testosterone pageant

It was the testosterone equivalent of a beauty pageant.

They flaunt their machismo.

Before there were really musical instruments, men would sing and dance to show their strength and sex appeal to attract the ladies.

Their peacock tail feathers in full display.

Who was the fairest of them all?!?!?

Now we've got men in panties, flexing their muscles, along with their mouths.

Flaunting their machismo, winning the hearts of boys and girls all over the world.

They have different levels of belts, so they work their way up to the tiara and catwalk strut with roses.

Walking down the aisle to the ring with their fashion advisory's suggestion for costumes, you know they practised their own 'walk' in front of the mirror, just like the pageant contestants.

I saw a man in panties with a t-shirt that was provocatively covering his man bits.

At first glance, I thought he was wearing no pants, and thought I might be triggered.

I guess it's the equivalent of the high side slit with low cleavage.

Where the women stand with their duck faces in a form line, these guys flip around their hair, furrow their brows and throw their fists in the air for the most ultimate of bravado possible.

It's really no different.

Testosterone pageant.

So, when I look at it that way, it was a little easier to watch the 'show' of wrestling with Papi when I'd finished my practise for the day.

The production was brilliant for it's purpose.

They have quite the choreography.

I'm sure there's a lot of man stink up in that ring, even though there is NO body hair to be found.

I wonder how many are actually gay?

I'd love to know.  They stuff their heads in men's crotches on a regular basis.

Just like when the women lose their outfits and don their swim suits, they strip down from their cloaks and bare their skin, pointing their sinewy breasts toward the camera.

There's even a panel like judges.

They are there to give commentary, perfectly groomed to be sure that when the camera is on them, they are just as primed as the contestants.

They definitely are contestants.

Who's going to win the crown?!?!

Just like working your way up to Miss 'enter your city here', you get your banner with 1st, 2nd, 3rd Princess and of course, Miss Congeniality.

Which I'm sure are the announcers.

"He is very upset."

Thank you for clearing that up for me.

I was a little confused, because they were beating each other.

Are you sure they're upset?

"The 400 pounder, like a junkyard dog."

Yup.  The guy is big and he won his belt.

Banner.  Tiara and roses.

Oh, then there were the 7 on 7 women.

I don't have to much to say about that, because I was too busy watching them.

I remember a few Vancouver nights with my 'rough around the edges friends' that looked something like that.

How many times do some of these girls pop their silicone?!?!!

At least these girls eat and take care of their bodies.

It's much nicer to see than the anorexia fueled ritual.

It gave me permission to eat more last night.

This battle with the Anorexia Monster is heavy on my mind.

From now on, when someone from this country tells me I am fat, I'll just put on my SuperGirl Panties and tell them I'm a wrestler.

It's kinda true, only I wrestle The 6-Pack.

And sometimes Papi.

i build lean muscle and i burn fat

emasculation

Jeeeeezus ... I needed that.

I needed to look at a beautiful sight of people being happy and enjoying themselves.

I needed The Chef Extraordinaire to fry up some Dominican barbecued chicken, traditional side plate of fried bananas, and purple potato salad.

I've never seen that one before, but I suppose, here, it's normal to put beets in potato salad and it tasted just as good.

They laughed when I said, "Why is it red!?!?!?"

It was torture for me, walking to our spot, but once I was there, the only time I moved was to go pee in the bush like everyone else.

OK.  Forget about drunk crutching through a crowded bar with the potential of slipping in beer.

Let me tell you, if you've never tried to walk with crutches in the beach, it's a feat upon itself.

... hehee pardon the pun ...

It felt like every step I took, I was going to disappear like sliding into quick sand.

Then, once out of the sinking sand, I had to find a spot to piddle, bushwacker style.

Papi held me up by the armpits and I hoped for the best.

I obviously didn't think about the fact that there wouldn't be a toilet on a public beach.  The public beach IS a toilet for most folks who don't have one.

We watched children playing, teens making music with a güira and conga, and hawks flying above us all looking for their feed of fish.

We didn't bring the princess chair when we realized we were the transportation for everyone.  No room for the chair.

