Book Excerpt: Alan Turing, The Enigma

I’m currently reading Andrew Hodges’ wonderful and indepth Alan Turing: The Enigma. I’m only about 20% of the way through. Thankfully, I made it through the somewhat dense history of the status of early 20th century maths. And I just discovered this little paragraph.

 

“Alan enjoyed all this, but his social life was a charade. Like any homosexual man, he was living an imitation game, not in the sense of conscious play-acting, but by being accepted as a person that he was not. The others thought they knew him well, as in conventional terms they did; but they did not perceive the difficulty that faced him as an individualist jarring with the reality of the world. He had to find himself as a homosexual in a society doing its best to crush homosexuality out of existence.”

Yes, as it makes fairly clear. This is the book where the recent film The Imitation Game was derived. And, although I’ve always been a fan of Mr. Turing and his accomplishments, it was the movie that drew me to this particular book. As any decent book will, it offers more of a detailed view of the life and times of it’s characters than even a great movie has a chance. And I haven’t been disappointed.

But, the main reason I have decided to post this particular excerpt, is it’s strikingly familiar words. I too, have had to live an imitation game of sorts. Since early childhood, I have had to face the painful choice. End my life* or continue on with the charade that I had been introduced too. Getting up every morning as a kid was a chore, to say the least. I didn’t want to end my life. At the same time, I was exceedingly exhausted of the mask I felt forced to wear. It was the 1980’s. I saw how gays and lesbians around me were treated. Being transgender, as I found in the media, was even more misunderstood and a taboo to even talk about. 

At any rate, it’s an excellent book. To quote the late twentieth century philosopher, Ferris Bueller “It is so choice. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up.”

 

*Yes. I did consider suicide as a young child. Every day. 41% of transgender individuals have reported attempting suicide at least once. I am one of them. If you are feeling suicidal, please talk to someone. There is an excellent suicide hotline staffed by only transgender people. Their number is: (877) 565-8860. 

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So Much Tail

A story was recently recounted to me. One I had forgotten. So, come along ladies, gentlemen and my gender fluid friends while I regale you with a story of denial and embarrasment. There are many characters. But really, there are only a couple you need to be concerned about. So, come on. Take a seat. Here we go. *opens dusty old book*

I, the main character in this drama, had just returned from the military. Really! Just try to imagine the same me, except much younger and with short hair. See! Not to difficult. There are conflicting accounts about whether I was in my uniform for the evening. I doubt it. But, it’s okay. Just go with it. It kind of adds to the story. My family and I went out to dinner at a nice steak place in the growing little bedroom community of Temecula, CA. Perhaps you’ve passed it on your way to San Diego on the 15 freeway.
Anyway. Yes, on with the story. For some reason, I was at the head of the table. The way it was recounted to me, I was kind of the guest of honor. So, I might have been in my uniform. I just don’t remember wearing it after I finished my enlistment. Oh, yes. Right. The story.

I was at the head of the table. My entire immediate family was present. My mom, step dad, grandparents, my sister, step brothers and step sister all were there. It seemed to be going well until someone at the table mentioned to the waitress that I had just returned from the military. See why I don’t believe I was wearing my uniform. Otherwise, it would be pretty obvious. Oh well.
As I recall, the rest of the dinner went very smooth. It was nice catching up with family. But, at the end, the waitress handed me the check. I had just left my job and was sending out resumes. So, I wasn’t exactly prepared to pay for the dinner. My grandfather or step dad was already motioning for me to hand it to them. So, I did. That’s when it was revealed to me that the waitress had written her phone number on the check. Apparently, that’s why she gave it to me.

There was some good natured razzing about it coming from the men at the table. I was used to that. I may have blushed. But, the cause of the blushing was probably misinterpreted. When we got up to leave, I remember my sister asking me if I was going to take the number. I had already turned to go. So, I had to turn around and take a few steps back to the table. “What? Oh yeah. Let me grab that.” Now, let me tell you something about the person who reminded me of this tale. At the time of the incident, he was 12 years old. Upon seeing me almost leave without the number, he tells me his first thought was “Whoa. He’s getting so much tail, he can afford to let one go.”
At the time I left the navy, I was 23 years old. I was most definitely still a virgin. I had only kissed one girl (in high school). I was extremely shy. And, at the time, I considered myself assexual. I wasn’t interested in girls or boys. Sure, I thought I should have been born female. But, I thought I had conquered that by joining the military. Sure, a suicidal thought process and act is why I ended up leaving. But, I wasn’t looking back. I was looking forward to going back to school and finding a career. I was sure my interest in girls would just magically appear one day. I wasn’t embarrassed because a girl was flirting with me around my family. I was embarrassed because I was ashamed of the fact that I wasn’t interested in girls at all.

