Showing posts with label transgender homosexual. Show all posts
Showing posts with label transgender homosexual. Show all posts

Monday, November 21, 2011

I'm Not a Backup Singer

Tonight we went to a service for Transgender Day of Remembrance and I must admit I was all for it until we walked into the building.  I was surrounded by transmen, transwomen, transpeople and all I could think was "If someone wanted to take out a bunch of trans* people, this would be the best time to do it."

I'm not usually so morbid or so pessimistic, but that has been my headspace for the last few days.  I have been struggling, not so much with my gender identity or my sexuality but just with myself, in general.  You see, I have a hard time seeing what other people see.  When someone tells me how gorgeous I am, how sweet I am, how sexy, I smile and say thank you but I don't see it.  When someone says that they enjoy me, I don't see it.

When someone says that they want to adopt me, I believe them for like...a day, but I'm always waiting for the novelty to wear off, for the other shoe to drop, for them to realize that they made a huge, fucking mistake.

Because you know, my biological family, people who are supposed to be predisposed to love and care about me, to support me, to want me, tossed me aside because I didn't conform to their ideals and morals and doesn't that mean that there's something wrong with me?  

If people who are supposed to be supporting me then turn around and attack me and others like me, doesn't that mean that there's something wrong with me?  With us?  That we're wrong?

I sat there listening to all of these statistics and hearing that as a "transman of color" I am more likely to be attacked or killed and I'll be honest, I got scared and started wondering if it was worth it.  I get this nervous twitch when I'm about to bolt, my leg starts to bounce, my eyes dart around the room (because I'm looking for an escape) and I start scratching the hell out of an arm or hand.  I was about to make the world's quickest getaway, without my cane, without my shit...without my adopted Big Sister and The Nieceling who had both come with me.  I was going to get the hell out of there because I felt too exposed, too fucking raw, too fucking emotional.  I was wrong, everyone else was right, the biologicals, the hateful people, they were all right about me, I needed to go, I needed to get out.  I could feel my heart speeding up, I could feel Cherie's eyes on me, I could tell that she knew I was about to bolt, but I didn't care.  I felt like I was about to have a heart attack.  I wanted to scream.  I wanted to rage against God, against Allah, against the fucking elements and against my fucking biological parents for ever having sex and making me.  It was their fault!  I'm a screwed up mess, fucked, damned beyond all belief because of them.  I felt, in that moment, that I had signed my death warrant the day that I admitted that I was a black transgender male homosexual.  I was dead, I was toast, my birth mother was right, I was going to be torn apart and ripped to shreds because I'm a fucking mistake.  I started to think about, to consider, going back and being "Vee" again.  I could stop being Vicktor and go back to being Veronica.  I could do it.  I could.  I could push the real me aside, my true feelings and emotions, who I truly am on the inside, and be the woman that the world saw.  A woman who had a man inside of her desperately screaming and clawing to get out, fighting to breathe, fighting to stay alive.

I could go back to being a woman and slice my wrists within 24 hours.

Because sitting there I knew that if I did that, if I went back to living a lie, to denying my truth to please other people, out of fear of being attacked or being killed...I knew that if I turned my back on all the strides I'd made, I'd kill myself.  It's humbling, it's frightening to know that about yourself.  And then one of the people there, the musician, Lydia (a transwoman) said: "We cannot be backup singers in our own lives."  It was amazing and powerful and just what I needed to hear.

I've been struggling with not being too annoying to people (it's why I haven't blogged in a while, why I don't comment as much anymore, why I don't tweet as much as I used to...why I'm so godsdamn afraid to talk to my adopted father or my adopted big brother or some of my adopted big sisters) because I didn't want to lose the only people that are supporting me and lose this family that I have now, and so I've been not really talking too much and not really getting involved or commenting as much.  Because that's a very real fear of mine, that one morning all of you will wake up and realize that I'm just not worth it.  But tonight as I sat there in this memorial service hearing about the number of people who are killed just for being themselves, the people who had the courage to live their truths, I realized that even if I drive all of you away (*biting lower lip*) because I need a little more reassurance right now, because I need the emails and the phone calls and the hugs and the public acknowledgments and the comments and even the tweets and the mentions in a group or on Facebook, to let me know that I'm not an abomination or a mistake or something to be ashamed of, I had to have the guts and the courage to stand up and live my life, to live my truth, regardless.  You know?

