Thursday, 31 December 2015

Should Men be allowed in Women's Bathrooms?

Transgender Accessable Washrooms.

The very idea made me uncomfortable.  I just didn't like it, because on one hand I wanted transgender people to be free to use the washroom, but on the other hand I was concerned about sexual assaults.  The two ideas conflicted enough to make me really uncomfortable when I thought about it.

I wasn't being transphobic.  I was remembering a serial rapist, that affected my life, but not as much as the lives of other young women.

During one year, that I was in university, there was almost one rape a month.  The university sent us emails, put up posters, and left cardboard triangle posters on every table in the cafeteria each time there was a rape.  The instructions were very clear: Travel in groups, use Safewalk at night, and don't use the bathroom if there wasn't anybody else in it.  Sometimes I delayed peeing for 30 minutes while I looked for another washroom.

Each lady's bathroom (I don't know about the men's bathrooms because I never used one) had a little resting stall.  It was big enough to hold a couch and a garbage basket.  The stall locked, and many women (myself included) used these stalls (without toilets or sinks), to lay down between classes and rest.

If you've never gone to a large university let me explain - there were 50,000 students in my university at the time I went, and the campus was huge.  Sometimes my back to back classes, were held so far away from each other that I had to run between classes, or be perpetually late for my second class.  The last class ended at 4:30, and by 5:00 the campus was almost empty.  Many professors held office hours after 5:00, and many campus clubs held activities after 5:00.  In the evening, the campus was darker, quieter, and a very good place to study.  Empty classrooms were easy to find, and my friends and I used them often to study in.  I also studied in empty rooms by myself.

It's in this environment, that after 5:00, I found something to eat, and often rested in one of bathrooms, on the couch.  Sometimes I would fall asleep before the evening activities began.  And I wasn't the only student to do this.  Sometimes those resting stalls were full, and I had to find another bathroom to rest in.  Because the resting stall was lockable, it was a safe place to nap, and not get my things stolen.

That was until the serial rapist entered the scene.  The university was trying hard to protect female students, and each time there was a rape, we were told about it.  Names were never given, but places and dates were given and the rape was always described.  Although details changed, the pattern was always the same.  It always happened in a bathroom, the rapist always hid in the resting stall, the women always thought she was the only one in the bathroom, after she used one of the toilet stalls, and while she was washing her hands, the rapist attacked her from the back, dragged her into the resting stall, raped her and ran away.  Because he always stayed behind her, she was never able to describe him.  The theory was, he waited in the resting stall for a woman to enter.

There was about one rape a month.  Suggestions (not rules) were made for female students, to keep us safer.  Self Defence classes were offered for free.  Safewalk was installed (campus police walked female students between buildings and to parking lots).  The campus was on high alert, and so was I.

I wasn't raped, but being in a place where rapes were happening every month, was anxiety ridden.  There were times I entered empty washrooms and turned around and went back out.  There were times I found other female students walking past the washroom, and asked them to come into the bathroom with me.  And there were times I didn't find anybody, and just didn't go until I found another washroom.  But washrooms were spaced so far apart that I had to wait 30 minutes or so just to find another one, and sometimes that one was empty too.

I was in this mindset when I heard that men wanted to be allowed to use women's washrooms.  Thinking to myself it would be so much easier for a rapist to rape me, if he didn't even have to hide the  fact that he was male, and in a women's washroom.

When Jazz Jennings said "I just want to pee in peace", I empathized with her.  I didn't think she'd be a rapist.  I didn't even think of her as male.

And that's the thing.   That's where the difference lies.  I have no idea what Jazz Jennings genitals are like, nor am I particularly interested in knowing such a thing.  But I do know that she is transgendered and she is a "Girl", not a "Boy".

But I didn't really put that together.  I was uncomfortable being one the side that thought transgender friendly washrooms just shouldn't be.  I didn't want to be there, on the transphobic side.  But an entire year of being reminded women were getting raped in our bathrooms, could not be undone that easily.

And then last night I discovered "Last Week Tonight", with John Oliver.  I know, you americans might be thinking "What - she never heard of John Oliver before", but I'm Canadian and you probably never heard to Rick Mercer before.  Different country, different culture.

I got so involved with John Oliver, that I watched 4 "Last Week Tonight" episodes in one night.  And one of those episodes was called Transgender Rights.

Very succinctly John Oliver helped me to realize that these transgender people, will not be men.  They will be women, who look like women, who dress like women, and who want to use women's bathrooms.  They will not men inline for the women's bathroom, dressed like men, and looking extremely out of place.  They will look like they are in the right place, because they will be women.

