Act like you own the joint

Those first few weeks after DJ came out to us, she and I took a number of roadtrips to go visit one of her brothers while he worked at the beach.  We were both eager:  she to start her new life and absorb anything and everything that would assist her in that endeavor; I to show her we supported her and to help her catch up on some of what she missed living as a boy those 15 years.

The first time she ever was going to use the women's restroom set her heart pounding.  I admittedly had some butterflies in my stomach, but I didn't feel frightened because I knew I would be with her and would verbally lay into anyone who so much as looked twice at her.  Somehow, I knew that I had to impart to her the imperativeness of believing in yourself.  If, for one second, she doubted that she would "pass", people would pick up on that like sharks pick up on blood in the water.

I told her she had to truly believe that as long as she was presenting as a young woman, she had every right to use the women's bathroom.  After all, it's not like the genitalia police would be looking up her skirt-and if they did, there would be hell to pay.  Now, keep in mind, I'm talking BIG for a reason-she HAS to believe it AND she has to know that if something were to go wrong that her parents would "save" her from whatever it was.  If she didn't know, right down to her cute little purple polished toes, that we would have her back, she might not have had the confidence to step right out as DJ, and then the sharks would circle.

She knew she was a girl, she just needed to know from someone on the "genetically correct" team that she had the right to present as a girl.  Whenever a disenfranchised people decide to stand up to the masses who might seek to keep them down, they often need assistance from insiders that are part of the masses.  That's where beloved family and friends can do important work.  We must impart to them that not only do we accept them, but that we will kick @$$ and take names from those who mistreat them.  OK, not literally, of course, although if someone ever tried to harm DJ in my presence, I would have no compunction whatsoever about putting this 47 year old body through hell to keep her safe.  Nonetheless, we all feel better knowing someone has our back.  More importantly, we feel more confidant and confidance is a transgender person's greatest accessory when it comes to "passing" as the gender with which they identify.  Hell, confidance is everyone's best accessory when we want to look and feel our best.

And sometimes, to make your transgendered family member feel confidant, you may have to show them it's ok to get a little angry about the oppression they've experienced.  A little anger can be like a propellent, at times, particularly if one feels stalled or paralyzed by fear or apprehension.  I reminded DJ that she had a right to privacy and that no one (well, the law maybe, but only with a warrant, and besides, that ain't gonna happen) has the right to invade her privacy to satisfy their curiosity about whether or not she really is a she, genetically speaking.  And furthermore, that she had a right to be selective regarding  with whom she shared her history.

That first night on our road trip, I took her out to dinner.  We did her hair and make-up;she had on a girly    t-shirt and capri pants.  She looked cute, but I could sense her apprehension as this was literally, the first time she would go out in public as her true self.  She wasn't sure she would pass.  We were seated at our table and the waiter walked up and said, "Good evening ladies,  Can I get you something to drink?"  She was still a little nervous, but beaming.  That's right baby-never let 'em see you sweat.

Labels and why they suck

Thank goodness I tend to blather on, out loud.  I'm very opinionated (as poor, poor Bulldog knows) AND I assume that everyone in hearing distance wants to hear about all my opinions-ALL THE TIME.  And have  I mentioned that I am sarcastic?  I think that I'm witty when I'm sarcastic.  Perhaps I am merely annoying as hell.

Anyway,  I've been ruminating on how our "binary-ness" (DJ's word) regarding gender caused a delay in DJ's coming out.  When I watched a special on "Nightline" about transgender children, I wondered why DJ didn't come out sooner.  And so I asked her, with a sinking feeling in my gut because I knew her answer would have something to do with fear of non-acceptance from us.

Sure enough, random comments I've made (she didn't quote Bulldog, so maybe I'm the only one who had the hangups) served to stall her for at least a couple of years.  OUCH.  And that is a major understatement. I hurt my kid.  I HURT MY KID.

For someone who is so opinionated AND is sure her opinions are always right, I can be pretty full of     $ - - -.  And for someone who is pretty damn certain that she is accepting of everyone, I am full up to my eyebrows of that same matter.

Case in point:  when JD started growing his hair out, I stated that he looked like a girl.  This might have been exactly what DJ, still in hiding, wanted to hear except that I had a sneering tone to my voice.  And I apparently made a similar comment with similar tone when JD started shaving his legs.  Clearly, boys appearing to look like girls was a no-no to mama.  And why did I care?  Why do any of us care?