Posted in Anxiety, Family, Gay, Gender Stuff, Memories, Social Anxiety, Transgender | Leave a comment

You Wake Up In Jakarta

When I told people where I was moving, the most common reaction was “I’m sorry. Did you say Jakarta? As in Indonesia?” Then they would sound out Indonesia phonetically like they were teaching the word to a four year old. It became so I kind of looked forward to the disclosure.
So, why did I move here? My youngest step brother has decided he wants to start a business. And I just so happen to have more experience with this kind of work than he does. He called me a couple months ago to ask some questions. We talked and exchanged emails. Eventually, he inquired whether I’d be willing to come out for at least six months to help get it going. And shortly after that, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. So, here I am.
That’s not to say I jumped on this right away. It’s a big decision. While he lives here with his new wife, I haven’t traveled internationally in quite a few years. And I didn’t even have a passport. I was finally coming to some personal acceptance with being transgender. I found a job where I was not only accepted for my work ethic. But, also accepted for how I was born. I had spoken with my immediate supervisor, Human Resources and the franchise owner. All were accepting. They even reached out to the LGBT Center’s Transgender Programs Manager (a friend of mine) to make sure they do this right. I was very proud to be working there.
But, I did obviously get on a plane and get off one on the other side of the planet. I chose to do so because I trusted my brother. He has a good plan for this business. He’s worked very hard to put it all together. I see it as something I can put on my resume. If I do things right, I can save some money. And I’ve never been to Indonesia. The closest I’ve ever gotten was a 24 hour stay in Singapore twenty years ago while in the U.S. Navy. So, I promised myself time allowing, I’d cut out some time to be a tourist.
By the time I decided to make the jump, we had to rush to get everything done before my flight. We had to put a rush on getting a passport. I even had to rush down to the local Walgreens to get my picture taken the day before my appointment at the passport office. My parents got me a set of luggage for Christmas. And they helped me get enough male clothes together. I had quite literally burned and donated most of my male clothes. I haven’t written much about where I had been living recently. I didn’t want some anti-transgender elements online to grief the two organizations housing me. Now that I’m out of there, I’ll write more about it soon. We ordered some clothes online. Others had to be found locally. I say male clothes because although I was very close to living full time as myself back in Colorado. I wasn’t quite there. So, between my lack of comfort being out and the fact that I know what my face looks like and the very reality of the fact that this is a predominately Muslim country that broadly disapproves of homosexuality and transgenderism. Look. I’m here to work. I didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention and at the same time distract myself by my very real hyperattentiveness worrying about my own safety. There’s no reason to give the police any reason to talk to me. I already stand out by being somewhat tall and caucasian.
That being said. I haven’t detransitioned. The first question asked when I brought up the idea to my support group was whether or not I was going to stop taking hormones. No. I brought a healthy supply of my prescription medication from the VA with me. One of the first things we talked about was whether or not it would be possible to get my hormones, blood pressure pills and anti-anxiety medication here. I haven’t had to try yet. But, I’m assured it’s possible. If anything, my parent’s are making a trip out here in March. I might find out if it’s possible to have some more shipped to their house from the VA and have them bring it out to me. But, I don’t really think that’s going to be necessary. The biggest issue I think I’m having at the moment with my transition, besides the stress of being seen as a male, is breast growth. I have some sports bras with me. But, sometimes the lines from the bra can be seen through my shirt. I’ve been looking for an Ace bandage. But, that’s something I don’t really want to put myself through. There are compression shirts FTM guys use that you can order online. I’m doubtful I can reasonably afford to have something like that shipped here. So, again. Parents. March.
