For Rick Santorum and Friends

Look at all my trials and tribulations
Sinking in a gentle pool of wine
Don't disturb me now
I can see the answers
Till this evening, in this morning life is fine.

Always hoped that I'd be an apostle
Knew that I would make it if I tried
Then when we retire we can write the gospels
So they'll still talk about us when we've died

The politics of gender studies research

A column in yesterday's My Health News Daily referenced the results of a recent medical study. In it, personality traits in both men and women were said to be extensively analyzed. Participants from the ages of 15 to 92, and of both sexes, were asked to participate in a personality test. According to the outlined methodology and findings, the sexes have far less in common, psychologically, than originally thought. The study was the work of a combined team of three researchers, two from Italy, and one from the UK. If taken literally, it could negate efforts to equalize and normalize occupational fields based on sex. Theirs is a controversial assertion, and one that leaves itself open for substantial criticism in a variety of areas.

To summarize in brief, the study makes a basic gender essentialist argument. Men are men and women are women. Substantial overlap does not exist. It can never exist. Thinking otherwise defies the laws of science and nature. In times past, scientific research that has made such resounding claims is often considered cautiously. The same could be said for these new findings.

"Psychologically, men and women are almost a different species," said study researcher Paul Irwing, of the University of Manchester, in the United Kingdom. The new findings may explain why some careers are dominated by men (such as engineering) and others by women (such as psychological sciences), Irwing said.

Certitude aside, there are, however, several significant problems here that the researchers never addressed. For one, they didn't take into account queer identity. If the intention is to state that men and women naturally separate out based on chosen career fields, sexual orientation is also a factor. Gay men are often found in large number within "female" professions like psychological sciences. Could this research then conclude that gay men are their own psychological species? If not, then should they also be considered women?

A second larger aspect of the study that is problematic regards women in male-dominated fields. Women have historically been underrepresented in the STEM careers (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics). Should women that do wish to pursue vocations like these be considered men? According to the research data, one could say that there was something inherently masculine about a woman who wanted to be a scientist, instead of a social worker.

Feminist discourse has long taken an opposite view, one that might make this entire issue a little more comprehensible. Women are not found in larger quantity in fields like engineering for many reasons. One is because of a historical resistance to female participation within these programs. Another is that women who are drawn to STEM are often strongly pushed by educators and parents into more "suitable" fields for their gender. A third is that without the involvement and existence of a suitable critical mass of other women, many feel unsupported and without advocates. This information is not new, nor is it hard to find. For whatever reason, it simply wasn't utilized during the study.

Fortunately, not all psychologists are in agreement.

For starters, the men and women in the study assessed their own personality traits. People may be inclined to rate themselves in a way that conforms with gender stereotypes, Hyde said. "It's not very manly to say that you're sensitive," she said.

Part of basic scientific advancement is, in the minds of many, to challenge the status quo. Arguably, this study only reinforces traditional gender roles and perceptions of gender. Moreover, the numbers were crunched in a very particular fashion, creating a prominent gap between male and female. Numbers can be manipulated to say anything or support almost any conclusion. The entire study is here. Below is its statement of purpose.

In conclusion, we believe we made it clear that the true extent of sex differences in human personality has been consistently underestimated.

At the end of the report, the scientists who have signed their name state that they hope their discoveries will be a catalyst for future discoveries. Among many who have read and analyzed the study, it is unclear the sort of revelations that might eventually arrive. Some see the work as regressive, others as totally unhelpful, merit aside. Regardless of intent, the information seems ripe for ideological debate. Whether this was deliberately intended or not, these scientists must have been at least partially aware of how it would be perceived.

EMDR Session

It's time for another EMDR session today. If needed, two of them are held back to back, both an hour in duration. By the conclusion, the therapist always tells me that I'm doing hard, but necessary work. Afterward, I feel emotionally, even physically drained, but also more at peace. The office of the therapist is darkly lit, with no windows and only a solitary small lamp. This seems to intensify the process being done. I'm halfway hypnotized by the conclusion of our work together.

My eyes follow her fingers back and forth, side to side. Should I do it properly, I'm praised. It feels good to hear, especially in the middle of the discomfort. I am to hold a traumatic still picture of choice in my mind. The only perquisite is that it must be strong. Other images appear of their own accord. All perfectly normal.

Some of these have their own staying power. Some subside within the first few sweeps of her fingers, positioned as they are in a slight v-shape. Seated alongside me, the fingers travel from right to left and back. I'm never sure where my mind will go from session to session. Sometimes the images produced by the process are very disturbing. Often, feelings alone are troubling, but the images never match the emotional impact.

