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Broken WingsFrom: http://tggalaxy.com/wings1.html CUT ME, I BLEED REAL BLOOD NON HUMAN According to the Texas Appeals Court *** By Barbie Lee Some estimates say there is only one in every three hundred and fifty thousand babies born. Others say it's closer to one in every two hundred thousand. Why such a large discrepancy in the numbers? For the most part, they prefer to stay away from the eye of the public. Also it is hard to get numbers on a group of people who don't want to be counted or noticed. Some are not counted because they never see a doctor. For others a doctor of choice is outside the United States. The cruelest count of all is the estimates of those who commit suicide. Their suicide rate is estimated to be anywhere above fifty percent to below ninety percent. Again, why the wide disparity in numbers? Because, when they die, some are never reported for what they are. Others never are known until it's too late. The normal situation for family and friends is to bury them and never mention it again. What is so threatening about this smallest minority that sends otherwise sensible men and women into fits of rage? What is it about this elite group that causes the majority of men to cross their legs and start squirming in their chairs? How can such a small group of people send members of congress into shouting matches when considering bills that may recognize this tiny group? How is it, Texas Appeals Court Justices decided to label them neither male nor female? What are these things…, these non humans? Are they members of a terrorist group? Could it be they are members of a death squad? So many of them die before age thirty. They bring out the wildest emotions in everyone who knows about them. They must be a fringe radical religious group! To be so vilified by politicians, they must be destroying the very foundation of government. They are so secretive, they have to be part of a Black Operations Organization. One of them may be a close friend and you may not know it. She could be the housewife down the street, the office worker you admire, or even the construction worker with the hard hat and muscles of steel. They are for all intents and purposes, humans of everyday stature. Sick, liberal news media aside, they are not freaks, sideshow acts, nor fringe radicals. They have good days and bad days just like everyone else. They love, hate, cry, laugh, and run the gauntlet of emotions same as any human. If one thing sets them above all other people? They usually have more compassion and understanding than most people. They are treated with hate and disrespect by most who find out about them and they turn the other cheek and give back love. When confronted with bigotry, they are non confrontational. They are the gentle souls of this star ship we call earth. It is this attitude of turning the other cheek that has given them their most trouble. In this day and age of, he who screams the most gets the most favors, the best jobs, the most respect? They receive little or none. Like the disciples of Jesus, who quietly and meekly went about their lives, these non humans try to blend in with their desired life as unassuming as possible. They want nothing more than to realize their life long struggle to be a complete human and achieve their life long, most passionate dream. They want to be one in mind and soul. Working to support other groups who are vocal, "loud and proud" in hope they will get support in return has not worked for these non humans. When it comes down to crunch time in the legislature or the judicial system, the gays, lesbians, transvestites, and other vocal groups are more than willing to give up a sacrificial lamb for the slaughter. The smallest minority group is that sacrificial lamb. Politics is give and take. "I'll give you some of what you want if you give me some of what I want." Easy enough to do. When writing bills just give up the smallest minority. They don't have any political clout, they don't say much, and who listens to them anyway? Thus, rights for gays, lesbians, and other minorities usually exclude the smallest minority either by direct language or by indirect intent. Judges have no problem passing judicial judgment on them or against them. Who are they going to complain too? They have no rights either by legislative ignorance or by judicial judgment. They are for all intents and purpose, non human. The car she was a passenger in was broad sided by another vehicle which had run a four way stop. Critically injured, Tara Hunter had been removed from the car and was lying on the pavement when the EMS team arrived. In Washington DC this was the fire department. A crowd had gathered around the accident. One member of the EMT team begin working on Tara. All was going according to the book until he slit her pants open. At this point he stopped treatment and backed up from the victim. Witnesses say his words were, "this ain't no bitch!" Tara Hunter was semi conscious and gasping for breath as a