A Jane Austen perspective

Am I sounding like Mary Poppins in this blog?  I wonder how the readers in Russia and Poland will react-"Mary Poppins?....huh?"  I feel as if I should apologize to my transgender readers if I make this issue sound like sunshine and roses because I know it's not.  And perhaps I assume that if something works for me, it will work for everyone.  Bulldog has pointed out to me that I seem to think I know everything and I know he's onto something.  And I know Flying Pig has gently informed me that sometimes I can sound patronizing so I worry that I may risk alienating readers with my rose colored glasses perspective.

I guess it's hard to comprehend, considering how I'm telling the e-world, and apparently, my family how to fit into this world, that actually, I consider myself one of the duller knives in the drawer.  The way I figure it is, if I can figure some things out, than most people are probably capable.  But if it took me 20 years to stumble across some truth, perhaps I can save someone else the trouble, grief and time. Maybe it's the annoying caretaker in me, truthfully, I don't know, but I've suffered enough missteps and failures in my life, witnessed as the strong disregard the strong-but-challenged-in-some-way by not turning to lend a helping hand, that I just can't be a party to it; if I feel like I'm on to something, I have a duty to share.  After all, people can simply not tune in or click on the "x" on their screen if they think I'm full of baloney.

This world rewards the folks who appear to be able to do it all.  The magazines have mother-of-the-year awards, but they are reserved for the moms who are great moms AND volunteer for 10 agencies, or work outside the home as corporate executives for non-profits.  Who are these people?  I don't know anyone like this.  To quote Miss Eliza Bennet in Pride and Prejudice, in defense of women who are not "accomplished" by 19th century standards (or today's standards for that matter) "I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any."

THAT is precisely why I started this blog.  It's complete and utter bull$--- that the rest of us who don't conform with the Joneses are somewhat less than.  I huddled in my inferiority complex for a good decade before I even glimpsed of the possibility of celebrating my weaknesses and strengths and why?  Partly because I bought into this notion of self-sufficiency that is inherent in America.  I'm all for independence, don't get me wrong, but not a single thing has been accomplished by one person alone, ever, I don't think.  But some people are much better at giving the impression that they've got it all figured out and that the rest of us are a bunch of dull butter knives.  We all know this is just a form of one-upsmenship (the one time where I don't want a female or genderless equivalent of a word) designed to make the person who proposes their superiority feel, well, superior, yet we buy into all the time and we try to do more, be more, just to feel worthy.

I thank GOD for my kids and my husband.  All 4 of them simultaneously make me feel important AND illustrate where I need to grow.  My transgender daughter, DJ, has highlighted that quality more than anyone simply because her reality has been one that has been closeted for centuries, at least in American and Judeo-Christian societies.  She challenges me to be a truer, better person all the blessed time.  Not that she does it knowingly, which is what makes her even more special, as a person. So, as a family, we're succeeding in this challenge of helping her successfully transition.  Being on the "can I lend you a helping hand?" side of the team, in this instance, means that I should, and want to help those who are on the, "hey, can you lend me a hand?" side of the team.  I have definitely been on that side....in my line of work, being old and small, that's the side of the team I often inhabit.  Which is probably why I feel like I must offer support, help, ideas, and cyber love to those on the other side of the team.  I just can't say, "Yeah, well I got mine.  Sucks to be you."

So, if I tend to sound know-it-all, I ask your forgiveness and understanding.  I just want to pass on some of our insights, failures, successes, feelings, observations, experiences and anything else that I think, and hope, will make others in our boat, or even those in some other boats, feel less alone in this journey.  At work, they call this propensity of mine, "mom-ing" as in, "You're mom-ing all over him again."  They know I mean well, even if I am occasionally annoying;  I hope you do too.