Because I am NOT a backup singer in my own life.  I refuse to be.  And if that makes me a target, then bring it on, because you know what?  I got the title of expert marksman in the Army and they don't call me "The Dom" for nothing, I am a force to be reckoned with, once I realize what I want to stand for and I've decided, finally, to stand for myself.  It's time for me, for Vicktor, to stand up and be heard and let people know that:

NO I am NOT an abomination!  NO I am NOT a mistake!  NO I have not gotten it wrong!  YES, I am here!  YES, I DO exist!  And NO.  NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, I AM NOT GOING TO GO AWAY!

Don't like it?  Well too damn bad for you.


-Vicktor A. Bailey

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Transgender Remembrance Day

*This post contains some very graphic, offensive, hurtful and slang terms.  They are unfortunately very pertinent to the posting of this blog.  If you are offended I encourage you to either scroll past the offensive part or close this particular post.  The words and views are not that of the author/owner/"moderator" of this blog (obviously), but are the views and opinions shared by those who are mean, hateful and woefully ignorant.*

"Aye.  Yo, man, what the fuck is that?"
"What?"
"Right there.  Aye, is that a girl or one of them sissy queers?"
"What, you mean like a fag or something?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know man.  She kinda looks like one o' 'dem trannies or some fucked up shit like that."
"Well 'den let's go find out."

"I know that you claim to identify as a gay male but...."

"You're not a "real" man though....."

"I'm just having a hard time accepting it.  I don't think you're really transgender."

"So you aren't just saying that God made a mistake by making you a girl, you're saying that you want to be an abomination and be a man who is having sex with other men?"

"The devil is going to tear you apart because you insist on living this way...."

"You're a GIRL, I don't care what you feel like.  Get over it!"

"So, you wanna be a man, huh?  Well then fight me like a man then.  You don't like me hitting you, then bring it on, otherwise I'm going to beat you like the bitch you are."



Over the last four months I've had these things said to me, about me, around me.

I have had to grip the handle of my cane tightly in my hand, ready to swing out and defend myself, just in case someone decided that they wanted to see just what I was.

I have had people ask me where my genitals were located and that that determined if I was "really a man or not."

I have had people question my decision, tell me that I'm not really transgender, and others tell me that I'm not a "real man."

I have had those same people tell me that I "shouldn't take it personally" because they worked with or knew transgender people/teens or had transgenders in their family.

That's not an excuse.

That's just like you insulting me because I'm black and then telling me not to take offense because you have black people in your family or because you know black people.

You insulted me.  You hurt me.


And that hurt has led to me fighting against thoughts of suicide, of cutting my wrists, throwing myself out of a window, throwing myself in front of a car.  The fear of being attacked and being killed makes me want to walk with my head down some days or to just smile and nod when someone calls me "she," "ma'am," "her," or "lady."

I have a friend who lives in Chicago that I wanted to visit and he told me (in no uncertain terms):
SD: Vic, no.  You can't come here alone.
Me: Why not?
SD: It's dangerous for me to be here, black and gay.  But you?  You're not just black, you're black, you're a transgender male, and you identify as being a gay man.  Don't you get it?  They will kidnap you, rape you, beat you and kill you and toss your body into a ditch on the side of the road before you even get too far from the airport and the police will just say that it was because you were alone or something.  Because you look like you're transitioning, you don't just look female or just look male, you can tell and they will hurt you because of that.  You can't come here alone.  Not yet.




Today is Transgender Remembrance Day.  A day when families and allies of transgenders gather together to remember those who lost their lives, were beaten, attacked, disowned, cast aside, hurt, all because they were transgender.

I thought long and hard about what I would write on this blog of mine which is so much different from the others that I write.  This one is personal.  This is the blog where my journey started.  This is the blog where I admitted the truth about myself.  This is the blog where I can be me.

I knew that I needed to use today, and this very same blog to raise awareness of the issue of transphobia and being transgender in this day and age.  There has been some very ugly, very disgusting and disturbing displays of transphobia within the online community that is supposed to be supportive but I believe, as does many others, that through education and those of us who are trans* speaking out that we can raise awareness and spark change.  I shall start today doing even more than I did before.  (If you would like to stand with us, please copy the two pictures on my blog and post them on your blog or as your avatar or something in alliance with us.)

