You Can't Love God and Be Transgender & Gay

I just got an email from someone, an old friend of mine who had heard about my "struggle with my true identity and the one that the devil is trying to give me."

I shit you not, that's what she said to me.

Now, it's been a few years since I went to seminary school, but I do remember attending and more than that I remember being at the top of my class...getting higher grades than this "friend" of mine, so I do know a thing or two about the Bible and the Torah.

I was raised in a home that practiced both Christianity and Judaism. I pretty much grew up referring to myself as a Messianic Jew, which means that I studied the Torah, celebrated Chanukah (Hanukkah for you Gentiles-LOL), celebrated the different Jewish holidays, and believed that Jesus is the son of God, sent down to the Earth to die for the sins of the world to give us access back to the Father (YHVH). I speak a little bit of Hebrew, can say some Hebrew prayers, listened to Christian music...

I was one confused, but extremely devout...something.


When I got older, one of the things that I always, always, always struggled with was the amount of judging and condemning that went on in the two different religions: Christianity and Judaism. These were the two religions that weren't supposed to be judging people. The God that they served (YHVH) was a God of forgiveness, second-chances, acceptance and most importantly LOVE. Like seriously, as I grew up I wondered how the God I served, and the God that my biologicals served could be so glaringly different.

My God said to "bless those who curse you and spitefully use you." Their God said "I will curse those who curse you." My God said "Love your neighbor as yourself." Their God said "Vengeance is Mine saith the Lord."

My God said "Judge NOT lest ye be judged." Their God said "And all liars, prostitutes, gamblers, those who practiced witchcraft, deceivers, adulterers, those who burned in lust, murderers, thieves, blasphemers...all burned in the lake of fire for all eternity."

And yes I know that all of these verses are in the Bible...I studied it...thoroughly and I began to notice how some things contradicted with other things. It was almost as if God changed his mind about some things and said "Okay, this wasn't as bad as I thought," and then on others said "OH! Wait! Nope, changed my mind, you see this? THIS is going to send you to hell...forever." Being a seminary student attending school to become a pastor and having been raised in the home that I was I accepted a lot of what I'd been told without question...for the most part.

However, when I'd get alone I'd study different words and realize that the truth of the Scriptures had been completely lost in translation.

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." Well this is a verse of Scripture that the biologicals used to say to me and the other kids so that we would have a healthy "fear" of God. I grew up thinking that if I screwed up, God was going to strike me with a lightning bolt. Upon further study I found out that that "fear" was actually "awe".

Yeah, makes that verse of Scripture take on a whole new meaning huh?

And the verse of Scripture "Spare the rod, spoil the child," that my parents used to justify whipping us with a belt or a switch when we'd misbehaved (really all of the adults in my family used it-even the ones who didn't believe in God), has also been wildly mistranslated. The "rod" that's being referred to in that Scripture is not an instrument of discipline, it's the Torah. Yes, the roll of Scriptures, or book of Scriptures, known as the Torah, is referred to as "the rod." So in essence that verse of Scripture is "If you don't teach your child the Torah, they will grow up disrespectful, spoiled and rebellious."

So I said all of this to this "friend" of mine. Pointed out to her that there was no way she could use any Scripture to justify her statements to me, that Romans 1:26-27 had been wildly mistranslated, that there were 6 times as many Scriptures, cautions, and chastisements in the Bible for "religious, saved, Christian heterosexuals" as there were for "heathenistic homosexuals" and that she should really study her Bible a whole lot more than she did when we were in seminary school if she was going to tell me that my lifestyle "choice" was wrong.

Then I pointed out to her that there's not one verse of Scripture in the Bible that speaks about transgenders.

Not one.

I don't think I'll be hearing back from her. Especially since at the end of my reply I told her that she'd broken more "laws" of the Bible and had committed more acts of sin by emailing me, than I have by living my truth and loving my man.

So while she told me that I can't "love God and be transgender and gay," I'm very happy to tell you that that's not true. YHVH (God, Jesus, the whole gang) and I are good friends. I love Him and He loves me and I am an OUT AND PROUD, transgender male homosexual who knows for a fact that I'll get into Heaven.

