The bullshit of only two “God-given sexes”

We could sit here and argue for millennia, as has already been done, on the question whether “God” exists or not, without ever coming to a final answer. Either side, or argument, could claim to be right and probably never have the proof to show. However, one thing is for certain: what White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt said, echoing Trump’s fascist executive orders, about there being “only two sexes, male and female”, and people being forced to use their “God-given sex, which was decided at birth” is simply bullshit (see article “Existing passports won’t be affected by Donald Trump’s anti-trans order, White House claims” in LGBQT Nation). 

Scientifically speaking, even without going into gender (which has, in fact, in a fascist manner been eliminated from the vocabulary of these orders and been replaced by the term sex), there are not only two sexes and sex is not given by “God”. First of all, sex (however we want to define it) is not given to a baby, or a person, by “God”: it is determined by biological and chemical factors, such as genes, chromosomes, hormones, etc. Moreover, and maybe even more importantly, “female” & “male” really are not, and have never been, the only “options”: intersex people exist and have always existed. “Intersex is a general term used for a variety of situations in which a person is born with reproductive or sexual anatomy that doesn’t fit the boxes of ‘female‘ or ‘male’. … Being intersex is a naturally occurring variation in humans, and it isn’t a medical problem — therefore, medical interventions (like surgeries or hormone therapy) on children usually aren’t medically necessary. Being intersex is also more common than most people realize. It’s hard to know exactly how many people are intersex, but estimates suggest that about 1-2 in 100 people born in the U.S. are intersex. There are many different ways someone can be intersex. Some intersex people have genitals or internal sex organs that fall outside the male/female categories — such as a person with both ovarian and testicular tissues. Other intersex people have combinations of chromosomes that are different than XY ( usually associated with male) and XX (usually associated with female), like XXY. And some people are born with external genitals that fall into the typical male/female categories, but their internal organs or hormones don’t. If a person’s genitals look different from what doctors and nurses expect when they’re born, someone might be identified as intersex from birth. Other times, someone might not know they’re intersex until later in life, like when they go through puberty. Sometimes a person can live their whole life without ever discovering that they’re intersex.” [from https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn/gender-identity/sex-gender-identity/whats-intersex#:~:text=What%20does%20intersex%20mean%3F,male”%20or%20“female”.]

So I cannot help asking myself: why are these people using so much time and energy and money and effort to attack us? What’s their problem with trans, nonbinary, intersex, and generally “different” persons? Why not use all that time and energy and money to solve actual, real problems? 

And the only answer I can find is that they are fascists. This is what fascists and nazis and all authoritarian governments and dictatorships have always done throughout history: they find scapegoats in whoever is somehow “different” and try to take their human rights away. And if there ever was something that is “God-given”, that is the human rights of each and every human being, regardless of their sex or gender or race or sexual orientation or religious beliefs or (dis)ability level or anything else. 

And one thing is for sure: I will fight for my human rights, and those of my fellow humans, if it’s the last thing I do.

“The people I love the best”

Yesterday evening I started my first poetry class and the instructor shared a poem by Marge Piercy, To be of use. 

To me this felt like a concrete image of love, of friendship, as I imagine it, as I experience it. This is the way I hope to give and receive love and friendship — such are, indeed, the “people I love the best”… 

“

The people I love the best

jump into work head first

without dallying in the shallows

and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.

They seem to become natives of that element,

the black sleek heads of seals

bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,

who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,

who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,

who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge

in the task, who go into the fields to harvest

and work in a row and pass the bags along,

who are not parlor generals and field deserters

but move in a common rhythm

when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.

Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.

But the thing worth doing well done

has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.

Greek amphoras for wine or oil,

Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums

but you know they were made to be used.

The pitcher cries for water to carry

and a person for work that is real.

“

[Poem To be of use by Marge Piercy]

“We who are your closest friends”

Maybe my insecurity — possibly even paranoia — around my friendships can be expressed with some humor through this poem by Phillip Lopate…

“

we who are

your closest friends

feel the time

has come to tell you

that every Thursday

we have been meeting

as a group

to devise ways

to keep you

in perpetual uncertainty

frustration

discontent and

torture

by neither loving you

as much as you want

nor cutting you adrift

your analyst is

in on it

plus your boyfriend

and your ex-husband

and we have pledged

to disappoint you

as long as you need us

in announcing our

association

we realize we have

placed in your hands

a possible antidote

against uncertainty

indeed against ourselves

but since our Thursday nights

have brought us

to a community of purpose

rare in itself

with you as

the natural center

we feel hopeful you

will continue to make

unreasonable

demands for affection

if not as a consequence

of your

disastrous personality

then for the good of the collective

”

[poem We who are your closest friends by Phillip Lopate]

Choosing my personal safety: an act of self-care

I’m feeling frustrated. Even sad and somewhat angry. Yet what I did yesterday evening was a practical, firm act of self-care and a concrete instance of putting one of my New Year’s resolutions into practice, i.e. “not pursuing unavailable relationships/situations”. 