Every session begins with an exacting series of steps. The therapist works off of precise instructions found in a workbook. She cradles the instructions in her lap from the moment we begin to the time for parting. At first, I explain what has been recently troubling me. She takes extensive notes. That section proceeds like regular psychotherapy. Then comes a section where I'm asked to rank the severity of some traumatic image from my past. The pain is to ranked from 0 to 7, 7 being the most intense. An extensive ranking process proceeds while the EMDR is slowly introduced.

Sometimes I grow weary of the extended rating process. I'd just as soon proceed directly to direct EMDR, but that's not how it works. One has to follow each step in sequence, or the overall gain would not be sufficient or even effective. I keep telling myself that the brain is supposed to do the work. I find myself wanting to understand, intellectually, but that doesn't work. It will never work that way.

I am not in control of the process. The images and feelings come and go of their own free will. Eventually, the discomfort subsides. Pain and anxiety that once ranked a 7 steadily decreases to a 2, 1, or even a 0. At the outset, I was told I might need as many as thirty sessions. I've had five since and look forward to the next, even if I risk having a panic attack in the middle. I guess I could be angry about what happened to me, but I'd much rather devote that energy to making myself totally well.

How We Got Here

All lyrical credit due to Thom Yorke and Radiohead.  Concept mine.






I will stop, I will stop at nothing.
Say the right things when electioneering.

When I go forward

you go backwards

and somewhere we will meet.

When I go forwards

you go backwards

and somewhere we will meet.
Ha ha ha

Riot shields, voodoo economics,
it’s just business, cattle prods, and the I.M.F.
I trust I can rely on your vote.

When I go forwards 

you go backwards

and somewhere we will meet.

When I go forwards 

you go backwards

and somewhere we will meet.

Stepping out

I am now officially out at Meeting.  It was a slow, deliberative process from start to finish.  One of my first decisions was, early last year, to out myself to a number of fellow Quaker Young Adults. Most, if not all of these people are scattered throughout the country. I don't have to keep company with them on a regular basis, so I knew I wouldn't routinely be confronted with their reactions. As I often do, I introduced the topic by way of a written post.  The essay had a relatively limited audience, so I stayed in selective out status.

It wasn't until the past two or three weeks that this changed.  In therapy, it was brought up that I might want to consider taking a higher profile.  Following this advice, I outed myself to someone else LGBT, a person active in Meeting.  In an effort to ease the transition and to provide me with others who understood, she reached out on a wide scale.  Contrary to my fears, no one seems to have taken any offense to the knowledge.  Some aren't sure how to take it and this is confirmed by the look on their face.  At least one has been deliberately flirtatious, though in such an awkward fashion that I wasn't sure of his intention.

I've managed most of the change without major problems.  It still makes me uncomfortable if another man sees me as an object of desire. The reverse is also true.  Maybe now that I've left myself no room for an another retreat, I'll begin to make progress. The theory in cognitive therapy is that of gradual immersion.  If, for example, one should be afraid of standing next to someone else on public transportation, deliberately stand a little closer. Hold the position as long as one can, then re-establish old boundaries.  Continue the process for slightly longer each time.  Eventually, the anxious, irrational feelings will subside.  

At least for the moment, I remind myself of one of my creative influences.  I've written before about the gay British film and stage director Lindsay Anderson. Though speculation was omnipresent, his sexual orientation remained a closely-guarded secret until the auteur's death.  Anderson notably never married, nor did he seek a partnered relationship.  He stayed single for the whole of his life, though he constantly surrounded himself with his friends to keep away the loneliness.  His diaries, published posthumously, show a man consumed by feelings of isolation, tormented by his desires.

In many ways, his class status factored into the decision to stay closeted.  Anderson was of high birth, the son of an army officer. Those who entered life into such fortunate circumstances faced additional pressures and restrictions.  Anderson believed that he never really could come out and as a result, he never did.  Other decisions may have contributed as well, but these have likely gone with him to the grave.

We all seek coping mechanisms if our basic needs are not met. Some may not feel this way, but, in general, I do believe that humans are intended to seek and attain romantic relationships.  Anderson's method was of quietly, silently, secretly falling in love with every single one of his leading men.  They were heterosexual and thus not attainable, which made those feelings safe.  These fantasies could never be consummated, nor followed to their logical extension.  This is tragic self-delusion but it is not unusual.

The idea is not relegated to closeted gay men alone.  Friends and acquaintances both now and in times past have used the same script for their own lives.  Shy and uncertain, perhaps even with low self-image, they'll form romantic attachments to men who are already in relationships.  These men are unattainable, which makes the feelings and the dreams involved safe.  Another method is to project desires onto male platonic friends, believing that the possibility for more is simply impossible.  I've wished many times before that through sympathy and wisdom alone I could facilitate confidence.  Confidence seems to be something an individual alone must consciously choose.

