medical need) and she didn’t agree with letting pedophiles have that kind of legal loophole.

They are both lifetime members of the NRA,

and vocal Blue Lives/ All Lives Matter proponents.

Now don’t get me wrong, my parents are loving, caring people who have evolved on their views on a number of civil issues

(same sex marriage, interracial marriage,

religious discrimination, and some women’s issues).

And I don’t want to paint them as bigoted or hateful or less than the loving parents and decent human beings they are.

But this is where I came from.

And where I am desperately trying to keep from going back to.

The reason that flag got to me this morning

has to do with the world my kids are growing up in.

Another unarmed black man was shot and killed

on video, with his hands in the air on Friday.

My sister and her husband just had a beautiful little boy, and

I don’t want him growing up in a world where he needs to be afraid of the police

because his skin has more melanin than my kids’.

I don’t want Alani’s beautiful children portrayed as thugs, criminals or sluts

because of the color of their skin.

I don’t want my cousin’s children

demonized for the religion they were raised with, that their mother chose.

For their brown complexions and dark hair and manner of dress.

All of those children deserve to be as unafraid of the police

as my white children are.

Full stop.

My children should not have to worry that their parents’ marriage

is not seen as valid, that someone’s political agenda could see our

legal marriage unmade and

Hunny forced back into a role that would have killed her.

That there are people who would use their lack of understanding, lack of compassion to destroy our family because they aren’t ok with rainbow flags.  

Our children are watching. What message are we teaching them?

What kind of a world are we leaving them? 

#I don't really do hashtags #but this is important #bigotry kills #our kids deserve better

Where I’ve Been, Part2

Hunny has been on hormones for over a year and a half. She has changed so much, not only physically, but emotionally. She is so feminine that the constant comments about her height drive her crazy. From my own experience, I can say that the ‘you’re so tall’s and the ‘do you play basketball’s get old quickly and she’s still a few inches taller than I am.  She loves her shoes, boots especially. Happily, her feet are only about a half size larger than mine (her feet have gotten significantly smaller, and mine are decidedly not tiny) so we share.  She gets mis-gendered (called sir or him instead of miss /ma’am or her) far less often than she used to (at least when I’m with her), and more often, by people who know her but don’t understand or support her transition rather than strangers.

Physically, the changes are both subtle and startling. Her lips continue to become fuller, her cheeks less angular. Her eyes aren’t as deep set, and even her nose has become more refined. Her body becomes curvier (in all the right places) and her stance has changed as her hips and pelvis widen (I believe the amount of estrogen and progesterone she is taking is causing her body to loosen her ligaments as though pregnant). As her hair has grown out it has become a tumble of curls (since my hair won’t hold a curl at all, I am incredibly envious). I find myself smitten all over again.

The emotional changes are harder. Hunny is breaking decades of societal conditioning and going through puberty at the same time. We argue more than we used to, and more spectacularly, but we also spend more time curled up together, holding and supporting each other. We are closer than ever before, much to the annoyance of the kids. I love her so much. It is physically painful to be apart for very long.  

. . .

Our tenth anniversary is only six months away. We decided to have a wedding, not just a vow renewal, but a wedding to celebrate. We want to have the opportunity to say our vows, Hunny as her true self without hiding and me to the woman I love. We found a beautiful venue that includes nearly everything, and is in our price range. It even included a cake through our choice of outside bakery. We even found our dresses on the same day, at the same store. The sales girls had tears in their eyes when we kissed after finding our dresses. Hunny looks beautiful in her dress, and I love how I feel in mine.

. . .

I turned 32. My parents took the kids overnight. Hunny and I went to dinner, and after a failed attempt to go dancing (the club we went to doesn’t open the dance floor until after the entertainers finish) we went to a movie. Not having the kids underfoot, Hunny and I spent the morning cuddling in bed before going out to breakfast and picking up the monsters. All in all, it was a good day.

. . .

While I hope to be able to write more often, life is hectic and the triplets don’t nap anymore . . .

 I have many things I want to write about. Here’s hoping that I get a little more opportunity to do so.

-  Vixi

Nine Years

I wore a medieval gown a generous and talented friend custom made for me. The fabric was (and still is) a soft ivory, but it looks white in every picture. My long, dark hair falls down my back, the front braided (less than symmetrically) by my soon to be sister - in - law, who realized half way through that we should have taken time to practice before the big day. I chose not to wear a veil. The red roses in my hand were a last minute bouquet my soon to be mother - in - law assembled from flowers purchased from Costco just hours before.

The embellished sneakers I wore caught in the aisle runner; the park wouldn’t allow us to anchor it to the grass. My dad was reluctant to let go of my hand.

 But at the end of the aisle stood the only person I had ever loved, had ever wanted, had ever needed.   

We got married in front of the same fountain we had taken prom pictures under.  The Officiate had married most of my family, and although we had talked with her about our beliefs, during the ceremony all of our revisions were forgotten, but the I Do’s were heartfelt. And if we both had happy tears threatening to fall, they only served to make our eyes brighter as we walked back down the aisle together, fingers intertwined.