But what they do here is rent out chairs and tables at the beach, so we just rented it.

The funny part is, when these folks want to go home, they come and take back their chairs and tables, kicking you off the beach.

It's a riot!

Partway through our fun time, I noticed Papi was getting a little overzealous with the beer, so I stopped my wine intake quite early.

I was now the driver.

Papi said, "But I feel like it emasculates me!  Here the woman can't drive!"

What?!?!  Who are you trying to kid?

When it comes to wheels here, there is no problem to have 3 grown men groin to butt on a motorcycle.

In Canada?  You wouldn't even have ONE male on the back of your bike.

People are so weird about that in Canada and the US.

Here, I've seen women riding scooters with their boyfriends riding bitch.

The men here hug each other.

They touch each other on the arm, waist, whatever.

They wear bright pink, and are more metrosexual than ANY guy I've seen in Canada.

They don't have anything to prove of their sexuality and here, men just seem to come out of the womb macho.  Could have something to do with the fact that they're put to labour as soon as their arms can wield a machete.

Besides, as far as their concerned, there are NO gay people here.

With the exception of the male hookers, but even then, people rationalize, "They're not really gay.  They just need the money."

So, no, Papi, you will ride shotgun when you've drank more than your share.

And off we went with the portable BBQ to drive our newfound friend back to Cabarete, dropping our DR Family off along the way at our tiny little road to our village.

This morning, our new friend who did all the cooking came bay with a gift.  Sweeter than sweet.

There are some really good people here.

Yesterday, I watch the entertainment and forgot about my immobility for a while, not to mention, finished off the filming for this week's YouTube show.

It was wonderful.

In one hour, we go to the hospital to see if this damn cast can come off.

Wish me luck.  Let's hope this is the day I have my legs back.

If it's not, I will do my best to find ways to enjoy myself none-the-less.

Enough of that fucking bed.

i have the ability to see the brighter side

dear sir, you are loved.

So, there I was, amongst a bunch of people from our village at the Party At The Gas Station!!! the night I was practicing drunk crutching, and there was a moment that was more than a little difficult.

Homophobia is rampant here on this island of Dominican Republic and Haiti, and people can be killed for it.

Well, there was a young, flamboyant, out gay man out at the party.

The folks from our group looked to me to joke about this sweet soul with them.

I finally figured out what they were laughing at, realizing it was this lovely person whom I had greeted with a very friendly, "Hola!!" the moment he came in.

I thought he was a rock star for putting himself out there, and thought the girls he came in with were the best friends to have.

Real friends with real love.

The danger is very real, but he chooses not live in fear for whom he is.

He was splendid.

So, when I realized they were looking to me to join them in the belittling, I exclaimed, "You mean that beautiful man?!?!" I placed my hands on my heart to emphasize just how much admiration I had for him, continuing with as much zeal as I could, "He's SOOOOOO BEAUTIFUL!!"

Then, with as perky a positive attitude I could, I added, "He is wonderful and I LOVE him so much!" Hoping this would squelch the temptation to include me in the ritual of spitting out hateful comments.

I continued, "We have so many homosexuals in Canada.  It's wonderful!" not going into the truth of the matter, which is that there are plenty closeted gays here.

They all stopped and looked at each other, not quite sure what to say, or do, as they don't normally get this kind of reaction.

Then one of them said to the others, "Ohhhhh!  Canada."  They nodded, knowingly to one another that we think differently.

Papi said he didn't know how he'd deal with that.

However, Papi is in fear that they will figure out his secret.

It could be equally as dangerous.

I know that people are seriously in danger on this planet for being who they are, and it's a serious topic, but getting angry to teach people is not the answer.

With hate in their heart, people tried to accuse me of being racist and classist, and did it in such a mean hurtful way.

Their actions will never leave my soul.

But I do know, you don't have to be angry and hateful to teach people.

The people I was with that night got to see that there is a different way to react, even though they've been taught to react to adversely.

I wouldn't be able to teach anyone anything about homophobia in one night.

All they get to know, is that one person out there thinks that young guy is wonderful, special, and is loved.

That there CAN be a different reaction.

There is so much to be angry about in this world.