If coming out means we can't go back into our safety zones, then I think it has application beyond one interpretation.  Humans seem to be sensitive to criticism or to rejection.  We wouldn't act so tough if we weren't afraid of being hurt.  Life requires confrontation of adversity, not to give us the satisfaction of having achieved some difficult feat, but in finding the very things we need most.  My New Year's wish for many is the ability to slowly, steadily, challenge yourself.  Should you achieve love and acceptance, I would like to celebrate with you.

Quote of the Week

"Youth is when you're allowed to stay up late on New Year's Eve. Middle age is when you're forced to."- Bill Vaughn

Saturday Video

He's got a perfect face
Turn away before you go and turn me on
I cannot look away
I'm stunned it's that
Je ne sais quoi uh huh

He talks to me in my sleep
Does he write my songs for me?
Should I try to play just like him?
Kick it out, could you show me your riffs?

You always measure me by him
Don't get me wrong
I'm not opposed to something big
I'm so sick of tests

Go ahead and flunk my ass
You don't own the situation, honey
You don't own the stage

We're here to join the conversation
and we're here to raise the stakes

Now do you hear that sound as the Model breaks?
Take the stage!
Let the image of him fade away
Go back and tear the pictures from the page

It's time for a new rock n' roll age
History will have to find a different face
and if you're ready for more
I just might be what you're looking for
You don't own the situation, honey

You don't own the stage
We're here to join the conversation
and we're here to raise the stakes
Now do you hear that sound as
the Model breaks

Take the stage!

Vignette

I was twenty.  She was thirty.

Ten year’s difference.  I knew it to be a big deal, but I couldn’t quite make sense of it.  I kept turning it over and over in my mind.  These days, I’d never be with anyone a full decade younger than me.   

Where did we meet people in those days?  It must have been in a chat room.  For a few years, there was no shortage of the lonely, the socially awkward, and the looking.

You didn’t really have to look.  You just started talking and things quickly made their way from there.  The Internet made physical appearance a non-issue and personality the most important factor.  We moved fast in those days, probably too fast.    

I won’t feign ignorance.  I made the trip down I-65 to Mobile knowing full well what I was to receive.  Should I speak of sexual past, several of these dalliances exist, of which I now have mixed feelings.  In those days, I would let my emotions overtake me, even when they defied reason and rationality.  Sometimes I'd have just enough money to manage.  But I’d be lying, though, if I said I wasn’t glad for the release.    

She was very openly bisexual.  Within the space of a few minutes she told me.  Prior to the trip, I nervously confessed the same to her.  Then, I was much more naïve.  Now, I can form conclusions I was simply too young and too inexperienced to have reached.  She dressed very masculine, even down to her underwear.  I found the effect appealing and rebellious, honest to a fault, as I was myself.  That these choices reflected large defining aspects like sexual orientation did not occur to me at the time.

Rather than being repulsed or perhaps even somewhat threatened by the same-sex relationships I was only beginning to develop, she was accepting.  Not just accepting, but also aroused by the very thought.

Tell me about them!  This she implored, eagerly.  I obliged, adding extra details I would not think to incorporate in my own thoughts, even in my own private recollections. 

This was…different. 

We seemed to have attracted each other based on similarities we needn’t even articulate.  A vocabulary of terminology would have been helpful, but what I felt instinctively was informative enough.  Following that, a majority of my lovers were bisexual.  For a time I quite preferred it that way.  I enjoyed not having to explain a thing or feeling worried that I would be misunderstood.    

However, in this regard, the age difference and the substantial distance brought an end to us.  Her friends were mostly uncomprehending and hostile about why she’d want someone as young as me.  Though I’d like to believe I acted more mature for my age, I also recognize that I had only recently left behind my boyhood.  She, by contrast, came across much younger than her age would suggest, which would at least partially explain my appeal. 

My recollections now mostly center on a trip we took together.  We left for a state park in the eastern Panhandle of Florida, not far from Pensacola.  After arriving, we camped close to an estuary, out on a sand bar.  The rest of the day was spent inside a tent.  There’s something about the intimacy of coitus that encourages copious, heartfelt dialogue. 

Though I may still have shame and anxiety, spending a weekend with her went a long way towards acceptance.  Here was someone who desired me as I was, someone who did not judge or jump to conclusions.  The older I get, the more I think of her.

More 90's Nostalgia

Moderation in an immoderate age

I received some humbling news from an editor today.  Feeling confused, I had solicited her honest opinion.  A few previously submitted columns of mine had not been accepted for publication.  I had confidence in their quality but knew I must have been doing something wrong.  I wasn’t sure whether the fault was in their format or their content, so I was seeking clarity accordingly.  What I was told was to avoid preaching to the choir.

"Everyone already agrees with you," she said.

 

She continued.  “Try to persuade the other side through reason and evidence, not yelling and tearing down.”    