I didn’t put too much thought into what kind of red flags I would trip by going on this trip. Maybe I didn’t. But, it sure felt like it. The first one we ran into at the airport was with TSA. My step brother ordered quite a bit of computer equipment (again, cheaper to pay the excessive luggage fee than pay FedEX). We checked most of it. But, we felt some of it, which also included two touch screen monitors) would do better if they went with me as a carryon. That, of course meant, that TSA wanted to have a look inside. Once I left the new to me body scanner at DIA, I panicked a little bit when I couldn’t find that bag. I was concerned someone had walked off with it. No. TSA had already pulled it from the conveyor and pulled me aside so I could observe while they took a look inside. The nice officer didn’t pull everything out. But, he did swab the inside lining looked under everything else he left inside. I had to empty out all the contents of that bag in Tokyo so they could run each piece through the scanner individually. They, then handed it all back to me in reverse order. It was lots of fun waiting there taking up lots of room waiting for that last piece to come back to me before I could pack everything up again.
The other interesting thing that happened was being pulled aside on the jetway to speak with a U.S. Marshal. I’ve had a couple of friends say the fact I didn’t personally buy the ticket, I was flying to a predominantly Muslim country for an extended period and flying on a brand new passport meant that I set off some alarms in Homeland Security. Whatever. Maybe it was completely random. I don’t know. I just thought it was kind of interesting. Just a few steps onto the jetway, a German Shephard was let loose onto my bag. Then, a man leaning against the jetway wall asked if he could talk with me and asked for my passport. He thumbed through it while asking what my final destination was. He asked why I was going out there and how long I planned on being there. His eyebrows were raised when I answered the question about where I worked. I told him I had quit my job. But, it was to do this thing. And my employer had told me I could get my job back when I return. The thing that ended our little conversation there was something I’m told I should do more often. I pulled the vet card. I told him I was excited. It was the first time I was traveling internationally since I left the navy. He smiled, handed me my passport and said “have a good trip sir.”
Between two flights, I spent over twenty hours in the air. The first leg on United, in a 787 didn’t bother me too much. I had an aisle seat and lots to entertain me. But, once I boarded the ANA flight at Narita, I was not looking forward to seven more hours in the air. It also didn’t help that we sat on the tarmac for almost an hour without moving.
I’ve adjusted better than I thought. The jet lag hasn’t messed with my sleep as much as I thought it would. I did wake up regularly at 4am and go to sleep before 8pm. I’ve been here more than two weeks now. And I’m editing this at 9:30pm. I won’t get to sleep until after 11pm tonight. But, it wasn’t until I was here for about a week, that I stopped feeling like a walking zombie. There is this kind of haze that won’t leave you. It’s hard to describe other than that. I’m glad we weren’t as busy as we are now when I first arrived.
I have a local phone and number now. I’ve been sharing a lot on Facebook and some on Twitter. That helps me stay connected with friends back in the states. I’ve started a travel Tumblr and I’ll probably post some pictures on Flickr or somewhere else. I’m not sure how many pictures I’ll post here. I’m just beginning to feel comfortable writing again. Deciding what to put online and when will be a day to day thing. I’m already pretty busy. But, I will continue to write here. I have lots to share. So, hang on folks. I have a feeling 2015 will be a fun year. 🙂

