My mom

I haven't felt like writing much the past two months. Well, part of me has, but I haven't had any initiative to do so. As you can tell, though, I've finally found the desire to jot down some words.

I lost my mom two months ago today.

My mom was my biggest supporter. She was on board from day 1. She was with me for FFS and SRS, and came out to California when I ran for Ms. Transgender San Francisco. She was there when everyone else questioned my decisions. She was all a kid could ask for - a mom with unconditional love for her children and her family.

I'm doing OK. I am, trust me. It is definitely an unusual feeling going through the loss of a parent. Ever since my mom was diagnosed with cancer in the summer of '05, I had slowly started preparing myself for the eventual loss of my mom. They say you can never be prepared for it.

They're right.

I'm going to include my written journal entry that I wrote two months ago...just a few hours after my mom died. It is not a happy entry, but it details the last hours of my mom's life. My dad had called me around lunch the day before and told me that the nurses said if I was going to be there, I had to get there soon. I found a 6pm flight home, and arrived at the airport just after midnight. The entry follows:

I landed at the airport this morning - just past midnight. My aunt and uncle were there to pick me up, and as soon as my luggage popped up, we were on the way to my parent's house. Dad called me right after my aunt found me. Mom was still hanging in there, but not doing that great.

My uncle was exhausted about 45 minutes from my parent's place, so I took over driving. We pulled into my parent's driveway around 2:30am. My sister caught us on the steps and said that what we would find inside wouldn't be pretty. She was crying and having a hard time. I gave her a hug.

When I came inside, Mom looked like she was struggling to breathe. She would rock her head back slightly when she inhaled. There was no CPAP machine to help with her breathing. Dad tried to rouse her, but she didn't wake up. I said, "Hi, Mom. I made it. I love you." I can only hope that she heard me. We all gathered in the living room and took turns rubbing her hands, arms, or feet, and telling her that we loved her.

About 3am, my sister and dad decided to lay down for a while. I stayed up. Around 3:15am, hospice decided to give Mom some liquid pain killer along with the anti-anxiety meds. Mom's breathing seemed to become softer as though she was in less pain. We gave Mom another dose an hour later as directed by hospice, and her breathing became shallower. We woke my sister and dad since Mom's condition had changed and our hospice worker said that Mom was nearing the end.

Around 4:30am, her breathing became really shallow, which I thought was from the meds putting her in a more relaxed state, but her breaths became fainter and her time between breaths increased. She slightly leaned forward - gurgled twice - then fell back. She took one or two very shallow breaths, and then she was gone. She died around 4:37am this morning.

Kaiser

I haven't written much lately, and what I have, has mainly been in my own little journal that will likely never be read by anyone other than myself.

The short of the matter is that my mom is dying. She's been on hospice since February and I've been trying to get back every few weeks to help care for her. I was home last week for her 63rd birthday, along with many of my mom's brothers and sisters.

My mom has been battling cancer for almost 6 years now, and unfortunately, her fight likely won't last much longer.

Last Friday, I had an evening flight booked home. Around Friday midday, I received an emergency email notice for a LGBT speaker request with Kaiser for Saturday. Since I was going to be back in town and didn't have any pressing matters until later Saturday evening, I figured I would do the gig to represent the T while talking about health care.

The gig dealt with Kaiser health interpreters (those at hospitals that interpret for those that cannot speak English) and their interaction with LGBT patients.

At some point in the three-hour session, the topic of how to handle sensitive information came up. A few weeks back, I received an email from Kaiser that stated:

As part of our commitment to personalized health care, Kaiser Permanente is asking all current health plan members to confirm their gender and date of birth, and to identify their race/ethnicity and level of education.

These details will be added to your electronic medical record and will help us as we continue to improve quality of care and health outcomes for all our members.

Providing this information is voluntary and it will remain confidential and secure:

What is your date of birth?

What is your sex?
Male
Female
Transgender Male to Female
Transgender Female to Male
Other (specify)

I read this email to the participants and mentioned that as a male-to-female transsexual, I still have a prostate that needs to be monitored as I age. I also get calls very often that I need to go in for a pap smear. When I went to my new gynecologist, I was prepared to go through the whole motion of explaining my situation. When I said I was a transsexual, he said that information was already in the system, and he seemed fairly knowledgeable...stating that he had a number of transsexual patients over the years.

He said I really didn't need a pap smear every year, but that I likely needed a pelvic exam every two years. He was going to look into how that could be entered into the system so that I wasn't getting phone calls for a pap smear all the time.