few more EMT personnel gathered to look. Again from witnesses at the scene, one of the other personnel said, "Look, it has a cock and balls!" Treatment of Tara was suspended by the EMT personnel until the crowd begin shouting at them to "help her." At this point, some of the other EMT personnel moved in and resumed treatment until she was loaded into an ambulance. She was pronounced DOA (dead on arrival) at the hospital. The EMT members who refused to furnish any further aid to Tara after learning she was a transsexual, were never disciplined. She was after all, a member of the smallest minority. Family and friends said she had been accepted as a girl since age fourteen. Tara Hunter was born as a biological boy according to the system. On August seven, nineteen ninety five, twenty four year-old Tyrone Michael Hunter died with her life slowly draining from her as EMT medical personnel made jokes about her condition. In my research for and against transsexuals, I have run across hundreds of stories of human rage against us. I knew it was bad. I didn't know it was this bad. Unless one blends perfectly with the "status quo" then the hate directed toward us is unbelievable. What is even worse than the hate is the indifference by everyone who is not hating us. It's okay to kill us, no one cares anyway. I'm not Jewish and I don't mean to demean those who are, but does anyone understand the consequences of the Holocaust? The legal system is absolutely going out of its way to say it's okay to kill or maim a transsexual. I find the indifference of professionals who were trained to save lives, explicitly joking and laughing at someone who is dying in front of them, intolerable unto itself. I am driven. I am writing this book for everyone who is on the outside looking at us. This is also for those on the inside who need to finally decide we have had enough indignity heaped upon us. I will tell you about the successes and the failures. You will hear personal stories of the transsexual. I pray those who have never met us before finally understand we are not a sideshow portrayed by the likes of Jerry Springer, Geraldo, and others like them. Those kind of shows parade out the psychos, misfits, and others who are not what they claim. All this brings in ratings which is what the purpose of the show is all about. Human suffering, or the irreparable harm done to those like me is of no consequence. Sure we have psychotic, schizoid, and mental misfits in our culture of transsexuals. Name one single culture that doesn't? Painting all of us with the same brush would be the same as painting society as a whole with the one definition. What is wrong with this picture is to classify all transsexuals with the same identification. We are a mix of personalities with the same likes, dislikes, hate, love, and all the other feelings as anyone else. Her company had scheduled maintenance to perform on some equipment in his office. She had done this many times before. But that was before he was running for president and the Secret Service had been assigned to guard him. The serious young man, wearing the dark sunglasses, standing in front of her, was going to do his job by the manual. That included giving her a full body search before she was allowed into the presidential candidate's office. The regular security team started gathering as the Secret Service agent began his job. By the book, shoulders, arms, upper body was the normal body search. The secret service agent searched around and between her breasts. Weapons and electronic devices are too easy for a woman to hide there if she had destruction on her agenda. Patting down her sides and back up her leg, the secret service agent came to a sudden halt. In total shock, he rose up from a half crouch. Staring at her eyes, he reached up with his right hand and slowly removed his dark sunglasses. The service manual never covered anything like this. He was at a loss as to what to do. Looking back into his eyes, the attractive young lady smiled, shrugged her shoulders, and waited. Hysterical with laugher, the regular security team was about to die. They knew the young lady in question and had been quietly waiting on the side for the young Secret Service agent to find out about her on his own. They are the smallest minority. The majority of them commit suicide before the age of thirty. Because of those that aren't reported and those that are never known, some say the numbers may be as high as ninety percent. They are also the least understood. It's no wonder. They usually don't understand themselves. Psychologists study them, surgeons dissect them, and government shuns them. Bigots harass and kill them. Law enforcement barely covers the basics when they find them dead, either from murder or self inflicted death. Politicians ignore them when writing laws to cover other minority rights. Judges consider them neither male nor female and thus not human. Most of society has never heard of them. Of those that have heard, it's only in passing or from sick shows