In the nine years that have come and gone since that joyous afternoon, we have lived with family, had our boys, lived on our own as a family, bought a house, had triplet girls, lived through darkness, had moments of shining happiness. 

The groom I walked to on that day is now my wife.

And we are stronger for it. Our marriage, our partnership, our love is stronger, and deeper for every step we’ve taken together. She is still the only person

 I have ever loved, have ever wanted, have ever needed.

 I now understand why her face is hidden in most of our wedding photos, why so many of her happy smiles were tempered with a trace of sadness. And why she doesn’t look at our old photos anymore. But her smile today is radiant. 

The joy of being who she really is burns so bright she almost glows.

Here’s to walking this path together, fingers and hearts still intertwined;

 to holding onto each other through both the smooth and the rocky.

Happy Anniversary, Beautiful Girl.

I love you.

  

Arguing with Myself: Rape Prevention

Lately rape has been in the news quite a bit . . . 

Congress voted down the Violence Against Women Act.

 

Jyoti Singh Pandey, the 23 year old med student was brutally gang raped and beaten, days later dying from the event.

Notre Dame University chose not to bench 2 football players after separate allegations of sexual assault and rape, leading to the suicide of one victim.

Two members of Steubenville, Ohio’s high school football team were videoed bragging about taking a girl who had passed out at a party, stripping her, digitally penetrating her (fingering her), and taking her, unconscious,  to three other parties where they exposed her body to others, urinated on her and humiliated her.

 The boys still got to play . . . . 

I think the underlying reason that so many people are willing to use this as an excuse to ‘slut shame’ (she was drinking, out at night, wearing X style of clothing, was dancing, wasn’t a virgin and had it coming) or ‘victim blame’ (she fought back, didn’t fight back, should have done X to avoid the situation) is because rape isn’t generally understood.

 

Most people believe the fallacy that rape is an issue of impulse control.

That rapists can’t control their sexual urges.

That rape is about sex . . .

Rape is about power and control, not sex.

Rape is about taking the power to consent away from the victim, about proving the rapist has more power because they can make you submit to them.

That the rapist is entitled to the victim’s body, to sex,

even to the victim’s life.

I have been lucky. I am 31 years old and have not been the victim of sexual assault or rape. But there is a very real chance that at some point in my life I will be, simply because I’m a woman. My sister and three other friends over the course of my life have been. My daughters, my sons (men are as vulnerable to rape as women but very, very few report it), my wife (she’s at higher risk because she’s transgender), everyone I love has the potential to be a headline.

Or, far more likely, not make the headline.  

Prevention isn’t about the victim avoiding being victimized. That hasn’t worked in the past, and isn’t working now.

Rape prevention is about people, men as well as women, working to change the conversation. Parents teaching their sons and daughters that only yes means yes. That being drunk doesn’t equal consent. That no does not mean try harder.

Custador, a fellow blogger who writes at Unreasonable Faith ), has made this pledge in order to help do just that . . .

 

I will never condone rape or support rape culture in any way. I will object, loudly, when a rape joke is told. I will not tolerate objectification of women, amongst my male friends or amongst anybody else. I will do my best to be aware of my male (and white, and straight, and middle class) privilege, and to not take advantage of it. If and when I have children, I will try to educate them to critically appraise the media to which they are exposed and be aware of the gender messages within it. I will not spend money on any product, company or media which I am aware of having promoted rape culture or gender disparity, regardless of whether they have done so deliberately.

 

I think most of us, men and women, can get on board with that.

Thoughts on Coming Out

A spouse’s perspective

 

At the end of March my world changed.

Two words turned my life upside down and set me spinning.

 

 “I’m transgendered.”

 

There was so much heartache in those words,

 so much fear and longing.

Pain at the thought of such a complete rejection.

 A voice teetering on the edge of losing everything.

 

In that moment I had two clear choices:

I could run screaming and

break the fragile heart opening up to me.

Or I could see this as exploring a new aspect

of the person I’ve loved for so long and accept.

 

With either choice my life would change.  

 

A choice between fear and love.

Not everyone would agree with my choice,

but for me, in that moment, the choice was clear.

 

Love won.

 

It was the easiest choice I’ve ever had to make.

 

Love won.

 

In the months since she came out to me,

 we have weathered stresses and storms,

sick children and family who can’t understand.

We have disagreed, worried,

 broken down and held each other up.

We have answered questions, made new friends

and been hurt by those who can’t

come to terms with the changes.

 

We are closer now than we have ever been,

kissing like we did in high school, constantly in contact.

More supportive of each others’ needs,

 more forgiving of their faults.

 

I am so proud of her, proud and honored to be with her,

to take this journey hand in hand.

 

Two words can change the world.

 

Love won.  

A Quick Thank You

Families like mine in Maine, Maryland, Washington and Minnesota

have new protections and rights.

 

Parents can rest easier knowing that their children

won’t be taken from their partners if tragedy strikes.

 

Partners won’t have to fight to see each other in the hospital

 if sick or injured. Can’t be denied health care or life insurance payments

because of who they love.

 

That our country can see that
the LGBTQ community is made up of people.