I had posted the email up on a trans-forum, as well, and there was a conversation as to be straight-forward and use the MTF label, or to maintain a level of privacy by declaring simply female. I mentioned this to the group of health interpreters and said it was sometimes difficult to disclose that much information to people because it changes things.

I still haven't responded to the email, but I'm hoping I will feel confident in Kaiser's care to enter the MTF response.

Schlepping

When I told my parents that I would be traveling to Israel for work, they both expressed the concern that any parent would express when they think their child is headed into an unsafe environment.

"It's OK. I'll be working with my colleagues there and we'll be in the northern part of Israel...away from the terrorist areas. That, and the Egypt stuff is pretty much limited to Egypt right now."

I was pretty cautious about going to Israel, though. I mean, when you see news about Israel, it's not typically good news.

When people at work asked if I was going to have time to see the area, though, I said that I really had no need to look around. Even though Israel is full of very old historical sights, I'm not religious and had absolutely no desire to see anything.

"You'll be fine, Kara."

"It's OK. I'd rather not."

A lot of my coworkers couldn't understand why I wouldn't want to get out and see the sights, and it's not really something I can chat with them about, because besides not being religious, I was simply worried about my safety.

I'm a transsexual.

Not everyone is fond of transsexuals.

On my first full day in Israel, we had a group meeting to go over previous details and evaluate some of the progress they had made there. We were introduced to a new member of the team who had written some simulation software for the program. Once our formal meeting was over, we were all introduced to him. He wore older Jewish attire and had his hair and facial hair long. He looked like a combination of a priest and an Amish man. Like the men in our group, I stuck my hand out to shake hands with him, but he simply kept his hand by his side and shook his head.

"Uhh..OK."

"It's not you, Kara, he just can't touch a woman other than his wife...it's part of his religion."

I really don't understand religion...nor the amazing things people do for it. I marvel at how advanced our society has become, but shake my head sometimes with how archaic we can still be. Fortunately, I was there in Israel for science, not religion. I spent the week working with colleagues on our new technology. It went well, but they still did not understand why I didn't want to get out.

They thought I was afraid. I was...they just didn't understand why.

I flew in on Saturday and rode the train with a coworker to where we needed to be. We were able to get out at night during the week and grab a bite to eat at a number of interesting restaurants, including one which had a view of the coast up to Lebanon (which was indicated by "where the lights went out"). On my last day there, one of my local colleagues brought back falafel for lunch, which I actually enjoyed the most out of all the meals I had there. So, chalk at least one win up for the culinary delights.

After wrapping business up for the week, I caught a taxi to the train station in order to get back to the airport and fly home, to catch BART, to catch a taxi to my apartment. Planes, trains, and automobiles.

The same coworkers that said I would be safe in Israel and should get out to see the sights also warned me that I might see people walking around with machine guns. I figured if I saw any people with machine guns they would be at strategic entrances to certain buildings or something.

I did not expect them to be riding across the aisle from me on the train, nor did I expect them to be so young.

When I got to the airport Thursday evening, I went through Israeli security. Surprisingly, they do not require you to take off your shoes, but they do require about everything else...and I mean everything.

When I went to check in my bag, the security personnel there interviewed the crap out of me. They also wanted the special letter by any Israeli people that I had been working with. Once through that, the bag I was checking in was scanned. They didn't like a number of things in it, so I was pulled to the side while they went through the contents. Now, I took along my dilator because I thought I might have to go to China directly from Israel, and worried about my time without dilation. And, of course, they found the dilator tucked away in my bag, along with a tube of Surgilube. I just had to smile...because, really, it was kinda amusing to me.

They also found a can of Coke that I had stashed away in my bag. Israeli Coke is made from real sugar, and I figured I'd bring back a few as souvenirs. The inspector didn't like the one can of Coke she found in the main part of my bag, though. The woman in charge sent one of her assistants off to wrap the can of Coke in bubble wrap and put it in its own cardboard box. I told the inspector that there were two more cans of Coke in my bag. I even pointed to them. She wasn't concerned with the other two cans, though, but simply with the one can that she pulled out. And, thus, it was packaged in it's own box and sent through with the other checked baggage.

I'll probably never understand why that one can of Coke had to be packaged by itself, nor will my coworkers likely understand why I had no desire to see any of the sights there, but we each have our reasons to secure the important things in our lives.

