mainely butch on new post appointment 3-28-2017


Roger Severino has been given the position as chief of the Office for Civil Rights in the Health and Human Services (HHS) department of our government, working directly under HHS secretary Tom Price.

THIS, dear friends, is NOT good for the LGBT community.  This is a direct threat to all of the rights that we have fought so damned hard for, the major one coming to mind is marriage equality.  Severino and Price are BOTH historically anti-LGBT in their rhetoric and actions.

Putting these two people at the helm of the ship when it comes to all civil rights is a very dangerous thing to minority groups.  Of the LGBT in particular Severino and Price do not believe the discrimination is an issue for us.  Really?

These appointments are more fine examples of how inconsiderate, hateful and trigger happy the president and his administration are.  Who appoints someone who hates gays to an office that has the duty to investigate and possibly prosecute the abuse of LGBT civil rights?  Someone who hates us to begin with: Donald Trump.

Yes, the great old orange idiot did this to us.  If you are an LGBT Republican and you voted for this guy I hope you are happy now.  Or will you be happier when they strip our right to marry away?  They’re going to try to do it, just you wait and see.  Either way, these appointments send dangerous signals that they would bring someone to protect our rights to the table that so adamantly denies there are problems and the we even need protection.

“Severino won’t be able to roll back protections overnight, and his office will still be required to look into every civil rights complaint. But he will have some discretion in terms of deciding what to prioritize, and what kind of resources to invest. (HHS Secretary Tom Price also has a history of opposing LGBTQ rights.”  Huffington Post, 3-27-17


A Key from the Past, involving a parallel from “Religious” Identity

A Portion of this Atheism Video, supplies a key Analogy, for current-day transgenders, about the cultural constraints of the Harry Benjamin and early wpath eras:

From 10:00–13:00
The famous atheist Aron Ra, is describing the history of atheists in the sixties through early-eighties, when the now incomprehensible _stigma_ against _atheists_, made them instead, “veil” themselves as either “Satanists,” “Wiccans,” or “Pagans.”
Clearly, why _not_, simply present as merely what you _actual;ly_, are, namely, merely someone who does _not_ believe in the Christian god,/God, rather than also to “Pretend” to have been something you _hadn’t_ been–; namely someone who either believed-in “different” “gods,” or who may have followed specific “tenets,” like those in, for example, “LaVeyan” Satanism–‘ (which in fact is _strikingly_ “strict,” in terms of its tenets)?
Of course, it was not at all “logical” to pretend to be a whole “other” religion, “just” to avoid picking any of the”three Abrahamic” religions, or the two main “Eastern” religions–; just-because simply “no” religion “at-all,” was thought to have been perceived _by-others_ simply as “socially-‘unsettling’,” or-whatever–; but, _behold-here_; it _was done_—, and for something as culturally, relatively “innocuous” as _religion_, as opposed to anything anywhere _near_ as then “taboo,” as “gender identity.”

Analogously, before the actual word “transgender,” had entered the public lexicon, and the nearest-synonym, _transsexual_, had been _reserved_ for _only_ those who had full _surgery plus_ hormones and already had all their papers-changed, all many-times harder to do back-then when one first had to start by living _stealth_ for a whole year without hormones, before _getting even_ hormones–; the era’s trans people “subsumed” ourselves under the “cultural euphemism” of “LGB–.”
And those were our “brave” ones. the rest deep-closeting, masking, or suppressing (in this last case, again often becoming rabid, gender-policers) And, again, also except for the tiny minority who even-then actually transitioned). .


From 10:00

Post to Trans-Liason, 2017-03-24, about the paradox of making Transitioning, a trans-connection ‘Initiation-Rite.’

Posts I’ve been making to my recently-started Cause-Page, over at Facebook, represent my latest excursion into trying to establish an online-space where I can attract listeners by speaking my mind adequately and frankly, including “about” “why” anyone should have listened to me in the first place.
I don’t know any more than two or three of the “members” in this group, though, if they should be highly-supportive members, my so-far failure to discover that, makes my point about why I continued to browse for new spaces, where those who show-up to learn about the group, don’t have their enthusiasm squelched as soon as they get-there, by the fact that the owner of the group already is hamstrung on any ability to make the group a worthwhile entity to join.