Posted in Family, Gender Stuff, Social Anxiety, Transgender, travel, VA Hospital | Leave a comment

Put Your Bra Back On and Turn and Cough

How did I end up sitting on an exam table talking to a complete stranger about breast health? Well, funny you should ask? You were asking, right?

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I first heard the news that I didn’t really have a primary care doctor assigned to me anymore. This is the kingdom of bureaucracy (a.k.a. The Veterans Health Care System) we are talking about. I had called their main number to ask a question about something I’ll talk about at a later date. Anywho, the nurse was quick to answer my question and then inquired who my doctor was. Oh, that’s an easy question. Oh, wait. What’s his name? It’s been awhile since I had seen him. And, really the only reason I had gone to the bother of getting one assigned to me was so that I could get a referral to endocrinology for hormones. Apparently, it had been longer than I thought since I had last seen my primary care doc. Because I no longer had a primary care doctor.

It was right there, while sitting at my desk while delicately cradling the old corded house phone, where I learned of yet another VA rule. If you haven’t been seen by your primary care doctor in 365 consecutive days (do they have rules for leap years?), you are unceremoniously dropped from their list of patients. No warning. No letter. Nothing. I guess I’ll have to schedule a check up every eleven months.

If you think about it, it makes sense. They need a way to keep room for active veterans within the system. But, I was active. Just not really with this doctor.

Let’s get you assigned a doctor. Because you know, you can’t really get anything done here without a primary care doctor.” Those were the words that came out of the mouth of the woman on the other end of the phone. That made me smile. I didn’t say anything. But, I smirked a smirk nobody else would see as I was alone in my room. I think I had managed quite nicely without being assigned a doctor. Several years of seeing a therapist, eyeglasses, dental. All done without being assigned a doctor. But, oh well. I’ll get put back on the list to get picked up by another doctor. What could it hurt?

90 days, you say? Wow. That’s how long I was told it would take. But, within that first week of knowingly being without the safety net of being owned by a PCP, I received a call alerting me that if I wanted too, I could stop by the VA on a Saturday to get checked out and see if any of the available docs wanted me. I jest in my wording. That’s not really how it all works. But, sometimes it feels like you are a puppy in a pound waiting to be adopted.

Yesterday was the day. And so, just like any other visit to the VA, I put on my bestest casual clothes and applied makeup to my face. I didn’t hide my breasts. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted to bind my breasts and go without the facial war paint. Especially after I heard where the appointment was. The dreaded Specialty 2. Specialty 2 at the Denver VA Hospital is right in the middle of the main floor atrium. During the week, it’s filled with crusty old WW2 vets who don’t have anywhere else to go. There’s a slim walk way between the waiting chairs and the Specialty 2 desk and doors. For many of a woman I’ve spoken with where I live, the thought of walking through the atrium leads to comparisons to an absurd nursing home gauntlet where men toting oxygen tanks behind them and pushing tennis ball clad walkers in front of them hit on anything with long hair and two breasts.

Thankfully, the hospital does most of it’s work during the week. But, I wasn’t sure how many people had received the call to come in this Saturday. My appointment was at 1pm. So, hopefully, most of them had dispersed by then. If anything, I was probably expecting some Iraqi or Afghanistan war vets freshly home, getting assigned their doc. I was fairly confident. I had done this before. I had presented as myself at the VA hospital before. While it could make me a little nervous still, I knew I could do it.

I rode over there on my bike. Quickly locked it up in the usual spot. Then, made my way past the desk that was informally known as the circle desk, even though it now looks like a rectangle. There were only a few people hanging out outside the ER where the large flat screen tv on the wall was showing a program that only tangentially you could say justified it’s inclusion on the History Channel’s roster. Oh, yeah, I said to myself. That’s why I don’t own a television. With a quick zig to the right and another subtle left past the travel desk, I could see a solitary elderly couple occupying chairs in the front row of the gauntlet…….err I mean atrium. One obstacle down.

There was a man standing at the check in desk. So, I stood behind him, careful not to stand too close. But, knowing full well that I was standing in the middle of the walk way. I only had to move aside once when three young men in scrubs needed to walk by. Like I’ve said, I’ve done this before. And I’ve done it here at Specialty 2. This is where my endocrinology appointments are. I knew what to expect when speaking with the staff. And I wasn’t exactly surprised by yesterday’s interactions.

Can I help you sir”

Yes, I have an appointment for 1pm” *hand him my VA ID card*

Your name?”

It’s on the card. But, my last name is ************”

And your last 4?”

****”

Thank you, sir. Take a seat and a nurse will be with you shortly.”

Ugh. I need facial surgery in the worst way.

Anyway, I did see the nurse. Usual stats. I’m having a tough time losing weight. And the blood pressure medication keeps my numbers just south of the number they consider high. I wonder if my blood pressure would be lower if I was gendered female by anyone.

I only had to wait a few minutes for the doctor to come out. No matter how much I prayed that he wouldn’t say my legal first name. That’s exactly what he did. I really really wish the VA had a line item in their medical records that showed the preferred name. It would definitely help those of us who stay away from the VA because it feels they don’t respect us.

The appointment went well. He seemed like a nice enough man and outside of saying my male name out in the atrium, was respectful. In hindsight, he didn’t ask what name I prefer using. All other doctors and staff have done that. Oh well. We had a good conversation about my health. And lots of stuff I thought was already in my record. He asked about my family health history. Because I’ve had only sporadic contact with my dad’s side of the family, I told him what I knew. And I was able to give more information about my mom’s side. I did find out that the Pentagon has started to be more cooperative with the VA and allowed access to some details about veteran’s medical records via computer. We found several entries dating back to my last official doctor’s visit before leaving active duty. But, nothing before that.