Screw Hercules

I'm supposed to be painting my guest room right now.  The paint and supplies were purchased over a month ago, and yet I still stall.  I'm attempting a new technique and am worried it won't turn out right.  Not to mention, the sheer work of taping, cutting in, rolling, moving furniture....you know the grind unless you're wealthy and always pay someone to do your mundane tasks.

So, here's what I'm going to do to make it seem less daunting:  I'm going to do it in stages. Literally, one wall at a time.  Yes, this may be less efficient; I may be doubling my efforts and doubling the time to complete the task, but at least I'm getting it done.  This room was initially Romeo's room, and then became Goodwrench's room.  Both boys loved the cave-like dark colors with tribal themes, so I'll have to go over the slightly green tinged chocolate colored walls at least once with primer before I can hope that the lovely cafe au lait color I've chosen to replace the newborn-poo color will look like it does on the paint chip.  And since everything needs to be repainted-the trim and the walls-I will literally do one wall, in its entirety, at a time.

What the heck is this piece doing on a transgender blog?  Now, granted, this is a stretch and is partly because I'm stalling on beginning to paint, but does anyone else see the parallel here? Probably not because it's pretty darn obscure.  But I'm changing my room completely.  I'm worried that the end result won't be what I hoped. I know it will be an uphill climb getting there, yet the end result will hopefully be worth it....are you with me yet?  Is my room not going through a transition?

OK-I do not mean to offend anyone with the triteness of my analogy, but there's something here worth thinking about.  Granted, I'm not the one who is transitioning, DJ is.  So I really can't speak to the reality of what that process is like, personally.  But being the mother of a dependent child who is dealing with that reality daily is probably as close as another person can get to the real deal, so maybe I am onto something.

Are you considering transitioning?  Is a loved one considering the process?  Is it overwhelming, frightening, daunting?  Have you considered taking it one step at a time?  Granted, some folks, no matter what we're talking about, will do the whole shebang in one fell swoop.    More power to them if that's how they want to approach it, but if that is not your cup of tea, you are not a lesser person for it.  Give yourself permission to do it in stages.  Either cut your hair or grow it out, for now.  Tweeze your eyebrows, or stop doing it.  Too intimidated to jump into the dress or tie a windsor knot, how about some khakis and a white shirt for work?  Or jeans and a t-shirt for school.  You can go so middle of the road with either.

If baby steps are all you're comfortable with, that's ok.  There is no finish line with a person holding a timeclock.   Maybe some slight changes are just what you need to get the ball rolling.  You follow through with the small changes, you maybe make some slight waves, but FEEL so much better about yourself that you sense a molehill of self-confidance growing. Maybe at this point, you'll be ready to inform some folks about your changes and from there, you can continue to move forward.  Maybe those changes alone will make you feel comfortable enough in your skin to be happy in your life.

Transgender folks are no more either/or than anyone else, right?  You don't HAVE to do hormones, or surgery if you don't want to.  And even if you DO want to, who is to say it has to be done post haste?  Some of us think that many things in life are an all or nothing proposition.  To break anything down in baby steps seems a cop-out, to those folks who are really "goal oriented".  Or, it just doesn't even register on the radar of possibility to NOT do something in one fell swoop.  I was one of those until my father, God rest him, showed me another possibility.

Granted, this man was the one who initially taught me that you finish what you start, no stalling, get the job done, chop-chop.  But, in his middle age, he clearly learned something that he chose to impart to me, thank goodness.  I was a newly single mother after my first husband died leaving me with three children ages 9, 7 and 3.  It was summertime and I was with the kids 24/7.  Grocery shopping was sheer drudgery and I felt overwhelmed.  My father came to see me and noted that my pantry was nearly empty.  He severely chastised me initially until I told him how overwhelmed I felt at the prospect of grocery shopping-it took me two hours to do the task and the kids were swinging from the chandeliers long before the job could be completed. Up until that point, I shopped every two weeks.  My father pointed out that I could shop for a few days worth of food at a time instead.  Make the trips short and manageable.  I truly had never thought of it nor given myself permission to do something like that.  I had to be Herculean in my efficiency, instead.  This perspective, breaking it down into small manageable steps was a gift.  It made all the difference in the world.