 

That who you love isn’t the only important thing about you. That it shouldn’t preclude anyone from being treated with equality and respect.

 

To the voters in Maine, Maryland and Washington: Thank you.

Thank you for accepting and including a community
that has been so often denigrated and overlooked.

Thank you for supporting everyone’s right
to marry the person they love, regardless of gender.

 

To the voters in Minnesota: Thank you.

Thank you for standing up for the rights of
your friends, family members, neighbors . . .
For not allowing bullies to use the law
to justify harassment and discrimination.

Thank you for taking the first step toward equality.  

 

Together we are powerful. We can change the world.

 

 And yesterday, in those four states, we did.

Arguing With Myself: To Chick-fil-A or Not to Chick-fil-A

Facebook has been up in arms lately about the Chick-fil-A news release in which the company’s president admitted to using company profits to support anti- LGBTQ political groups.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I like Chick-fil-A. The food is good, the staff is friendly and helpful, the restaurants are clean and the play places don’t smell like pee.

I believe that the company president and everyone else involved have the right to support whatever issues they like . . . .
With their own money.
My issue is that they are using money paid by customers to do this . . . without informing them first.

Why should I care?
I care because the moment my spouse came out to me as transgender, my family became part of the group ‘the customers’ money’ is being used to try to destroy.
I am one person, not a large franchise with a legal team. I don’t want to be a landmark case to keep my family together and safe.
And to those who think I’m over-reacting . . .

My medical coverage (and that of our kids) is through my spouse. If anti-LGBTQ legislation (like these groups want) goes through, my insurance could disappear as soon as my spouse’s legal name and gender change go through.
Our 8 year marriage could be declared legally invalid. My wife could loose her parental rights . . . to our biological children.

When someone tries to remove the safeguards you have built to protect your family on the basis of not agreeing with your choices . . . and has billions of dollars and a huge political machine to do it . . .
It becomes difficult not to feel harassed and threatened.
While this may not be personal for the president of Chick-fil-A, it is for me.

My heart goes out to any LGBTQ employees at Chick-fil-A who are forced to choose between paying the bills and having equal rights.
To be put in that position by the actions of your employer . . . is horrible.

But I think I have a solution:
Companies using sales based profits for political purposes (i.e. Chick-fil-A, Target, Walmart, etc.) need to step up. Post (both on websites and in store) that a percentage of the profits goes to fund x, y, and z political groups, like they do with charities.
This way supporters know their money is going to a cause they believe in, conscientious objectors are informed before buying, and those in the middle can decide if they care enough to go elsewhere. This also gives prospective employees an idea of where they stand within the company.

In short, I want informed consent. If you are going to use the money I spend for political purposes . . . tell me so I have the option to choose where my monetary support goes.

Anyone have a better plan?
- Vixi

(P.S. – as for the “defense of the ‘biblical’ family” nonsense . . . Jon Stewart of The Daily Show said it so much better than I could. Sorry, this was the best video I could find. If anyone finds a better one please link it to me in the comments.)

http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/mon-july-23-2012/gaywatch---holdouts-edition
Thanks Arcee for the video link.

Feminine Ideals

Art in the Girls’ Room

We got the second crib moved into the office / girls’ room. This is big. Now the girls are in their room full time, and my Hunny and I are alone in our room again.

As we moved furniture we discussed what to do with the art already in the room. Half the room has the usual little girl unicorns, butterflies and princesses. The other half has fantasy swords (high on the wall) and art prints. The question of what to do with the art made me rethink what each piece means to me.

3 of the 4 pictures depict some version of womanhood but not the old Disney version.

Above the printer is a poster Hunny was given called ‘Illusion Chess’

It doesn’t have much meaning for me but it’s a fun image and I really like it.

Next to the computer is ‘Ex Libris” by Michael Parkes.

I love books, so the young woman so engrossed that her nudity doesn’t matter resonates deeply.

Above one of the cribs is ‘Gargoyles” also by Michael Parkes.

 

The idea that a little girl’s whimsy is powerful enough to bring stone to life to play with her . . .

Above the changing table (used to be above a bookshelf before things were rearranged) is ‘Serra Angel’ a large version of the art from the Magic: The Gathering card by the same name. 

 Serra is fiercely beautiful. She is both protector and avenger and is beautiful in full armor. She is strength personified and I want my girls to see that women can be strong and glorious. That beauty does not have to wait to be rescued, or avenged. That it is their responsibility to defend and protect, just as it is their brothers. I want my daughters to grow up knowing they are powerful. That they can change their world.

Hunny suggested putting Serra up in the boys room, or in our room where it would fit the décor better. I think I want it to stay where it is.    

Lately I’ve spent a lot of time reading really fantastic feminist blogs. Many of these are from women who spent part of their lives in very strict religious orders and had to break free in order to live as a complete person.

Love Joy Feminism by Libby Anne, and Permission to Live by Melissa are a couple of my favorites. 

Whether my girls take away as much or any of what I see in the art in their room doesn’t matter as much as having those images of the intelligence, magic and power of the feminine for my girls (and boys) to see. And hopefully, in seeing Believe.