not wrong body

Not. Wrong. Body. Give yourself a good gift each day and every time you look in the mirror.

Not Wrong Body

07.29.2013

I am at a point in my life and “transition” as a two-spirited (transgendered) person, that I can no longer believe, despite what I see in the mirror, that I was a spirit born into the “wrong body.” This may be due to having plenty of time to process this information, or that right now I enjoy unprecedented support from my family, or I am doing what I can to change the parts of my body that are possible to change (albiet through hormones and clothing only). However, I think that mainly this new self-awareness is due to finding my identity and path into the cultural ways of the two-spirited, and a gift of unprecedented self-worth and self-esteem that I have not previously enjoyed before coming to this path.

I write this because I have just come from yet another transgender support group where the majority of members lament that they were “born in the wrong body,” and cannot see beyond the “wrongness” of their unfair lives. And I simply cannot believe this anymore. I do not want my brothers and sisters to have to believe this of themselves either. I want better for them. Unfortunately, this kind of “coyote talk” creates nothing but dysphoria and self-esteem problems; a terrible self-fulfilling belief that transgendered persons can do nothing to change their self worth; that no amount of hormones or surgery will correct this “wrong body;” or they will always be a pariah…etc. We are not meant to live with such impossible and sad realities. There is better and we deserve to think of ourselves better; and to create better for ourselves.

See, I do not believe that Creator makes extraneous or “wrong” people. I do not believe that I was born “wrong” at all.  Creator does not make “wrong” people and then ask them to change later in life (even if we come to such pathways later in life, as I had at age 30; the path was laid when I was born). I believe that I was born two-spirited and that is just as it was intended.

However, I do not live a charmed life and I recognize that neither do my fellow transgender brothers and sisters. We do not live in an aboriginal world augmented with traditional wisdom and beliefs. Modern society proves each day that it is unkind and intolerant of people who are different. But, I do not find my path and my identity is defined externally by that society.  Modern society may never see me as anything but a “fake man.” But, I have long since given up on being concerned about what others think of me.  I recognize that I am not a gift to modern society (as the two-spirited were in times past; there is no societal or religious equivalent in the western world I live in today and to expect one, I believe, makes me equally intolerant of others’ values/beliefs).

I am a gift that I only give myself. I say it again, I am a gift that I give myself. Being a two-spirited person is totally “in my head” , and not based on what others perceive my gender to be or not to be. My identity comes completely from within. And that is true of all persons– two-spirited or otherwise. Personal identity is just that– personal identity– and the locus of control is entirely within each and everyone of us. And when we depend only on society– family, friends, co-workers– to give us the self-identity we desire (i.e., being “man/woman enough,” being a good parent, a successful person, a good reputation, etc.), it will fail us every time.

Indeed, the modern system is set up to fail us all– two-spirited and everyone else. There are just too many “others” to please to determine your own self-worth and identity by their standards (which vary widely!). There is only one person who can give you the gift of self-worth and self-identity– and it is written plainly in the words– your SELF. Give yourself a good gift each day and every time you look in the mirror. There are no “wrong” persons ever made on earth. We are all here to be as Creator intended. So, be that person. You, too, are the gift that you give yourself.

(C) henry francis redhouse, 2013. Artwork is property of its respective owners.

i am autism!

“This is an identity, not a stereotype. This is an individual; given no more to violence than any other person of the world. This is autism. I am autism. Maybe Adam Lamza is autism. But my experience does not define Adam Lamza’s; and his does not inform my own.”

I am Autism!

12.18.2012

I am continually disturbed by reports that Adam Lamza and other recent mass-shootings nationwide claim that the perpetrators were affected by autism or Asperger’s disorders. This assumption is inaccurate and inflammatory. And it creates an equally inaccurate stereotype that all persons with forms of autism are naturally violent and likely to be dangerous. But what these gross inaccuracies really promote is an environment of mistrust and continued marginalization of an already marginal group of people. And it just shows that the general public and most public safety officials are not prepared to deal with people who have autism in a way that protects the dignity, life, and basic civil rights of the individual.