I can illustrate my “personal eight-ball” through analogy with the former “Pope Ratzinger,” who not-only had not-wanted to have been elected Pope to begin with, but who, when he saw the indescribable scandal going-on in the Church to-which he had-been elected to govern, after struggling massively to deal with it for a long period, he simply said, “Better talent than mine is required-here: I’m quitting.”
Another analogy would be to the fictional character “Joe Bauers,” (of the political dark-satire movie “Idiocracy”), who, after a lifetime of “stepping-aside,” to let “better-qualified” people “handle” “crises,” that came-along–; was literally _dumped_ by a (makable) time-machine, into a post-apocalyptic future that was an _immersive_ crisis.

I have spent my life as an endless Witness to endless evils exploding all-around me, but always _muzzled_ against even _reporting_ them anywhere–; let-alone actually _doing_ anything about them.

I was voiceless in my Family, various so-called “systems,” that ever-increasingly seemed just “boobytrapped,” or “toxic–;” what long had “passed” for “Political-Activism,” before-the-Internet–; and the remaining number of interactive “venues,” through-which I successively was _thrust_.

At every _point_ through all of this–; I _always seemed_ to have been the _only person_ who could _see_ the fact that _everybody else_ was just _perpetuating_ a crisis or a scandal that ultimately was doomed to envelop _them-themselves_–; but that _nobody_ ever wanted to _hear anything about_ it–. _Cassandra_, with a _Chicken-Little_, “mascot-head” thrown over their _own_ head.

As I moved to _The Internet_, the more things _changed_, the more they _stayed-the-same_–.