which want to parade out the misfits. Jerry Springer, Geraldo, and the other talk shows parade them out as a carnival act of freaks. They are misfits to be laughed at, humiliated, and discarded when the cameras are turned off. They are good for ratings and filler. When the news media does an article on them, they pick the ones who are the most outrageous, the most vocal, or clearly not what they profess to be. A beautiful young lady, she worked hard for her rights and others like her. The DMV (department of motor vehicles) was one of the places she worked to make a change. It was through Tacy Ranta's efforts, Anne Ferro came to know more about this smallest minority. Anne Ferro was head of Maryland DMV. Tacy and two others had made a visible effort to contact Anne and explain the problems and complications associated with the way they were perceived. Unlike many others, Anne listened with an open mind. It was not an unfair request. Even through there was no precedence for it, Anne Ferro implemented a policy change in the DMV drivers license division. There was no hard reason not to and Tacy had presented a very logical and reasonable request. Not a logical request according to others. It was blasphemous, a crime against all other people. It never should have been allowed. All this screaming and shouting from a few who weren't hurt, affected, or changed in any way shape or form from this minor change in policy. Yet it meant so much in physical and psychological help to the handful who could now change their drivers license. "Faggot!" He screamed as he pulled the trigger. She fell to the pavement, blood pouring from the hole in her chest. Her killer and his friends were on a crime spree that night. Tacy Ranta was the only victim they shot. She was singled out among all the people the young criminals robbed and mugged that night. It wasn't because she resisted. It wasn't because she didn't have something of value to steal. Her sole crime? She was a member of an elite group. A member of the smallest minority died on the street that night, a victim of hate. Tacy Ranta died before she could realize the rewards of one of her goals, the generosity and kindness of Anne Ferro's change in DMV policy. Tacy Ranta would never have her real gender printed on her drivers license. Brandon Tenna was young, handsome, and well liked. He also had a girlfriend. His life was pretty much straight forward as most young men's lives are at the age of twenty one. It all changed in a heartbeat of a few hours as he was raped by two men he befriended. John Lotter and Marvin Nissen were never charged nor tried for the rape of Brandon Teena. Richardson County, Nebraska Sheriff, Charles Laux had taken a statement from Brandon and then directed his deputy sheriff, Tom Olberding to not make an arrest. The "Omaha World-Herald" described Laux as "forceful and sometimes bullying and crude" Nebraska Supreme Court Judge Nick Caporale wrote. "Notwithstanding his knowledge of the threat to the victim's life, Laux informed the perpetrators of the victim's complaint. It seems to me that the moment the perpetrators were made so aware, Laux acquired a duty to protect the victim. If the allegations are proved, by talking with the perpetrators but not arresting them, Laux laid an essential link in the chain that led to the victim's death." What was Brandon's crime that made him so despised by the law enforcement community? The crime that raised so much hatred in John Lotter and Marvin Nissen that they were tried and convicted of murder and sentenced, respectively, to death and to life imprisonment? They were enraged that a biological female had been able to pass as a male and date a female friend of theirs. Brandon Teena was born Teena Brandon. His crime? He was one of the elite group known as the smallest minority. The state of Nebraska, which one would think, should take into consideration, misuse or abuse of office by a public official either by willful desire or neglect. One would think they would take action against irrehinsible conduct. Not a peep was heard from the legislative branch, the judiciary, or the governor until JoAnn Brandon forced the issue. Brandon Teena's mother, JoAnn Brandon had to go to the Nebraska Supreme Court to win the chance to have a trial on behalf of Teena's estate. In addition to negligence resulting in Teena's death, Brandon is charging that Laux deliberately inflicted emotional distress on Teena. The three-day hearing began September 21 in Richardson County District Court in Falls City. Teena has been consistently referred to in court proceedings as a female and by his birth name Teena Brandon; Brandon's attorney Herbert Friedman refers to him as "the girl." JoAnn Brandon won a small judgment and has since filed an appeal. A movie has been made of Brandon Teena's life and death. "Boys Don't Cry" I was born in nineteen forty four in Elk City, Oklahoma. It is part of the high plains, beautiful, wide open country. There are the prettiest sunsets in the evening, with hot lazy days and