Thank you very much.


-Vicktor Aleksandr B

*My name is Vicktor and I approve this blog post*

There Once Was A Young Girl...A Young Boy...

There once was a young girl
Who knew she was a young boy
Named Vee.

She struggled to be a girl
And ignore the boy inside of her
Named Vic.

Vic screamed inside of her
Pushing, clawing, desperately hoping
Trying to break free.

But fear of rejection, fear of loss
Fear of being disowned and death
Made Vee a whole lot stronger than him.

So Vic waited patiently for Vee to weaken
He waited for the danger to pass, for acceptance
He waited for Vee to realize that she was wrong.

Vic was not the wrong one, he was the true one.
Vic had been there from the beginning.
Vic was the truth, he was the reality.

Vee was the mask, the persona that Vic wore
She was who he pretended to be for love
She was the persona that he wore for the world.

But Vic didn't want to pretend any longer
Vic wanted to show the world, his family, himself
That he was alive, that he was there and that he was truth.

Regardless of the fear, the danger, the hatred
Regardless of the death threats and the insults
Vic was determined to live.
Vic was determined to be.

Because there once was a young girl
Who was really a young boy
Had always been a young boy.

Named Vic.

Dear Dr. Transphobic Asshole

This is a portion of the letter that I wrote to my Transgender/LGBTQ/AIDS Advocate/Social Worker at the end of this post is the letter that I'm considering sending to the Transphobic Asshole Doctor named "Tara":

So, today I went up to the VA Emergency Department for my knee. I knew that I had probably twisted it or done some damage to it over the weekend and at Cherie's insistence I went to the ER, two hours before my appointment with Brandi. When I arrived I made sure that they knew that I had a previously scheduled appointment and they said that they'd make sure that I got to my appointment on time. So I was called back to the hospital room and put inside. An hour later (about 30 minutes before my appointment with Brandi) I was still waiting in the room. No one had been by to check on me or even to stick their head in the door. This wasn't too shocking as the VA oftentimes will stick a patient who isn't critical in a room and leave them there for over an hour, but I thought that they would take quicker care of me, seeing as how they knew of my other appointment.

Anyway, I eventually got up and hobbled up to the front desk and informed the receptionist there that I had another appointment that I had to get to and that I would be back, when it was over but that I absolutely could not miss my appointment. He asked me to wait a few minutes for the charge nurse to show up and I agreed. No sooner did our conversation end when I heard my name being said by one of the doctors, my legal name, the one that it's in the system but also has a notation in the field that states that I am to be called: Vicktor or Vic.

I figure it will be quicker for me to just put it in dialogue form the conversation with Doctor Tara, the doctor mentioned above, and her colleague.

Dr. Tara: I'm supposed to see somebody named...Veronica. Why the hell does it say Vic in here?

Colleague: Oh yeah, I saw her last week. Her legal name is Veronica, but she goes by Vic and everyone calls her Vic.

Dr. Tara: Why?

Colleague: Because she's transgender, so I guess she's a he. So his name is Vic, that's what we call him.

Dr. Tara: Oh no! Are you serious? I've got one of them?

Colleague: (blushing slightly because he saw me) I just saw Vic last week for...chest pains, right Vic?

Me: Yeah.

Dr. Tara looked at me and gave me a look of disgust and that's when I told her that I had another appointment to be at and that I had to leave but that I would be back after that.

She informed me that she'd rather see me first and then then have me get sent down for X-Rays and then for me to go to see Brandi. I had no problem with this and agreed. So Dr. Tara led me back to the very room I'd just left out of and asked me what had happened to my knee, I explained it to her and then when we got in the room, I wasn't told to sit down or anything so I could be examined properly, I was asked to roll up my pants leg and my knee was barely touched by her before she went to the sink and scrubbed her hands furiously as she explained that it didn't feel swollen but that she would call for an X-ray. Now, I don't know if she knows something I don't and being transgender is actually contagious, I'm not sure why she felt she had to scrub her hands so hard, but I do know that I felt beyond offended at her actions. 

