Laverne Cox is amazing

Katie Couric was interviewing both Carmen Carrera and Laverne Cox. In the first segment she had the audacity to ask Carrera about her "private parts"--after having been graciously deflected with slightly more subtle versions of that question. Then when Laverne Cox came on stage, Couric asked again about transition and got taken to school:

"The preoccupation with transition and with surgery objectifies trans people and then we don't get to really deal with lived experiences. The reality of trans people's lives is that so often we're targets of violence. We experience discrimination disproportionately to the rest of the community. Our unemployment rate is twice the national average and if you're a trans person of color, it's four times the national average. The homicide rate in the LGBT community is highest among trans women.

And when we focus on transition, we don't actually get to talk about those things."

Video available here:
http://katiecouric.com/videos/orange-is-the-new-black-laverne-cox/

Rambling about Naming

I've got a name kink. For real. I like names. I like stories about names. People who say my name the way I say it get bonus points. I really like names and I'm always interested in the whys of choosing names. Names are intensely personal and yet very public. They're one of the first gifts parents give their children, and one of the most lasting.

My name is "They Came Together And United." That might suggest to you that "James" and "Joseph" are not names I considered when looking at baby names. I named my kid "Let Us Be Glad." Though English is my first language and the only one I have ever been fluent in, I've never wanted to give anyone an English name. Instead, I chose a name that contained all the love and hope that I had for my newborn and three years later, we both like it. It may not do much good on a resume, but I've never seen it as my duty to make myself palatable to the mainstream, nor is that a value I would hope to pass on.

One thing I've always wondered is what it's like to grow up with a name that is full of meaning that is automatically understood by everyone in your community…how that shapes how you grow. What if, rather than a dismissive "that's different" or a blank "that's pretty," telling people your name is just straightforward. So if your name is "In the Night" or "In the Hand" or "My Hope" and everybody just calls you that without thinking AND knows exactly what it means, does that lift you up? Make you rooted?

I know someone who chose her children's names to sound like "senator's names." An Illinois senator named Barack notwithstanding, looking at the names of current senators suggests she was right to choose solid English names. A research study confirms what everyone assumed was true anyway--"African American sounding" names get fewer callbacks on equivalent resumes. Which has caused some people to remove race markers from their resumes--organizations, experiences, and even their names. I find this a little heartbreaking.

Outside of considering giving someone a namesake, it never occurred to give anyone an English name. The only two that ever really impressed me were "Excel" and "Sincere." Not sure why, but those speak to me.

Anyway, I've been rambling about this because the first baby born in 2014 in some Texas hospital was named "So'Unique Miracle." That apparently is enough to spark internet vitriol directed at the parents. Which is a bit *odd* to me. Maybe it's because, to me, the name suggests her parents value her. Maybe it's because I'm sure there are many who'd have plenty to say about my naming choices, if I cared to listen. Maybe it's because we're just coming off Kwanzaa. Maybe it's because I remember a baby Miracle from years ago whose name caught me off-guard, but eventually seemed perfect. Maybe it's because being on Team Parent makes me wanna scream "we're doing the best we can, back up off!!!" half the time.

Regardless, I hope all our children take the gifts of the names we give them and benefit from them and rename themselves, if and when they need to.

Defining Women

What is a woman?

That was the question up for discussion. And I was stumped. I had nothing to say, because I didn't have an answer. A woman isn't one thing, can't be summed up in a single phrase. Women can be strong and can be weak. We can be brave and we can be cowardly. We can be loving and we can be spiteful. Women can be whole and we can be broken. Women are so, so, so many things. Woman can manifest every possible form of human expression. We aren't one thing.

Then, of course, the question for me would be that if I truly believed that why was I there? What in me needed sisterhood, needed a community of women if I couldn't even define what a woman was? And that question was easier for me to understand and wrap my head around.

For me, women have been my nurturers. Women have cooked for me. They have sent me home with leftovers when they worried I would spend too much time studying and not enough in the kitchen. They invited me to holidays with their families and then cooked vegetarian baked beans for me…because even though my not eating meat didn't make any sense to them, they wanted me to be nourished in their homes. They have combed my hair. And while, yes, sometimes that was attacking my kinks with a vicious hot comb, it was also me sitting between knees as gentle fingers massaged my scalp and adorned my head with braids. Women have held me, soothed me, and moved me.

I enjoy the company of women, though I may not quite be able to tell you what a woman is.

Most of the other women at the table had many descriptions of women. And for nearly every one, I wanted to amend with a "sometimes." And, as often happens when self-identified gay and bi women get together, the conversation turned toward femininity and femme and stud and roles. That conversation followed a fairly predictable path, with one group decrying the reenactment of heterosexual male/female roles while another group  expressed how labels are a convenient way to help us understand each other and that to pretend they don't is to hide reality. And then there was my favorite group…those who welcomed everyone to take or reject whatever labels/roles/behaviors they wanted--and asked that their own choices, different though they might be, be just as respected. They spoke for themselves, shared of themselves, defined themselves, all without permission and without apology, just with an honest attempt to be heard and understood.

I do so love the company of women.