Every three days in America and other parts of the world a transgender person is reported as having been killed in a hate crime.  I would like to honor some of them and hope that today you will stand with me and with others to remember those who lost their lives and to help end transphobia, because those statements above can incite others to violence and intolerance and hatred and those things can lead to death and it must end here.  Because even if you don't know a trans* person in your personal life you know of one: ME.

Erika Keels (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; 3/22/07) Erika, a 20-year-old black transgender woman, was murdered on March 22, 2007, on North Broad Street in Philadelphia. Witnesses saw an assailant eject Erika from his car and intentionally run her over four times, killing her and leaving the scene. A medical examiner’s report supports these eyewitness accounts. But police ruled Erika’s death an accident and have refused to conduct an investigation. The driver, Roland Button, was later apprehended, but he has yet to face criminal charges–including “hit and run” charges. When Ms. Keels’ friends, who are themselves trans, questioned police officials about the classification of her death as an accident, they were asked to disclose their “birth” names and told they were “trying to make something out of nothing."



Sanesha Stewart was a 25-year-old trans woman living in the Bronx, New York, who was stabbed to death on February 10, 2008.[15] An ex-convict was arrested for the murder. Police reported that he had visited her for sex and became enraged over the realization that she was not biologically a female.[15] Stewart's murder, initially reported by the New York Daily News as "Fooled John Stabbed Bronx Tranny", outraged transgender activists for the act as well as the reporting in the media.[16] A neighbor denied the police's assertion she was a prostitute.[15] The Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD) intervened to inform the Daily News that tranny is often considered pejorative and dehumanizing and that insinuating Stewart "fooled" her murderer was both defamatory and irresponsible.[17] The paper dropped both tranny and fooled in follow-up stories and changed the online version of the original report to address the concerns raised.[15]
Larry King of Oxnard, California, was a gay or bisexual[18] 15-year-old eighth-grade student who was shot to death at his school on February 12, 2008. He wore gender variant clothes, jewelry and make-up[19] and had come out as gay at school.[19] King was bullied and teased by his fellow students due to his effeminacy and openness about being gay, having come out at ten-years-old and while in the third grade.[18] On the morning of February 12, Lawrence was in the school’s computer lab with 24 other students. Fellow student, fourteen-year-old Brandon McInerney was witnessed repeatedly looking at King during the class. At 8:15 a.m, McInerney shot King twice in the head using a handgun.[20] King was declared brain dead the next day but kept on a ventilator to preserve his organs for donation.[19] Prosecutors charged McInerney as an adult with murder as a premeditated hate crime and gun possession.[19] The trial is pending as of November 2008. The crime was reputed to be the most high-profile hate crime case of 2008. Newsweek described it as "the most prominent gay-bias crime since the 1998 murder of Matthew Shepard", bringing attention to issues of gun violence as well as gender expression and sexual identity of teenagers.[18]
Duanna Johnson, a 40-year-old African American transgender woman. In February 2008, Duanna was picked up and arrested by Memphis, Tennessee, police officers Bridges McRae and J. Swain. She was pinned down and beaten by the two men in a Memphis police jail after she refused to respond to anti-gay and anti-transgender slurs. The assault was captured on video, which aired on several regional newscasts. In an interview given to FOX 13, Duanna spoke about her experiences. “As [Officer McRae] was calling me, he said ‘hey he-she, come over here’” Johnson told FOX 13 reporters, “I knew he couldn’t be talking to me because that’s not my name.” Duanna Johnson received national media attention this past June when she went public about the brutality she suffered at the hands of two Memphis Police Officers. She became “the public face of our community’s campaign against racism, homophobia, and transphobia” according to a statement from the Mid-South Peace and Justice Center. Tragically, Duanna did not live to see full justice served. On Monday Nov 10, according to news reports, Duanna was shot “execution style” between Hollywood and Staten Avenue in Memphis, Tenn.[21]
Felicia Melton-Smyth, a 41-year-old transwoman, was stabbed to death on May 26, 2008 in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. She was vacationing with a group of 20 people from Madison, Wisconsin. Francisco Javier Hoyos Reyes was arrested immediately afterwards.[22]
Angie Zapata was a trans woman who was murdered on July 17, 2008, in Greeley, Colorado. Her death was the first ever case involving a transgender victim to be ruled a hate crime.[23] Colorado is one of only eleven states that protect transgender victims under hate crime laws in the United States. Allen Andrade, who learned eighteen-year-old Angie was transgender after meeting her and spending several days with her, beat her to death with a fire extinguisher. In his arrest affidavit, Andrade calls Zapata "it",[24] and during his trial a tape was played of a phone conversation in which he told his girl friend "gay things need to die".[25] Andrade's attorneys used a gay panic defense, implying that Andrade suddenly "snapped" when he learned Zapata was not born biologically female. On April 22, 2009, Andrade was found guilty of first degree murder, hate crimes, and car/ID theft. He was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.[26]
LaTeisha Green was a trans woman who was murdered on November 14, 2008. The man who shot her, Dwight DeLee, was found guilty of first-degree manslaughter as a hate crime against gays. There are no laws protecting gender variant people in New York State.[27][28]