Transgender Day of Remembrance 2010

I'm on vacation in Fort Lauderdale before Thanksgiving and decided to catch the Transgender Day of Remembrance Vigil here. It was a small crowd of about 50 people, but it was a very caring and lovely presentation. Charlotte and myself both participated in the reading of the thirty names of transgender or gender diverse people that have been killed over the past year.

Each person would walk to the microphone, read the name and their story, and then extinguish one of the thirty candles they represented. After all the names were read, each candle was relit, which I found to be very unique. I suppose it represents our honoring of them and how each of us can keep their memory alive.

After that, ceremony facilitator Jacqui addressed the audience with her speech entitled "Hate". Although the name insinuates something else, her speech was really great and to the point. Afterward, Charlotte and myself spoke briefly with Jacqui about the very honorable vigil for DOR. The whole event lasted about an hour, which was the perfect length for us, and it did not have a heavy religious theme, which was more to my liking.

Getting Parents to Let Go

Before I start this post, I wanted to mention how ironic it is that the one woman most impersonated by gay men has a daughter that became a man. The irony just eclipses this total gender binary.

OK, so Cher was on Letterman last night, and the two talked about her son, Chaz, for a while. (I didn't catch the episode, but you can catch the interview here.) Now, I've never met Cher, but I have had the opportunity to chat with Chaz for a while, and he seems like a really nice guy.

I watched the interview and it's this total mash-up of improper pronouns and sexual orientations...even calling Chaz a lesbian. Dave tried to stay on track with the pronouns, sexual orientations, and providing a glimpse of the female past along with the male present, but Cher can't seem to let go.

I suppose that's one of the hardest parts for a parent...saying good-bye to the child you raised and then welcoming in a new member of the family that you feel you don't even know.

She's not a bad parent...she's still there for Chaz, but I get a strong sense that not everything is keen for Cher. What I thought was awesome, though, was the audience's applause when Cher said that Chaz was brave. I think if more parents saw that society is more impressed with parents being there for their children no matter what, than the parents being embarrassed because they think they'll be thought of differently and blamed for something their child did, there would be a lot fewer homeless transgender children.

I also cringed when Cher kept messing up the pronouns and then said that Chaz didn't care about her using the wrong pronouns. Yeah, right...he's probably just tired of always correcting your ass. OK, that's not what Chaz thinks...it's just what I think. That would drive me crazy if my parents did that, and I really hope that's not how they talk about me when I'm not there.

At least they won't be on Letterman anytime soon, so that shouldn't be too much of a problem.

Is Tranny a Bad Word?

It's back. Yup, the T-word...and it just happens to correspond once again with Trannyfest.

I've seen a number of people head to my post from two years ago which concerned the word "Tranny", and I have noticed the response from two TV programs the past week...both dealing with transgender women, so I kinda put two and two together.

People still want to know if 'tranny' is a bad word.

Well, is it?

Last week I caught Glee's Rocky Horror-themed episode and heard the lines that are causing a stir. I also thought the song "Sweet Transvestite" sounded different...and it did, with the decision to replace "transsexual" with "sensational". I've never actually seen Rocky Horror (I know, gasp, right?) all the way through so I wasn't quite sure that they changed some of the lyrics. I thought it was pretty groundbreaking to use what they did, but I was disappointed with all the stuff going on behind the scenes...such as removing the word "trannsexual" from the song. When one of the characters said their parents wouldn't let them play the tranny part (I'm paraphrasing, of course), it's not the greatest situation. It tends to make people think that being a "tranny" is horrible or degrading. The episode used the characters decision to further enhance the battle of doing the play in the first place and was simply a mechanism for further plot development, but the way they did it was purely without class.

So, to recap the Glee episode, they used the word 'tranny' a number of times...mostly in ways that made it sound horrible to be one, and they were prevented from using the word 'transsexual' in the lyrics of a classic Rocky Horror Picture Show song.

Via a transgender forum a few days ago, I also caught some of the issues with the Jersey Shores crew. It's no fun to be mocked with "If you have to think about it...."

GLAAD tackled both issues, and MTV has since apologized for the episode. Glee is one of the most LGB friendly shows on TV right now, but I think the jury is still out on if they are LGBT friendly.

As for Trannyfest, I attended Saturday's showing when Marty's film, Gillian, was presented. I helped Martin and Lisa brainstorm after we received the film requirement, and came up with the idea of having a woman with a sprained MCL fall in love with her physical therapist. Sound familiar? Although I love writing, Marty wrote the script since I was too busy with work and sports.