Because we need to label people for our own comfort.  I think we do it because it helps bring order to a vast, complex, non-orderly world and our equally confusing lives.  It's why we label our files in our file cabinets and why some of us anal-retentive people label the insides of our kitchen cabinets. (Hey-in my defense, the other people in this house never put things away in the right places!!)  In one way, our need to label people makes sense, but really, we're doing it for our comfort level at someone else's expense, so it really doesn't make sense.

When one of DJ's brothers was a toddler, his grandpa brought him a Barbie from the lost and found at work.  (WHY? We had enough toys...but I will only deal with one of my issues at a time here.)  This Barbie was wearing a particularly frilly gown of fuschia.  My son loved playing with this Barbie and it drove me nuts.  So much so, that I hid the Barbie until he forgot about it, at which point my conscience allowed me to throw it away.  The question is-why did it drive me nuts?  If I saw a little girl playing with a firetruck, I would applaud her.

OMG-I am seriously screwed up!!! For someone who is so AGAINST gender bias, I have a gender bias issue myself.  I think I'm getting over it because of DJ, thank goodness.  But why was I ever under it?  Partly because I thought any of my kids' potential gender queer traits (the term "gender queer" is not disparaging-it's an accepted term.  It means that a person does not subscribe to one or the other, or either genders.  This is a term that such folks use to describe themselves.) reflected poorly on me as a parent, somehow.  Because, really, it's ALL about me, right?

Knowing this, it's a wonder DJ was ever able to come out at all.  Well, thank goodness for the Discovery channel and one of my nicer qualities: empathy. That, and my propensity to share all my opinions, the exclusive ones and the inclusive, because I made an understanding comment about a transgendered person in India.  I commented how difficult it must be to feel like you're in the wrong body.  And THAT helped to open the door.  Certainly, for DJ, there were other, more important, events that led to her feeling safe that she could come out, but for me, I breathe a sigh of relief.  Luckily, I grabbed at that brass ring of redemption because at least I can rest a little more easily knowing that, at least in that instance, I was finally part of the solution instead of part of the problem.

Does it always work out in the end?

DJ and I had the fun of co-hosting our niece's birthday tea party this past weekend.  Our niece is a lovely girl-genuinely sweet, spunky, loving and strong too.  She comes from a wonderful family-both parents, (and her brother) are loving and doting, and accepting, as they have accepted our daughter from the moment they found out she was their niece rather than their nephew.

Having raised 3 kids, all 3 of whom I initially thought were boys, we only have experience with boy birthday parties.  DJ has had a number of co-ed parties the last 3 or 4 years, but prior to that, we obviously never had a typical all girl birthday party.  On Saturday, she and I both had a great time helping the girls dress up in a way that felt comfortable to them, having tea, opening presents, making a keychain, all the while, the 9 little girls were giggly and happy, affectionate and energetic.

Whenever DJ is in the company of little girls, I always wonder if entertaining them is not only fun for her, as it does seem to be, but also semi-painful knowing how she missed out on those years.  How many years was she lackluster in choosing halloween costumes or clothes for a new school year because she couldn't pick what she really wanted?  I remember her reticence clearly and at the time chalked it up to our efforts just not measuring up to what she had in mind, or assuming perhaps she was unusually picky about clothes.

One year, after making multiple suggestions for a halloween costume, DJ's "male" self, JD, agreed that being a knight might be fun.  We shopped and got creative and came up with a fantastic and realistic knight costume that we made ourselves.  It look so authentic and JD was completely underwhelmed.  No tantrums, mind you, because that was not JD's style, and isn't DJ's style for that matter, but just a quiet lack of enthusiasm.  I assumed JD was just being picky and ignored the lack of enthusiasm.  Now, it pains me to think of it because I know now why the unenthused response-DJ likely had something completely different in mind.

Same with shopping for clothes: sometime around the age of 7, JD started to refuse to wear jeans stating that the metal fastener at the waist made his tummy itch.  He did, in fact, get a small, localized reaction when he wore them, so when he began to wear what we all called his "slippery pants" ALL. THE. TIME., we thought nothing of it.  Plus, JD would only wear black, grey or dark blue pants probably because that's what most boys seemed to wear.  In the summer, the slippery pants were replaced by slippery shorts-same silky, shiny polyester workout clothes, just different lengths, obviously.