There is so much to take away from beauty, if we let it.

I certainly wouldn't be leaving myself approachable to anyone asking questions about the topic if I was an angry asshole.

I certainly wouldn't be influencing anybody if I treated people here the same way people I thought were 'friends' back home treated me.

Those expelling bad vibes are expunged from my life, and if any of them thought I had something to learn, and wanted to teach me, well, it's too late.

My spirit is closed to their negativity.

They were trying to spread more hate.

So much can be done with love.

Hate?

Nah.

You can't fight hate with hate.

Only love wins.

Dearest beautiful, gay man, you are SO loved!

i choose to stop apologizing for being me

too bad you're such assholes.

Everything is relative.  Like, for instance, how we in Vancouver react to the snow.

I found particular happiness in this day of pillowy poofs falling from the sky, but only because I was warm and dry.

A few years ago, Papi gave me a pair of Sorel boots.

Initially, Papi laughed at me when I left the house in these boots, because our snow doesn't usually warrant this kind of boot attention, but I assured him, I'm not messing around when it comes to being comfortable in this weather.

I refuse to suffer.  I don't care what I look like.

While waiting at the bus stop, for half an hour for a bus that should come by every 10 minutes, I noticed a woman with shoes on, but no socks or jacket.

It was clear she was mentally ill, by the way she was behaving.  So, I guess she dressed herself.  I was sure she must have been cold.

We can't just assume people want help.  She may have felt insulted if I asked her if I could buy her some socks, and who knows what kind of reaction I might have gotten, so I just watched for a while, hoping to ease into a conversation.

Then she started talking with the woman who was upset about missing her granddaughter's school play, because the bus just wasn't showing up.

She seemed happy enough, so I let it go with gratitude for my warm boots, scarf and coat.  Some people can handle the cold.

Along came a man who didn't speak English very well, but I could understand when he asked me how long the bus would take.

I assured him, "It will be here, it's just going to take a little time and patience.  The streets are a little nasty right now."

Like coincidental clockwork, the moment I said that, a car got stuck on the road in front of our bus stop.  I chuckled and said, "Well, I guess she's not going anywhere!  That's pretty funny!"

Of course I found it funny!  I wasn't the one stuck in the car!  No matter.  The guys behind the lady hopped out of their car and gave her a push.  She was moving in no time and these dudes were granted their karma for the day.

However, the man at the bus stop said, "You think it's funny?"

I had to admit, "Well yeah, kinda," even though my chipper mood was soon to be squelched.

He looked down at his feet, and my eyes followed his.  His feet were absolutely sopped, plus the wet, cold snow was crawling up his jeans towards his knees, no different from a sponge absorbing water.

He was obviously cold.  He replied, "I don't think this is very funny."

I asked him, "Do you not have boots?"  I was hoping he'd just say that he wasn't prepared and didn't put them on this morning.

"No," he said.  He sorta shrugged with a 'you don't get it' chuckle, looking down to the ground, "I'm poor."

I looked at his open jacket, "Well, can you do your jacket up to try to stay warmer?"

"No, my zipper is broken.  It's my only jacket."

I almost cried and offered him my vibrant green, cashmere scarf Papi had bought me at a Xmas past.  I thought he'd look ridiculous in it, but his neck would be warm.  My boots certainly wouldn't fit him.

He giggled at my offer, "No, but thank you."

I discreetly asked him if he was on welfare, and when he said he was, I reminded him that there is available clothing for him and to should ask his social worker for help.

He told me he was actually just on his way to The Salvation Army today to get a coat.

I have always maintained that I would never give a penny to The Salvation Army, because they're almost as hateful as the Wesboro Baptist Church when it comes to their homophobia and lack of spirituality.

At least the bastards can be used by us gays in our own way.  The Salvation Army doesn't have to know if this guy is straight or gay, they will still give him clothing.

I would love to donate to help someone like the man I met yesterday, but I just can't.  I hope he at least gets a jacket that does up, but more importantly, boots for the winter.

I hope for today, you're all dry and warm, no matter what your sexuality is.

i matter, and also what i have to offer this world matters

clearing things up.