I believe I may have been in activist mode for too long.  Over time, I might have inadvertently transformed myself into a polemicist. Being an attack dog is a strong leading, especially if you feel oppressed and mischaracterized in any way by the outside world.  It’s a default setting of sorts for my Feminist discourse, Quaker discourse, and Christian discourse.

Writing first with the belief that I would surely be misunderstood, I’ve felt that the best defense was a powerful offense. Sometimes I’ve yelled and sometimes I’ve torn down, mostly before anyone else could think to do the same to me.      

Activism says:  Be outraged!  Things are wrong with the world!  People need to know about these travesties!  Where is justice and basic fairness?  What is happening here is wrong!  How could a person say that!

We live in a time where our defenses are up, guarding against someone’s inevitable frontal assault.  The nature of journalism invites criticism, even solidly negative criticism.  We who write for a living or for a certain amount of income often need to be reminded to toughen our hides. We don’t have to be doormats. We don't have to put up with injustice. We're not obligated to be always accommodating no matter what.  But we don’t have to always bare our teeth, either. 

I’m writing for my own benefit here, as well.  When we do draw fire, it may not always be best to consistently, reflexively reach out for protection.  Allies are important, but addressing an argument impartially needs no Amen Corner.  The facts alone should stand by themselves.  That we would call for reinforcements only emphasizes how threatened we feel.  I’m not saying that attacks don’t happen or that criticism is only a state of mind, merely that we have more control over our responses than we may even believe. 

Sometimes we feel that increasing the volume is a sufficient method of returning fire.  They yell, we yell.  They yell back, we yell back.  The yelling thus becomes a controversy and an avenue for drama.  It makes for great ratings, but by the end, most people grow thoroughly sick of the upheaval and exhausted by the effort.  We regroup and silently prepare for the next one.      

Don’t get me wrong.  There are avenues for writing and expression where righteous indignation is strongly desired.  Still, an enlightened perspective without the incorporation of activist bombast often characterizes the content of many quality publications.  Sober reflection is valued more than indignant firepower.  I think there’s more than ample room for both.

Too much scorched earth policy isn’t just psychologically taxing; it may even take money out of our pockets.  Writing to suit a publication’s specific needs needn’t be an intellectual exercise, it may also be instructive.  Moderation in an immoderate age might well keep us all sane.          

Is Occupy Redundant?

The Occupy movement has been a boon to talking heads, professional pontificators, journalists, and activists. Covering the proceedings has kept many busy and created much work in sour economic times.  Now, however, the demonstrations have, in the minds of many, moved from novelty to annoyance to a bore.  With the exception of a few cities, most camps have been broken up and forced to disperse.  The lack of public outrage to this show of force shows the true feelings of most Americans, even those with Occupy sympathies.  A fight for the hearts and minds has not succeeded.

I know that many people still actively engaged in Occupy will debate me here point for point.  Many readers may take offense to my conclusions.  Some have stated that the media consistently distorted (and still distorts) the message of the movement, showing its goals to be too vague and unsubstantial.  Others have believed that the mainstream players, at least, have emphasized and exaggerated only its worst qualities.  In the beginning, I was a strong supporter of Occupy but I have not seen the forward momentum and growth needed for continued relevancy. What some believed was the cusp of a momentous, growing revolution has simply not materialized.  The story of its promise is more compelling than its actual stature.

The city government of Washington, DC, has been one of the most tolerant thus far.  However, Mayor Vincent Gray has been quoted as saying that the city was losing patience with the protesters.  This is reflected in a recent letter drafted by a DC law enforcement union, the Fraternal Order of Police.  

The union representing D.C. police claims crime in the District is up, in part because officers are being pulled from neighborhood patrols and reassigned to monitor the Occupy D.C. protests. Kristopher Baumann, chairman of D.C.'s Fraternal Order of Police wrote a letter to Mayor Vincent Gray stating violent crime is up by 17% and overall crime is up by 14% since protesters moved into the city 3 months ago.

True or not, the letter reflects a strong displeasure with the movement.  Growing dissatisfaction in many corners may spell the eventual end.  As has been the case in other cities, protesters would resist, dozens would be arrested, but both parks would nonetheless be cleared.  The news would dutifully record what had happened.  Those who like their information live and immediate could follow on Twitter and live streaming video.  After the shouting was over, substantial calls for righteous indignation would be found in short supply.  Those calling for blood would find, yet again, their energies highly ineffective.

Regardless of how posterity may view it, we in the present day might draw some lessons.  Some weeks back I took it upon myself to read the McPherson Square Occupy DC list of grievances in full.  It was eloquent and inclusive, but far too complicated and lengthy.  Effort had clearly been made to take in account everyone's perspective, but the document ran to nearly two pages.  Protests work best when built around one or two easily digestible, comprehensible messages.  Save treatises for graduate school or a book.

