Library Geek Girl

The title of this article is “Peace be with you.” In Arabic. Yes, I’m on the road again, and this time, it’s to Amman, Jordan.

Amman, Jordan!

Never in a million years would I picture myself here, seriously. But ByWater Solutions has a new organization we’re partnering with to work on better translation tools, and on some knowhow to help them grow Koha throughout the Middle East, and the boss gave me the nod.

The trip to get here is, as you might expect, a journey in and of itself. I flew from Kansas City on Friday afternoon. On the way to Chicago, I sat across from an Indian woman, her husband and another family member, who were toting three (!) little babies–triplets, though where she carried them, I’ll never know. They had their hands more than full with gear and munchkins when we landed, and my layover was long, so I offered to help, and got handed a baby, a beautiful little girl whom I carried off the plane and down the concourse. Babies do not care what language you speak–she and I had a long and meaningful conversation, in which we both affirmed that she was the cutest little baby on earth, and that Auntie Ruthie was crazy and fun. She wriggled and giggled and squealed and it made O’Hare airport almost bearable.

I helped them to the International terminal, and saw them to their ticket counter. I thought, since I had a boarding pass issued by American Air, I could just go to the gate, no?

No.

As I found out after waiting in a long line at security, you much check in. So I did, then waited in the long line again. No major bother.

The twelve-hour flight to Amman could have been pleasant–the food was delicious, the flight attendants were pleasant (and stunningly beautiful to behold in their smart red uniforms), and my seat was quite comfortable. Announcements were in Arabic first, then in English, which took some getting used to.

…but the flight was not pleasant. A few rows in front of me, a family was traveling with two kids, a boy seven or eight years old, and a girl a year or two younger. The boy, it came to light, had recently had tubes put in his ears, so he shrieked and screamed and yelled for the first three hours of the trip. The parents seemed quite unconcerned with this, until the flight attendants finally told them to do something about their unruly offspring. By this time, normally-calm me was wishing that Airbus equipped its’ planes with airlocks, so we could shove this hellspawn out onto the wings for the ride to Amman. The boy did not want to take his pain meds…finally, his father, and two male flight attendants tricked him into coming into the aft galley, where they bowled him over and sat on him, and forced it down him, dissolved in some orange juice. So somewhere over the central Atlantic, he finally passed out, and we all got a couple of hours of sleep.

When he woke up, over France, he would not be tricked a second time, so the ride over Europe was distinctly un-fun. I’m going to preach a moment here, okay? Don’t be that parent. Don’t be the person that makes other people wish you had never found a mate and bred. If your child is big enough to back up his temper tantrums with force, as this guy was, and a spoiled brat, as this guy was, then do not bring him on an aircraft with more-civilized people; ship him as cargo, or drive, or something. Please. I realize this kid was hurting, and was being a spoiled brat, but the parents were the problem, as I see it–they really didn’t seem to care that everyone in the rear cabin of the aircraft wanted to toss them and their child overboard…never a word of apology to anyone, that I saw.

I got through Immigration and Customs with no problem, and grabbed my suitcase, and was found at once by the folks I came to meet, who took me for takeout, and to the hotel. The hotel is a bit nicer than Vihang’s Inn in Mumbai, although–like most–not quite as advertised on the website. But you know me–any flat spot will do. The bed is comfortable, and the showers are hot.

I’ve put some pictures up here, there will be more, I’m sure.

Work to do shortly, so I guess I’ll sign off for now.

Dear Reader,

The first of the ten transformative practices described in Buddha Is as Buddha Does: The Ten Original Practices for Enlightened Living is generosity.

Now, at first blush, I didn’t think of this as particularly hard stuff–even when subdivided into three sorts of generosity:

• Giving of physical support--food, clothing, any tangible thing, necessary or luxury.
• Giving of emotional support--encouraging words, companionship, comfort in times of suffering
• Giving of the Dharma--to a Buddhist, this is the "teaching a man to fish" of the old proverb.