One last question I had for him came from something I had thought of in the days leading up to this appointment. I’m starting to have enough breast growth that maybe I need to ask about how I should take care of myself. Should I need a mammogram? If not at this age, when? So, we talked about it. He said they usually don’t recommend mammograms until the age of 50. Since I don’t have a family history of breast cancer, then I can wait. And since I’m kind of in the same situation as a teenage girl in the midst of puberty, if I had it done now, there would be a good chance of a false positive showing up in the test. Good to know. But, since I had brought it up, he wanted me to sit on the exam table and take off my shirt so he could grope me………err I mean do a breast exam. Umm, okay. Even though I was an avid swimmer earlier in my life, it did seem weird taking off my top and bra in the presence of a man. But, I managed. And I sat there, almost detached from what was happening as he poked and prodded with his fingers in a professional way. All the while, explaining what he was doing. Having another person touch me like that was, although very logical and I understood what was happening, kind of weird. And, as the title of this post directly alludes to, it didn’t stop there. As soon as he was done, he donned a pair of gloves and asked me to drop my pants. I had done this part before. But, I think the last time was in ’96 when I was leaving the military. But, having just put my bra back on, even my mind was having a tough time keeping things straight (so to speak) when he asked me to turn my head and cough.

In stressful situations, I tend to try to make light of what’s going on. So, I asked him if this was the first time he had asked someone to turn and cough directly after doing a breast exam. He smiled and laughed a little less than I was hoping for and responded with “I think so.”

Posted in Anxiety, NotAboutFamily, Transgender, trigger, VA Hospital | Leave a comment

Thomas Jefferson on Reason

“Man, once surrendering his reason, has no remaining guard against absurdities the most monstrous, and like a ship without rudder, is the sport of every wind. With such persons, gullibility, which they call faith, takes the helm from the hand of reason and the mind becomes a wreck.”
~Thomas Jefferson from letter to Rev. James Smith, December 8, 1822

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Michelle Duggar in Anti-Transgender Robo Call

This is really sad. And, I think a perfect example of how a certain interpretation of a 2,000 year old book can skew someone to view something as a “sin” or deviant. “Reality” TV “star” and perpetual mother, Michelle Duggar, a Baptist, has become a spokesperson against the city of Fayetteville, Arkansas’ proposed anti-discrimination ordinance that would allow transgender people to use the public facilities they feel most comfortable, safe and identify with.

The text of Michelle Duggar’s robocall: Hello, this is Michelle Duggar. I’m calling to inform you of some shocking news that would affect the safety of Northwest Arkansas women and children. The Fayetteville City Council is voting on an ordinance this Tuesday night that would allow men – yes, I said men – to use women’s and girls’ restrooms, locker rooms, showers, sleeping areas and other areas that are designated for females only. I don’t believe the citizens of Fayetteville would want males with past child predator convictions that claim they are female to have a legal right to enter private areas that are reserved for women and girls. I doubt that Fayetteville parents would stand for a law that would endanger their daughters or allow them to be traumatized by a man joining them in their private space. We should never place the preference of an adult over the safety and innocence of a child. Parents, who do you want undressing next to your daughter at the public swimming pool’s private changing area?

The SoundCloud audio:

It sounds like it’s very similar to the law signed here in Colorado nearly ten years ago. During the runup to the governor’s signature of Senate Bill 200 in 2008, there were lots of fear mongering from social conservatives who decried that this would open the doors to pedophiles to rape little girls. But, of course, that hasn’t happened. Last I heard, pedophiles don’t really need a law passed to do the awful things they do. According to The Transgender Law Center, public accommodation is defined as:

Any place that provides goods and services to the general public is considered a public accommodation. This includes restaurants, grocery stores, health clinics, hospitals, health clubs, homeless shelters and most social services. Transgender and gender nonconforming people often experience discrimination in their communities when accessing public accommodations including being refused service, being treated differently than their non-transgender peers, or being victims to harmful verbal and physical violence when simply trying to carry out their daily activities.