So, yesterday, I was really hurried in my writing and was also on a hefty dose of pain killers first thing in the morning and I created a bit of a wave in TransLand.

I believe the combination was a bad mix, and I unintentionally hurt people by my words.

I hope to clear things up for you with the 3 topics that have been brought up on my Facebook page both publicly and in private messages.

topic #1

I was speaking about how I am attracted to butches, but that I see I am also attracted to trans guys.

I am not attracted to bio-males, where as some women and men are.

We are all different, and I brought up my baby sister, when first faced with my coming out of the closet, was trying to learn from me.

I used my past of dating only butches to segue to the present and people thought I was saying my love is a butch.

My love is no longer a butch, and I'm still as attracted to him as I was the day I married that butch.

Presently, I am seeing that I am attracted to people with multi-leveled energies, like my love.  I am attracted to the beauty in people's vast differences in being.

topic #2

When I said 'people ... blah blah fucking blah ... freaks', I was really talking about the zealots who like to picket our lives with their signs of Jesus burned to a crisp on a cross at our Pride Parade in the great U S of A.

'They' call gays and lesbian freaks.  'They' call trans people freaks.  'They' call me a freak because I'm attracted to butches, and trans guys.

They can fuck off, because from what I've seen at Gender Odyssey, there's a whole lot of love and acceptance in this world, and their hatred will soon be squashed by the love the world has.

Really, all I wanted to say was, I'm in that boat with all the people I fit in with.  We're all in this together, and it has nothing to do with what anyone else sees us as.

For instance, I am not a 'straight' woman, but I'm seen as such.  Papi is not a woman, and he is not seen as such, luckly for him.

He is seen as the male he has always felt was there, and I'm attracted to my love, but I was afraid I wouldn't be.

I found attraction for another person who carried that energy.  A male being who had a spark of different energy from another part of him.

That made me feel so good, that I could recognize this, and I tried to write about it.

Not everyone would be attracted to the same people I am and I do not think that everyone who is trans has both energies.

I am at peace with my queerness, and see the pattern in my life where, in THE PAST I've had so much attraction for trans guys when they were a 'butch'.

There is no malice meant from my post yesterday, but there were feelings that I had insulted people, because I didn't see others as the beings they are, which is incorrect. 

topic #3

Now.  About the 'tranny' word.  I will continue to stick to my guns and call dykes, fags and trannies as such in a general way, as long as they don't want to be personally called that.

Papi likes to be called that.  The dudes I met at Gender Odyssy like to be called that.

Some people don't and I would never call them that, yet still, as general blabbing here on my blog, I am not using the word in a derogative manner, but more like I would use dyke or fag.

We have taken back dyke and fag, and we use it with adoration and pride.  Why the hell can't tranny be taken back and used for strength?!

I'm not spitting venom when I use the word, and I use it pretty much the same as I would use dyke or fag.

new business/bonus topic #4

Perhaps I shouldn't write my blog in a hurry on pain killers?

I hope I cleared things up from yesterday, and if not and you're still pissed at me, well, as much as I love you stopping by, all I can say is, you are the one making the choice to be here reading.

today's daily mantra comes from my gratitude buddy:

mastakes teach you important lessons.  every time you make one, you are one step closer to your goal.

Times. They are a changin'.

photo by Jezebel

It's only the beginning.

There is so much more we need to do to help heal those who have been harmed by homophobia and transphobia.

So many people are saying it's a 'risky' move before an election, but it's also a good move for humanity and morality.

I hope that this will help the thousands of homeless kids out there, who have been harmed by the ridiculous hatred from their families, who have been brain washed by religious leaders, who's hearts are filled with hate.

I hope that these kids who have come of the age to vote, will actually get out there and make a move to vote to keep this person fighting for them.

It's only the beginning.

For those of us who have our own struggles with acceptance, I hope that it transforms us as well.

I say us, because I'm looking at myself.

Where I was a year and a half ago, experiencing my love's male transformation, was a far cry from where I am now.

I know that my views have evolved.

We all have the ability to evolve.

If we want to.

I wanted to.  I wanted to be able to love mi esposo with the same eyes that saw him as a perfect butch I married.