My numerous comments on trans _videos_ were _invisible_ for two years. When I got my _own trans_ channel, and two companion-blogs, I don’t know if I ever got any _views_ and no comments on any of those sites.
It took a long time to _discover_ G+ Communities, they only had _three trans_ Communities _then_, and only _one_ with any _traffic_, but I realized that I still needed at least a “bridge” Community to be able to _present_ myself as any relevant _spokesperson_, but even I after I _started_ a Community on this service, it turned-out to have been one in which I could not even _express myself_, and that my very-words were physically _lampooned_ on the page, in full-sight, of the people to-whom they were _addressed_. Most-specifically, was my _invitation_ to the _membership_, to undertake an _Introduction_ thread–! They were _telling_ me, thus, that I _couldn’t_ “reach-out” to the _members_ here, or to _ask_, “Hey, who _are_ you _here_, and _what_ would _you_ like this group to help _you_ get-done for the community–?” _That_ was the point, where my only _further-attention_ here, dropped to respective “palliative-care,” for the remaining members who _still expressed care_ about the direction of the group–; while I otherwise _sought better venues, elsewhere_.
This thus-far took-the form-of, returning to my original _blogs_, and posting more _videos_ to my video _channel_–; and also to exploring what Facebook had to offer. They had a lot of groups, of course.
The challenge specifically *I* face, in the trans-community–; is a _tangle_ of a _conundrum_.
The problem _sociologically_ or _psychologically_ viz “other” people–; is the fact that too many people inappropriately jump to intellectual _shortcuts precisely_ when faced with a perplexing _riddle_.
That made them _trivialize_ my dilemma, by telling me to gtfo or take-up “hobbies-or-crafts,” to “take-my mind-off” it (an obvious PROJECTION of what THEY ALREADY HAD, “done” regarding “my” “dilemma”)–.
The standingly _Convenient_ Exclusion of the trans people who had not precedingly been “positioned” to have “known-what to” have “done,” the day the news came-out of the-radio, that “transitioning” then had-been “Greenlighted–;” became _progressively-cemented_ throughout the then _succeeding_ years–; to the point wherein, by the time _I_ would-have wrestled-my-way to the front of “social-media,” I _already_ rated as everybody else’s impression of what would be called a so-called “ex” trans or “never” trans, (depending one one’s view of the touted “imperishability” of trans), because of the fact that I was either “untransitionable,” or “knew-better than to-try,” depending upon how “judgmental” the person applying either-label “were–.”
There were two, or three, facts, either arising, or discernible from _this_–:
One, I couldn’t have been _the only_ one.
The rest of people like me they were _cutting-out_, were still two-thirds of trans people, and they were the ones who were _witnesses_ to two generations of what happened before a small confedration of _doctors_ in _one boardroom_ took a shortcut to _changing_ things, possibly for all-time–; possibly to send things whiplashing back another _four_ generations, depending on how reactionary, cis-society would be, and upon how _frivolously_ the _connected trans_ community _handled_ this _newfound gift_–.
Given the _kind_ of _presentations_ I’d been _seeing_ in the _connected trans_ community–; it _looked_ like nothing but a proverbial _perfect-storm_ of _the latter_ clause of _both-premises_–.
The _other_ point, was the fact that the lack of any _other acceptance_ of people who were undoubtedly _trans_ but otherwise _untransitionable_–; meant that _I_ was _unable to matriculate_ in any _social media_ or to _join_ the _connected_ trans community–; due-to their ever-increasing _rejection_ of _untransitionable_ trans _people_, whom they found it ever-increasingly _more-convenient_ just to have _tarred_ as having-been “not-trans,” or they “would” have supposedly “bitten” the proverbial “bullet,” or “found-a-way” to have _transitioned_.
I compare this mentality to that of a conscripted, ancient _soldier’s_ being _sent-away_ with their sword and shield, or told not to “come-back,” until they could “bring” the general, “the head,” of, the stated “enemy–.” First he has to _find_ this guy. Then, he has to _defeat_ him and _kill_ him. _Then_, he has to _pick-up_ his _severed-head_ and _carry_ it–; all the way back to _the General’s barracks_. The chances are, that _the soldier_ will be _the one_ who _gets-killed instead_. He _has to kill_ another human being. And he has to _mutilate the body_ in a monstrous, grotesque way. And then _transport_ the _severed head_. _The General_, however, _cares-nothing_ about _this_–. The general, sitting in his chair, does nothing-of-pertinence to this task while this hapless-minion goes-out, (probably failing and dying), performs all these excruciating tasks, and then just brings-back this _gruesome-relic_ just as _petty-proof_, that the detached _General_ has _just_ been _Relieved_ of his _annoying nemesis_ by the _dutiful_ (and choiceless) _soldier_–.
The point is, that _if_ an _isolated_ or _atomized_, _trans person_, who, we need not _belabor_ the fact that they _already_ are in _quite_ the degree of _dysphoria_ based even _just_ on the fact that they _are atomized thus_–; _wants_ to escape this _atomization_, then is _denied, escape_ from said _atomization_–; UNLESS they _go-out and bring_ the _community_ the equivalent of _the head_ of their particular “Dysphoria,” “as” supposed _Evidence_, that it otherwise had even _ever Existed_–; it’s a _complete-trivialization_, of what said-group is organized even to _fix_.
They are being _marched_ through the effective _machine-gun nest_, of a _transition provision_ system that has NOT at-all “caught-up” with the _legal_ mandates of _ws7_.
Doctors in fact, seem to be _stonewalling_ against _implementing_ these _changes_, and _Gaslighting_ people who show-up to get transitioned–! Telling them _all kinds_ of _Disinformation_, or making them thing that everything they had already-heard were “wrong–.”
It almost seemed “asked-for,” considering the fact that these _patients_ otherwise _wouldn’t_ have _gone_, other than due to the fact that _nobody_ wants to be _isolated_ anymore–; but that _everybody_ in a _joiner Introduction_ thread on a social media trans support group, is almost _expected_ to _recite “the Pledge,” that they _will_ “seek transition services” “in a timely manner,” indeed “if” they have not secured “or sought” them “already–.” It’s become this standing _shibboleth_, and _no-one_ has _bothered to question_ it yet–; and with each passing day, it gets _more-and-more, set-in-stone_ .
The flood of _trans_ young-adults teeming into the doctors’-offices, are _all there_ just on _grudging-errands_ to _appease_ the growingly-tacit _expectations_ of _social media groups_ who _don’t want_ untransitioning _members_, and for _no other reason_–. They were there to _collect their head_ and _head-back_ with-it–. This suggests to me, _why_ some of these doctors might have become so _noncompliant_ with the new _law_. They would see it as having _become-a-farce_–.
If _more_ reasons are needed, once a person has become _ensnared_ in continuing to _battle_ what still _remains_ a _hostile system_ of transition care obtainment–; their _entire focus_ on _anything_ and _everything-else_, is going to be _shattered_.
Much more work needs to be-done, quickly, to shore-up all the political, legal, and logistical _infrastructures_, that _ws7 needs_ in-order to _work_–.
_Instead_, the same people who _care_ enough, not to want to _remain isolated_ or completely ineffective for the community–; are going to be _hamstrung, personally fighting hand-to-hand_, with _vindictive doctors_ who _hate ws7_ (as well as “taking easy, ‘pot-shots’ at transition-seekers, _only-there_ to _dodge-the-shaming_ of their respective _recognition-source_ groups–).
The Stampede’s, being _in full-force_, is _keeping_ anyone in it from _calming-down_, at-all _long-enough_, for anyone to think they _had-time_ even-perhaps, to have _concentrated_ on even _anything-else_–.
Perhaps _the only people_ who even _could_ have _calmed-down_ about the pseudo-exigent “transition-mandate–;” are those who have _already survived_ another _generation, without transitioning_, with their _gender identiity_ still _utterly-intact_–; but–; because _they_ have been _earmarked_ by the _social media system_ as being _personae-non-gratae_–; NOBODY IS GOING TO LISTEN-TO them ANYWAY–.