When JD started middle school, or junior high, I told him that he needed to be more cool and start wearing jeans again or he would be teased in junior high.  He acquiesed, but again, not with any real excitement.  Well of course not, because it still wasn't what the real girl inside, DJ, wanted to wear. And of course, DJ/JD continued then with jeans and t-shirts for the next couple of years, during which time JD started growing out his hair and shaving his legs ("to shave seconds off his cross-country times"-we're dumb, we bought it).

I wonder if I'll ever stop feeling sorrow over the years DJ has lost.  Her perspective is one I wish I could have and hope it's truly her perspective and not one she "adopts" and pretends to believe for our sakes:  that, sure, she wishes it could have been different then, but at least it's different now.  She has said as much to me, but I wonder.  Maybe it's just my nervous nelly mother-self rearing her ugly head again, ten years after I thought I banished her, but what if she's just trying to convince herself she feels this way while trying to convince us?  What if the loss of time, or the sadness over the loss just feels too heavy and she somehow gives in to the dark feelings and loses more time?  Yeah, yeah, I probably have been watching too much "Lifetime" TV or something, but these things do happen.

I feel like enough discouraging things have happened for this kid.  Hell, for any of my kids, but for DJ in particular.  But this thought just occurred to me: all 3 of the kids experienced the loss of their birth father through tragic circumstances when they were but 9, 7 and 3 years of age.  DJ remembers none of it, but her brothers sure do.  And both boys are in their 20's and doing well.  For years, following their loss, I thought that tragedy would color their lives and render them unhappy, in some meaningful way, for the rest of their lives. I truly did.  But it didn't.  As they become closer and closer to complete and total independence, that part of their lives seems smaller and smaller and less and less impact-ful. (Oh crap-is "impact-ful" even a word?  I sound like Oprah Winfrey!)  Perhaps the tragedy of her lost little girl years will be the same for DJ.  Maybe, just maybe, she'll look back on those years as the time that forged her in fire and made her the steel magnolia she is.  I hope so.  And  you know what?  I don't care what it costs, she can have WHATEVER WEDDING DRESS SHE WANTS SOMEDAY!!! That should make up for it-right?

Letting go

Interestingly, after I was lamenting my own lack of courage in being more open about DJ, I watched a special on "Nightline"centered around two transgender families, and a formerly transgender man.  I say formerly because he was born a genetic male, transitioned in an attempt to recreate the family he lost in his divorce (having no desire to be, feel or act like a woman prior to his divorce), including gender confirmation surgery, and then had surgery again so that he would resemble the man he was born as, and feels he truly is.  And THAT is why true trans folks have to jump through so many hoops before they can have the hormones or surgery, because there's always one person who has some other issue.

But Moms and Dads, if any parents of transgender kids are reading this, do NOT let that man scare you.  If you play the odds with your kid's happiness betting that your kid might be experiencing what that misguided man experienced, you're taking a great risk with your kid's happiness.  Shame on that man's doctor because, like it or not, doctors are supposed to be the gatekeepers to the legal hormones and eventual surgery.  

Bulldog and I have been going through this process for nearly a year and a half; albeit secondhand, because we are not transgender, we just desperately love our daughter, who is.  The internet can be your friend and your foe if you do not DILIGENTLY do your research.    The Harry S. Benjamin, now called WPATH, standards of care is what most reputable and experienced doctors follow in this country.  Overseas, they tend to be more lenient, which has pros and cons.

For instance, very few US surgeons will touch a kid under 18.  Not nearly as true in Canada, Europe and parts of Asia. That can be great news for the family who has had their kid under excellent care for years and still has years to go before they will be 18.  Until the surgery, in this country, in nearly all states your birth certificate decides your gender, not your brain.  You get a new birth certificate after the surgery denoting your surgically corrected gender.  But until a person can have the gender confirmation surgery (lingo our daughter's doctor uses-way better than "sex change operation" and more accurate than "gender reassignment surgery"), they may only be allowed to experience certain aspects of life that will be guided by the information on their birth certificate.  You may or not be able to imagine what difficulty having the "wrong" genitalia can cause:  what does your kid do for PE?  How about which restroom to use at school?  How many summer, overnight, camps will allow your daughter to sleep with other people's daughters in a tent if the 1% of her body that comprises her genitalia doesn't match the rest of her presentation?