The strictly enforced leaderless focus, the linchpin of many gatherings, also troubled me.  I believe that separate, specific leaders are highly necessary.  The problems of hierarchy will not necessarily transfer should those with the ability to guide and motivate take their rightful places.  I have only seen such a decentralized model work well in very small groups, those far smaller than the ones numbering a few hundred up to a thousand.  They who sought to organize may have learned a variety of lessons from their admirable effort.  In their lives going forward, the experience may be quite useful both for themselves and for others.          

If this strange chapter in our history is to close, one wonders how history would record it.  Would it be seen as a period piece, a time capsule, very much a product of its time?  Or, if not, would it be the beginning of something more, its failure only temporary in the grand scheme of things?  Occupy will only be a failure if we do not learn from its shortcomings.  21^st Century public outrage may need to take a very different form next time.  These recent experiments in direct democracy may someday be the impetus for more, but until then, I'll think of Occupy as a noble attempt.

Helter Skelter

This is something vaguely sinister about this song.  It makes sense, on one level, why Charles Manson would take the title as his definition of a coming war.  Beatles music, until then, had never been this deliberately ugly.  In this setting, I've adopted a simple acoustic rendering, which softens the blow.  Still, the words are fairly threatening.



When I get to the bottom I
go back to the top of the slide
Where I stop and I turn and I go for a ride
'Till I get to the bottom and I see you again.

Do, don't you want me to love you?
I'm coming down fast but I'm miles above you
Tell me, tell me, tell me,

come on, tell me the answer
You may be a lover but you ain't no dancer.

Helter skelter, helter skelter
Helter skelter.

Will you, won't you want me to make you?
I'm coming down fast but don't let me break you

Tell me, tell me, tell me the answer
You may be a lover but you ain't no dancer.

Helter skelter, helter skelter

When I get to the bottom
I go back to the top of the slide

Where I stop and I turn and I go for a ride
Till I get to the bottom and I see you again.

Well do you, don't you want me to love you?
I'm coming down fast but don't let me break you

Tell me, tell me, tell me the answer
You may be a lover but you ain't no dancer.

Helter skelter, helter skelter
Helter skelter.

Faith and the New Year

I wrote this originally for my Meeting, but felt that it had application beyond Quaker eyes. 
___________________________

Hello Friends,

Christmas over, we now prepare for the arrival of another year. New Year's resolutions of any stature are routinely made, then broken. Sometimes they take the form of an intended regular exercise routine. Sometimes they are a vow to avoid unhealthy excess, like junk food or needless consumerism. Some concerns center on the question of faith and belief. The last of these rely highly on the usage and development of spiritual muscles. Like many other areas in our lives, spiritual muscles must be built with up with practice, repetition, and observance.

I am fairly certain I've used the lyrics of a specific song in this forum once before. I do remember that the context was a little different. In any case, I can't recall for certain, so forgive me for any overlap. I may have even mentioned a line or two during a vocal ministry. No matter. The name of the song is "Sympathy", performed ably by the indie rock group Sleater-Kinney.

"Sympathy" stands alone in the Washington State group's canon. Topics usually focused on leftist politics and Feminism. As you will see, this one could not be more different.

The song seeks to document a very emotionally intense situation, this being the premature birth and fight for life of the songwriter's son. I doubt, based on its lyrics alone, that the idea of belief wasn't important to her. Rather, she was far more comfortable writing about activism and all its permutations. "Sympathy" stands out for this reason, possessing as it does a kind of bittersweet beauty. It is the story of someone whose life is, at least for the immediate short term, dramatically changed by a traumatic situation. The potential for disaster is grave enough that the panicked mother reaches out for God. And as she does, she speaks for all of us. I think it would be safe to say that we have all formed these thoughts in a crisis.

I know I come to you only when in need
I’m not the best believer, not the most deserving
but all I have, all I am, all I can…for him
I’d beg you on bended knees for him

I have thought identically on more than one occasion. Here, a mother, fearful for the survival of her child turns automatically to prayer. For all of our own skepticism, for all the reasons to otherwise hold doubts, we might very well respond the same way. Some will say that we are only embracing a less evolved part of our brains. This might be so on some level, but I think the need for God would not persist as it does if this were the case. The limitations of human comprehension are vast.