I think I’m pretty good at this sort of thing, though there is always room for improvement. If you’re at my house, and it’s mealtime, you’ll get offered a meal, most every time; if you need a ride somewhere, ask, and it’ll probably happen. The same goes for the other two sorts of giving–I like to think I’m pretty good at those. Indeed, the Buddha listed this practice first among the perfect practices (paramitas, in Sanskrit) precisely because it’s something that’s pretty easy to wrap your head around.

There is a story told of a wealthy man who came to hear the Buddha speak, and when the Buddha was talking about generosity, the rich man was upset, because he was uncomfortable giving, even to his children. “Give them milk sweets, then, and later increase your largesse,” the Buddha instructed. When the man protested that he could not even do that, the Buddha told him, “Surely, sir, you can shift some coins from one pocket to another, or from one hand to the other. Start with that.”

There are a couple of things to be had from this story–and therein lies the challenge of this chapter, for me. First, and obviously, if someone has never learned to be a giver, starting small is a good idea. But the deeper bit of wisdom here lies in the Buddha’s final instruction. He’s asking the man to give–to himself, first. And there’s the rub. That’s the part I’m not so good at.

The Buddhist path is often called “The Middle Way,” and it is supposed to be a path of no extremes; a path where wisdom and insight and inner equanimity temper your actions, in order to make the least amount of stress and suffering possible. So we’re not called to give away everything, at our own expense. It may appear that way, when you see how monks live, but they’re just doing what many faiths are called to–give away what you don’t need, what you have in surplus. They “need” so little, that to more-wealthy folk, it looks like they’re giving everything up, but if you ask, you’ll often hear them call themselves “rich,” as the universe provides them their needs, and more that they can give away.

Finding that balance–between your own needs and that cheerful giving–is hard. In the physical, I suppose, it’s not too bad. You probably have, as I do, a budget, and in your budget might be some funds set aside for charitable works that you believe are good causes. You also know that it doesn’t cost much to buy a few extra bites of groceries, in order to be able to offer dinner or lunch to a friend who is over at that hour. But what of emotional support? Many times in my life, people have sought me out to talk over things that are bothering them, and I like to think I’m good at dealing with that. My shoulders are broad, and my heart is big. But when I’m feeling stressed or hurt or whatever, that’s when I don’t take good care of myself, often, by seeking out the support of friends and loved ones.

…in that moment, lies the final, perhaps-paradoxical challenge of generosity: receiving. I often find myself not wanting to be “beholden” to someone–and that indicates an attitude of book-keeping, of a trade, and that’s not generosity. I don’t keep accounts of what I give, so why is it that I keep counts of what I receive? That’s the puzzle for me, and one I’m going to have to spend time meditating about in the coming weeks. Some of it, I am sure, comes from my Underground-Man-esqe sense of unworthiness; I don’t think of myself as all that important, really, even to myself. Much to ponder…

So what of you, Dear Reader? What is the challenge of generosity, for you?

The next chapter discusses self-discipline. See ya soon.

This week, the National Center for Transgender Equality released a new document listing ninety-nine legislative and administrative steps that need to be taken at the Federal level to gain greater equality for transpersons in America. You can get a copy of the thirtyish-page PDF here, and I recommend you doing so, if you care about such things.

It’s a great document, truly. Everything in there is important, even, I will grudgingly admit, that getting full marriage equality for same-sex couples would be helpful in some cases for transfolk. And, thankfully, same-sex marriage is not the first thing in there, and doesn’t get nearly as much treatment as some other–IMO much more important–issues. In that, the NCTE follows along with the survey released last year from the NGLTF, in which we find that transfolk don’t rate marriage equality as even close to the most important thing on their legislative radar.