There will still be men, who want to rape women.  They may even use the same MO the serial rapist at my university used, but transgender women using the same washroom as me, will not make it easier for these men, because it will still be a line up of women waiting to use the stalls.  It won't be a line of up women, with a few men.  Whatever their genitals, they will look like women, and they will be women.

A man in the women's bathroom, will still be extremely out of place.  A man in the women's bathroom, will still be told to get out.

The difference is: transgender women are women, and male rapists are men.  (Not that transgender women can't be rapists too, but then non-transgender women can also sexually assault others - but that is a whole different subject and I'm not going to cover it here.  If fact I don't think I'll cover it anywhere.)

My fear was, that if the female washrooms had been transgender accessible at the time I was going to university, that there would have been more rape victims.  But after watching John Oliver make jokes about it, I realize I was wrong.  There might have, at that time, even been transgender women using the women's washrooms, and I might not have known at all.

A man, wearing a dress, will still look like a man wearing a dress.  It will be very obvious that somebody is trying to use these accessible washrooms in the wrong way.  These men will still look like men, because they will be men.  Transgender women are not men, and it will be obvious they just want to pee.  What won't be obvious is what genitals they have or don't have.

In fact I'm not even sure how to tell a transgender person from a non-transgender person.  Rules that ban transgender people from bathrooms of their own gender, would be extremely hard to enforce.  Are the authorities going to hire bathroom police that inspect each person's genitals before they can enter the appropriate bathroom?  That would make everybody uncomfortable.

....

And the rapist - after a year all the rapes abruptly stopped for no apparent reason.  He wasn't caught.  Some of his victims never came back to school.

Years after I was finished university, I looked up the rapist in the internet.  I found out that very similar rapes with very similar MOs started the next year at another Canadian university.  That man was caught after kidnapping a woman and keeping her captive, while repeatedly raping her, for many hours.  He was caught, and his DNA was matched to the rapes at the university I went to.  He was never charged with those crimes, but he was charged with the kidnapping and rape of his last victim.

Wednesday, 30 December 2015

I don't have bedbugs but I still can't sleep.

Tonight, I found a bug.  A big black, hairy bug, the size of an iPad....

No just kidding.  It was small, roundish and brownish black.  And I immediately thought "Bed Bug".

I spent the last hour learning about bedbugs, and concluded that it wasn't a bed bug because I only found one, despite looking for more, it doesn't look like the pictures of bedbugs I saw (no strips), and I found it in the middle of my bedspread on my made bed, and bedbugs like to hide, not sit out in the open.

But still....

I feel so creepy crawly.  I'm just so creeped out, wondering what it was.

I think it was just a one off bug, and no others.  My mother thinks it came from the dog, who likes to go out and roll in the leaves and grass outside.

  I hope so.  I really do, and if I had found it anywhere else, like the kitchen floor I might not be so creeped out.

  I feel like I need a bath, but it seems ridiculous to have a bath after midnight.

Tuesday, 29 December 2015

Miss Queen Bee has lost her looks

I saw an old classmate the other day.  I didn't say hi, because I had nothing I wanted to say to her.

She was the "pretty" girl, that all the boys liked. She was the Queen Bee, that lead the class with cruelty.  She actually shared that roll with another girl, and together the two of them, thought they were smarter, better looking, and just all around more deserving than anybody else in class.  They decided who was popular and who was not.

And I was not popular.

I'm not going to name her.  That would just be bullying.

I will however, contradict myself.  Before Christmas I posted I want to live in a world where empathy and love are more important that weight and beauty and I still do.  But this week...

Well I saw this Queen Bee, and she's as fat, dopey, and ugly.  Now don't get me wrong.  I also said in A relationship can not be based on looks because looks don't last post that I had gained weight, and I have.

This brings about contradictory feelings.  One one hand I still want to live in a world where empathy and love are more important that weight and beauty, but on the other hand, I'm very satisfied that Miss Popular is no long the "pretty girl".  She's rather unattractive.  Very dopey looking actually.  In fact her outsides are almost as ugly as her insides.

Today she'd lose the popularity contest both in looks, and in empathy and love, because believe me she never had empathy or love and now she doesn't have looks either.

And does that mean I don't have empathy or love either?  Because I'm certainly not feeling it for Miss No-longer-pretty.

Instead it seems like poetic justice.

Oh and just so you know - the idea that every girl is either a Queen Bee or a Wanna Bee, is completely wrong.  I never wanted to be this girls friend, or in the popular crowd because they were mean vicious girls that I didn't like.  I didn't want to be like them, didn't want to be friends with them, and didn't want anything to do with them.  If being in the popular crowd meant hanging around with these girls, I didn't want it.  I was neither a Queen Bee or a Wanna Bee.  That's just a lie the mean girls want to believe to make themselves more important.

Monday, 28 December 2015

I am not a mistake and neither is anybody else.