Basically, I need a GROUP to SANCTION me to SPEAK AT ALL in a Transgender Community, because otherwise, the fact that I am “untranitionable,” makes me “already,” “culturally Pre-Invalidated,” among _all the rest_, who appear to be _out_ here. No matter WHAT I would have wanted to talk about.

I am effectively, being SENT back to CIS-ville, or even “Invited” to “Join” the “Transphobics.”

Despite my focusing this discussion on the Philosophical argument, I actually even have a direct _Material_ one.
I need one person to _sign-off_ on a _Facebook_ group application for me, so I could turn my empty _Page_ there, into an actual _Group_, where I could seek _members_ that actively _Interacted_ with me online, so I could garner any _Traction_ in even _whatever direction_ I would have wanted to have _led_–; even if it had “nothing to do with” “reconnecting the Untransitionable.”

I’m not mentioning that here to “solicit” any “volunteer.” The whole point is to _make_ “the point,” that, not-even “that” is “doable” for me, since groups won’t let people _bring_ that _up_, and that _even_ if they _did_, I would not get _a taker_, because, as an _untransitionable_, I am _blackballed, anyway_–.

The person who has made an unprecedentedly MOMENTOUS post to this Community today, has made an EXPLOSIVE point, about how _critical_ it is, for _every_ person with transgender awareness, currently to _mobilize_ to this great, new _challenge_.
This is why it so heartbreaking, for _me_.
What I would _want_ to do, I _can’t_ do, because I’ve already been “whistled-dead,” by the “anti-Untransitionables” trans community “Shibboleth–.”

Thank You–.

From LGBTQ Nation, for H-BEST and FTM-NETT by Dr. Warren J. Blumenfeld, an MtF born in 1947

In this, my 70th year of life, I am traveling a journey out of yet another closet.

Throughout my entire 70 years, I have never “felt” male, and except for between the ages of 8-10 when I “felt” female, the vast majority of my time on this planet I have neither felt male nor female. The trans movement has given me the space and the terminology to see and define myself as “non-binary” and “agender.” Specifically, my brilliant inspirational young cousin, Ariel Mahler, assisted in prying open my gender closet door by courageous example.

My pronouns are Warren, Warren, and Warren in the first, second, and third person, in the past, pluperfect, present, future, and subjunctive tenses. I also don’t object if people use pronouns to describe me since “he” and “she” never had much resonance or importance in connection to myself.

I am not defining as “trans,” and though I suppose that I present as “cis,” I honestly don’t know, or at this point in my life particularly care, where I fall on the wide and extensive cis/trans spectrum.

I do know quite well, though, that I have deeply internalized the social repression against breaking free from the gender status quo all of those 70 years. I am painfully aware of how I continually self-censor and edit my public behavior and presentation. Though I don’t necessarily like it, I cloth myself in muted colors in my attempts to remain as invisible as possible in the course of my day. I am working now to understand how I want to express my gender with integrity, authenticity, and lack of fear.

I was born in 1947 during the so-called “McCarthy Era” — a conservative time, a time when difference of any sort was viewed with suspicion and scorn. On the floor of the U.S. Senate, a brash young Senator from Wisconsin, Joseph McCarthy, sternly warned that “Communists [often thought of as Jews in the public imagination] corrupt the minds and sexual perverts [homosexuals] corrupt the bodies of good upstanding Americans,” and he proceeded to have homosexuals and Communists officially banned from all government service. To McCarthy, Jews, homosexuals, and Communists were one and the same.

For homosexual U.S.-Americans during this era, police frequently raided their bars, which were usually Mafia owned; the U.S. Postal Service invaded their organizations and even published the names of their mailing lists in local newspapers; and people regularly lost their jobs when “exposed.”

Gender nonconformers and those suspected of “homosexual tendencies” were often involuntarily committed to mental institutions by family members, where they lost all civil rights and control over their lives. Some were never released. Some were forced to undergo electro-shock therapy; some were even lobotomized (doctors removed the frontal lobe of peoples’ brains with instruments forced through the eye sockets or the nose).