I wish I could tell you that the story ended there, but it didn't.

When I went in to go get my X-Ray (which I had to walk to-on my bad knee which is also on the same leg as my sprained ankle) the X-Ray tech there (whose name is Zach I believe) didn't even have mypaperwork, he had someone else's, because while they'd sent me down there, they hadn't given him the right information about who I was, what name I'm supposed to be called, questions to avoid asking me and even  which knee was the injured one. So when Zach finished with me he told me that he had to take me back to the ER, now I'd been told that when I finished in the ER I was supposed to go straight to my appt, Zach had been told to bring me back there. So he led me in and I brought up that he'd told me to come back in. With a sigh of disgust and a huge amount of attitude Dr. Tara said, "No, I told you to go straight to your appointment."

So I went.

When my appt was over I returned to the ER to get the results of my X-Ray (which I knew that if they wanted an accurate diagnosis of what was wrong with my knee that I should've had a MRI done, especially since I'd informed Dr. Tara that I'd torn my miniscus tendon in this same knee ten years before and had never had the surgery for it done. I walked into the ER, filled out the paperwork to let them know I was back for my results and sat and waited. I'd come in at about 12:10, by 1:00pm, my sister Cherie was livid, because I was supposed to have taken the DAV (the transportation for veterans, which is who had brought me in and with whom I was supposed to have take me home) home, but I'd missed them and it was too late. My name was still never called. By this point my knee is throbbing, I'm annoyed, Cherie is annoyed and I've told her about the doctor's initial reaction to me and she's already put in a few calls to people. Carissa, the OIF (Operation Iraqi Freedom) worker assigned to me, has come down to the ER to check on me, it's now 1:30pm. She tells me about the phone call for Cherie, that she's going to try and get me home, that she was sorry for all that I'd endured, etc., etc., etc. Then she says that she's going to go and check and see what the problem is. As soon as she steps into the back and asks a question, Dr. Tara comes in and says she doesn't know why they didn't come and get her, that they'd gotten my X-Ray results two hours before. She tells me that the X-Rays came back fine and so I probably just twisted it and she's going to go and get me a brace. I go to follow her so she can put it on and she tells me to wait at the door. She comes back with two braces. One she says is a medium, the other she says is a large. She looks at my knee and, again, barely touches it as she tries to see which size will fit me, she tells me I need a large and that I'd have to "take all that off" (and gestures at my pants and the bottom half of my body with a sneer on her face) and that she'll just give me the brace so I can put it on. And then she practically shoves the brace in a bag that says it's a "large", but as we found out later was actually a "medium" in a large bag, and rushes off as if the hounds of hell were on her behind.

M, man, honestly, had I known that transgenderism was contagious, I would've worn a mask or something.

I did report her to the Patient's Advocate and Michele apologized to me on behalf of the hospital and said that the doctor would be given a "stern talking to," but honestly, even though the military is far more progressive today than it was when I was in there, even though DADT has been repealed, even though this hospital and this VA is a ton more accepting than the one I came from in Florida, I still know that they'll talk to her so that it can be put in her file, but that there are some people who would be silently applauding her for treating the "tranny" like she did.a

I am not typically a blood-thirsty, you made me mad and almost made me cry and now you must lose your job, type of person, but I told Cherie that I want Dr. Tara to lose her job. I'm already having to attend the "Mental Health" department just because I am trans and I grew up in the household/family that I did and trying to balance my truth with their angry voice. And I'm there because of my disabilities and how that affects me not being able to find a job that's understanding with my injuries. So with having this............................."doctor" treat me the way she did? Cherie had to put a call in to Brandi and let her know.

That was moments before we found out that the brace given to me or rather shoved at me, was the wrong size.

Cherie is going down to the VA tomorrow to have it out with them and get me a new brace, but she suggested that I tell you to see if you had any ideas about what else, if anything, I should do. She wants to contact the local LGBTQ chapter, the HRC chapter (she even teased about contacting the news station) and like I said, honestly, I'm not usually the one out for blood like this, but what if I'd been a fragile teenager? What if I was already suicidal and she said that?