So, once you start "letting" your kid transition, aside from a new wardrobe, what next?  Hormone therapy is the usual next step.  Regarding hormone therapy:  almost all changes are reversible, but here are some notable exceptions.  If your trans son is considering testosterone therapy, know that once his voice changes, it is permanent because you can't shrink vocal chords once testosterone makes them lengthen.    However, if you're a trans girls who experienced a voice change prior to going on estrogen therapy, you can train your voice to be in the "normal" female range.  Conversely, if you're a trans girl who has started estrogen therapy and you, for some pretty unusual reason, statistically, change your mind, nipples that may have grown somewhat larger can not be shrunken down; they can likely be reduced surgically, however.

Other than that, almost any other changes elicited by hormone therapy are reversible, so hormone therapy is a great place to start to let your kid start his or her transition.

The question usually is not whether your kid is ready but whether you are.   "Nightline" wasn't exaggerating about the suicide rate among trans kids whose families can't or won't support them in their transition.  Think of it like this:  if you woke up with the parts, or body hair, or lack thereof, of a person of the opposite gender, how would you feel?  I know how I'd feel because at my age, I'm dealing with those (so far) sporadic little chin hairs for which I can thank my Italian grandmother.  I find them horrifying.  I will experience pain, willingly, to have them, or any other facial hairs that may appear, yanked out and PRONTO!!!  Judging by the sheer number of waxing salons that can even be found in my (red)neck of the woods, I'm not the only woman who feels this way.  And gentlemen:  I'm sure a bit of a beer belly isn't too terribly bothersome, but once your pecs start to resemble breasts, I'll bet you don't feel so great about yourself all of a sudden, do you?

Most of us have the bodies that reflect our true gender.  We're glad we were born with the parts that identify us to ourselves and the rest of the world as who we feel we are.  If you had to be forced to be a person of the opposite gender, take a few moments to really, truly envision what horrific emotional torture that would be.  On those days when either Bulldog, or I, were still wanting to see familiar JD in DJ's emerging self, we had to remind ourselves IT WASN'T ABOUT US!!  I put that in caps not to judge those of you who may be struggling, but to point out the importance of remembering this.

You may feel like you're losing a child and in a way, you are.  Grieve all you want-it's ok.  It's understandable.  You're not the only parent who has felt this way, believe me.  But you're also setting your child's true self free in a way you cannot even fathom.  And your child will be an even happier version of him/her self because your child is happier.  And THAT is how you can be assured that you are doing the right thing and not merely letting your child meander down the wrong, mistaken path.

As soon as your kid really knows that he/she can be herself, it won't be so hard to see that your genetic son is in fact a girl.  It will become so freaking obvious, eventually, you'll wonder how your child could have been such a great actor in fooling you.  On "Nightline" it was apparent that the kid born as Jack was completely transformed when she could be her true self, Jackie.  Wasn't she adorable?  Most of who we are is how we feel and act; our looks will usually follow suit.

Trust your kid.  Trust your gut.  If they are in agreement, you can rest more easily-you're doing the right thing letting your kid be who he/she was meant to be and more importantly, who he/she knows he/she is.

Walking the walk

I've come to realize that I talk the talk really well; I ain't walking the walk so good.  Why have I not shared my blog on Facebook?  The answer came to me the other day while I was at work.

Lady Gaga, no matter how you feel about her music, is a trailblazer when it comes to speaking up for the folks in this country who are often overlooked, ridiculed, and misunderstood.  If Bulldog and I allowed our daughter to tattoo, "Baby I was born this way," it would have been staring at me from the front of her forehead by now.  So the other day, when Lady Gaga was on a music awards show dressed as a "guy" one of my coworkers just shook his head and made some remark resembling, "What is wrong with people today?"

I realize that I'm in a fairly good position in my life right now.  I'm secure in my job, respected among colleagues in my profession in my department and multiple other departments.  I've worked with enough people and taught enough people that they KNOW I'm not "fruity" or overtly weird.  In fact, I've even managed to change a few people's minds regarding how they perceive people suffering from depression, how they perceive gay people, and African Americans, as well.   Granted, the one or two  male coworkers that I might have influenced may not be ready to hug a gay man, but at least they won't openly sneer in a gay man's presence.

My daughter goes to school and she frankly doesn't give a damn, in the sweetest way possible, WHAT people think, on the whole.  She's ready to be responsible to other people in her shoes by speaking out and being open about her reality.  She's not "in your face" about it, but she doesn't pull any punches on Facebook.  And let's face it, EVERYBODY in high school is on Facebook.  She knows the risk she's taking and takes it willingly, nonetheless, because she believes transparency allows the light of truth to shine more brightly.