The key words here are carrying out their daily activities and mentioning that transgender or gender non-conforming people are often victims to harmful verbal and physical violence when trying to simply use a restroom or any other form of public accommodation. If I walked into a men’s restroom while wearing a dress, a little bit of makeup and with my hair down, I’d feel extremely unsafe and would greatly fear for my safety. When I walk into a women’s restroom, I feel safe and nobody seems to care.

Fayetteville City Attorney Kit Williams has responded to the criticism of this proposed ordinance in the Arkansas Times:

“The claim that this ordinance would provide predators with access to women’s restrooms in order to assault or leer at girls or women is nothing more than fear-mongering,” the statement read, in part. “This ordinance does allow transgender people to use the bathroom in which they feel most comfortable and physically safe. Transgender people — who are far more likely to be the victims of harassment and violence if forced to use a bathroom that is inconsistent with their gender identity or expression — deserve to have the ability to use the bathroom in peace and safety.”

This is basic civil rights. Being denied such because you have unfounded fears for the safety of your children is wrong. When I use a public women’s restrooms, I don’t make eye contact. I walk into a stall, close the door, and do my business. If I have to use a changing room, I don’t just strip down to nothing right there in the middle of the room. The reason? I’m not exactly proud of my body? I’m a pre-op transgender woman. I don’t want anyone to see what’s between my legs.

People like Michelle Duggar, who oppose these ordinances shows a shocking refusal to educate themselves about who transgender and gender non-conforming people are. Instead, they sit in church pews on Sunday and blindly listen to pastors spew hate mongering. Like I said in the beginning of this post, it’s just sad. These are seemingly smart and educated people. There are lots of public transgender people out there to talk to. There are books. There are medical professionals.

The following U.S. States and territories have anti-discrimination laws protecting transgender people:

California, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Hawaii, Illinois, Iowa, Maine, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Nevada, New Jersey, New Mexico, Oregon, Rhode Island, Vermont, Washington and the District of Columbia.

Also, at least 160 cities and counties around the country have passed their own laws prohibiting gender identity discrimination including Atlanta, Boise, Buffalo, Cincinnati, Dallas, Indianapolis, Kansas City, Louisville, Nashville, New Orleans, and Pittsburgh.

Where are many many stories of people being traumatized by the presence of transgender people using the correct public facilities? There’s a joke going around social media right now that most people don’t notice transgender people isn’t because we just blend in with everyone else. No. It’s because we’re ninjas. We don’t want to stand out. We just want to live our lives. Being quiet and just blending in is the safe thing to do. Nobody wants to be called out by fear mongers. It just ruins one’s day.

Choosing to bury your head in the sand says more about them then it does about me. I tend to generalize on religious people when it comes to these issues because the people who tend to fear monger and lobby against equal rights for LGBT people tend to be religious. But, that doesn’t mean that all religious people feel that way. To my great surprise, I’ve found lots of people who have a very personal spiritual faith and still fight for the equal rights of LGBT people. My former therapist is a very spiritual Jewish woman who dedicates her entire practice to people of the LGBT persuasion. And the woman I dated in high school belongs to a church here in Denver that donated time and money to help transgender people who didn’t have anywhere to go over the holidays. This makes my heart warm and reinstates some faith in humanity. But, I won’t stop fighting against Christians or anybody else who want to stand in between me and my civil rights. No matter the reason. Wrong is wrong. No matter where the belief comes from. In this country, you can believe whatever you want. Just don’t interfere with anyone else’s life.

Posted in Activism, NotAboutFamily, Politics, religious, Transgender | Leave a comment

Singer Vicky Beeching Comes Out of the Closet

In this interview with the U.K’s Channel 4, Christian singer Vicky Beeching totally owns homophobic and Holocaust revisionist pastor, Terry Lively. Ms. Beeching is eloquent in telling her story. She makes a strong and persuasive argument for why she is staying in the church. Obviously, it means a lot to her. In the back and forth with Mr. Lively, she is very successful in challenging everything he says. Mr. Lively should be shameful in comparing her to an alcoholic.
Before she came out, I had no idea who she was. I’m not a fan of Christian music. But, I’ll still check out her catalog. I know how hard it is to come out of the closet and not knowing what the reactions will be. Good for her. I hope she can be an inspiration to those struggling.

Posted in Gay, NotAboutFamily, religious, Video | Leave a comment