The plans for yesterday evening were that I was going to meet one of my best climbing buddies for an after-work session around 5pm and then go see the guy from the chorus with whom I had hooked up to “talk about our friendship” at 8:30pm. To do this, I was going to drive to two cities that are not where I live, each ~45 minutes drive for me and ~20-30 minutes drive from each other. Plans involving this amount of driving is quite common for many of us in this area so under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have been a big deal for me. Yesterday, however, we were getting the tail end of the winter storm we had over the long weekend and the weather conditions got progressively worse as the afternoon went by. By the time I left my place to head to the climbing engagement with my buddy, winds were gusting over 30 mph, snow accumulated on the sides of the main roads was being blown (often sideways) across the streets making the cars swerve and the lanes invisible, and snow & ice still covered the side roads. The forecast was for these conditions to last, and possibly worsen, until 11pm — which would have been about the time I would have been driving home from a long night out. 

My car can take such winter conditions: it has excellent snow tires and AWD. 

But I couldn’t take such conditions yesterday. (Part of my current increased sense of vulnerability is due to my recent surgery and the death of my pet snake.)

It was less than a 15-minute drive for me to the gas station to fill my tank and check the fluids in my car. And as I drove that short stretch I could feel a voice in me say “No”.

“No, you cannot do this tonight. It’s already bad now and it’s going to get even worse later. It isn’t worth it: your safety isn’t worth this. It isn’t worth you risking a car accident for this.” 

I had been waiting a week for yesterday evening. I was so ready, so eager, both to climb with my buddy and to have the clarifying conversation with the guy from the chorus. I wanted those two things to happen so badly — all day I had been feeling like a sprinter on the starting-blocks just waiting for the gunshot to take off and go for it. But then yesterday evening, during that short drive in the tail end of the winter storm, something else kicked in for me: a sense of self-preservation, an “inner-love” towards myself that was stronger than the “outer-draw” towards either of those two guys. 

I miss climbing or hiking or just hanging out with that climbing buddy. And I really, really wanted to get stuff off my chest and have some clarification with the guy from the chorus. But somehow I also felt that the care or interest that either of them is showing towards me now, towards having/maintaining a relationship with me now, is not strong enough, or not clear enough for me: my interest or care and effort towards maintaining relationships with each of them seems much stronger than theirs. 

The friendship with my climbing buddy is, I trust, solid. Yet, due to circumstances this year we haven’t been able to climb together, or even see each other, as much as I would like to. And most of the time it’s me reaching out to him now to keep up the connection. 

The situation with the guy from the chorus is murky and it’s definitely always me reaching out to him to initiate meeting up. 

In both cases a clarifying conversation will be helpful — it is, I feel, necessary. But I won’t drive in a winter storm, risking a car accident, to have those conversations. 

No matter how important those conversations — and possibly those relationships — may be, my personal incolumnity is more important: I guess I had never really felt that way so strongly or clearly until yesterday evening…

“Martin Luther King shows us how to harness the immense power of the queer community”

“

Today we honor Martin Luther King, Jr., whose philosophy of nonviolent resistance is one any movement could look to for guidance. 

Nonviolent protest is a form of resistance that seeks to create social change by means of civil disobedience or political noncooperation while refraining from violence of any kind. 

King’s philosophy of nonviolence was inspired by the teachings of Gandhi, who emphasized the importance of love and nonviolence. He saw Gandhi’s teachings as the ideal method for achieving social reform, and he made use of them during the Montgomery bus boycott in 1955. He led the boycott with unarmed bodyguards despite threats on his life, and he reacted to the bombing of his home with compassion. 

… 

King believed that “darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that. The beauty of nonviolence is that in its own way and in its own time it seeks to break the chain reaction of evil.” 