Precious baby, is your life hanging by a thread?
A thread I’m standing on, praying on today
all I have, all I am, all I can...for him
I’d beg you on bended knees for him

I don’t like the doctor with the deep long face
only wants to give us the very worst case
I’d rather shout out and shake him and do anything for him
I’d beg you on bended knees for him

when the moment strikes
it takes you by surprise and
leaves you naked in the face of death and life
there is no righteousness in your darkest moment
we’re all equal in the face of what we’re most afraid of

These, the most profound lyrics of all. There is no righteousness in your darkest moment. We're all equal in the face of what we're most afraid of. The song's lyricist believes that our times of trial and pain do not deserve commemoration. She refuses to romanticize them as brave or as moments of valor. To her, they are only confirmation of our fragile, brittle humanity. We are all unified on some level by that which terrifies us. These two lines have application well beyond its immediate context. For instance, they could be applied to war, to politics, to environmental issues. They would work for any number of other aspects of human life.

and I’m so sorry
for those who didn’t make it
for the mommies who are left
with their hearts breaking

I search for meaning in sores
the sentences they might form
it’s the grammar of skin
peel it back, let me in

look for hope in the dark
the shadow cast by your heart
it’s the grammar of faith
no more rules, no restraint

Without the comfort of comprehensible information and no certainty upon which to rely, we look for meaning in other avenues. We scour for meaning in that which lies in front of us. We analyze sores, skin, body parts. The grammar of faith, as we understand it, is not a system of rules and regulations. The grammar of faith is a mystery.

How angry I would be if
you’d taken him away
I wish I was wiser
but instead I’ll be grateful, I’ll say

thanks for the love, for the joy,
for the smile on his face

’cause I would beg you on bended knees for him
I would beg you on bended knee

It is easy to turn to anger, should the unthinkable strike. Many of us would turn to anger if our partners, our children, our loved ones were taken from us. The songwriter recognizes that she would also have held the same automatic response. The crisis over, she might not be as wise as she could be, but she does recognize that she is very lucky.

Her child survived an awful, emotionally wrenching ordeal. And yet, the trial could not be more commonplace. Regardless of where we look, this same motif shows up time and time again. And we consistently find that struggle a fascination, be it in books, movies, songs, or other artistic works.

As I conclude, I leave you with a bit of reflection. I wish I was wiser, but instead I'll be grateful.

In the Light,

Kevin.

Quote of the Week

"I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys."- Charles Dickens

Saturday Video

I think this video goes beyond heavy-handed to make its point, but it still has its virtues.  The song was recorded in the highly political John & Yoko period that produced works of great beauty and of hamfisted sanctimony.  As a pacifist manifesto, it serves its purpose.

So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun

And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear ones
The old and the young

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

And so this is Christmas
War is over
For weak and for strong
If you want it

For rich and the poor ones
War is over
The road is so long
Now

And so happy Christmas
War is over
For black and for white
If you want it

For yellow and red ones
War is over
Let's stop all the fight
Now

And so this is Christmas
War is over
And what have we done
If you want it

Another year over
War is over
And a new one just begun
Now

And so happy Christmas
War is over
I hope you have fun
If you want it

The near and the dear ones
War is over
The old and the young
Now

War is over if you want it
War is over now

The end of T

Approximately one year after starting a course of treatment, I have stopped injecting testosterone weekly. The illness for which I began hormone therapy, hypogonadism, has finally been properly resolved. Hypogonadism means abnormally low levels of testosterone in the body. My condition is now understood in greater detail. Normal production of testosterone has been stimulated within the system itself. Hormone therapy likely made a permanent effect on one physical aspect of my life, but I feel somewhat underwhelmed by what it produced on a larger scale.

The observable, measurable results, I must tell you, have been surprisingly small. I have gained a few pounds, this by putting on more muscle mass, but those are the few outward signs. Inwardly, I have to say I don’t feel any more or any less masculine. The lessons I have learned are that hormones alone do not dictate gender. Powerful as they are, they cannot enhance or transform by their very being. In reality, the organ most responsible for how I identify is the brain. Here’s what I’ve gathered. The reason why I am genderqueer results from the way I was formed in the womb--this combined with how my brain developed. 

This realization is puzzling in many regards. I never honestly expected massive changes from heightened levels of testosterone. But I did think that a few interesting end products might have given me greater insight. Even with an extremely high level of T in my body, I still felt a strong female identification. When my testosterone level was elevated, my estrogen level usually followed suit. Much as was true with its counterpart, elevated estrogen made no real difference either way.

What my body seemed to crave from a biological standpoint was balance. Anything higher than an optimum concentration, then I experienced multiple side effects. I seek balance myself, as much as I can hope to attain. The thought of speaking in this circumstance for every gender non-conforming person seems untenable and unfair. What I will say is that large swaths of sex and gender both probably still exist beyond our basic understanding to date. The application of hormones is one piece of a complex puzzle. It is an inexact resolution, at best. Who knows what the progression of science and medicine will provide in a later time? 

But in the meantime, I at least have expanded my basic knowledge. Everyone who fits outside the gender box treads their own path of self-discovery. And I at least have some cursory idea of what one aspect of transitioning looks like and feels like. Never have I ever thought that the process was easy for anyone. I myself myself have fought with fatigue and a greatly decreased appetite. I've watched my libido swing wildly up and down as body systems struggled for equilibrium. Expanding the basic empathy of others is always positive and produces great gain. I am thankful for the opportunity to learn and I hope also, by this post, to teach.

