Pasupatidasi's Blog

thoughts, poetry, life as it is…


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thanks to leftygirl for putting it in the proper context… something roseanne had not chosen to do.

leftytgirl

Roseanne Barr, the well-known comedian and actress from the popular 90’s show Roseanne is presently running for President of the United States at the head of the Peace and Justice Peace and Freedom Party. Roseanne originally ran for the nomination as a member of the Green Party, but eventually lost to the present candidate, Jill Stein.

Late last night, Roseanne wrote a few tweets challenging her former opponent for the Green Party nomination on several issues. One of the issues that came up was Jill Stein’s stance in favor of trans rights (which she discusses a bit in an interview here), which was challenged in a tweet by one @ATagonist (who’s twitter account has since been suspended). She tweeted:

Jill is also in favor of letting men [sic.] into spaces where young girls get changed

followed by a link to a recent local news story out of Olympia, Washington…

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now we see the Real Roseanne Barr!

i don’t know why she felt it was her place to weigh in on any trans-related issues, but roseanne barr failed in a big way.

read this and try not to retch and scream “off with her head!”

perhaps the most offensive part of the article is the very end where roseanne seems to equate transgender people with pedophiles (NAMBLA).

i was going to seriously vote for this woman. she had a great running mate and a solid platform, at least what i knew of it. but oh, thank god for twitter!

now we see the real Roseanne Barr.

unfollowed her on twitter immediately. no one needs a time-line full of that trans-phobic rant!


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unseen hands

it is an interesting life, this life the universe has woven for me. hard not to take things personally. like the blessing of a child in my late years. especially one as unique and challenging as is my beautiful ziona.

i was 48 years old when she was born. a small, pre-term child whose mother, my daughter, would never have been able to raise. my daughter had abandoned her first born child, my first grand-daughter, cypress. and it was clear to the personelle at the hospital where the emergency C-section was performed that the mother of the child they had just delivered shouldn’t have a child to raise. they knew she had ‘lost’ the first child she’d birthed, knew that the state had gotten involved after the one month old infant had been dumped off at her father’s house while she went off and partied for over a month. they knew that while pregnant with the one they’d just delivered, the mother had received no pre-natal treatment, and was on drugs. they overheard her talking with the boyfriend, who was not the baby’s father, about leaving the preemie, who needed to stay in NICU for a while, at the hospital and going out to get some drugs and party.

my daughter called me, after months of not hearing from her. by that time, a social worker had already been called in. i learned of this later. on the phone my daughter sounded her usual irrational self, even intimated that she planned to leave the baby at the hospital, she admitted wishing she’d never been pregnant and didn’t want the child. shocked by her words, i admonished her, not nicely. i told her she couldn’t just go around getting pregnant and then abandoning her kids. she hung up on me.

frantic that she would really leave the child at the hospital, holding the phone that had just gone dead to my ear, i realised that i didn’t even know the name of the hospital, only that it was in san diego…hundreds of miles away!

i called the san diego sheriff’s department for a list of hospitals in the area, especially ones that would treat an indigent pregnant woman, and after a few phone calls found the one! tho reluctant and in a clever ‘bend the rules’ kind of way the nurse on the other end of one of the phone calls i made merely answered “yes” when i explained the situation and asked if ‘her hospital would be a good place to start’. i had only gone through half of the list of 25 or so hospitals.

i knew that my daughter had probably initiated labor, with a crochet hook, the way she had wanted to with the first child. she wanted cypress to be born on 11/11 of that year, despite the fact she wasn’t due until 12/21. the reason was that the number was ‘magickal’. at the time she was living with me. i told her she mustn’t do it! that it could result in an abrupted placenta and emergency C-section which could be very dangerous to both her and the baby. i watched her like a hawk. made sure she went to her ob/gyn appointments…in the end the cypress was born through natural labor in a local hospital.