I pulled the idea from my own experience from around two and a half years ago when I sprained my MCL. I had a physical therapist who I thought was a lesbian, but she was just a cute short-haired girl who drove a jeep and had a dog, but also had a boyfriend. And, of course, I never hit on her or anything. In our story, though, I figured we could use the knee brace as a metaphor for her loser boyfriend. Ahh...metaphors.

Anyway, there were a number of trans-themed films shown both Friday and Saturday. Some were great, some were good, and some weren't...but that's the thing with independent films...you get a good mix of things and just appreciate the art factor.

As for if 'tranny' is a bad word, it all depends on the situation. If you are not trans, 99% of the time the word is going to be considered offensive.

There are a lot of trans people that still use the word, and there are a lot of non-trans people that hear them use the word, but they often times aren't aware of the situation. There are a lot of reasons that trans-people use the word...from using it in an artful manner such as Trannyfest or Tranny Roadshow to trying to reclaim it as their own, similiar to the N-word used by African Americans. There are many black people that are offended by people using it, though, no matter what color of their skin. The same can be said for many trans-people...they don't like anyone using the word, even within the T-world.

There are other options to the word 'tranny', though...such as trans-woman, trans-girl, trans-man, trans-guy, trans, and my favorite, 'T'.

So, if you really want to use the word 'tranny', you should have been at Trannyfest this past weekend where you could have said it as much as you wanted and no one would have cared.

Permission to be Feminine

Recently, I had a day off to participate in a few speaking gigs, and with a little bit of time between two of the sessions, I decided to do a little shopping. My work wardrobe needed a little pick me up with the cooler weather approaching and it's always fun to stop by the sports store to see what they have. I've been really bad in sports stores lately, significantly upgrading my sports and running attire to the tune of way too much money.

As I was shopping, though, I ran across a Halloween store. "What fun," I thought, and stopped in to see what they had. I looked through all of the female adult costumes and picked out the ones that looked nice, while also covering the bicep. My arms just seem too big, and thus, I have a bit of an issue with anyone seeing them. I found five outfits that I liked: a superhero costume, a vampire costume, two fantasy costumes, and one schoolgirl costume.

I eventually ended up trying on a few of the costumes last weekend, but walked away with none of them. They just don't quite seem to look like they do on the front of the package, nor do they fit me as well as they do the model who is wearing it.

I previously showed my selection to a few friends, though, and many of them were gaga for the superhero costume and the naughty schoolgirl one. I was hesitant to get the schoolgirl costume for one reason...it was too cliche for transgender women.

There are a number of stereotypes of transgender women. We're tall, we're hookers, we're out to deceive straight men, and we all dress a little bit too feminine. (There are a few other stereotypes such as wearing clothes a few sizes too small or a few years outside our generation.)

I'm not tall, I've never been paid to have sex, and all of my sex partners have known of my status...but sometimes I do have trouble dressing feminine because of that damn stereotype that we all dress too feminine.

And I hate that.

Sometimes I hate dressing like I'm some vegan lesbian living in a Berkeley co-op (not that there's anything wrong with that), but I tend to feel comfortable wearing long sleeve stylish layers with my North Face sleeveless jacket. It would be nice to just let go and dress like some slutty woman who's looking to score with a guy from the bar, though.

The problem is, most of the slutty little outfits that I see would not fit me the way they fit most girls. I have bigger arms and a bigger chest, not to mention the lack of a super tiny waist. And so, I feel like I would be judged as a "man in a dress".

One of the muscular butch girls on my team once told me she doesn't wear dresses or makeup because she says she looks like a tranny if she does. I suppose there is this perception that if you appear masculine, and you wear anything feminine, you're almost instantly tagged as a transgender person, and I'll admit, it definitely affects my attire.

I've found that I tend to only wear a dress on special occasions, and it's almost as though I need permission to do so. I hardly ever wear a dress or skirt to work mainly because I'm cautious as to how they fit and I don't want the extra attention by wearing them. And yet, I want to, and I'm jealous of the women who can and do wear a dress or skirt to work, or even out into public for a night out, for that matter.

It probably doesn't help that most of my friends are lesbians, although some of them do tend toward the feminine side of things. It's probably the lesbian environment combined with my own anxiety over the muscular build that stops me from dressing super-femme.

At least I won't have to buy new clothes if I decide to go vegetarian in the future.