Look at the history of humanity-most dramatic changes started with small murmurs of discontent.  Most  revolutions started with someone sticking their big toe in the water to see how it felt.  And they told someone else how the water felt fine, and the message spread from there.  Nothing wrong with you trying the same method in your personal life.  If an overnight transition is too daunting, give yourself permission to slow down.  Give yourself this gift of small moves.  You deserve it.

Vindication from the psychiatric world

Hallelujah!!  WPATH, the World Professional Association for Transgender Health has updated it's Standards of Care.  This is fantastic news for transgender folk!  It seems that there is a positive trend similar to that of homosexuals 30 years ago where the psychiatric community is recognizing that these folks, like their homosexual peers before them, are not nuts.  They aren't psychotic, nor are they neurotic.  In fact, the exact verbiage on p. 4 states:

“the expression of gender characteristics, including identities, that are not stereotypically associated with one’s assigned sex at birth is a common and culturally-diverse human phenomenon [that] should not be judged as inherently pathological or negative.”

Yeah, like we didn't already know that.  Sarcasm aside, this opens doors.  This is exciting news because if it's not viewed as a pathology and can be construed as a medical condition, that recognition may lead to more insurance companies covering treatment, i.e. hormones, at the least.


Additionally, the wording states that instead of therapists and psychiatrists acting as "gatekeepers" they should, rather, be in a supportive role while the patient works toward making decisions about how they want to address the mismatch between mind and body.  Granted, the really good therapists already knew that, but for those who maybe wanted to help and get into this field, now they have the "safety net" in the updated Standards of Care.  Most healthcare professionals don't like to deviate from the guidelines because that has the potential for making them more vulnerable to lawsuit.


Isn't vindication grand?  But there is much more than I have let on.  If you're a transgendered person or love someone who is, please check out the updated WPATH Standards of Care at the address below.  Somehow, seeing the vindication in black and white inspires hope in DJ, Bulldog and me.  I hope it will inspire hope in you, as well.


http://www.wpath.org

It's a small world

The older I get, the more I hear my peers complaining about the future generation and how they're going to screw up managing the world.  Admittedly, I've joined in this kvetching myself, from time to time.  This younger generation is lazy, has entitlement issues, and doesn't understand the work ethic, having been raised on computers, or so say us aging folk.  All of that may, or may not, be true, especially when any of our generations is compared to folks 50 years older than us.  We all paint the long-dead as saints, and subsequently, the recently dead and the living can never measure up.  But, in this person's opinion, that's horse hockey, in many, many respects.

When my grandparents came to this country, their futures seemed bright, until they faced the Great Depression.  They survived, only to hoard McDonald's napkins and condiments in their senior years.  In the event they ever faced poverty again, at least their faces would be tidy and they could enjoy their gruel with ketchup.  I seem to mock this, and perhaps I do just for a cheap laugh;  hell, I'll take a momentary smirk.  These folks comprised the Great Generation and they were great in ways generations since will never know.  But then again, this generation also barred the Irish and the "Negroes" from work.  My father tells of a story of seeing a neighborhood child chained to a dog collar in his front yard.  I am not kidding.  Like THAT would ever be allowed to continue today.  My intent is NOT to slam that generation as a whole, or any generation as a whole, merely to point out that greatness is often accompanied by instances of shame.  No generation is uniformly great.

I have a cousin who is constantly lamenting the turn this country is taking.  He is about 20 years older than I am, which constitutes a generation.  Because he's my cousin, however, I still think of him as a peer.  He is routinely commenting about how fearful he is for the future of our country.  Usually, his concerns are related to whatever crap is going on in Washington D.C. I understand his frustration, but I just can't throw the baby out with the bathwater.  Yes, the politics is utter bull$---.  And for some folks, usually the poor,  politics has a direct, negative impact on their lives.  But I cannot get all worked up thinking our future is in the toilet because the stock market is down;  I think there are much more relevant and personal issues taking place that will determine our future as a nation, and perhaps as a species.

