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By Rebecca, August 23, 2010 10:57 pm

Girl at Mirror - Normal Rockwell

I started this blog after coming out to a friend and coworker. I was talking about my then-pie-in-the-sky ideas of creating performance material out of my experiences as a trans woman. She responded with the entirely reasonable question, “Are you keeping a written record of your experiences?”

“Um…no. You think I should?”

And thus The Thang Blog was born. I’ve always been open about the self-indulgent nature of this blog: it’s a forum for discussion, sure, but it’s first and foremost a place for me to record my thoughts, my musings, and whatever catches my interest. (Read my Comments Policy if you don’t believe me.)

But over the last three years(!!) this blog – and performing, and telling my story – has become something more for me. As my hit counter has gone from one or two (or none) a day, to a few dozen, to a hundreds of readers and visitors, as my performances have gone from a pipe dream to what I hope will be a livelihood, my perspective has changed.

Telling my story has become my activism. Telling my story has become my politics.

Continue reading 'Why I do this'»

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By Rebecca, August 9, 2010 3:35 pm

Extreme tagging

I just went through Facebook and untagged a number of older photos. For those of you who aren’t familiar, “tagging” in Facebook allows you to highlight different people in a photo, so you can more easily search for them. For example, from this past Halloween, a picture of me and my roommates would be tagged as Rebecca, A, and P. So if you clicked on “Rebecca’s Pictures,” it’d show up, as it would for clicking on A or P’s pictures.

“Untagging” lets you remove yourself from pictures where you either aren’t actually present or (more commonly) where you don’t want people to be able to easily say, “Oh, look! It’s _____”

Continue reading 'Untagging Facebook photos'»

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By Rebecca, August 7, 2010 2:49 am

Today was the last day of camp where I work. It wasn’t my last day, but it was sort of a “conclusion of summer at work” event, with a post-show dinner for the staff and lots of goodbyes to campers (some of whom had been my campers a million years ago).

There were two shows today, at 3PM and 6PM, and it wasn’t until after the second show that I realized it was going to be a difficult evening. I turned to my intern, who was helping me run the box office, and said, “My goal for tonight is to not cry in front of campers.”

I…did not so much succeed.

Continue reading 'Departures and goodbyes'»

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By Rebecca, July 2, 2010 12:48 am

This isn't an actual picture of us, but it's kind of how ridiculous I imagine we are.

Earlier this week, a few friends and I chilled on my apartment roof, drinking wine. It was a beautiful night, and I’ve come to love going up around 9PM, when the sunlight is fading and the stars are beginning to come out. (I’ll try and get a pic one of these days, but I usually only have my phone up with me and it doesn’t do good low-light photography.)

The discussion was pretty wide-ranging, from a male birth control pill (both of my friends were hesitant, but interested) to the appropriate way to play first base (close to the bag, apparently). We also talked about our experiences still being in Chicago (or being back in Chicago) after having grown up in the area, and our various social groups.

Then the topic of my transition came up, I think from of discussing my upcoming show, and it was interesting to hear some perspectives from people who have known me since early high school.

Continue reading 'Up on the roof'»

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By Rebecca, June 28, 2010 7:19 pm

Baruch atah adonai eloheinu melech ha’olam asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al ha-milah. Baruch atah adonai eloheinu melech ha’olam asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu lihach-neeso bivreito shel Avraham aveenu.

Blessed are You, O Lord Our God, Ruler of the universe, who has sanctified us with Your commandments, and has given us the command concerning circumcision. Blessed are You, O Lord Our God, Ruler of the universe, who has sanctified us with Your commandments, and hast commanded us to make our sons enter the covenant of Abraham our father. (Source)

Eight days after birth, Jewish boys are supposed to be circumcised as part of the covenant between God and Abraham (in Genesis), as specified in Leviticus. In this way, Jewish boys are supposed to continue the line of the Children of Israel, fulfilling the obligations and duties laid out for them in the Torah.

There are no required rituals or ceremonies to mark the birth of a girl.

Snip snip!

Continue reading 'Circumcision'»

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By Rebecca, June 24, 2010 3:01 pm

Another writing exercise from my director.

1. What do you love?

I love getting out of my head. The feeling of doing something purely physical: playing a song on the piano that I know really well and flowing into the music; biking along the lakefront; holding a really good handstand or whipping around on a Spanish Web; a mind-blowing and body-cleansing orgasm.

