Truly one of the sickest things I’ve ever read.

A jury in Texas has ruled against a father in a custody battle leaving the door open for the mother of a 7 year old boy in Texas (One of a set of male twins) to pursue at her option, the transition of one twin boy to a female. 

Here is an opinion piece from The Washington Examiner

Here is a news piece from The Washington Examiner

Here is the report from KPRC in Texas

Here is a report from Lifesitenews

Here is a link to a website dedicated to the boy

Here is a link to Chad Felix Greene’s article in The Federalist

UPDATE

Judge rules that the father of James Younger will be allowed to Veto medical intervention. In other words, the father has not been stripped of all parental rights.

Read More here


Oddly, I wasn’t able to find coverage on NBC, ABC, CNN, CBS or more than the briefest mention of it in local Texas papers. It is somewhat unsurprising that only “conservative” outlets are carrying the story.

A 7 year old?

WHAT?

It’s not even clear that the child has gender dysphoria. At 7 isn’t it natural, perhaps even expected for children to be curious about what it’s like to dress up? The experts in the case say the childs gender is still fluid.

Reading through the available, and no doubt biased, information points to a bitter divorce… correction annulment. I suspect that the annulment is a farce and that there is still some kind of pitched legal battle behind the scenes ongoing. To my rather suspicious mind it begs the questions, “Is the mother trying to use the child as a weapon? Is she willing to harm a child in order to harm the father?” The truly amazing thing is that she’s not the twins biological mother.  Yes she gave birth to the boys, but the eggs were not her own. 

Add to this, several years ago there was the case, in Seattle I believe, where biological parents (who happened to be Native Americans) won custody of a child. In this case the child had been given up at birth. The child had been adopted by a white suburban family and had never known anything other than that family. But the state in it’s infinite wisdom ordered the child surrendered to the Native American parents based on the biological connection.

By that logic, in the case of James, his father Jeffery should have a greater claim to custody of the two boys. 

After all, at its heart this is a custody battle. It’s a father acting to protect one of his children from medical procedures that will have permanent, potentially negative effects. Isn’t this what custody battles are all about, or at least what they should be about?

I suppose what’s shocking to me is that the jury ruled against the father. 

My shock is not about Transphobia, this is about a child who frankly is too young to understand the hubub and for whom nature should probably be allowed to take it’s course at least until the child can specifically say, “I want to be a girl.”

I have many reservations about transitioning children’s genders because of the long term physical damage. Think about it. Hormone replacement therapy is a lifelong commitment, and potentially life shortening in the case where you’re fighting the fundamental programming of the human body. Would any parent wish that for their child who didn’t need it, or was uncertain of the child’s wishes?

I found myself nodding as I read the opinion piece (above) by Brad Polumbo

This “transgender radicalism” has gone on long enough and been allowed to go too damn far.

Let children be children. All of us need to stop putting our hangups, fears, hatred, confusion, or political statements on them. 

Our duty as adults, Straight, Gay, Transgendered, White, Black, Yellow, Red, Brown, whatever, is to protect children, any children, because they can’t protect themselves. 

That means protecting their lives, innocence, and childhood, until they are ready to make their own choices. Even then, when they make poor choices and stumble, it is our duty to pick them up, dust off their clothes, put a band-aid on their boo boos (emotional, physical, or both) and tell them to try again.

That’s what being an adult is.

It depresses the shit out of me that so many so called “Adults” have forgotten that simple duty or have been terrorized into silence.

There used to be a saying, “There’s nothing worse than an X-smoker”. That statement is often true about an X anything. X- Smokers tend to be rabid about other people smoking, X-overweight people tend to point out what others are eating as fattening. 

Perhaps X-Binary Genders are engaging in something similar? “ I’m happier now that I’ve transitioned and therefore everyone would be happier if they did too”

It’s a question that has more than once flitted through my mind.

I’m quite happy being a male. I like my body, (well except for the few creeping pounds of age). I like my genitalia and have no desire to change. (Well, larger would be nice, ahem) I recognize that may not be true of all people and your choice, is to make changes to your own bodies as you desire.

BUT, don’t you dictate my choices, or impose your beliefs about what I should feel or want, or how I should express my sexuality. 

You see I, as an adult have to personal strength and conviction to say that, and the ability to defend my statement, just as you do. 

Can the same be said of a child?

Was quiet and blue all day yesterday

SCAN0117I realized that yesterday was the anniversary of my Dad’s death.