I am biased as all hell because my daughter is transgender.  Acceptance, as I've mentioned ad infinitum, has become my focal point.  The reason why is obvious.  When DJ first came out, I sat at the computer and researched diligently.  I wanted to find all the information I could dig up so as to be properly prepared for anything that came down the pike. The news was disheartening.  The statistics varied, so I will sum up, as if anyone will be surprised by my summation:  transgender folks experience more harassment, attempts at suicide,  and violence than most other groups of people.  Bulldog and I were beside ourselves.  We had this mental idea that perhaps we needed to barricade our child from harm.  So much so, that one evening, shortly after DJ came out, we were watching TV when this horrific sound came from the deck and sounded as if someone had hurled something at our sliding glass door.  Bulldog told me to get DJ into a safer place while he investigated.  I literally grabbed her and shoved her to the floor and we scurried into an interior hallway where I attempted to bodily shield her with my embrace.  It turned out the wind had taken one of our deck umbrellas and hurled it against the door.  But that just illustrates the hunkered down posture we felt we had to take after educating ourselves.

Being prepared is smart. No question about it.  Doing your legwork with school or work is of the utmost importance.  Educating yourself about the resources available to you is your best weapon against the challenges you and your transgendered loved one may face.  At the bottom of this entry, I will be posting multiple websites that can help.  And now that I've cast a dark light on this, let me share some instances that may inspire hope.

DJ came out at the end of her freshman year.  We opted to have her home-schooled for the first semester of her sophomore year for a number of reasons. Our primary reason was her safety.  We wanted to keep her safe until we had an idea of how she would, or would not, be accepted, or harassed, at school. That first semester, she attended only one class in person, the rest she took online.  That class was drama. We reasoned that in the theatre world, there are folks of all different walks of life and thereby more acceptance.  We reasoned that the theatre teacher would likely be the most open-minded person we would be likely to find.  We were wrong.  She ridiculed our daughter to the class on days she was absent, and had inappropriate conversations with her when she was in attendance.  We raised a holy stink; she retired at the end of the school year.

But here's the flip side:  most everyone else has been accepting.  Granted, I'm sure there are kids who gawk and gossip.  As long as they keep it amongst themselves, I can't complain.  And while DJ's original circle of friends don't socialize with her anymore, they are still friendly and cordial when she crosses paths with them in the halls.  But DJ has made a whole new circle of friends who adore her.  And the vice principal and guidance counselor have been steadfast in their support.  Our friends, and parents of DJ's friends have been so open minded, that she has been invited to more than one friend's home for a sleepover.  And most recently, a young man at DJ's school not only invited her to lunch at a local restaurant, but danced with her at a school dance.

I do not believe this would have happened, with anywhere near the same frequency, if at all, during the lifetime of the Greatest Generation.  Not to slight them or diminish their bravery, but bravery and greatness, like gender and sexuality, cannot be adequately defined.  But we sure recognize it when we see it, even if we can't explain it.  Wars and the brutality of this world are usually the result of non-acceptance on a horrific scale.  If we can recognize that acceptance may be the word that describes the next generations more than entitlement, or laziness, then we can feel more hopeful for our future, not less.  Maybe I'm just seeing the cup as half full, rather than half empty, but I'm ok with that because I sleep better at night.  But it's not just my perception-it's been DJ's and our reality.  Even our son's friends have shrugged it off and invited her to hang out by the bonfire.