"People can't be transgendered because God doesn't make mistakes".

I've heard variations of that statement several times while watching countless videos about transgender people.  The last time, was when somebody from the catholic school board was explaining why their schools would never included transgender children.

Like many people, I am extremely offended by that statement, but unlike many people it's not because I'm transgendered or even know anybody whose transgendered.

I was born sick.  My parents were told I would die.  I didn't.

That's an extremely short version of my infant and toddlerhood, but it will do for what I want to say.

If being transgendered or homosexual means God made a mistake, then what about the sick baby, whose organs weren't quite constructed in the typical way, and needed several surgeries by the age of three?  Does that make me a mistake?

Did God not intend to make me?  Was he maybe just not paying attention when he made me, and messed up my organs in some way?  Maybe he intended me to die before birth?  Is my very existence a mistake?

I vehemently say "NO!".  I scream it.  The very thought of my existence being a mistake is extremely offensive.

I am not a mistake, and neither are those who born with missing limbs, or those who are born transgender or homosexual (and yes they are born that way), or those who are born as little people, or blind, or when learning disabilities, or those who for any reason are born differently than the typical person.

I do believe in God.  I don't know why I wasn't perfectly healthy at birth.  I have theories, but none of them are tested or even half way believed.  (Hey I've had years to think about my health problems that still bother me to this day).

Does God make mistakes?  It's an uncomfortable question to ask.  It's one I don't like even thinking about.  My gut says "no", but then how do you explain me, the baby doctors believed would die?

Just as I don't know why some people are born with red hair, some have feet size 11 1/2, some love the colour yellow, and some hate the taste of ketchup.

We are all different.  And yes, we are all the same.  But is any one of us any better or worse than anybody else?  Does any one of us have a difference that is so huge it must have been a mistake?

I believe my health problems have given me qualities that other's don't have.  I'm not going to explain them here, but...

Did God make a mistake when he made me?  No.  Did he make a mistake when he made the little transgender girl who wanted to wear a girl uniform and go to the girls bathroom in her catholic school?  No.  Did he make a mistake when he made anybody.  No.

Why are those people that way?  I don't know.

I do know that when you say that a transgender child simply can't be because God doesn't make mistakes, you are insulting me.  You can't deny that I had many surgeries before I was three.  My scars prove it.  You can't deny that my parents were told I would die.

I am prove, that people can be born different than the typical person and not be a mistake.

Oh and that guy who said that...  Well the human rights commission made him eat his words.  His school was made to acknowledge transgender people, and allow them to be the gender they are at school.  Unfortunately the little girl, ended up leaving the school before that happened.


Sunday, 27 December 2015

Can non-transgendered people live an authentic life?

Ever since I found out about transgender people, I have been very interested in them.  I thought of using the word obsessed, but it's not obsession, it's interest.  It's the same kind of interest I had when I read one of Elizabeth Kubler Ross's books.  I became very interested in everything she wrote, and read all of her books in less than a month.  Was it obsession?  I don't think so.  I just like to learn.

Anyways moving on.

I wondered why?  Why was I so interested in transgender people?  I watched countless youtube videos, I bought the show "I am Jazz" on iTunes, and I sought out information.

Was I transgendered?  No.

Was I gay?  No.

I kept asking myself these questions, but the answers to all of them remain the same.  I am a heterosexual female who very much loves being a women.  When I first heard about "penis envy", in a first year psychology class, I thought "ew.  Who would ever want a penis?"  I just couldn't understand, and decided then and there that Freud was an idiot.  I still think Freud was an idiot, for that and other reasons....  Moving on again...

So if I wasn't transgendered, wasn't gay, and didn't fit on the LGBT community in anyway, why was I so facinated with the transgender idea?

And I think I've found an answer.  Tonight I was watching yet another set of videos done by yet another transgender person about transitioning and being transitioned, and I figured it out.

It's the authentic lifestyle that attracts me.

I spend much of my day being afraid.  I'm afraid of doing the wrong thing, of making the wrong decision, of saying the wrong thing, and of countless other things.

Last week Mom took hamburger out of the deep freeze and said "I defrosted hamburger, make anything you want" (I do 90% of the cooking).  I couldn't decide.  Spaghetti, tacos, and hamburgers raced through my mind.  I had no idea.  The hamburger sat in the fridge for two days while I agonized over what to make.  I couldn't do it, and in the end, I put it back in the freezer, and went out a bought hamburgers.  It's still in the freezer, and it should be defrosted again.  But....

Yesterday I started to do something I've wanted to do for a long time.  I am a comic book fan, and I wanted to sort my comic book stories by writer.  The week before I bought multiple comic books of the same kind, cut them up, and put all pages of the same stories together.  And then....  What?  What's the right way to make a scrapbook of comic book stories, categorized by writer?  What kind of scrapbook should I use?  Should I make comments about which writer I like better, or just leave it?  What order should I put the stories in?  Should I use tape or glue?