[edit]2009

Tyli A Nana Boo Mack, a 21-year-old transgender woman, was attacked and fatally stabbed in broad daylight on the street in Washington, D.C. [29] The attack occurred on the 200 block of Q Street, NW around 2:30pm, near the offices of Transgender Health Empowerment, a transgender support group.[29] Mack was walking with an unidentified transgender woman when they were attacked.[30] Both victims were rushed to Howard University Hospital, where Mack died.[31] TheMetropolitan Police Department advertised up to $25,000 in compensation for any information leading to the arrest and conviction of the person or persons responsible for Mack's murder.[32] Some problematic coverage of Mack's murder led the D.C Transgender Coalition to issue a statement regarding respect for the gender identities of trans people.[29]

[edit]2010

Victoria Carmen White, a 28-year-old transgender woman, was fatally shot at an apartment in Maplewood, New Jersey, on Sunday, September 11.[33] White went to the apartment with her killers, Alrashim Chambers and Marquise Foster, whom she had met earlier that night.[34] Investigators believe that White's killers shot her upon learning that she was transgender and are considering hate crime charges.[34] Many transgender advocates were confused and upset by the Essex County Prosecuter's Office's initial report that White was male, despite the fact that her documentation and genital configuration confirmed she was female.[35]*

 Find somewhere that is honoring Transgender Remembrance Day, help us end transphobia.


-Vicktor "Vic"
An Out and Proud Gay TransMAN




Monday, October 17, 2011

I'M BACK BITCHES!!!

So this isn't going to be a normal "Vic" post but I just wanted to let you all know that I am back from New Orleans.  Got here safely.  Had a ton of fun in New Orleans (there are people with photographic evidence to back that up-LOL), there was a few bad moments, but they were separate from GRL and totally connected just to me, but I was rescued by a Greyhound attendant (I'll blog about Dre' tomorrow) who is now one of my "boys."  There was only one very bad, horrible, heartbreaking moment at GRL when I was insulted by an author in front of everyone, but *shrugs* I found out that I have so many friends and now new sisters, mothers, brothers, to back me up that the sting from that hurt, that rejection, that insult and humiliation was almost completely erased.  Almost.

Anyway.  I'm back in Florida and already making plans to save up money for next year's GRL in Albuquerque, New Mexico, in October (18-21: Hard Rock Cafe Casino & Hotel).  I want ALL OF YOU to come so start saving up your money now!!  If you do $50 a month you'll have $600 saved up by October. Everyone can do atleast $50 a month right?  And you won't even NEED that much!  LOL.  Well unless you plan on shopping.....

Anyway, I'll blog tomorrow about GRL and post the pictures I took and some from others, tell you about Dre' from Greyhound, and even about getting my heart broken by an author I used to enjoy.

I did miss you guys, I miss my family from GRL now though. {sad face}

Here's a poem that TangledO from Goodreads sent to me.  It made me cry (but in a good way).  Enjoy!


"How to Make Love to a Trans Person"
by Gabe Moses

Forget the images you’ve learned to attach
To words like cock and clit,
Chest and breasts.
Break those words open
Like a paramedic cracking ribs
To pump blood through a failing heart.
Push your hands inside.
Get them messy.
Scratch new definitions on the bones.