Some say the Internet is responsible for many of our woes. That may be true, but it's also a handy tool to spread acceptance.  We can pull up almost anything on the net now.  Our kids see folks of all different walks of life on their computers, not just the middle of the road, and commonplace, that they may run into in their everyday lives.  KNOWLEDGE is indeed power.  Knowledge of academics and knowledge of people-their experiences, their world, their struggles.  The more we know about each other, when willingly shared, the better off we all will be.  It's pretty difficult to even pretend to walk in someone else's moccasins if you don't even know other tribes exist.  So, this generation acknowledges the other tribes, and oftentimes even celebrates their differences.  Aside from 12/21/12 when the aliens are supposed to come back because the Inca calendar ends, I'm not too worried about the future.    These kids will figure something out.  Accepting each other is more than half the battle, especially as our world gets smaller and smaller.

For further information, please consider the following links:

www.pflag.org
www.americanprogress.org
www.genderadvocates.org
www.wpath.org
www.hemingways.org

Risk vs. Benefit

I'm considering writing an additional blog addressing my work stories.  After all, there is hilarity and pathos in the fire service for certain.  I shared what I had written with Bulldog and he responded that he thought I was giving too much information out.  I really don't care about the potential lack of anonymity, but privacy is exceedingly important to him.  Which brought me to today's topic-honoring everyone's needs.

What do you do if your need for privacy or space conflicts with that of your transgender family member?  Well, it would depend on which of you needed more privacy.  For example, if you, the family member, wanted to carry the torch of acceptance and potentially "out" your family member more than they care to be outed, then perhaps your "need" for torch carrying should take a backseat to your family member's need for privacy.  Because, after all, her need for privacy, and non-outing, trumps your need for torch carrying, most would agree.  But what if it's the other way around?  What if the transgender family member wants to be more public?

I guess, being strictly objective here, it would depend on why.  There are people in the world, we can probably all agree, regardless of gender, sexual orientation, color, you name it, who like to stir the pot just because they can.  Some of those folks may have aspects of their lives that make it easy to do so because so many people in this world are so blessed touchy, myself included.  So, if your transgender family member is just wanting to create drama for drama's sake, then reason would state that the need for drama does not outweigh the need for privacy.  But, and this is more likely and realistic, and probably more common too, if the transgender family member wants to be more public in order to further a worthy cause, then the person needing privacy might have to relent, or compromise.

You say po-tay-to, I say po-tah-to.  We all have different ideas of how we should live our lives and sometimes those ideas crash into each other, especially when those of us with differing ideas share living space.  For instance, DJ pushes Bulldog and me constantly on this.  Yet, she is one of the least dramatic people I know, other than her aunt who resides in England, a remarkable woman in her own right who deserves an entire blog entry all by herself.  The more I think about it, the more I realize that DJ is the antithesis of the Drama Queen, which just lends even more credibility to her justifications of why she wants to be as "out" as she possibly can.  She's a firm believer that she has a responsibility to others who constitute the non-accepted populace.  She truly thinks that the path to acceptance is repeated exposure to the folks that society has kept under wraps.

Bulldog, who has foresight that I still cannot comprehend after 13 years of knowing and loving him, does not care for DJ to be so public.  In his defense, he is not worried about cowardly things like, "What will people think of me?"  He is, as always, worried about DJ's safety.  And in typical non-commital fashion, because I hate making anyone disapprove of me, I can see both sides.  How do you let one person pursue their dreams and let her live her life in a manner that seems moral to her without compromising someone else's need for privacy and security and safety?

Did I ever mention that Bulldog was part of a search and rescue group?  For his sake, I won't get into specifics, but their job was to respond to building collapses and search for survivors.  I hearken to this example a lot with Bulldog because it's one he understands, which is kind of like exploiting a crack in his armor, which he occasionally resents.  Nonetheless, before rescue personnel enter a collapsed building, they do a bit of research, if you will.  They determine how sound the building is, what can be done to make it sound enough to send rescuers in without turning them into victims, as well.  It's the classic risk vs. benefit scenario.  If the risk is so high that the likelihood of benefit is exceedingly slim, then we don't chance it until we can even out the odds somewhat.  Even then, there is still a risk of turning into a victim on trying to find victims, because nothing is ever 100% certain.