He is still perfect.

As a matter of fact, he's even more perfect now.

He's a whole person, who is on a path to find himself, and I am only the lucky one to be walking along side of him on his journey.

The person who was in emotional hell a year and a half ago is not the same today.

Those thoughts that I had were terribly hurtful, yet people loved me through them.

My true friends allowed me to have those feelings, they steered me in the right direction, and they supported me when I needed it.

They watched me transform.

Unlike the Hen Peckers, mean girls and haters that I had to face, truly good people held me until I was ready to say, "I love my transgender husband.  He is perfect." 

Ah, the roller coaster of life.

When you're sliding down that hill, it can be exhilarating, or it can be scary if we don't know what to expect around that bend.

The moments where we get to come back up the hill are our times to reflect.

We might even feel the tendency to say, "Do it again!  Do it again!"  The fact that this ride comes around full circle is healing.

We can choose to step off the ride and say, "Damn that was fun!" or we could leave with a sick feeling in our stomach.

Either way, we got through it.

Personally, I love a good roller coaster.  I love the thrill.  I also love the thrill of life.

After the pain subsides, I am free to love the surprises we get, as I'm also given moments of reflection.

The same week a country's leader made a bold statement, my mother actually invited me to a Mother's Day Brunch.

I am shocked and impressed.  She really is going against Mr. Homophobia's wishes.

It's nice to see my mother fighting for my love.

It may be a small step to her, but to me? 

Massive.

Times.  They are a changin'.

what would you do if you were NOT afraid?

i yam what i yam

The funniest part about me asking Papi if he is gay, is that he's now backtracking everything he says in terms of the topic.

"I'm just saying I find them attractive, but it's not that I'm gay."

That is just one of the examples.

My love doesn't understand how much I trust him.

If he tells me he's not gay, then I believe him.

However, methinks thou dost protest a tad too much.

hmmmm ... maybe my love needs another panicked wake up to me hovering over him in bed, after accidentally taking too much medicinal cannabis crack butter, and bark out ridiculous questions ... that would be fun ...

But you see, I'm not even asking Papi anything about it.

He'll be speaking sweetly about someone who he admires and out will blurt, "But I'm not gay!"

It's a bit like a game now.

Last night, we were discussing My Boifriend.

He claims to be gay, but is now in full throws of love with a woman.

That doesn't make any sense with the statement that he's gay.

When it comes to being transsexual, it's really only a one sided sexual preference term anyway.

Seriously.

If Papi is now in the 'man zone', and he loves me, outsiders would consider him straight.

But I'm not straight, and I don't consider myself so.

I'm coming to terms with the fact that I'm always going to be who I am, and nothing that Papi has done to his body and chemistry has made me change into someone I don't want to be.

I am a butch loving lesbian.

I have been so since I was a teen.  I've been so since that time that I couldn't really understand the feelings that I was having about the girls on sports teams.

Hott!!

I'd watch them be masculine in their own way.  They didn't know the feelings I had about them being butchy with their basketballs and soccer balls.

good god ... that was wayyyyy too many balls in one sentence ...

The ones I thought were sexy turned out to be straight anyway.  It was only the idea of them being butch that I was attracted to, but I honestly didn't even know what I was feeling back then!

I'd see bull dykes on the bus and wonder why I was getting so hot and bothered.

I thought these emotions were because I wanted to be like them, but this femme could never be butch.

As much as I'm more like a tomboy in every day life, I like playing dress up too much.

I like to sashay my way through a crowd of dykes, in my best ass outfits, in hopes that the butchiest of the butches will notice my overly round booty and appreciate it.

Yes.

I'm a true femme.

And just because I still love mi esposo despite the changes that are taking place does not make me any different than I was when I fell in love with the world's most perfect butch.

Well, I do have to admit, I think a bit differently since the bomb was dropped last year.  I'm growing, learning and accepting so much more about this male transformation.

I guess I'm the lucky one.

I got the last tidbits of the world's most perfect butch.

'She's' all mine.

I see her light in the twinkle of love in mi esposo's eyes.

Nobody will ever take that away from me.