I want her suspended or fired. I want a true apology. I want.....to feel vindicated, like she truly leaned her lesson and would never do that again.

So any thoughts?

Dear Dr. Transphobic Asshole:

I'm sorry that you're being chewed out by your boss.

And the Patient Advocate people.

And my sister Cherie, I'm sure that's the scariest moment in the world for you.

But you should be happy. My dad is way more scarier. And my older siblings are very protective of me.

You know you were wrong and that you must pay. I won't ask for your life as payment, because I do want to live again, but, I want your job.

Because if we'd had that situation a few months ago, if you had reacted in August, in October the way you reacted today, our little "misunderstanding" then I would have tried to kill myself.

You have to understand that words and reactions carry weight and power and strength.

Your words can kill a person, can maim and bruise them, destroy them.

Words are so fucking heartbreaking it's almost ridiculous.

And I was going to take it easy and call off the Calvary, but then I remembered that, I could've been a teenager that you'd said that too and that's unacceptable.

So I'm sorry that I got the LGBTQ community involved. Sorry that people want to call the HRC. Sorry that my sister called my therapist, the hospital administrator and everyone else that she could think of and reported you. Sorry that an apology from you to me, just isn't enough at this point.

You see I may be transgender, but I'm one badass transgender, dominating bastard with a lot of people supporting me and backing me up and a lot of people fighting for me.

This time, you fucked with the wrong one.

Sincerely,

VICKTOR ALEKSANDR B.

"Has He Seen You?"

I love well-meaning people sometimes.

Sometimes they make you think about something that you never considered before.

A well-meaning person asked me if I was transgender.

A well-meaning person asked me if I was a Dom.

A well-meaning person asked me if I needed to move away from Florida.

A well-meaning person asked me if I wanted to sing more than I wanted to act.

A well-meaning person told me that I should make writing my career.

A well-meaning person told me that I should follow my instincts and my feelings and pursue Daniel.


Sometimes they make you want to either cause yourself physical harm...or them.

A "well-meaning" person got on a thread in a group and grilled and interrogated me in an effort to "understand" and then didn't care that I was so hurt and traumatized I lay around in a daze for two weeks following that.

A "well-meaning" person contacted the biologicals to tell them who I was living with when I was still in Florida and that lead to my "exorcism."

A "well-meaning" person called to tell me about what my biologicals was doing with my stuff and my puppy, even though they knew I'd just gotten out of the hospital for costochondritis and didn't need to be stressed.

A "well-meaning" person said that at this "point" in my life that Daniel was too good for me and that I should let him find someone else.

A "well-meaning" person slandered and insulted a family (new family) member of mine, to my "face" (it online) and tried to tell me that they were doing it for my "own good."

But here's the clencher:

A friend of mine, R, that I've known since freshman year of high school asked me if I was sure that Daniel had seen a picture of me and if I was positive that Daniel knew I was trans*, because while he wasn't "saying" that I was "ugly", he was saying that I "look like a chick" and "isn't Daniel gay?"

I don't know if it's because I was tired and when I'm tired I always tend to be a little more sensitive in certain areas, I don't know if it's because I've always been a little "touchy" about my looks, or if it's the fact that when it comes to being with a gay man when I'm transitioning is already something I'm so emotionally exposed about, but when R said this, I felt like I'd been punched in my stomach. So much so that I for a moment started to think that maybe he was right.

Only for a moment, because just like that I remembered conversations, tweets, blog posts, candid, private IMs where Daniel and I talked about everything.

And while I'm not 100% right now, I'm not the 10% mass of insecurity I was just over two hours ago.

So when it comes to well-meaning people, take their advice and their statements with one hand on your shield to deflect the bullshit and one hand ready to receive the good stuff.

Then you won't have to spend 2 hours on Youtube watching videos of Lucas Teague to cheer you up when you could be sleeping.


-Vicktor Aleksandr

What About My Voice?

I'm a singer.

It's something that I know I've stated on here before, but of course I have yet to put up any posts of me singing. Not because I don't want to but because my computer's recording sucks ass. Plus my microphone makes me sound like a robotic chicken (according to Daniel).