Now, in DJ's world, nobody dies, violence happens only to people unknown to her, and butterflies fill the air sprinkling glitter and good will all over the earth.  How do you educate a person like that about the hazards of a roof falling in on you while you attempt to teach the world about acceptance?  I'm not sure it can be done because in addition to having that outlook, she is a teenager, which just fortifies that outlook because everyone knows teenagers think they're going to live forever; nothing bad ever happens to them, except car wrecks. bullying, harassment, drug overdose, pregnancy, disease, and other maladies that only those of us who survived the teenage years can or will recognize.  So, if we can't change her (or the conditions of the collapsed building) then what can we do?  Well, we can provide her with lots of support (or shoring, in the case of the collapsed building).   That way, if something goes terribly wrong while she, or the rescuers, are engaging in worthwhile risk-taking, we have a means of still making sure that either she (they) have a means of getting out of trouble, or we'll have a means of getting to her ( them ) in time before something grave happens to her (or them).  It's still mighty uncomfortable to those of us who worry about DJ, or the rescuers, for that matter.  But to do anything more, or less, would only lessen our loved one and her (or the rescuers) efforts.  And that disrupts that whole balance, equilibrium, yin-yang, thing that really is the best solution for almost everyone and everything.  It's so damn hard, this compromise thing, but until someone comes up with something better, it's the only thing that works with the human species.  It requires constant introspection, thought and deliberation, which many of us resist heartily.  It's easier to just go with what we want and disregard the desires of those around us because then we don't have to think at all.  But our Creator, or natural selection, or the aliens, somebody or something, caused the frontal lobes in the human brain to develop in a way to which no other species on the face of, or under the seas of, this planet can lay claim.  It's how we came to be at the top of the food chain, unless we ignore our frontal lobes and, say, go wading in the ocean at dusk, while bleeding.  Well, then you're just asking for trouble and you'll have to face the sharks on their turf.

We have to separate our animalistic "fight or flight" urges and think our way through these challenges.  Goodness knows our brains are much better at analyzing risk vs. benefit scenarios than our feelings are, because, after all, compromise is a thought, not a feeling.

Denmark, are you there?

Wow, this blog had a viewer from Denmark today.  I feel so cosmopolitan knowing that folks from as far away as Russia, and Denmark, Japan and even the US Virgin Islands have viewed this blog.  But the  important question is, how do you, the viewer feel about the blog?  How many of you are transgender?  How many are family members of a transgender person?  How many of you are just curious?

Any of the above are welcome, certainly.  But what I'd like to know is how can this blog be of service to you?  I've been thinking of including more links, but I'm exceedingly technologically challenged.  Nonetheless, I can certainly make an effort, or ask DJ for help.  I can't pretend to have all the answers but certainly we can work together to help each other, right?

I'm also curious, those of you in far off lands, how you manage to learn more than one language, because I am certain that I am not translating this blog to Russian.  I admire your abilities and would love to know of your experiences in your homelands, any and all of you who care to comment.  And please, comment and do so anonymously, if that is your wish.  I am not looking for praise, more for what you are experiencing where you live.  I may borrow some of your input for future blogs.  I get inspired by all kinds of things, but I suspect your lives may be more inspiring than I could ever imagine.  I know DJ inspires me all the time.

So, Denmark, Japan, Russia, Australia, the UK, and all US territories, as well as any other countries who contain a viewer of this blog, thanks for tuning in to my blog.  Keep coming back and share your stories, if you care to.

Hair today, gone tomorrow

Hair removal, in all its forms, is not for sissies.  Until the movie, "The Forty Year Old Virgin", men did not know the discomfort and potentials horrors of it; the only hair removal most men are familiar with is male pattern baldness, aside from shaving only the 10 square inches that comprise their faces and necks .  Women of nearly all walks of life have come face to face with it, at least in most Western cultures.   While women with XX chromosomes are certainly challenged, women with XY chromosomes may have double the challenge.