the occasional dust devil during the long, hot, dry summer days. The jetstream pouring in over the Rockies would bring our spring rains. Sometimes soft and gentle spring rains, other times roaring storms of lighting, hundred mile an hour winds, damaging hail, and the all too prevalent tornadoes. Spring is a time of renewal with God, the land, and the many faces of nature. Land had to be plowed and readied for the growing season. Seems as if I spent my whole childhood riding tractors. By age four I was driving by sitting on my dad's lap. By age five I was on my own. Back in those years, the tractors were not like ones everybody sees now. The driver sat up on a seat between the two, big, back tires. Those tires brought a lot of dirt up with them every time they rolled over. If the wind was blowing, which it always does in Oklahoma, then one ear or the other was getting sandblasted from dirt off the tires. Many a night I would crawl into the bathtub and not be able to stick a washcloth in either ear because they were full of dirt. Those nights I would spend a lot of time with my head under the water soaking the dirt off my body and the mud out of my ears. Driving on a farm is like any other job. One learns from doing it and a lot of times, whatever you did was a mistake. After plowing the land, when rains came, they would soften and flatten the soil. The land would start blowing. If the owner didn't stop the blowing then they would lose their valuable possession, their top soil. We made jokes about Oklahoma being the one place in the world where a person could stand knee deep in mud and have sand blowing in your face. Dad would hook up the disk or harrow and we would start streaking the land where the disk or harrow would break the top crust. The land would once again resist the urge to move on to Texas if it was a north wind or to Kansas if it was a south wind. After plowing in the spring, it was a never ending cycle of working the land until it was time to plant. Those were the hot lazy days of warm spring sun, moving tons of seed and fertilizer, one hundred pound bags at a time from the gin, to the pickup, and to the planter to be placed in the ground where it would soon sprout new life. I spent a lot of hours sleeping in the bed of that pickup dreaming of what I believe most girls dream of. I dreamed of pretty dresses, growing up to be a beautiful woman like my mother, and making my mark in the world. Because of his experience, dad always was the tractor driver as he made the first rows and planted cotton seed. A few weeks later we would plant feed seed from one end of the field and back again. He would make four rounds and then it would be time for me to move the pickup back to the planter where we would fill up the boxes with seed and fertilize. Then we would do our ritual all over again until all the land was planted. Not what one ever consider, by the wildest stretch of the imagination, to be the right time nor place for someone like me. This part of the world was and is, staunch, Christian conservative, red neck, good ol cowboy country. Raised on a dairy farm, I knew by the time I was five or six, something was definitely wrong. I was supposed to be a girl. All my thoughts and emotions were girl. My dreams were of me as a girl. By the time I was closing in on seven years old I came to another mile stone in my life. I realized about this time that little boys don't magically turn into little girls. There are real strong rules in society where one doesn't question the way they are perceived from the outside and the way one thinks from the inside. Quickly one learns to confirm to the standards or be subjected to endless taunting and teasing from friends and siblings. Besides being in the wrong part of the world for what I was, there was also the problem of being in the wrong time of the century. There was no name for what I was besides a screwed up, psychotic mess. Christen Jorgensen had not made the news. Transsexual wasn't in the English language, much less in the news. At that time, and even now, being a girl inside a boy's body sucked. I did the best I could without really being open about it. There were my mother's slips, brasseries, dresses, and yes shoes. These things I could wear when those rare moments arrived and everyone in the household was working outside. If my mother threw anything away such as a dress she had outgrown, immediately it went into my little stash hidden in the barn loft over the milk barn. One dress I will remember forever was light green and had a full skirt. A stiff wire slid into the hem made it into a full queen's gown. Quietly scurrying to the barn loft, I wore it as often as I could slip away from chores and work. For an instant, I would be transformed from that little farm boy into a "lady of the court" and my world would be complete until it was time to go back to work. My snatches of life as a little girl were never long enough. By then, I would have traded 'all' the life god had planned for me, for one year as a real