Get rid of the old words altogether.
Make up new words.
Call it a click or a ditto.
Call it the sound he makes
When you brush your hand against it through his jeans,
When you can hear his heart knocking on the back of his teeth
And every cell in his body is breathing.
Make the arch of her back a language
Name the hollows of each of her vertebrae
When they catch pools of sweat
Like rainwater in a row of paper cups
Align your teeth with this alphabet of her spine
So every word is weighted with the salt of her.

When you peel layers of clothing from his skin
Do not act as though you are changing dressings on a trauma patient
Even though it’s highly likely that you are.
Do not ask if she’s “had the surgery.”
Do not tell him that the needlepoint bruises on his thighs look like they hurt
If you are being offered a body
That has already been laid upon an altar of surgical steel
A sacrifice to whatever gods govern bodies
That come with some assembly required
Whatever you do,
Do not say that the carefully sculpted landscape
Bordered by rocky ridges of scar tissue
Looks almost natural.

If she offers you breastbone
Aching to carve soft fruit from its branches
Though there may be more tissue in the lining of her bra
Than the flesh that rises to meet it
Let her ripen in your hands.
Imagine if she’d lost those swells to cancer,
Diabetes,
A car accident instead of an accident of genetics
Would you think of her as less a woman then?
Then think of her as no less one now.

If he offers you a thumb-sized sprout of muscle
Reaching toward you when you kiss him
Like it wants to go deep enough inside you
To scratch his name on the bottom of your heart
Hold it as if it can-
In your hand, in your mouth
Inside the nest of your pelvic bones.
Though his skin may hardly do more than brush yours,
You will feel him deeper than you think.

Realize that bodies are only a fraction of who we are
They’re just oddly-shaped vessels for hearts
And honestly, they can barely contain us
We strain at their seams with every breath we take
We are all pulse and sweat,
Tissue and nerve ending
We are programmed to grope and fumble until we get it right.
Bodies have been learning each other forever.
It’s what bodies do.
They are grab bags of parts
And half the fun is figuring out
All the different ways we can fit them together;
All the different uses for hipbones and hands,
Tongues and teeth;
All the ways to car-crash our bodies beautiful.
But we could never forget how to use our hearts
Even if we tried.
That’s the important part.
Don’t worry about the bodies.
They’ve got this. 

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

In Honor of National Coming Out Day

So I'll be on a plane tomorrow and then in a car and then locked up in a room writing so I won't be able to honor National Coming Out Day like I want to (complete with rainbow confetti and Lady Gaga blasting from the speakers) so I am changing my profile pic and posting it here (along with some very nice pictures).  Also go to: http://www.facebook.com/NCODCountMeOut they have great instructions for if you're OUT or an ALLY and how you can show your support!

My name is Veronica "Vic" Victorian B. and I am COMING OUT as a transgender homosexual.  Physically I'm a girl, but I the rest of me was born a man.  I hope one day for the two parts to be in sync.  I am a writer of gay fiction, my boyfriend's an out and proud gay policeMAN and I've already come out to my family and while they didn't have the best response, I've been blessed with a family of my choosing from online who support and encourage me.  Love you all!  And have a WONDERFUL National Coming Out Day!















Tuesday, October 4, 2011

My Exorcism Last Night

I am in tears as I write this but man do I need to write it.

So yesterday was my little sister's birthday.  I was really surprised when I got an invitation to come to my parent's place for cake and ice cream but not so surprised that I was hesitant to go.  They have been telling people that I'm staying with "a friend" until all of the issues with my other friend that was raped has been dealt with.

Utter bullshit of course, but sometimes I let people live in their delusions.

So when I got the invitation (sent to my email-I wasn't even called), I called Jack at work and told him that I was heading over there for the party.

Jack: You sure they're not going to try and kidnap you and sent you to one of those camps to make you straight?
Me: (laughing) No, then they'd be making it known to others that there was something wrong with a member of their family, if anything they'll try to exorcise me.
Jack: Exercise you?  What like put you on the treadmill or something?
Me: (rolling eyes) Ex OR cise Jackson!!  Like calling for an exorcist and shit.  Try to cast the demon out of me.
Jack: The demon of homosexuality?
Me: Homosexuality, transgenderism...you know, the things that make me an abomination to God.
Jack: (pause) Transgenderism?  I'm pretty sure that's not a word.
Me: It totally is.
Jack: (chuckles) Baby, you're a writer you can't be making up words.
Me: Sweetcheeks, I'm a writer so I CAN make up words!