My middle sister, Bean, has a theory that the youngest born child is always the hairiest, regardless of chromosomal gender determination.  She bases this theory primarily on the fact that our youngest sister, Flying Pig, was born with a fair amount of peach fuzz on her body, which has never abated.  ("Flying Pig" is not a weight or manners reference; it's an inside joke from our father, who passed away two years ago.  He stated that he thought he would see a daughter of his graduate college when pigs started to fly.  He then, in his wit, gave my youngest sister every flying pig gift imaginable for the 10 years following her college graduation, much to her dismay.)  When DJ was born with the same peach fuzz, Bean gloated.  Her theory, thus far, was 100% correct.

This peach fuzz bothers DJ, especially when she is about to don a bathing suit, or in tonight's case, a strapless dress for a dance.  We are fortunate (I say "we" because DJ and I are in this hair management process together since she needs my assistance) that there are tools out there to assist us in this endeavor. Granted, there is electrolysis and laser hair removal, both of which work exceedingly well.  However, those processes take time and lots o' money so, for now, the less permanent methods are what we employ.  DJ, luckily, does not have an issue with facial hair.  We started her female hormones before puberty subjected her to a beard, so that is not an issue.  But there are areas on her body where the hair is darker and and more noticeable than she would like.  So, she willingly subjects herself to either waxing or to an epilady-type tool, easily purchased in most beauty supply stores.

This tool, which I swear has origins in medieval torture chambers, has these tiny little coils that are affixed to a barrel that turns unbelievably fast.  The tiny coils grasp the hairs as you run the barrel across the skin and YANK out the hairs.  It works incredibly well, but, as you can imagine, is not a painless process.  DJ is stoic and has become quite a pro at enduring this without complaining. In fact, the kid has such a great approach to life, that usually at some point in the process, she and I both end up giggling about some ridiculous thing or other related to the experience.

Just so I could speak with experience, I had DJ remove some of my arm hairs.  The process lasted about 3 seconds (I am not exaggerating) when I decided I'd had enough.  It felt like my skin was on fire as probably only 10 little hairs, over an area comprised of one square inch, were simultaneously yanked out. Ordinarily, I've got an impressive threshold for pain.  After breaking my finger last year, I stopped playing basketball only long enough to get my wedding rings off before they cut off the circulation to my finger.  So I think I can speak with some degree of authenticity when I state:  Hair removal of this sort is only for the most dedicated of women, regardless of the plumbing with which you were born.  This is why, as a rule, genetic men and transgender men alike do not endure it because only a true woman could put up with this kind of pain for the sake of beauty.  In fact, maybe that should be the litmus test to find out if someone is male or female, if for some reason you won't accept their explanation.  Forget looking in their drawers, or at their DNA under a microscope, or even at parts of the brain with magnetic resonance imaging; simply ask the question, "Would you be willing to suffer pain for decades if you could be guaranteed a measure of beauty?"  Any person who leans more heavily to the masculine side, I will wager, would say, "Hell to the NO!"  Well, the men who watch Glee would say that, the rest would simply look at you like you're nuts.

In a periodical I read, a transgender woman was informed by a female relative that the transitioning woman could not simply join the tribe of women just because she wanted to; after all, she hadn't paid her dues.  She hadn't suffered years of living as a second class citizen and therefore hadn't "earned" the right to call herself a woman.  What complete and utter crap.  Lady, have you EVER tried to remove body hair from the same geographic square footage as a transgender woman?  Unless you are unusually hirsute, I doubt it.  As far as I'm concerned, screw childbirth, period cramps and discrimination as benchmarks for womanhood.  The new threshold should be the ability to withstand hair removal, in all it's oftentimes torturous forms.