I'm Not Here Today

Time for revelry, good cheer, making figgy pudding, and all that stuff.

Bradley Manning's transgender defense

In the latest developments of the Wikileaks case, Private Bradley Manning's espionage trial continues. I find it peculiar that his defense has chosen to use Gender Identity Disorder in the hopes of preventing a conviction. A picture of the Army private dressed in women’s clothing has been introduced during court proceedings. The basic framing of this motion I object to most. As transgender identity gains greater acceptance, few reasons remain to designate gender non-conforming behavior as a disorder.

Disorder implies in the minds of many that it is a kind of illness, or even a kind of mental illness. Manning's lawyers do nothing to dispel this line of thought. Gender dysphoria, in my case, has been present for years. By this I mean I've sometimes felt male and in many ways I have been more comfortable expressing myself as female. With time, I've become much more comfortable existing somewhere between the confines of absolute, rigidly defined gender. I've even come to believe that absolute gender is a societal construct, not a biological reality.

Taking into account the opinion and examples of other people who identify as genderqueer, I've recognized I am not alone. By genderqueer I mean that I find I cannot identify solely as male, nor as female. My conception of gendered self falls outside the two-sex binary. As a result, loneliness and isolation have been consistent worries. The way I felt about myself remained a lasting, constant nag in the back of the mind. I still feel that way today. But neither did those feelings prevent me from working or from living my life. The Manning defense equates transgender with some debilitating disease or chronic condition. Even in my time of greatest questioning and doubt, I was still a functioning person.

I believe that, in this circumstance, the accused did go through significant mental strain around the time he chose to leak classified documents.  In periods of crisis, conflicts within ourselves are more prominent and cannot be easily suppressed.  However, the defense’s argument is a see-through distortion, hoping to deceive those who are ignorant of gender nonconformity. Transgender people have a tough enough time winning acceptance. Acceptance starts within the self, but then must exist within the greater world.  A defense like this is cynically manipulative, even opportunistic.

Cheapening the experiences of those who are transgender does not educate, rather it calcifies and reinforces incorrect assumptions. If Bradley Manning is transgender, he does have my sympathies. However, I should state that those of one biologically assigned sex who dress in the clothing of another are not necessarily transgender. Some would qualify as transvestites.  Manning did contact a counselor to discuss undergoing transition, but considering options does not necessarily mean a desire to undergo an expensive, lengthy process. I do not believe Gender Identity Disorder, if there is even such a thing, to be a medical problem. Rather I view it as a manifestation of a broad, misunderstood gender spectrum of presentation.

Using a disputed diagnosis to avoid jail time obscures the truth. Whistle blowers like Manning who face significant time in jail, should they be convicted, are always few in number and I support his deeds. However, this latest decision appears to be a legal move made purely of desperation. Lest someone get the wrong idea, gender dysphoria is itself a process. With it comes a complex set of feelings and self-judgments.

Nearly everyone who identifies outside one gender norm experiences it. Every person’s process is very different. Eventual resolution usually takes years and sometimes can take multiple years. Some for whom the gender binary is constraining and unhelpful feel the need for surgery, hormone therapy, and a complete transformation.

Others, like me, have discovered that a greater, radical self-acceptance is needed most. I do not feel that I am wholly at odds with my biologically assigned sex, however, I cannot fit comfortably into it. Too much overlap exists for that. Over time, I have talked at length with others who are not heterosexual, and many others who identify as neither fully male, nor fully female. Regardless of whether they identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender I have noticed a particularly interesting sort of fluidity.

Each LGBT individual comes to his or her (or an appropriate non-gendered pronoun) own conclusion as to where one fits along the gender continuum. We are alone together, in some ways. Almost everyone acknowledges a blend of identities. Almost no one seems to be exactly like anyone else.

That journey towards greater realization can be a distressing one, at least in the beginning, but we all must make it. If it were up to me, there would be no need to cater to ignorance for the sake of winning freedom. We are granted the opportunity more and more to speak to repressed realities. Should Manning’s defense succeed, it will in effect mean that being transgender is a sort of disqualifying mental illness and thus a disability. This is a construct of belief that in addition to being totally incorrect, plagues far too many already.

We need to recognize that not stigmatizing those who are transgender is the first step towards wholesale comprehension. With comprehension comes tolerance. Such people are already well-versed and skilled in how to think badly of themselves, or to think of themselves as inherently damaged. We can do much better.

I Will

I intended to add at least three or four vocal tracks to this recording.  Then, after playing it back, I found it was perfectly fine with two.