Before my second birthday, my parents suspected that I might be gay, or to use the terminology of the day, “homosexual.” Shy and withdrawn, I preferred to spend most of my time alone. Not knowing what else to do with what they considered as my gender non-conformity, my parents sent me to a child psychiatrist at the age of four until my 13th birthday.


There was a basic routine in the “therapy” sessions. I walked into the psychiatrist’s office, took off my coat and put it on the hook behind the door. The psychiatrist then asked me if there was anything in particular that I wanted to discuss. I invariably said “no.” Since I did not understand why I was there in the first place, I surely did not trust him enough to talk candidly.

When I was less than forthcoming in our conversations (which was on most occasions), he took from the shelf a model airplane, or a boat, or a truck, and we spent the remainder of the hour assembling the pieces with glue. In private sessions with my parents, he told them that he wanted me to concentrate on behaviors and activities associated with males, while of course avoiding those associated with females.

He instructed my parents to assign me the household chores of taking out the garbage, mowing the lawn (even though we lived in an apartment building and we did not have a lawn), and not washing or drying the dishes. Though I had loved to design and sew clothing for my sister’s dolls, this was now forbidden to me. And as if this all were not enough, he advised my parents to sign me up for a little league baseball team, which, despite my hatred for the sport, I was forced to join for two summers.

I did not tell the psychiatrist when I was about eight or nine years old that I thought I might be – or possibly wished I were – pregnant. The son of my mother’s friend who lived across the street frequently came over to our apartment. On these occasions, he tried to engage me in a wrestling match, but I always refused since feeling I was pregnant, I feared wrestling would harm my fetus. About one year later, I no longer believed I was female.

If I learned anything during my time with the psychiatrist, it was that I should cloak any signs of gender nonconformity from the sun’s exposing rays – to keep it well concealed deep within my consciousness, only to be resurrected during those rare but precious moments of solitude. It wasn’t long into my sessions with the psychiatrist that I began to believe that there was indeed something wrong with me. Why else would my parents be sending me, trying desperately to change me: my “mannerisms,” my interests, my likes, and even my dislikes?

“When you wave,” my father sternly warned one afternoon on the front steps of our apartment building when I was eight years old, “you MUST move your whole hand at the same time. Don’t just move your fingers up and down like you’re doing.”

He grabbed my arm, and despite my free-flowing tears and cheeks pink with shame, he vigorously demonstrated the “proper” hand wave for “a man.” Then, as if anticipating the scene in the film La Cage Aux Folles (and the U.S. remake The Birdcage), my father took me into the backyard and forced me to walk and run “like men are supposed to move.” Obviously, I had previously been doing something wrong. “Of course the other children pick on you,” he blamed. “You do act like a girl.”

For most of my years in school, I was continually beat and attacked by my peers who perceived me as someone who was “different.” Names like “queer,” “little girl,” and “fag” targeted me like the big red dodge ball my classmates furiously hurled at one another on the schoolyard. I would not – and could not – conform to the gender expectations my family and peers so clearly projected onto me, and I regularly paid the price.

This kind of bullying and policing of my gender expression started the very first day I entered kindergarten. It was 1952 and I was attending public school in Bronxville, NY. As my mother dropped me off and kissed me good-bye on the cheek, I felt completely alone and began to cry. My new teacher walked up to me and said, in a somewhat detached tone of voice, “Don’t cry. Only sissies and little girls cry.”

Some of the other boys overheard her, and quickly began mocking me. “The little girl wants his mommy,” one said. “What a sissy,” said another. Without a word, the teacher simply walked away. I went into the coatroom and cried, huddling in a corner by myself, until she found me.


Years later, in 1970, after I came out as gay to my parents, I asked my mother why she and my father had sent me to “the toy doctor,” as they had once called the psychiatrist. She looked at me urgently and with deep affection said:

“You wouldn’t have understood at the time, but we sent you because we felt you were too effeminate, and we thought you would grow up to be a homosexual. Your effeminacy,” she continued, “was the reason why the other children couldn’t accept you and why they hurt you. We sent you because their taunts hurt us too, and we couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

That wasn’t, however, the whole story; she also confided another reason for sending me. She said that my father suffered the pain of being different when he was young. He and his two sisters were the only Jews in their schools in the 1920s to 1930s in Los Angeles. Because of the anti-Semitism at the time, the other boys beat him up nearly every day.

While in elementary school, he hid in a small crawlway beneath one of the buildings during recess period to avoid attack by his peers. My mother told me that she and my father attempted to help me conform to my gender expectations to fit in so I wouldn’t have to go through what my father experienced.