because she had ‘threatened’ to initiate labor with the first child, for no better reason than a magickal date, i was very suspicious about what might have happened that this new baby had been born by emergency C-section due to an abrupted placenta, and even more so when she said “what a chill birthday huh? 4/20!” (which is a number that has something to do with pot, tho i don’t know why)

my suspicions were confirmed when the surgeon spoke to my after my arrival at the hospital and mentioned small rounded areas of bruising near the placental abruption. the surgeon had already surmised that this might have been the case, another reason why social services had been involved.

when i arrived at the hospital, i was approached by not only the surgeon and nurses, but also social workers and a psychiatrist. before i could see my daughter they wanted to know whatever i could tell them about her. but as she had not been in contact with me since she’d found out she was pregnant, and not for several years before that, there was little i could say.

the first time i laid eyes on the tiny form in the incubator at NICU i nearly cried. a little bones and skin, 4 pound 7 oz body, with wires and tubes leading in and out of it. the child should’ve been born a full two months later! instead, here it lay.

my daughter had not even held the child by the time i got there. and when i asked to see the baby, the nurses led me to NICU while she opted not to come along. one of the social workers had already intimated to me that child protective services had been contacted because of what the doctors all suspected. i knew that unless i insisted on raising the child, it would be in the system soon. as a close blood relative, i had certain rights. and the staff involved with the case were more than relieved to know that i wanted the baby.

they insisted tho, that my daughter sign over legal custody to me, before i could take the child home with me. they worried that without that protection she could simply ‘reclaim’ the baby at some later point, without investigation into whether the child would be safe with her. as it was, she declined my offer for her to come home with me so that she could be with her baby, until such time as child protective services deemed her fit. she didn’t want to raise the child. she wanted to run off right away with her latest ‘boytoy’. it was all i could do to keep her in the area long enough to have the legal paperwork done.

i think often of how different my life might have been had my daughter been willing and able to raise this beautiful child, now 9 years old. i think how empty it would’ve been; how dull. and i know that my daughter could never have provided for ziona as i do.

the universal weaver knew that too!

the universe knew that i was uniquely suited to this child’s needs. that the developmental delays would be discovered and diagnosed early as autism, and appropriate therapies provided, since i had done volunteer work with kids who are neuro-diverse. that the ability and leisure i possess to homeschool ziona when the public schools had failed her (which failure was immediate),would ensure an option for her education. even that the past experiences in my life of people who were gender-fluid, or outright transgender would allow me to be understanding and supportive of ziona’s need to be a girl.

so here we are! my adopted, transgender 9 year old daughter, with her whole life in front of her, a companion in these,my gray-haired years and myself, a woman astonished by providence.

how wonderful, how intricate the tapestry of life is woven by those Unseen Hands!


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a different happy birthday

today was there was a birthday party for my niece’s daughter, lexia.
i wasn’t invited, nor was ziona for that matter. lexia’s mother doesn’t like me, doesn’t like the fact that my parenting includes believing my child when she tells me that she is a girl.

ironically, (i think) it was at lexia’s 3 y/o birthday party that ziona told me that she was not a boy. that was 6 years ago today.

ziona and lexia played together today, before my niece came get her kids (lexia and her younger brother, mikey.) it is wonderful to see that no rejection of my daughter is present in either the children, despite their mother’s position about ziona. this is due, in no small way, to my beautiful mother and her mentoring of these, her great grandchildren.

at first, lexia didn’t know quite how to feel about ziona…and at one point had even led a playroom full of kids at a local ‘chick-fil-a’ to tease ziona. made worse by the fact that it was my daughter’s first time in public dressed as the girl she is, this betrayal stayed with ziona for the next full year, during which time the two girls didn’t play together. in fact, if ziona knew that lexi would be at my mom’s, we waited until she wasn’t before visiting.

my mom was uncomfortable with the whole ‘transgender’ thing at first. she was no more comfortable later, when i began to really believe my child, to the point of allowing her to live outloud, and dress how she wanted, to the point of referring to her by her girl name and pronouns. in fact, it took my mom the better part of that first year of ziona’s transition, almost four years ago, to succomb to the proper pronouns.

but at some point along the way, while she adjusted to our decision and to seeing ziona with her long hair and dresses, she began to explain to lexia and mikey as best she could, that ziona was a girl that got the wrong body.