My question, I suppose, and my challenge to Mara Keisling and the team at NCTE, is if they will back this up with action. The Blueprint asserts that many of these are achievable in the next two years–okay, so deliver. And not just on the ones that matter to the rich white post-operative transsexual women who write checks to you, but the ones that matter to persons of color, pre-op and non-ops, genderqueers, transmen, and on and on. Since I’m uninsured, and apparently uninsurable, I’d like to see some progress on the healthcare front, and the matters of ID changes are of some interest to me, personally.

In short, Mara, if you claim to be an organization that serves the whole transgender population, you need to walk the walk, and I’m just not seeing that. I’m seeing you buddying up with HRC (which has proven again and again that they are not friends of transpeople) and spending way more time on something that really rates pretty low on our list of priorities–marriage. You will be known, forever, by the company you keep–that is true of us all. Keeping company with HRC is not helping your image as an advocate for me, at all. Pick your friends better, please? HRC wants you by their side as a “partner” when it comes time to get numbers for their legislative agenda–marriage, marriage, marriage–but they absolutely don’t want to stand by ours, the one you published this week.

If a “partner” won’t promise to be there for us–for all of the things in the Blueprint–then you need to question the value of that partnership. There will be some things they don’t care about much, surely, and that’s okay. ID issues are something that, as far as I know, are uniquely ours–but they need to not hurt us on anything in the agenda, and HRC, Equality Maryland, and many other so-called “Equality” orgs have demonstrated repeatedly that they will throw you, and me, and every other transperson in America under the bus in a heartbeat, if it’ll let them get married. They did it in Maryland this year, they’ve done it in the Congress for years–it’s not up to them to stop doing it; it’s up to you, Mara, to stop letting them do it.

You’ve proven you can do this without the GL lobby–your work with TSA has been incredibly helpful to me and other transfolk who travel. Keep up the good work that you are doing, and can do…and dump the people that will hurt us out of your orbit–good advice for us all, I think. Get out from under the skirts of the so-called “Equality” organizations of the GL lobby, and stand on your own two feet. Our message–the message of our lives that came out in last year’s survey–is very compelling; I get new allies every day with the facts from that survey. We don’t need an “ally” who will say nice things to us, then hang us out to dry when they get a whiff of what they want.

Hey! See that new box over in the sidebar, labeled “Shameless Commerce”?

Right now, the link to Legalze Trans* is the only thing there, though I may add other things later, on a rotating basis. I chose this particular thing to put there for a couple of reasons:

• They give me a nice percentage of any sales that I send them (15%), which can certainly help pay for this blog!
• You all know the mantra--trans people are invisible. You walking around wearing one of these will provoke questions, which--since you know me--you have the answers for. (If you don't, ask me, eh?)

If you’ve got $20 to spare, why not get one of these shirts–they come in lots of sharp colors, and sizes from eety-beety up to honkin’ big. You’d be doing me a couple of little favors, in the process.

Dear Reader,

I realized something in the last couple of days, and I think it’s kinda important.

When I first started going out full-time as a girl (by “full-time”, I mean even on nights and weekends, even before I was out at work), I was a little bit fanatical about getting myself “dolled up.” Even as recently as a month or two ago, I wouldn’t be seen outside the house much unless I’d been done up like a high-priced pooka–hair just-so, makeup, etc etc…and when I was out without all that, I felt awkward and–I’ll say it–ugly.

But yesterday, and today, I haven’t. Yesterday, I walked in the Lawrence St. Patrick’s Day parade, and I knew it was gonna be a scorcher, so I didn’t put on any makeup. I saw thousands of Lawrencians, and not once felt awkward or ugly. And I repeated that result today, when I went to Home Depot and to Wal-Mart. I put on a cap, pulled my ponytail through the hole in the back, put on some earrings, and headed out. In a TANK TOP, no less!

I’ve said a number of times that transitioning has made me “more comfortable in my own skin,” and that’s been no-less true then, than it is now. But there are levels and grades of that, I’m finding. And that’s a good thing!