girl. Star was born in Tennessee. It was a small community near the border of Kentucky. His family didn't have a lot. In Tennessee, that would be next to nothing in most people's idea of standards of living. Star said he was brought up to believe in the good book, according to the Southern Baptist way of thought. The community wasn't in the mainstream of USA so there wasn't a whole lot of outside influence in his young life. Star said, as he was growing up, he really had no need to know what was going on in the world past the small community he lived in. In the early seventies, Star was just eighteen, in the Navy, and stationed in San Diego. In his adventures and loneliness he was fortunate to meet a lovely young lady working in a theater. For months, he constantly flirted with this sweet lady. He was not bold enough to ask her for a date. The following are his words. One evening, while in the park in front of the theater, an old gentleman approached me to chat. In our conversation the gentleman informed me of my flirtations with this lady. He said, "Son, you are young and do not realize what you are dealing with." I was totally confused with this remark. "Why?" His reply still burns in my mind today. "She is not as she appears, son. Your little sweetheart is a man!" I was shocked, and very confused! I had no reply for the old man. I knew not what to say. I had never heard of such. I never went back to the theater. To this day it still haunts me. For as the years have passed, and I have grown older, I understand things a little clearer now. Yes, I have regrets. The young lady might have well been the best thing that ever happened to me. I had abandoned a golden opportunity, whatever it may have been. I realize this now. After spending hours reading web-pages, and chatting with these lovely ladies on IRC, I would have not made the same mistake. I have a better understanding today than I did in the early seventies." Why does this smallest minority cause such emotional explosions in otherwise intelligent, non interfering people? Part of the reason is because the smallest minority violates the cardinal rule of crossing the gender boundaries. Not happy with their lives as they were born, they seek a relief by making the mind and body one whole congruent structure. Not accepting the law of men where one has to stay with the biological gender they were born with and be thus unhappy for all their life, they change sex to make their life more bearable. This radical thought along with the change of the body by the transsexual is something most people can not understand and will not accept. The average normal heterosexual male or woman has never desired to change his or her sex. The truth of the matter, gay and lesbians who are bisexual don't want a sex change either. They don't understand the feelings and the drive the transsexual has inside them to desire the change. Nor, does the average heterosexual human want to understand. For the most part, normal heterosexual people first feel shock, next comes fascination, then revulsion, and then outright dislike or hatred for the transsexual. The heterosexual has been confronted with the unthinkable and they usually aren't able to deal with it in a logical and calm manner. Not unlike confronting one's wildest nightmare and finding it wasn't a dream. Again, the heterosexual doesn't take the time to understand the transsexual is as normal as anyone else they have ever met. In spite of the Texas Supreme Court ruling, transsexuals are human and have all the feelings, emotions, and desires of any other human. I believe this is where I should explain what a "true" transsexual is. I am going to explain the male to female (MTF) transsexual and if you want, you can reverse the gender for the female to male (FTM) transsexual. Also, please understand, this is my personal interpretations of a transsexual. In spite of what the medical community and the rest of the world believe, transsexuals are individuals. Don't lump us as all being alike. We are as different from each other as everyone else in the world. A baby boy is born and to all those present, with their current level of knowledge, it is a boy. He will have the correct anatomy of a male. This is all well and good but it is visual reference. If this baby is a transsexual, his mind will be claiming "her mind". He may know by the age of four to six that something went terribly wrong. His mind is all girl and he thinks like a girl while his body says boy. He will want to play dress up in mommy's clothes rather than play king of the hill or rough and tumble with the other kids. Social pressures will usually force the young transsexual to conform to certain standards. They may have the wrong brain in the wrong body but for the most part they are above average intelligence. They quickly learn though trial and error what will keep them from being teased or taunted mercilessly by other siblings, friends, and even their own parents. As the boy grows older he will find ways to vent his frustrations as