The fact is, there are very few convicted murders (only eight included in a study in Sweden) who have any form of autism. And having autism does not make an individual any more likely to commit a violent crime that anyone else. Conversely, individuals with autism are often the victim of bullies.  Because of their unique subset of disabilities and their inability to determine appropriate social behavior (their own behavior and in translating the behavior of their peers as a threat), these people are targeted by others due to their oddities and often, their own personal naivety. Due to their pedantic way of speaking; unusual behavior, such as “stimming”; and hyper-focus on often “annoying” obsessions, the autistic person is often the victim of cruelty, jokes, and bullying.

Often, due to misunderstanding of the disorder or the inability of the autistic person to communicate or follow instructions, police also react with fatal results when called to intervene in domestic disputes involving autistic persons. Rather than treat the call as a serious medical-emotional emergency, the police see the autistic as a threat; not following orders, not talking sensibly, not understanding commands, or reacting in the usual ways police expect a person to react to authority. A quick search of the key words “autistic man shot” immediately brings up articles where police officers have taken wrongful and fatal action against the autistic, usually called on to intervene in a domestic dispute or a medical emergency by family. Here are a few: “Police Commission; LAPD shooting of unarmed autistic man was wrong”; “Autistic teen fatally shot by police in  suburban Chicago home”; “Family says autistic man with toy gun shot, killed by Florida police”; “Autistic man shot and killed by police in his home”; Eight-year-old autistic boy handcuffed by police”.

I am not saying that autistic persons are not violent in their behaviors. On the contrary, anyone who lives with, works with, or plays with a person who falls on the autism spectrum, may report some level of violent behavior by the person with autism at any given time. But, often the violence that is experienced by these individuals is not the pre-meditated, predatory type of the homicidal mass-shooter. Often the violence is turned towards self-injury or towards primary caregivers, not in a pre-meditated manner, but as psychologists define it, in an affective violent manner. The difference between affective and predatory violence is the pre-meditation of the actions. People with autism exhibiting violence are most often exhibiting affective violence toward self or others. This type of violent behavior is characterized by broad generality, passion, lack of planning, and is temporal or ephemeral. This is the kind of behavior demonstrated by self-injury or in response to painful or emotional stimulation experienced by people who have autism. It is chiefly reactive. Predatory violent behavior, as demonstrated by the mass-shooter, is thought-out, planned, and focused. Predatory violence is the type of behavior that Adam Lamza demonstrated by donning army fatigues, loading three guns, and systematically killing his mother and the children execution-style at Sandy Hook Elementary School. Adam Lamza may or may not have had a form of Asperger’s or autism; but in addition to that, he was clearly emotionally disturbed over a long period of time during which he planned and executed his homicide-suicide plans. His behavior was clearly not reactionary but proactive.

I am afraid of what the media reports when they speculate that an individual who exhibits violence is autistic. It creates an environment in which the person who has an autism disorder is equated with persons who are violent and unpredictable, or a sociopathic pathology. I am increasingly terrified of telling others that I am autistic because of what they misconstrue that to mean. It feels like I have a be a “closet-autistic” and try so much harder to be the socially-acceptable person the world expects me to be. It feels like I have to “come out” as autistic like a person has to come out as gay. And we all know that closeted gay people are more likely to feel isolated, contemplate suicide, and experience bullying in school; likewise, if I must closet away my autism as a deep, dark secret. This is not right. I am no more in control of my disability as a person with autism that a blind person is of his or hers; or a gay person is in control of their genetic sexual orientation; only, my disability is quite invisible under normal circumstances. So where does that leave me and persons like me? Come out of the closet as autistic, risking becoming a pariah or labeled as violent; or try to hide this identity which so defines my life experiences? I do not like the choices.

We are not all freaks toting hand guns into schools! We are the bullied child under the bleachers, living in his or her own world; because this world is too intense and people are too cruel. We are the man who plays with children’s toys whom everyone picks on when he rides the bus. We are the child sitting at the doctor’s office rocking, flapping their hands, or spinning to create self-stimulus only to drive out the often painful stimulus of public places. We are the non-verbal person who does not follow commands we do not understand, whose behavior is wrongfully construed as subordination or threatening. We are the brilliant but awkward scientist whose public speaking skills are not honed like a professor’s; but can write amazing things to make you cry; or draw amazing things and “think in pictures and words”. We are the person who in fits of emotion beyond our kenning, hits him or herself in the face, or bangs their head in frustration at the world which does not fit the puzzle of our own life experience. This is an identity, not a stereotype. This is an individual; given no more to violence than any other person of the world. This is autism. I am autism. Maybe Adam Lamza is autism. But my experience does not define Adam Lamza’s; and his does not inform my own. I am not Adam Lamza.