And me?  I could make some of my Facebook friends see what a regular family with a transgender family member is like.  She's not strange, we're not strange.  And after all, isn't that what changes people's minds?  We can easily disparage what we don't know up close and personal.  But once we meet  and know people who embody what would previously frighten us, it's just so much harder to revile those people to the same degree.  Those kinds of baby steps led to repealing of poll taxes, allowing women to vote, more and more women in positions of authority in the workplace, hell, the making of the Grand Canyon even.

What's holding me back?  It's simple and everyone who may be reading it has certainly guessed it by now.  I'm afraid.  I will be outed- that's how it feels to me and my misery over my guilt only potentiates my cowardice.  People will snicker about my daughter and about me.  They will think we've done something wrong as parents.  I'm not ready to hear remarks about my daughter.  I don't know what I'll do and I'm terrified at what I might not do which is to tear whoever dares to speak against my daughter in my presence a new posterior orifice, because I'm too much of a freaking pansy.

So, as I listened to my coworker's remark about the state of humanity, I realized I had an opportunity to share, and I didn't.  And then I hearkened back to what Bulldog said that first day after DJ came out-"I hope I can be as brave as you."  I'm not as brave, not even close.

In honor of Martin Luther King

Today was supposed to be the official unveiling of the Martin Luther King Memorial in Washington D.C.  Hurricane Irene led to the unveiling being postponed, unfortunately.  Why today?  Because today, in 1963, Dr. Martin Luther King gave his famous, "I have a dream," speech.  Until today, I had never heard, nor read, the speech, in its entirety.  I knew the general premise, certainly;  in honor of today, I decided to read the text and it is inspiring.

So what does Martin Luther King have to do with transgender folks?  Dr. King opened the door for civil rights for everybody, not just African Americans.  When our fine forefathers wrote the Declaration, and the Constitution for that matter, they primarily had folks who resembled themselves in mind:  white, educated, usually landowning, presumably heterosexual, males.  Which is why the verbage in both fine documents reads as it does, "all men are created equal" and that "men have the inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."  While many people will say, "You know they meant women too, or people of color too," really, they apparently didn't because black people and women didn't get the right to vote until constitutional amendments were written stating, basically, yeah, the constitution applies to you too....at least when it comes to voting.

Dr. King recognized that this fine country was successfully skirting the spirit and letter of the Constitution in its treatment of people of color, namely African Americans because at that time in American history, they were the predominant people of color.  Now, nearly 50 years later, while much of the discrimination against African Americans has abated, or at least been somewhat repressed by proper observance of the law, there are still large groups of people who are being disenfranchised and being denied the rights that every other law abiding, adult citizen of this great country enjoys.

When schools, and employers, and local governments allow the hazing, abuse, bullying and terrorizing of people who do not fit the typical mold, then they are taking part in denying our citizens their right to liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and in some cases, life itself.  When our state government, or federal government try to decide which two law abiding, adult citizens may marry, they are denying these citizens their rights, as well.  And according to the greatest law of the land, the Constitution, we may not only infringe an American citizens rights, we may not infringe their privileges either.  Yup, you heard me.  The government is not allowed to abridge a citizen's rights or privileges.  Here it is, straight from the Constitution itself:  


All persons born or naturalized in the United States and subject
to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.  No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States..."

14th Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America


"But the Bible says....." does not justify the withholding of a citizen's rights or privileges because another amendment, namely the FIRST one, states that the government may not establish religion; thank goodness for that because if we ever had a majority of Muslims in the Congress and Judicial system who believed in a strict interpretation of the Koran, women could be forced to wear veils and be covered from head to toe, not be allowed to be educated, or even see a doctor.  Yet, we let the Judeo-Christian belief system abrade the very fabric of the Constitution, which is supposed to be the great equalizer for all people.