a girl trapped in a boy's body. He will spend time dressing as a girl, fantasizing about being a real girl, and even may try some self experimentation on himself to become a girl. Usually if he lets it be known to his parents he wants to become the thing his mind is telling him he is, he will be dragged off to the psychiatrists to be brought back under control. Enough of the "couch" and he will learn to repress his desires and feelings and again conform to society and their desired boy-girl stereotype. By now, some of the transsexual boys will have committed suicide because they can no longer contain the desires of the girl trapped in the boy body. He will be buried and no one will ever again mention the boy liked to dress up in mommy's clothes. It will remain the family's 'little dirty secret' as they lower the coffin containing the boy-girl into the ground. Those that have made it to the age of leaving home usually find some relief for the girl inside them that has been tormenting them all their life. They can now dress as their mind demands, in the quiet of the night, in the safety of their own apartment or house. Others have been conditioned to the fact their problem is a disgrace of ungodly magnitude, and they enlist in the Marines, Navy, or any branch of service to prove they are "macho men". They can kill, drive tanks, and swim twenty miles, but the girl inside them never goes away. Others marry, and have kids to prove they are really men and not a woman in a man's skin. The sad part of this whole deception is, whatever they do to forestall the female that is inside driving them, doesn't work. By this time in life, others have committed suicide and the rate is over fifty percent. The transsexual is losing the battle on all fronts, within themselves, with society, and with recognition by our lawmakers. A few have transitioned to what their mind has told them to do all their lives. They changed their bodies with the help of an understanding doctor and hormone therapy. Even so, they had to run a gauntlet of unimagined pain, humility, discrimination, and a huge monetary drain to make the change. In the United States, under the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care, they are required to live one year fully dressed as a woman without having the body of a woman. Only when they have been embarrassed to the point no other human is asked to tolerate will the psychiatrists recommend the transsexual to a doctor for surgery. The transsexual is usually the most vulnerable during this state of affairs. He is being drained by the medical profession of impossible amounts of money. His job is put in jeopardy because he is required to be dressed as a woman while everyone knows he still is a man and has all the male equipment. His co-workers don't want him to use the men's restroom because he's a faggot, queer, or drag queen. The women don't want him in their restroom because of the same reasons. Management can't stand the thought of him interacting with clients because it might give the company a bad image. The Texas Appeals Court labeled him as non human with no rights. Courts won't support him if he's fired. He is not human and not a minority. He is by all counts…, nobody. A lot of transsexuals make it to this point in their life and are left in oblivion. Fired from their job because they had to make the transition to become a woman or lose their sanity…, now they can't find a job at any price. We come to that greatest, most disgusting statistic, death by suicide. They gave their all in the effort to make a new beginning and a new life and they didn't have the money to make it over the final hurdle. They have nothing to live for. Their lives are in ruins, their family has abandon them, their job is gone, their own country says they are non humans. What more can one expect? Life has lost all meaning. They know they will never be the woman they were supposed to be. Now their manhood is shot to hell too. It's not that hard to become another statistic. A few of the closest family will show up for the funeral. Mom usually, dad is a maybe, brother, sister, is doubtful, and certainly none of the old friends who thought he was a straight guy. A few of his transsexual friends who were there with him will be there because they know why he died. Those friends won't care who knows they are transsexuals. The fact is, they were probably the only real friends of the lost soul in the casket. Dana International was young, beautiful, and had a golden voice. It was May ninth, nineteen ninety eight and the event was the Eurovison Song Contest. This is a talent search contest for all the countries of Europe. Each country sends their best and most gifted singer hoping for them to win the title. A committee appointed by the Israel Broadcasting Authority had chosen her as their nomination to represent the nation in this particular contest. Her nomination was opposed by the ultra Orthodox Jewish community. What she represented was "worse than an act of sodomy." "Look at those Jews