today the little boy and the two older girls, (my daughter and her cousin lexia) played together, as they have many times in the past four years since ziona’s transition, and i watched…eavesdropping in on their play. as i watched them, i remembered that birthday party 6 years ago and ziona’s innocent assertion that she was herself going to grow into a big girl someday. it was the beginning of a whole new phase in my life.

i had to educate myself about all things transgender, as i had educated myself about autism years before. i had to go beyond my fears so that i could hear my daughter’s needs. and i had to stand strong, facing possible rejection by my family, by friends, by society at large…all so that i could support her and advocate for her right to self-definition.

the occasion of lexia’s birthday being the anniversary of ziona’s revelation to me is a strange coinciding incidence. it serves to remind me that in truth, there are three births to be celebrated. lexia’s, ziona’s and mine. for in a very real way, ziona and i started over that day…born into a new relationship and a new reality.

so, happy birthday, one and all!


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just in case someone who reads my page hasn’t already come across this person and specifically this clever post…

enjoy

Michellelianna

No matter what symptoms I plug into Web MD, Post Traumatic Guy Syndrome never seems to come up. I may, however, be at great risk for either scurvy or kuru, even though I eat lots of fruit and hardly any human brains. It stands to reason I guess, since I just made the term up while stepping on the toes of our veterans who have very real, and very debilitating problems as the result of being put in situations of high risk of imminent death. I really think I might be at risk though, and if you are a trans woman, you probably are as well.

If you are a trans woman, or at least know some or one, you may have noticed that some of seem just a little bit off. OK, to be less PC, some of us come off as batshit crazy, or at the very least…

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the kids are alright?

everyday, when i get up and greet the day, and after i’ve fed and watered cats and dogs, before ziona has wakened from her dreams, i take stock and give thanks. there is so much for which i am grateful!

that feeling of being graced is accentuated whenever i hear of or read about other parents raising transgender kids, or autistic kids, who are having a worse time of it. who have to struggle with schools, with getting the need of their kids met, and the special problems their children have to face in a system that has few or no safeguards in place for them.

i get to stay home and teach my child. and altho ziona often rebels against lessons (sometimes violently) no i.e.p could ever meet her needs the way that i can. here at home, i can make certain that she learns in a safe environment, that no schoolyard bully will attack her at recess, that she wont be denied the right to use the bathroom without scrutiny.

many folk whose blogs i read, or who post in chat rooms that i visit have much more fighting to do on their children’s behalf in large part because of the schools to which they must send them while they are working outside the home to earn a living. this seems outrageous and incredible to me.

families these days, by and large, require two incomes to keep afloat, for single parent households there’s just barely money enough to tread water. most don’t have the luxury of forfeiting the workplace so that they can teach their kids at home. so they must entrust them to the schools.

where can they turn when the schools fail to provide for their ‘neuro-diverse’ or gender variant children? of course, they advocate for their children, try to make sure the i.e.p for their autistic child is followed. of course they bring bullying or other indiscretions to the attention of those who claim to be in charge. naturally they fight for their children. but in an environment which is supposed to foster learning, why should they have need of ‘the fight’?

what has happened? to our society? to our world?

true that in years past the discrimination was as bad or worse for gender variant folk, for gay or lesbian youth…so much so that a closet was the safe way to go. but this is the 21st century, after all. and altho much has been done to try to right the wrongs of the past, the schools to which we send our children are lagging behind, to the detriment of future generations.

what becomes of our’tomorrow world’ when the morals and compassion one should learn as children, from parents and teachers, fall by the wayside? are the kids really alright?

i empathise with all those parents who must send their child to off to school while they are at work. the worry and concern they must feel, especially when their ‘different’ child comes home with stories of what happened to them at school. or when they don’t tell their stories, cause they’ve seen it won’t change anything.

no answers of course. unless somehow we can time-travel back to the bad old good old days of father knows best and stay at homes moms, to the drawing board, as it were, of today’s society and add a few courses to the curriculum taught, starting with sensitivity training for both the students and the teachers