(C)henry francis redhouse, 2012; including artwork.

CAFAB/CAMAB?

CAFAB/CAMAB?

10.03.2012

Recently I have been reading about CAFAB/CAMAB in queer spaces. And I did not know what this acronym meant, so I asked. I think one would have to spend a great deal of time with queer or non-binary people to encounter this acronym, as it has not gone “mainstream” yet. But it used by a small segment of the queer community none the less. CAFAB/CAMAB means “coercively assigned female/male at birth” and folks have been using it as a way to identify themselves by the genitals they were assigned or born with, but had no current identification with presently; in other words, trans* (two-spirited) people like myself.

But unlike them, I immediately had a problem with this designation and I have never used CAFAB as an identifier for myself because of it. It actually makes me sad to think someone views themselves and their worth by this limited definition, for several reasons. First of all, coercively? Really? I understand the bitterness that some people have who are trans* and feel like they have been cheated out of the life or the childhood they should have in another gender than what they have been assigned. But there was nothing coercive about being assigned a sex at birth. The doctor or midwife merely slaps a newborn on the butt, takes a precursory look at its genitals, and designates it as one of a very limited choice of western ideals of sexes—male or female. There is nothing coercive about it! Coercion means “forcing another party to act in an involuntary manner by use of threats or intimidation or some other form of pressure or force.” There were no threats or intimidation in assigning an infant a birth sex! They mean no harm or to do something against the will of the baby or the family. It is purely medical. Coercive means that there was malicious motivation or bullying behind the doctor’s assessment of birth sex. Motivation is the difference between murder and accidental death. The doctors were not motivated to assign anyone male or female by anything greater than the medical necessity to put something on the birth certificate. They could not possibly know that baby A or baby B would become something other than the F or M that they had to decide on at the time!

I think that believing that one has been coercively assigned a sex which does not match his/her identity later, leads to bitterness and blame. And there is no blame. The elders and the spirits teach us that each one is doing their best and doing exactly as the spirits intended. There are mistakes; but there is no blame. In addition, bitterness at being cheated or coercively being assigned female/male at birth, leads only to more bitterness that is poorly assigned to the person’s parents or their doctors. Bitterness is a great paralyzer to the human spirit, leading the person to greatly regret the past (of which they often have no control over). There is no room for bitterness or blame in a spirit that needs to do its present best in this world.

Also, I do not identify as CAFAB because it still defines me by what my genitals are and were at the point of my birth; assigned female at birth. I find each day that I am defined less and less by what others tell me I should or can be. I find each day, I am the only one who can define myself And I do it every day and every moment. Every day is new. Every minute and second is new and a new chance to define my character and my spirit. I am not the same person I was born as, or the same person I was in high school. I am not the same person I was when I got up at 08:18 this morning. Each moment is my defining moment.

And, truly, I prefer not to identify myself to everyone as assigned female at birth because it is really no one’s business what my genitals are or once were. They do not definitively define my spirit or who I am at any moment either. I think I am unique at this point in my life in that I do not experience much body dysphoria related to my secondary sexual characteristics despite not having had “the surgery” to change anything. I do not bemoan the fact that my genitals do not fit neatly into the limited category of female/male. I experience more dysphoria about what my body cannot do for me rather than what it is; like I wish my body would allow me to stand to urinate or to run a marathon. But I have said it before and I firmly believe it: bodies are not wrong; they just are. And that’s what we have right now. Nothing coercive about it at all.

(C)henry francis redhouse, 2012. Artwork is property of its respective owners.

name me

“A nameless It/ Is easy to hate,/ It has no life,/ It has no feelings,/ It is nothing/ Without a name./ Speak Its name,/ And speak It alive,/ Give It a face,/ Make It a person,/ Name Its essence.”

 

Name Me

11.08.2010

 

A nameless It

Is easy to hate,

It has no life,

It has no feelings,

It is nothing

Without a name.

 

Speak Its name,

And speak It alive,

Give It a face,

Make It a person,

Name Its essence.

 

It is my son,

It is my friend,

It is my brother,

It is my heart

Beating outside me.

 

Name Me,

Make Me

Your own again.

Name Me,

Bring Me

Back to life.

 

(C)henry francis redhouse, 2010 including artwork.