It’s funny, it’s been 27 years it still gets to me some years. Perhaps I’ve just been very retrospective recently.

I miss him. 

I was so busy packing and planning how stuff would be loaded and moved I wasn’t really thinking about why I was blue. I was chalking it up to the move itself and the feeling that I was giving up something that I didn’t want to give up.

Perhaps it’s a combination of the two. I didn’t want to give Dad up, and I don’t want to give up a space that is mine alone. Humble as that space may be, It’s my space and I like it.

That being said, there are times when you have to give up people you love and things that you like.

This is a photo of my Dad, Mom, and the little guy is me. Yeah I should have been looking at the camera but hey, I was a kid. The funny thing is, In this picture my Dad’s expression is the expression I remember most.

This is Dad. My Father is eternal in my memory he’s forever this age and even when he was in his 50s he looked pretty much the same. Yeah, a few more wrinkles but he’s the same man.

I can only hope I age as well.

So Dad, you’re remembered, missed, and regardless of any disagreements we had, you’re loved always and forever.

Now I have to get on with the final packing and get this move out of the way.

Mixed Emotions

This whole move thing has me filled with mixed emotions.

On the one hand, I will not miss the noise of the street behind the apartments. This street is more like living next to a raceway than living in a residential neighborhood.

The only time that street is quiet is between 2:30 am and 2:45 am any other time it’s an endless parade of cars zipping along, motorcycles, and modified drift car wannabes roaring by, and various larger trucks rumbling along. 

Sirens and ambulances scream by at all hours of the day and night.

After a while you start to ignore most of the road noise.

The Apartment complex is an older one and has older people in it. Ambulances and paramedics roll up at least once a day to cart some unfortunate person off to the hospital, or the morgue.

2 Zen living room

This is a plain no extras complex and it’s showing it’s age. The walls are paper thin and the windows single pane. You can hear everything. People having conversations in the parking lot, some of the younger folks are still sexually active and so you hear them pounding away on creaky beds. The tenants that are hard of hearing will let you enjoy their movies, music, or operas at all hours of the day and night.

It’s not restful and it’s hard to sleep.

We’ve just had 4 weeks of tree removal. They came through and took out all the grand eucalyptus trees that provided shade and put a sweetness in the air. Now we’ve been dealing with plumbing issues and the sidewalks are all torn up with the attendant heavy construction crews coming in at 6am to haul away broken concrete jackhammer up more sidewalks and generally yelling across the parking lot at each other. 

It’s been a dusty noisy environment and parking is a nightmare. 

All that being said, this was my place. Things remained where I put them and I was in complete control of my little space. It has been home to me and I’m not really looking forward to sharing my space with another person again.

The plus side of the mountain hose is that it’s quiet

HoardingI have a monumental cleanup task waiting on me at the house in the mountains. Part of that task is a creation of my own in that I haven’t been there with enough energy to clean out the stacks of frankly un-necessary paper left in my office on my desk. I’ve already had trouble putting my stuff back in the house because the other person that lives there is a major packrat.

Before I got this place, I had been feeling compressed into smaller and smaller space. My absence has compounded the problem. I can’t get to my workout bench anymore, There’s no way I can get my motorcycle out of the garage and I can just barely fit my car in the 2.5 car garage. The basement storage area is a fucking disaster with barely a path between junk that hasn’t seen the light of day in 10 years, longer if you count the time pre-fire. I know I have stuff in the basement that needs to find it’s way to the trash heap, I can’t find my stuff that needs to go away, because of all the other stuff that’s been stacked around it. That all has to change, and it’s going to be a battle.

This is a battle I’m not looking forward to.

There will be hurt feelings  and passive aggressive anger and I’m sure it will be an unpleasant time. But I need to focus on trimming down all the shit because a longer term goal is my future. If I find a position with a company outside of California I want to be able to make a clean break of it. I want to take all my shit from well defined areas and put it in a truck and be done. I don’t want my stuff in 3 or 4 different places I want everything in one place Easily accessible, defined, labeled, and movable.

The storage facility I just rented may provide a space in which I can move, sort, trash, and store my stuff.

2014 04 20 15 45 131I suppose I’m getting to a point where I don’t place the same value on sentimentality that I once did. Things don’t matter all that much to me, Stuff is an anchor that makes it hard for you to move literally and figuratively.

I’d like to be able to haul anchor and go. I want simplicity