On Dawn And Mother-Daughter Relationships

Another dawn ride in the Sunshine State.  Really, given the heat and humidity, it really is the best time to pedal.  Plus, my parents live just far enough from the ocean that I can start just before sunrise and, within a few minutes, be treated to scenes like this:

That, from a place called Hammock.  And this from, appropriately, Painter's Hill:

At that time of morning, one finds more surfers or fishers than swimmers.  (Leave it to me to be, as always, a minority--both as a swimmer and cyclist!)  When you're up before most other people and throw yourself at a great expanse that seems like infinity, it's hard not to wonder about the meaning of it all:

As it turns out, the woman in the second photo was watching her daughter:

As my mother is not, and never has been, a cyclist, surfer, swimmer or fisher, we have a different mother-daughter relationship.  It was still more than welcome at the end of today's ride, in which I managed to beat the midday heat and afternoon rain.

PFLAG On LGBT Students

In the month of September, we hear and read much about education and young people.

Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG)-New York City has published some remarkable data on both.  In particular, I was struck by the following:  

• "LGBT students are twice as likely to say that they were not planning on completing high school or going to college."
• "Gay teens are 8.4 times more likely to report having attempted suicide and 5.9 times more likely to report high levels of depression compared with peers from families that reported no or low levels of family rejection."
• "Nearly a fifth of students are physically assaulted because of their sexual orientation and a tenth because of their gender identity."
• "About two thirds of LGBT students report having ever been sexually harassed (e.g., sexual remarks made, being touched inappropriately) in school in the past year."

It's hard not to see that the last two items are causes of the first two.  Why would someone willingly go to a school, or other any place, where he or she has been beaten up or sexually harassed, or faces the prospect of experiencing one or both?

I myself finished high school only because my parents wouldn't allow me not to.  That was one of the rules they had for me and my brothers:  We had to finish high school.  I graduated with a pretty high class ranking, but I can't help but to think about how much better I might have done had I felt safer, and therefore more motivated, in school.  

Now, I didn't announce my gender identity or sexuality in school, mainly because I didn't have the language for either--and, truthfully, almost nobody in that place and time had it, either.  Still, most of the boys in my school knew that somehow I wasn't quite one of them.  They projected their lurid fantasies (which, of course, were not in any way informed by reality) about what it meant to be gay or a "boy/girl" onto me. 

I did the best I could at "laying low" and got through most days without incident.  Even so, I could always feel the hormonal hostility in the air of the school hallways and the field where we had gym classes and soccer practice.  And, of course, the locker room was pure terror and torture.  I don't think I was ever again as afraid--or disgusted--as I was there.

Somehow I graduated.  Then I went onto college.  Living on campus wasn't any better, really.  There was just as much hormone-fueled bullying there.  The difference was that those conflagrations had another, equally potent fuel:  alcohol.   I very nearly flunked out after my freshman year.   

Back in those days, though, most of us didn't talk about such things, except with each other.  That is, if we decided to out ourselves.  More of us just "soldiered onward" or dropped out, saying that the schools we attended "weren't quite right" for us.

And I know of some who committed suicide, whether in the ways we normally think of, or in slow-motion (e.g., with drugs and alcohol).  

Today, there are organizations like PFLAG and people with whom LGBT students can talk.  And more of them talk openly to each other.  However, they still face the same threats we faced in my youth.  I hope that, one day, such will no longer be the case.

Heroes

I keep on thinking about Marilynne and her daughter,who just had a GRS that was much more complicated than mine.

The other night, I called Marilynne. Her husband answered. He was very cordial, a Southern gentleman, you might say. He thanked me for being helpful to Marilynne and their daughter when we were at The Morning After House. And he praised me for my courage.

Until recently, I found it odd when people used words like "courage" in talking about me. But last night, I was grateful for the acknowledgment. Maybe I am indeed courageous for having undertaken the changes I've experienced. After all, I was risking pretty much everything in my life by "coming out," let alone by dressing and otherwise expressing myself as a woman.

The cynic in me says that people see such actions as courageous when you succeed. But, really, how do you measure "success?" By how much money you make? By that criteria, it's debatable as to whether I'm a success. By how good you look? I won't say anything about that.

Of course, I didn't voice those doubts. But he must have been reading my mind when he said, "Well, just the fact that you did what you did makes you a a success."

"My dear, that blush you see is not a Maybelline product..."

He chuckled. "Well, you certainly sound like you're doing well."

"I am, and you are part of it."

"Well..."

I explained that meeting him, Marilynne and their daughter meant so much to me. "You guys are all heroes of mine."

"Really?"

"You and your wife for the way you've supported your daughter."

"What else could we do?"

"Who else but a wonderful parent would say that?"

"And you were a great help to us."

"Well, all I did was..."

"It meant a lot to us."

"And you were so helpful to me. Best of all, I learned a lot by seeing you all. I am developing as a woman, as a person, and you all gave me examples of what I want to be. You're a hero."

Having a mother who's been supportive of me in this, and in so many other things, I know a hero when I see one. Anyone who helps someone in a time of change and transition is certainly a hero.

Not to mention the ones who do what they need to do, who do what is right for their spirits.

Yes, I have heroes in my life. And they think I'm one.

Well, at least I don't have to wear tights and a cape and a funny mask. Now, anyone who can coordinate an outfit like that is definitely a hero! ;-)