Those of us who are round pegs who fit in round holes may not see the necessity of a civil rights movement because our rights are unabridged, as are our privileges.  Dr. King reminded us in 1963 and his words remind us today that our work isn't finished.  Those of us "round" pegs must fight for the "square" pegs who can still be discriminated against as long as "gender" is not included in the list of reasons that protect employees from discrimination.  We've recently added "sexual orientation" to the list of no-nos that employers and schools and local governments must observe; this is a step forward without question.  But again, we still have work to do.  We must speak out to our legislators, all of us.  We must exercise our rights and speak for those whose rights are being denied them.  We must cling to Dr. King's vision where we will:

" live in a nation where (we) will not be judged by the color of (our) skin, (or our gender, or orientation)..... but by the content of (our) character."

Who's the freak?

I love to read.  It's probably what I love to do more than anything else.  Presently, I'm reading The Help.  The TV advertisements for the motion picture are a bit misleading.  They make it look like a hilarious comedy; I'm halfway through the book and jocularity is not the word that comes to mind while reading it.  Tension, however, is.

I won't give the details away, but it takes place during the 1960's during the Civil Rights movement, in Mississippi, particularly.  The "help" decide to share their story with a budding journalist who happens to live on the white, rich and bigoted side of the tracks.  But they must do it in secrecy because the stakes are so high that most of us who are not considered the margins of society would not even begin to understand. Their truth was that if they dared to question the norm, if they had the audacity to whisper thoughts of changing the status quo, they could lose their jobs, their homes, their freedom....literally, their lives.

The book explores, to a certain degree, the roles each member of high society plays in maintaining the status quo.  And it's frightening because it's familiar.  Our methodology is subtle but insidious.  It starts with gossip: simple but ugly talk that is spoken with a degree of authority.  The listener must either agree and be accepted, or disagree and risk shunning.  The speaker often acts as if what he/she is saying is a joke, but anyone within hearing distance can distinguish the underlying humorlessness in what is being said, regardless of how it is said.  And this is where most of us fail miserably.  Ask yourself, are you the spineless speaker or the listless listener?  Because the listener who does not speak up is just as guilty as the ignorant speaker.  When we listen to ignorance and make no attempt to rebuff it, we speak the same ignorance by omission.

Our area experienced a fairly significant earthquake this week.  Many of us were called in to work since we are considered essential personnel in emergency situations.  I listened as one of my coworkers joked that it would be a riot if the Washington Monument fell on the Martin Luther King, Jr. monument that is to be unveiled next week.  Seems harmless but we all know what sentiment was lying under the joke.  Yes, I spoke up, but in a half-hearted way.  Shame on me.  I should know better.

Why?  Because my previous life was filled with abuse.  I know first hand what it is to risk change and to literally put my safety in danger.  And why else?  Because our family has a beloved member who belongs to an extremely marginalized and misunderstood group-the transgender community.  

Misunderstanding about transgender people runs rampant.  Ignorance about and ridicule of these folks is society's "normal."  Think about movies or books that depict these individuals-transgender, or transsexuals, are portrayed as sick and twisted.  They're pathetic at best and psychopathic at worst.  But if, in fact, any of these folks are twisted, I am convinced they become that way because they are ignored, harassed, hunted down, mocked, ridiculed, humiliated, shunned or simply avoided.  Why?  Because we must preserve the pecking order.  We see it on the playground, and we partake of the same dynamic as adults.

As long as I can point my finger to someone who is more (seemingly) maladjusted than me, I am, for the time being, safe from ridicule.  When you're being pursued by an attacker and you're part of a herd, you don't need to run faster than your pursuer, just faster than some other member of the herd.  We don't want to see the truth because then it's as if our frontal lobes were a waste of our Creator's efforts; the reality is when we act like a pack of wolves, we are only marginally separated from, well, the actual wolves.

Many of us defend our ignorance by finding some obscure line in the Bible to support our allegation.  But more frequently, we believe someone else who says their rationale is in the Bible.  So, we not only accept someone else's interpretation, we often willingly follow the basest interpretation just so that we can be faster than the wildebeest who is stampeding right beside us,  in terror, from the pursuer.  And the best part of all this is that oftentimes these folks profess to be a follower of a Jewish born savior born over 2000 years ago who spent the majority of his time breaking bread with the freaks or the marginalized of his day:  the lepers, the tax collectors, the prostitutes, the possessed, the crazy, the sick, the women and the children.

I used to think I was a trail blazer in standing up for the underdog.  My daughter coming out has taught me I've got plenty of room to grow in that department.  In society's eyes, she's the freak but she's got more understanding, empathy and bravery in her big toe poking out of her peep-toe glitter stilettos than most of us have in our whole bodies.  Maybe we're the freaks.