My parents sent me to the psychiatrist, at least in part, in an attempt to direct my eventual gender expression and sexual identity (at the time, they equated my gender non-conformity to my possible homosexuality). My school reinforced this on my classmates and on me every day.

Even in kindergarten, children were channeled into gender-specific activities: boys were encouraged to participate in sports, girls to hone housekeeping skills such as cooking and cleaning. This less-than-subtle encouragement seemed to grow more rigid with every year of school.

Despite this, I developed what would become a lifelong appreciation of music and art. In the fifth grade, I auditioned for the school chorus and was accepted along with only a handful of boys and about 50 girls. The scarcity of boys in the chorus was not due to any gendered imbalance in the quality of boys’ singing voices. The determining factor was one of social pressure.

I and the other four boys in the chorus were generally disliked by our peers. In fact, most of the other boys in our class despised and picked on us, and viciously labeled us “the chorus girls,” “the fags,” “the sissies,” and “the fairies.” The girls, on the other hand, who “made it” into the chorus were well respected and even envied by the other girls in the school.

When I was 12-years-old, the bullying, the shame, and the pressure from my father to conform merged to bring me to take a large bottle of aspirin from our bathroom medicine cabinet, and toss a large quantity into my mouth, since I wanted to end the pain I was feeling. Somewhere I learned that doing this would cause massive internal bleeding, which could lead to death.

A part of me, though, still wanted to live, and I quickly spit out the pills into the sink with the bitter taste lingering literally in my mouth and figuratively in my spirit.

During high school in the early 1960s, I had very few friends and I rarely dated. It was not that I did not wish to date, but I wanted to date some of the other boys. I could not even talk about this at the time since the concept of high school gay-straight alliances was still many years in the future. In high school, the topic of homosexuality and gender-nonconformity rarely surfaced officially in the classroom, and then only in a negative context.

I graduated high school in 1965 with the hope that college life would somehow be better for me. I hoped that people would be more open-minded, less conforming, more accepting of difference.

To a great extent, things were better. At San José State College (later University), I demonstrated my opposition to the war in Vietnam with others. I worked to reduce racism on campus, and I helped plan environmental ecology teach-ins. Nevertheless, there was still something missing for me. I knew that I did not and could not conform to societal gender expectations and that I was gay, but I had no outlet of support through which I could express my feelings.

As far as I knew, there were no openly gay people, no support groups, no organizations, and no classes or library materials that did anything more than tell me that homosexuality was “abnormal” and that I needed to change.

In 1967, I finally decided to see a therapist in the campus counseling center, and I began what for me was a very difficult coming out process. And then during my first year of graduate school in 1970, I experienced a turning point in my life.

In my campus newspaper, The Spartan Daily at San José State College, I saw the headline in big bold letters: “GAY LIBERATION FRONT DENIED CAMPUS RECOGNITION.” The article stated that the chancellor of the California State University system, Glenn Dumke, under then Governor Ronald Reagan’s direction, had denied recognition to the campus chapter of the Gay Liberation Front.

In the ruling, Dumke stated that “The effect of recognition…of the Gay Liberation Front could conceivably be to endorse or to promote homosexual behavior, to attract homosexuals to the campus, and to expose minors to homosexual advocacy and practices” and “…belief that the proposed Front created too great a risk for students – a risk which might lead students to engage in illegal homosexual behavior.”

Consensual same-sex sexuality remained illegal until 1975 in California, almost five years after I left the state.

This was the first I had heard of such a group, and the first time I had heard about other gay people on my campus. I called the coordinator of the group, and she invited me to the next meeting. Since the chancellor did not permit group members to hold meetings on our campus, they met at a little diner on a small side street a few blocks off campus. Unfortunately, this only confirmed my fears of the underground nature of LGBT life. As I approached the door to enter the meeting, I felt as if I were a member of the French resistance during the Nazi occupation.

Upon entering, I saw around 15 people. I recognized one young man from my chemistry class, but the others were strangers. I saw a near even mix of men and women, which made me feel a bit easier. In my mind, I had envisioned 50 men waiting to pounce on me as I entered, but I soon discovered that they were all good people who were concerned about me. They invited me to their homes, and before too long, I relaxed in their presence.


I left San José in January 1971 to work for a progressive educational journal, EdCentric, at the National Student Association in Washington, D.C. Within a few months after arriving, I founded and became the first director of the National Gay Students Center, a national clearinghouse working to connect and exchange information between the newly emerging network of LGBT campus organizations within the United States.