King’s way of thinking also has data to back it up. Research suggests that nonviolent protests are ten times more successful than violent ones. In her book, Why Civil Resistance Works: The Strategic Logic of Nonviolent Conflict, Harvard Professor Erica Chenoweth explains how civil resistance campaigns garner more support. 

Chenoweth explains, “Nonviolent campaigns are on average four times larger than the average violent campaign, and are often more representative in terms of gender, age, race, political party, class, and the urban/rural distinction. Civil resistance allows people of all different levels of physical abilities to participate. Everyone is born with the ability to resist nonviolently. Violent resistance is a little more demanding and therefore more exclusive.”

… 

The march is a prime example of the power of peaceful protests and the immense impact they can generate. King knew this, and now we must follow in his footsteps.  

“

[from the article “Martin Luther King shows us how to harness the immense power of the queer community” in LGBTQ Nation]

Commemorating the 40th celebration of MLK Jr. Day

“

Martin Luther King (MLK) Jr. Day 2025 marks the holiday’s 40th observance. The theme, “Mission Possible: Protecting Freedom, Justice, and Democracy in the Spirit of Nonviolence 365,” is challenging in this politically polarized era. With this new presidency, we are called to reaffirm our values and hold them against a hard reality in order to provide a promise for future generations. 

Americans on the margins have the most to lose now in a country eroding, if not dismantling, decades-long civil rights gains that allowed protection and participation in an evolving multicultural democracy.

…

Moral leadership played a profound role in King’s justice work. He argued that authentic moral leadership must involve itself in the situations of all who are damned, disinherited, disrespected, and dispossessed. He also believed that moral leadership must be part of a participatory government that is feverishly working to dismantle any existing discriminatory laws that prevent full participation in the fight to advance democracy. 

However, if King were among us today, he would say that it is not enough to look outside ourselves to see the places where society is broken. It is not enough to talk about institutions and workplaces that fracture and separate people based on race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, and other experiential lines. Oftentimes, these institutions and workplaces are broken, dysfunctional, and wounded in the same ways we are — the structures we’ve created mirror not who we want to be but who we are.

… 

“If you want to see love, be love. If you want to receive compassion, be compassionate. If you want respect, you have to show respect,” Bernice King said in an interview promoting her 2022 children’s book It Starts With Me.

… 

When we use our gifts to serve others, as King has taught us, we shift the paradigm of personal brokenness to personal healing. We also shift the paradigm of looking for moral leadership from outside of ourselves to within ourselves, thus realizing that we are not only the agents of change in society but also the moral leaders we have been looking for.

Therefore, our job in keeping King’s dream alive is to remember that our longing for social justice remains also inextricably tied to our longing for personal healing — and it starts with you.

”

[from the article “Looking for the next Martin Luther King Jr.? Here’s where to find him…” in LGBTQ Nation]

“LGBTQ+ activists revive Stonewall Democrats after it shut down over a decade ago”

“A new coalition emerges a dozen years after the national group disbanded.”

[from the article “LGBTQ+ activists revive Stonewall Democrats after it shut down over a decade ago” in LGBTQ Nation]

I’m never there for them when they go…

[Trigger warnings: death, loss, grief, corpse]

One of my earliest clear memories is from when I was six years old and our dog, a rescued mutt, was put down because he was old and, especially, suffering from his illness. 

I wasn’t actually present, at the vet’s, when they put him down, but I remember knowing exactly what was going on that afternoon and why I was going to spend it at my buddy’s house. My mother didn’t want me to be there, to actually see Rocky be put down, to see Rocky go. But first he was there: an active, affectionate, rowdy, playful presence in my life; and then, a couple hours later, he wasn’t there anymore. Not ever again. 

My maternal grandfather died when I had just started college. He was a distracted, distant or aloof scientist but he was also the only person in my family of origin who really saw me for who I was — he saw the athlete, the scientist, and the boy in me. There was an ocean dividing us. As a college student it was too expensive for me to get a flight to go see him before he passed and logistics also made in hard with me in college and him in a retirement home. I’d call him & my grandmother every weekend. Until it was only her I could call. 

She died thirteen years later. In that time, I had grown into an adult, become financially independent, and started visiting her once a year overseas. When she got the stroke, I believed the doctor, trusted the number of days he assured me she would live, and bought my flight accordingly. But she didn’t make it and I got there too late to say Goodbye. 

When my father got sick and eventually died overseas, it was my decision, as a fully grown adult, to not fly over. I needed that distance. I don’t regret that decision. I lost my father a long time before July 2023, I lost him three decades ago, although he was still alive and well then. I never really got to say Goodbye. Maybe I never really had the choice. 