I will
Lay me down
In a bunker
Underground

I won’t let this happen to my children
Meet the real world coming out of your shell
With white elephants
Sitting ducks

I will
Rise up

Little babies’ eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes
Little babies’ eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes
Little babies’ eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes
Little babies’ eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes

Addressing Meeting Discipline

It is often said that Friends have short fuses around politics and long fuses around people. Should something highly ideological and politically loaded be mentioned during Meeting for Worship, intense passions have at times led to tense moments. On the other hand, should a member of the Meeting behave inappropriately and in a consistent fashion, they are often given the benefit of the doubt. Many Friends came from religious traditions where discipline was punitive; this may be why an over-correction is in place. However, there does come a time when setting consequences is not only necessary, it is essential.

To briefly state the reason why I write, a member of my Meeting has, of late, shown a regrettable behavior pattern.  He has been verbally abusive to others. The Friend in question is a prickly person even in the best of times. I regret to say that this past First Day is not the first time he has directly insulted me. Many other Friends have received the same treatment.  At no point has he ever felt a need to apologize. However, his behavior did momentarily improve for a time, but only after I called him out on his attitude towards me. It took an open letter to the entire Meeting to achieve that desired result, but my decision did prove very effective.

I recognize that he is severely mentally ill and I am not unsympathetic towards that fact. But regardless of his disability, his behavior crossed the line a long time ago. One never knows whether such people are capable of controlling themselves, or are choosing not to do so. My personal opinion, based on my previous plea for disciplinary action, is that no one is keeping him accountable for his abusive tongue.  I'm not sure whether a system is in place for situations like these, but if there is not, one needs to be developed.

There is no reason to go into specifics. At any rate, this is probably not the proper venue for them.  After Worship yesterday, suffice to say that he twisted the meaning of my vocal ministry, perhaps deliberately. He then sought to accost me for my supposed rhetorical inconsistencies, this in front of dozens of witnesses. Attendance was high due to a Meeting-wide project that is a long standing holiday tradition.

The Friend regularly resorts to straw man arguments, these intended to put a person immediately on the defensive. Startled by the harshness of his tone, I yelled back for a few seconds and then decided to immediately leave the Meetinghouse.  Because his conduct has only gotten worse recently, I was angrier than I would have been otherwise. To calm myself, I took a long walk as I processed what had just happened.

I’m not sure whether he intends to merely provoke or to win an argument.  As I noted, I’m not sure about his cognitive functionality. If I had to posit a guess though, I think he’s far more in control of himself than many believe. Before I say this, my intention is never to infantilize anyone, especially the severely mentally ill.  But I will say that recently he has of late been acting like a bratty little boy. What I don’t understand, in particular, is why I have consistently been his chosen target. If I felt I was capable of receiving a coherent answer, I would ask him myself.  By now, I know I would not receive it and could quite possibly only spark another pointless, high volume argument. 

My Meeting tends to soft-pedal these sorts of issues, and I think that the decision does more harm than good.  Prior consistent offenders have been taken out for coffee, not severely cautioned. I should add that not a single one of these problematic Friends was ever required to recant publicly, which I think would have gone a long way towards restoring Meeting health. A heartfelt apology goes a very long way. Those who lack basic impulse control and choose not to pursue self-restraint for any reason must have boundaries clearly defined for them. In this, my example, I have a pretty good reason of why this Friend is acting out, one that for privacy’s sake I will keep to myself.  Still, knowledge of a problem is not the same as implementing solutions.

An article I read before writing this post summarizes my thoughts quite succiently.

The outcry against discipline in the modern church is, "We are not supposed to judge another." Such an assertion can only be made by people who have an inadequate knowledge of Scripture concerning the matter. The fact of the matter is that if guilt is clearly established (as is always essential), then the person has judged himself.

A persistently contentious matter today concerns the presence of Elders. The word itself seems to invoke an unsmiling scold intent on policing the Meeting with a heavy hand. This more modern definition entirely misses the mark. Quakers are not the only people of faith for whom disciplining its own is a problem. We often view the past as cruel and unforgiving and see no value in it. In seeking not to return to a less evolved time, we have removed discipline from its rightful place. Discipline should always be conducted in a spirit of love, not hatred.

As I conclude, I recognize that as one person, I am limited in the decision-making process. It is entirely possible that it will take more blatant outbursts before he is ever effectively told to stop. Living together in Beloved Community among Friends with strong opinions already thoroughly strains those bonds. Though it may be distasteful, we must resort to corrective actions when no other option remains. Should the offending Friend see the light and reverse course, we should be the first to extend open arms, this in a spirit of forgiveness.

EDIT:  A Friend informs me that the correct term is "Overseer", not "Elder".  Many Quakers no longer use the phrase because it is closely associated in the modern mind with slavery.