I was almost in tears, before I just got up and announced "I'll finish this tomorrow".  And then today, when I did start it again, I did decide, but even as I did it, I continually questioned if I even should be doing it?  It's not helping anybody?  It's not in any way serving anybody else and making anybody else's live better?  Maybe I should be cleaning instead?  Maybe I should be doing this or that, or there were several other things I could have been doing.  I felt so anxious about doing the wrong thing.  I didn't enjoy it at all, and yet it was something I wanted to do for months.

And maybe that's it.  Maybe I'm not living my own authentic life?  Maybe transgender people who so bravely, announce that they are going to be who they want to be and do what they want to do, even when others don't want them to, are giving me hope.  They announce who they really are, and then just be are who they really are.

And if I did that, I wouldn't be saying "hey I'm a boy", because really I am a girl, have always known I was a girl, and always wanted to be a girl.

But I would be saying "I like comics", and "I'm going to be a writer", and "I'm not your servant", and "I'm doing what I want to do, and I know you don't want me to do it, but I'm doing it anyway", and "my live is going to be about making me happy (just a little bit), and although I still love you, I can't dedicate my life to making you happy anymore".

And maybe those transgender stories, that I watch again and again, are telling me I can do it.  Those stories never end in "I wish I'd never done it.  Others was right.  I am a boy/girl."  They always end "I'm so happy I decided to live an authentic live".

Would I be that happy?

Saturday, 26 December 2015

I didn't have a Christmas

Boxing Day.

It just doesn't seem like Christmas is over yet.  For me it's not over, anyway, because right now as I write this it's almost 11:00 on Christmas Day night.

For you, reading this, it's Boxing Day, and the big day of Christmas is over.

For me.  Well Christmas wasn't a big day today.  There was no Christmas dinner, no friends and family, and no presents.  My father fixed the kitchen chairs that were falling apart and then went to Christmas dinner at my cousins house.  We all got a last minute invitation (like 2 hours before it started invitation), but my mother didn't want to go.  I sort of wanted to go.  The turkey, stuffing and gravy beckoned me.  But my mother was sick, and it seemed cruel to leave her alone on Christmas Day.

We haven't actually spent a proper Christmas in 3 years.  Ever since her Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus reared it's ugly head, Mom has wanted nothing to do with Christmas.  She doesn't want to cook, and she doesn't want to visit.  She gets tired out too easily, and doesn't want to have anything to do with large family gatherings.

And so, we've canceled Christmas - doing things like going out to eat, or just having small family gatherings with a small non-christmas like supper.  We haven't shopped for gifts, and we've given money to the only child in the family instead of bought presents.  (He loves getting hundreds of dollars at Christmas time, and a few days ago I asked if he missed getting presents, but he backed away and said he'd rather have the money.)  We haven't put up a tree or decorated in any way.  We haven't made any Christmas baking, or gone to any Christmas parties.

And if I were being honest, I'd say I miss it.  I'd say that I really want to exchange presents, and have Christmas supper, and spend all day together, doing all sorts of things like we used to.

But I'm not honest.  I tell Mom, that it's ok.  That I'd rather not have Christmas either.

I search out ways to make it Christmas just for myself, like saying Merry Christmas, and singing Happy Birthday to Jesus in the morning.  But it just doesn't seem like Christmas.  It seems like Christmas has been canceled and apart of me is resentful that Mom insists on cancelling every year for three years in a row.

And next Christmas....  Well I don't know if I'll have the guts to say "I want Christmas.", but if I was being honest, I would have even said it this year.

Friday, 25 December 2015

Merry Christmas

For me: it's Christmas Eve.

For you: It's Christmas Day.

Merry Christmas.  I hope your day is wonderful, happy, joyous and content.

I'm not sure what were doing for Christmas.  As I mentioned before, we already had Christmas super at a restaurant on the 23rd.  Tomorrow.  Well I don't want it to be just any other day.  And yet, my father wants to clean.

I have no idea.

But anyways Merry Christmas.  Remember Jesus is the Reason for the Season, and he loves you.  Many people (those who call themselves christians included), think that Jesus was hateful and God is judgemental.  That's not true.  Jesus loves you.

Those who say that God abhors gays, picket abortion clinics, tell transgenders that gender can't be changed, and generally use the bible to bring down judgement and hatred on whole groups of people are wrong.

Those people forget one simple little message: love your neighbours as yourself.  The entire bible is about love.  And that kind of crap isn't love.

Please just ask God to show himself and the truth to you.  He's a good teacher, and he will do it.

Merry Christmas.