and what they are sending to perform, some kind of crossbreed." "Dana is an abomination." What had Dana done to deserve such hatred and brutal language directed in her direction? By any standards, she was a beautiful and attractive woman. She had performed for years and sold millions of records. She can speak and sing in four languages, Arabic, Hebrew, French, and English. Pretty astounding for someone who is supposedly an abomination. Dana irks the likes of the ultra Orthodox Jewish community because of what she has done as much as what she is. This isn't the first time Dana had been attacked for her choice of how she lived her life. Most of her life she has been under siege for one reason or another. She was born in Tel-Aviv to working class parents, whatever that means. She started dressing herself as a girl before high school. She had traded jeans and tee shirts for nylons and high heels. Pretty unassuming stuff until one realizes Dana was born biologically as a boy. This is what had the ultra Orthodox Jews up in arms and spouting hatred against Dana International. She was born as a boy and given the name of Yaron Cohen. The problem from Dana's viewpoint, as with all transsexuals, she wasn't a boy but a girl. Dana's High School principle remembered Yaron Cohen as a homosexual. Accepted by all the other boys, and loved and adored by all the girls. He was after all, the hidden beginning of Dana International. Her road to the contest was strewn with obstacles of all kinds. She was being attacked by the Ultra-Orthodox Jew before she even began. By the age of ten or eleven I would have done anything to be the girl I was supposed to be. There was no hope beside dreaming the impossible dream. I was born in the wrong time. Too early for those like me to be understood. The funny part of that sentence is…, very few understand us yet. For all their medicine, and all their psychiatry, and all their years of studying those like me…, the medical profession is still muddling through the questions and answers. My only answer is they screwed up big time. Harry Benjamin set up some standards and the rest of the medical profession agreed to those standards without any question. I guess it's because of the money thing. Working my way through college, I dropped out a semester to earn enough money to go back. The year was nineteen sixty four. Vietnam was on fire and Uncle Sam needed hot young boys to fight an insane political war. Those few months out of college qualified me for the draft. I was notified by the draft board I was first up on the list. The Navy had a three year enlistment and I joined. At least I would have a bed to sleep in instead of that foxhole the Army liked to use. Besides, I had a physical defect. Those people were shooting at each other over there and I had a big yellow streak down my back from my head to my feet. I hated that war. My idea of fighting was to shoot all our politicians and get the hell out of Vietnam. Thinking back, it has to be some sort of ironic twist of fate for a transsexual to be in the Navy as an airman, no less. The funny part of that whole scene was, I was probably the most conscientious airman they had at the time. Believe me, I had more red, gung ho blood in me then most of those around me. God and my country came in that order. Cross dressing was out of the question while in the service. Those people had no sense of humor and they dealt with people like me in the harshest manner. Dishonorable discharge would be the end result. I could shoot a fellow seaman and end up better off. That they might accept. A seaman wearing a dress wasn't something they could accept under any circumstances. RESOURCES: STAR'S STORY: CHRISTIE
LITTLETON STORY: This judgment upheld the decision of a lower court that trans woman Christie Lee Littleton was legally male, and that her marriage to her late husband had been invalid. As with the UK's landmark Corbett v. Corbett case in 1970, this case was sparked by property issues: Littleton had sued doctors for malpractice following the death of her husband. The doctors responded by claiming that she was legally male and as such could not be the surviving spouse of a man and the Court upheld their claim, relying upon a chromosomal test and explicitly referring back to Corbett. BRANDON TEENA
STORY:
http://members.tripod.com/~terrim/DEVEL.HTM
http://www.anythingthatmoves.com/ish17/jokers-wild.html Cross-dressing or
being Transgendered is right for me... The cruelest doctor's prescription: Harry Benjamin Standards of Care I believe with all my heart and soul the Benjamin Standards of Care are the worst thing ever fostered on the Transsexual. Worse than death itself. For it leaves one in limbo trying to find the right answers to all the doctors questions who have no conception what it is to be one of us. If we do not answer all their questions properly, we are left alone, deserted, with no recourse to the problems of the wrong mind in the wrong body. Except death…!
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