We laughed and talked a bit more and he told me to call him if I needed him.  But it was cake and ice cream so I didn't think that I'd need him.  I mean, it's a party right?

I was wrong.

When I showed up there were a lot of cars, I walked in and everyone sort of smiled at me and said hi.  Not too strange, but I suddenly had the feeling that I was walking into the middle of like a cult or something or you know like an ambush.  Which is exactly what it was.  I was sitting on the couch telling everyone that I was okay and that my friend was doing better and yes, as a matter of fact I am dating the policeman that I was seen with on Saturday (and what are they doing, stalking me now?) when my grandmother reached out and traced the sign of the cross on my forehead with oil.

Vegetable oil.  I didn't know if they were about to exorcise me or cook me.

I had a hand pressed against my forehead and then hands holding down my arms and legs (they were expecting me to thrash around with the demon inside of me) as everyone in the room prayed.

I seriously thought about pretending like I had a demon but then I realized that I'd be confirming what they already think, that I'm an abomination because of who I am and who I choose to love.  Not cool.  So I just lay there and did nothing.  I actually dozed off at one point.

Apparently my dozing was a sign that the spirit had left my body because I was finally at peace with my spirit.

*cough* Bullshit! *cough*

Anyway, when it was over they sat me up and asked me how I felt.  I told them that I was tired, because by that point I was.  Tired of their ignorance, tired of feeling like something is wrong with me.  Tired of feeling like I'm inferior to them for a lot of different reasons.  Whether because I'm not as skinny as the rest of them or because my skin is darker or because I'm not pretty like they think I should be, my being a transgender/bigender homosexual was just the icing on the proverbial "Vee is a fuck up" cake that is my life.  It wasn't enough that they ignored the times I was assaulted or violated or abused and then later on told me that I asked for it or that that was something for me "and God" to deal with and work out, I mean it took me some time to forgive them for that bullshit, but this time?  This time they went too far and this time I was so tired that I didn't talk except to tell them that I was tired.

So they let me get up and I just told them I was leaving and I walked out the door and drove to the store down the road.  I pulled in the parking lot and called Jack.  He and his work partner showed up and Jack drove me back to his place.  I didn't talk, I mean what could I say?  But when we pulled up in front of his house he looked at me and said, "I am going to hate like hell having to say goodbye to you, but I see now that you have to do it.  No one should have to endure that.  I didn't know it was that bad."

I did.

But honestly, I'm glad that this is happening now.  I told Thorny yesterday that even though I hate that I denied my true self for so long, I'm glad that I didn't "come out" when I was a teenager because it could have been so much worse for me.  I would have been kicked out and disowned, homeless....and you know I was homeless for three months before and it was horrible and I never want to be that way again, but having to be homeless as a teenager?  That would have been even worse.

So I am now a 27 year old (almost 28-November 16th is my b-day) disowned "orphan" I guess, no parents, no siblings, no family...  And even though it sucks to know that I pretty much don't have a family or even really a home, although I know I can stay with Jack as long as I need to (he's offered), I feel so...free.  There was this weight on me that I didn't even realize was there but now it's been lifted and I feel so much better.  So free.

So me.

So they exorcised me in an attempt to get rid of the "demon of homosexuality" but what they did was exorcised themselves from my life and they took their insulting, demeaning, heartbreaking, ignorant influences with them.

And now I'm looking ahead. Looking for a cheap studio apartment or roommates in Boston (which is where I've wanted to live since I was 6), looking for a steady source of income, writing my books and getting them published, looking forward to going to New Orleans for the GRL retreat and as Thorny told me to do: "going after LOGO", because they're going to hire me one day and they're going to produce my movies and then one day when I'm finally living as a man, completely and fully in truth, and I have a partner and our children are running around our beautiful house and I'm successful and happy, I'm going to look back and remember with a sort of fond indulgence the night that my biological family tried to exorcise me.

And then I'm going to laugh.


{HUGZ AND SQUEEZES AND FIST BUMPS}

V. Vee