I love solving a problem that has been itching at me. Of making technology bend to my will, and deliver satisfying and consistent results. I love the relief that comes when a solution is Right and True.

I love my body when I’m able to feel feminine. I love looking down and seeing my breasts, feeling their weight. I love the wonder of skin and and bone and muscle.

I love a strong sense of community: artistic, social, familial. Of understanding, and being understood. Knowing, and being known.

Continue reading 'Three Questions'»

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By Rebecca, June 21, 2010 5:03 pm

Late last week, I had a session with the doctor who is prescribing my citalopram. It’s only the second time I’ve seen him, and he’s a nice guy. However, he’s (self-admittedly) ignorant of trans issues, so I’ve had to do more explaining and defining in sessions with him than with Laura, my primary therapist.

I was telling him about my frustrations with my dad, and explaining how his use of the wrong names and pronouns really hurts me. The doctor’s response was, basically, “So?”

Continue reading 'Therapissed off'»

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By Rebecca, June 8, 2010 8:18 pm

While driving to work this morning, someone pulled up along side me at a stoplight and motioned for me to roll down my window. He was gesturing to the back of my car and saying something, and I worried that I had a light out, my trunk was open, or (worst of all) I hadn’t noticed a flat tire.

I rolled down my window and he started talking across the gap between our cars. I couldn’t really hear him over the rain, complicated by his soft voice and foreign accent. I finally understood that he was complimenting me on my bumper stickers. This happens every so often, and I always get a kick out of it. I have a couple dozen bumper stickers on the back of my car, ranging from the political – about Obama or women’s rights – to the silly (“No, I will not fix your computer”). I thanked him, and started to roll my window back up, when he yelled something I heard very clearly:

“Wanna meet up some place?

I rolled up my window, turned back to the light (green, by this time), and sped away.

Continue reading 'The male gaze can jump in a lake'»

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By Rebecca, June 5, 2010 10:56 pm

A little early, I know

I had brunch with my dad this morning, following our recent issues. Going to brunch was definitely the right thing to do, but I don’t know that I’m happy I went. I certainly don’t feel any better.

We basically talked in circles for an hour. I attempted, once again, to explain why and how his behavior was hurtful for me. Even though I don’t doubt that he loves me, the way we interact still causes me a lot of pain.

And, over and over, he repeated his favorite refrains: “I can’t change what I feel. My feelings are just as valid as yours. You’re asking me to change over night. I had a son for 23 years. I’m trying.”

Continue reading 'When are feelings not valid?'»

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By Rebecca, June 3, 2010 11:15 am

Just sent this email to my dad.

Dad,

I owe you an apology. I’m sorry I hung up on you last week – it was immature and unfair to you. It’s impossible to have a conversation when one party is no longer on the line.

That said, I’m not sorry I brought up how I’ve been feeling, even though I expressed myself really poorly. I need you to know that it hurts to be called “kid” and “child,” when I know you’re doing so to avoid gendered pronouns. It’s hurts, a lot, to hear you slip up and refer to me as “he” or my old name. I have no doubt that you love me. But like I said, I think you love me as your child and I want – desperately, painfully – for you to love me as your daughter.

But my frustration over how we communicate goes deeper than names and pronouns, and I need you to know that, too. I love you. I see so much of you in myself: my humor, my attentiveness to detail, my love of knowledge and education (and gadgets). So it’s all the more painful when I feel like we’re talking past each other, something that seems to be happening more and more.

When we talk, I feel like we’re having different conversations. You’ll ask a question, and before I’m half-finished answering it you’ll have asked another. It makes me feel like a client (or, worse, an opposing witness) rather than someone you love and care about. Or I’ll ask about how you perceived Billy Elliot’s father – whether he resonated with you – and be absolutely baffled when you say, “No, that wasn’t my experience.”

Than what was your experience? What is your experience? Because, from where I’m sitting, I feel like you’re ashamed of me. Or embarrassed. Awkward and unsure how to interact, torn between loving me and wanting to be done with whatever conversation or interaction we’re in.

So that’s why I hung up on you. I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry I did, but I become so flustered and so hurt when we talk, that I lashed out.

I love you, even when you frustrate the hell out of me
-Rebecca