My pet snake died yesterday. At the vet’s. While I was grocery shopping on my way to pick her up after climbing at the gym with a buddy. Her heart failed. 

The first thought that came to my mind when the vet told me what had happened was, “I wasn’t there for her. I didn’t see her go”. 

Yet another missed Goodbye. 

This time I got to see the corpse, though. This time, the decision of what to do with the remains is on me. At least, I have that choice. 

“It’s just a snake”, you’ll say. But she was my snake, she was my pretty girl. Her tank sat (still sits) in one of my bedrooms. Every morning, the first thing I’d do right out of bed was go to her tank and turn on her lamp; and every night, the last thing before bedtime, was turning off her lamp — wishing her “Good morning” & “Good night” every day. I know she didn’t understand but that doesn’t matter: it meant a lot to me; and I know for a fact that she recognized me, even if just by my smell and the sound of my voice. 

I remember bringing her home from the vivarium in California: seven years ago, almost to the day, on a bleak rainy night in January 2018. I didn’t have a cat back then, so a friend drove me. My snake chose me, not the other way around. And now she’s gone. Her little heart gave in. And maybe that’s my fault because she was a Rosy Boa, a Southern California / Northern Mexico desert species whose genes might not have been prepared to put up with living at altitude here in Colorado… 

“It’s just a snake”, and yet it isn’t. One of my therapists used to say that all types and/or causes of anger go, emotionally, into one bucket that eventually will overflow and/or explode. I feel the same about loss and grief. This loss, the death of my beloved pet snake, while devastating and definitely heart-breaking per se, is also bringing up all of the old grief for me, especially from the other recent losses. In this case, though, differently from the other losses, I cannot help blaming myself: did I not catch her illness in time? Did I bring her to a climate that was too hard on her body? Did I not care for her adequately? What did I do wrong?

“Black rights are queer rights & queer rights are Black rights”

Some valuable excerpts from the article “Civil rights leader David Johns is fighting to reclaim the future for Black & queer America” in LGBTQ Nation:

“

“People forget that democracies have to be defended by each generation and that education is its midwife.”

…

“Culture wars are manufactured to drive wedges” within coalitions working toward shared progressive goals, Johns said, and to “spur misinformation and disinformation, to have people believing their privilege protects them from the assaults that so many of us have experienced.” 

… 

In recent years, the far right has aimed its cannons at attacking Americans who are gender nonconforming, who complicate the assumed and enforced narrative of a rigid gender binary. Johns thinks we could all take a page from Somй in embracing and acknowledging gender nonconforming people as those who have found liberatory fulfillment within an existence characterized by liminality by seeking and celebrating the fuzziness of straddling worlds, communities, and identities. 

… 

MAGA fascism remixes Jim Crow authoritarianism with xenophobia, antisemitism,  and the moral and sexual panic of McCarthyism. It thrives on a blinkered individualism that counts “do your own research” as its rallying cry, embracing the might of terrorism as its enforcement mechanism. It engineers a false sense of unity through the creation of a common enemy (anyone whose identities would place them under the umbrella of “woke” or “DEI,” its adopted terms of derision). It is a politic of isolation, dissatisfaction, and demagoguery. But it is not new, nor is it insurmountable. 

The most effective methods for subverting its power and its violence, Johns asserts, are the classics, […] including community, mutual aid, doing away with colonialist ideas that “access to anything is based on a state-sanctioned relationship between heterosexual people.”

… 

“If we don’t do this better together, then we all suffer the consequences, and so many of us will die,” Johns warned. “… We have better odds of surviving this hunger game if we all go together. And so my hope is that that lesson from our ancestors would be a compelling one.”

“

[from the article “Civil rights leader David Johns is fighting to reclaim the future for Black & queer America” in LGBTQ Nation]

My first “non-period”!

Today, I’m four weeks out from my double procedure and thus cleared to go back to all my normal activities — YAY! 

This week I’m also experiencing my first “non-period”, i.e. my first period with no bleeding, as a result of the double procedure I had four weeks ago — double YAY! 

It will take a while before I get used to this change as being a regular, acquired result of the surgery I decided to undergo in December but it’s already starting to register a little bit and it feels good. And in the light of the current dark events, I am determined to focus on, and revel in, the gender-affirming aspects both of the surgery itself and of its effects on my body & my life.