One year after leaving San José, I read that students at Sacramento State University, represented by the student government, sued the chancellor in Sacramento County Superior Court and won the case forcing the university officially to recognize their group. The court upheld the students’ First Amendment rights to free speech and freedom of association by affirming their contention that “…to justify suppression of free speech, there must be reasonable grounds to fear that serious evil will result if free speech is practiced; there must be reasonable grounds to believe that the danger apprehended is imminent.”

During the early 1970s, I was an active member of Gay Liberation Front in Washington D.C., which formed the leading edge of a movement rising like a phoenix from the ashes of the Stonewall Inn in New York City. Our first meetings were held at Grace Church, the Washington Free Clinic in Georgetown, and All Souls Church on 16th Street, until we managed to rent a brownstone on S Street NW to establish a Gay Liberation Front living collective. Meetings provided a space for gays, lesbians, bisexual women and men, and trans people to come together and put into practice what feminists had taught us — that the “personal is the political.”

We laughed and we cried together. We shared our ideas and most intimate secrets. We dreamed our dreams and laid out plans for a world free from all the deadly forms of oppression. And, somewhere along our journey, we began inventing new ways of relating to one another.

For those of us assigned male at birth, we came to consciousness of how we had been stifled growing up in a culture that taught us to hate the feminine within – that taught us that if we were to be considered worthy, we must be athletic, independent, assertive, domineering, and competitive. Most of all, we at least began to rejected the idea that we must bury our emotions deep within the recesses of our souls.

Through the years, with the increasing visibility and recognition of people along the trans spectrum and of intersex people who have contested and shaken traditionally dichotomous binary notions of gender and sexuality, I have been able to go even further in my “coming out” process.

Their stories and experiences have great potential to bring us back into the future — a future in which anyone and everyone on the gender spectrum everywhere will live freely, unencumbered by social taboos and cultural norms of gender.

I am proud and thankful to those who have laid the path and all who have traveled and extended its course by courageously calling into question this social myth of gendernormativity, the boxes society places us into as it imposes upon us our gender scripts.

Trans and intersex people have opened the boxes for all of us ultimately to obliterate the gender status quo of binary oppositions by demonstrating the visible ways, the options upon an enormous gender continuum — one that does not depend upon a sex assigned to us, a sex that is imposed and forced upon us by others. The trans and intersex communities have shown us the essential fluidity of gender.

In my case, who said old dogs can’t learn new tricks? That is simply an ageist expression anyway!