But I sing around the house, while I'm writing, taking a shower, cooking, and of course, when I'm listening to music.

But with the T-shots my voice is going to get deeper.

And I have to wonder if my voice is going to change.

Will I still be able to sing like I do now? How deep is my voice actually going to get?

So what about my voice?

It may sound shallow to worry about that, especially in light of everything else that could go wrong, but I love my singing voice.

I will be really sad if I lose it.

Especially since I have a reason to sing again.

Vicktor's Wish List

My therapist in Florida gave me a homework assignment before I left.

I was supposed to write my wish list. The Top 50 things that I wanted. Then I was supposed to cut that list down to the Top 25. Then that list was supposed to become the Top 20. Then that list was supposed to become the Top 10. Then that list was supposed to become the Top 5. And then that list was supposed to become the Number 1 thing that I wished for.

When I asked him why, he told me it was a way for me to help prioritize my brain. A way to keep my mind focused and not stress over things that weren't on my list, but maybe things that were on someone else's list.

I wish I could tell you that I had my Top 50 done.

The thing is, I don't think that I've ever once sat down and thought about what I really wanted out of my life. What I really and truly wished for.

Don't get me wrong as a kid, I wrote out a Christmas List that would have knocked your socks off, but I did it for class, it was never a list I gave to my parents and it was never something that I sent to "Santa." I stopped believing in Santa when at the age of 4 I walked down the stairs and saw my parents putting the presents underneath the tree.

A lot of bad things happened to me when I was 4 and I think perhaps that that was when I stopped "wishing" for stuff. I was still a dreamer, and I still am, but in my mind dreaming is so much more different than wishing. Wishing is something that you want that requires another person, dreaming is something realistic that you can do for yourself.

When I dream, I'm usually dreaming for other people. I dreamed for my friend Katharina to get her lifetime collar and she did. I dreamed for Mama N.J.'s Christmas story to get picked up and published and it did. I dreamed for my little brother Thorny's life to be a little more peaceful and it is. I dreamed for my little brother Brad to be able to go to school full-time next semester and he is. I dreamed for my big sister Cherie to be able to get her edits done in time and she did.

I guess dreaming for me is hoping. They very much go hand in hand, so when I have a dream list, that dream list is a hope list. But a wish list to me is something that is almost like a fantasy. I would put on this list things that I "fantasized" for, things that I never truly expected to happen to me, or to be given to me or to happen for me. And for that reason I have never sat down to write out a complete wish list.

Until today.

I decided to finish the list that I'd already started and so I decided to read over the 10 things I'd already written down so that I didn't repeat myself.

I had started to write out my wish list a few weeks ago, when I first got to NY and by the time I got to #5 I realized that I had more things marked off than written down, because I realized I already had them:

1. I want a dad, one who cares about me and is proud of me and claims me in front of others.
2. I want a family who cares about me and supports me and protects me
3. I want a career that I can be proud of.
4. I want to start a group home for at risk teenagers, those on drugs, those who are homeless, LGBTQ teens who have been kicked out and help them get their diplomas and degrees and have a place to stay and people who will support them.
5. I want to have someone that's mine. Someone I care about who cares about me, like a partner or a sub (probably both, knowing me). Someone that I can claim in front of everyone that belongs to me (gosh I sound like a selfish, possessive bastard).
6. I want to be able to spend my days writing, saving the world and having lots of mansex
7. I want to be on the outside who I am on the inside.
8. I want to be a dad
9. I want to go to Italy
10. I want to go one week without crying myself to sleep.


I was pretty amazed when I saw the list and then very happy when I saw how many things I'd crossed off.

I think I will sit down and finish writing out my list one day, just for shits and giggles to see what else I've already crossed off, but for right now?

My wish list makes me pretty damn happy to see.


-V.A.

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

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

*Information gathered from Wikipedia:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_unlawfully_killed_transgender_people*

*Photo images taken with permission from: http://amaras-place.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-see-myself-embrace-rainbow.html#.TskWPlsNt6o.facebook *