While one obvious reason I am posting this, is because it is important news everybody should be aware-of, the reason most-pertinent to this page particularly, is the fact that there might be an insufficiency of awareness illustrated by some of what happened in the incident, although this could be just my interpretation, and I am not aiming to criticize either of the victims reporting on this video nor to single them out for any reason:
If you did a Venn Diagram (two circles with an intersection, to illustrate the relative “intersectionality” between two otherwise different “sets”), between, trans people who have been victims or targets of transphobic violence (including intense interference in their personal daily life by family or any people that know them); and trans people who connect on social media, the proportion who would fill the “intersection,” would be a particularly SMALL proportion of either of the respective “starting” sets–. — It is this DEFICIENCY of relative INTERSECTIONALITY between those respective two sets, that forms the “weak-link” in the “chain” between transgender “experience” and transgender “connection.” — I have started this page (intended to become a group when or if anybody decides it made sense to them enough to help me turn it into a group), in the awareness that it is necessary to bring whatever trans people that were shocked out of expressing their identity throughout their time of coming-of-age throughout the prohibitive Harry Benjamin and early wpath eras, first back into both an awareness of their own personal history of aware identification, and to become oriented to the degree to-which transitioning now is both doable and largely “expected(?).” That they can get the 411 that they can stop being Tippi Hedren still swatting at the now long-departed, attacking seagulls (in Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds”), and start realizing, that they don’t have to “keep masking,” (not dressing or speaking as their real identity) or to “keep closeting” (not seeking to find other transgender people, with-whom to associate). While the benefit to the people who then make this journey is self-evident, the benefit to the community, is to further that INTERSECTIONALITY I mentioned above. People who lived this nightmare, who grew-up inside this nightmare, need to be present in this group, to anchor it to reality. One year that has no meteorological winter does not mean a reversal of the icehouse climate that’s been in effect since the end of the Eocene epoch about 30 million years ago. It just means that “a fluke” has occurred. It just-as-easily could have been a year with no meteorological “summer,” in-which there would have been cataclysmic “disaster.” Wpath soc v7 is the biggest breakthrough yet, but what happened six years “after” it–? Trump-Trump-Trump, Trumpety-Trump–. Ouch–. Trump was no accident, “either–:” For longer than since I have discovered the online transgender community, my daily online-feeds have been awash with Obama-haters, even-more-rabid Hillary-haters, completely-senseless, vicious Misogynists, among-whom, it is largely “a given,” that “LGB,” and especially “T” people, are hated even all-the-more by-them–. — Some of at least the “other” things they say, complicatingly, make at least “enough” sense, that one couldn’t necessarily have tossed “everything” they’d said, out, “with-the-bathwater–;” but, unfortunately, they “foul” their “own” “bathwater,” with some arguments that require an investment of “net-faith,” just not to dismiss them, and then they torpedo their whole credibility with naked hoaxes like their flooded comment-boards for things they truly can’t “support” with anything other than “vain repetition” (ad nauseam), or hypnotic “video-tricks.” — In the midst of this propaganda-flood, huge numbers of Americans (not-to-mention those in numerous other Western Countries) managed to get-dragged into this whole dogma of blindly-accepting, more blind-acceptance, of whatever their leadership said, and what their leadership had been “saying,” was to have undertaken a “broadside” of unrelated “tactics” to “derail” the gain process of both women and the LGBT, with the emphasis on the T–. And their biggest political thrust in terms of WHOM to VOTE into OFFICE of course had been the otherwise ridiculous TRUMP. The whole thing really played-out like an enormous, real-life, “Mike Judge” satirical production, similar to politically-oriented episodes of “Beavis-and-Butt-Head,” or, of course, “Idiocracy–.” The less-sense something made, the “more-popular” it would become–. — Surprise, let-alone the “degree” of it–; that non-Trump voters, especially those in the LGBT or trans community, have “expressed,” that Trump “did” win the Election–; is more “evidence,” of this same, “heads-in the-sand” attitude–; that I cite in my opening statement above, regarding whatever degree of surprise attended on the words of the targets in the above video. I’m not criticizing the way they “handled” the incident, and I won’t try to venture-into what “more” they could have done besides their extant, reinforced glass or 24/7 live “video” of the street through the window, that they already “had.” I’m not trying to say, that they were especially “naive.” The one “tell,” to the degree to-which they somewhat “were,” was in noting the so-called “brashness,” (the word the witness used was “bold,” but “I” would upgrade it to “brash,” which is an “upvote” to the “witness–;”) of the “perpetrator.” — Brashness IS a TYPEFYING TRAIT specifically of TRANSPHOBIC people who ACT-OUT–. Haters of any stripe who do, “act-out” on their “hatred,” are generally “sociopaths,” or those with “contempt-for-humanity,” who think that “they” are “a species apart,” and who think they can “pick the whole game-board up,” or “steal all the pieces.” Nothing anybody-else “does,” is ever “real” to them–. — In-this-light–; sociopaths acting-out on their respective vectors of “hate,” will respectively “act-out,” in-proportion-to, how much of a “power-differential,” they each “see,” between “themselves,” (and whomever-else they think they can “mobilize” to have “joined” themselves)–; and their “target” group–. Women’s rights is “well-established,” and women are no longer the supposedly “soft,-” or “inviting-” looking to them “target,” they “once” were. Similarly with “LGB.” But the “trans” community looks like nothing but a CGI, walking, cartoon “Steak” with “Legs,” to them–. Just catch it, pick it up, put it in your mouth and eat it. THIS is what MAKES TRANSPHOBIC attackers so incomparably BRASH–; and this is something I’ve been AWARE-of, since I had my first flashes-of-insight that I at least “might” not have been the gender I was Assigned At Birth–. — Too much of what is being told to trans people, mostly the “connected” ones, and most of “them,” “kids–;” is, to “Shut-Out Everything-Else,” and “Just, ‘Transition,’ –;” although, even for even “kids” for-whom this will ultimately turn-out to have-been “impossible,” or “ruinous–;” they will be blindly, throwing everything-else to the wind FOR it–; but–; even for those, for-whom it is “not” “impossible,” nor “ruinous–;” they “still” are being “misdirected,” away-from a plethora of “other” IMPORTANT things, including one CRUCIAL thing–; that being GUARDING their FLANKS–; not-to-mention, developing (or even “keeping”) a sense of promoting that within the rest of the COMMUNITY–. — THIS is what I’m TALKING-ABOUT, in posting the above ARTICLE. — Thank You–.