TERF Wars & Unforseen Fallout

So I learned a thing this week from an online conversation.
TW - Transphobia
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There was a post about TERFs (which I had to google: Transphobic Exclusionary Radical Feminist) and apparently it's considered a slur? But the actual PRACTICE is what I find offensive (The assertion that the only "women" are female born women).

 Now, I'm a feminist...and I recognize the Patriarchy...but...
There are a lot of women who feel that trans women create another opportunity for misogyny, by getting all the attention they do and special treatment etc...(because of like 3 celebrities).  Since female-born women grow up in this culture, or whichever culture, and the journey comes with pitfalls as we all know...they resent that these "new" women get to just join the club. Also there is penis phobia obviously...and talk of safe spaces for survivors... Lots to unpack and valid concerns for survivors from a PTSD place...but still..not okay to deny someone's identity.

So It occurred to me that Trans women are refugees.
Female born women, biological women...we are the "citizens" of womanhood...born and raised here. Our Trans sisters are refugees from the war-torn nation of forced Manhood, trying to cross the border safely, and all I can think to say is "you are safe with me. I'll do what I can".  It's really that simple. 

I am not trans, but there are some amazing individuals in my life right now who are, and I could not imagine rejecting them or doing anything other than supporting them, because as women with lots of experience being women, we know...this isn't for the weak or trendy. This shit is hard core. If someone needs THIS and is ready to walk the world in these shoes? High fives all around. 

 I got your back.

We MUST recognize and educate about intersectionality.  We MUST discuss and open our ears to the multi-dimensional experiences women have from every angle; Women of color, single mothers, survivors, women in disability, women with chronic mental and/or physical illness, women in poverty, LGBTQ women & trans specifically, and the women who intersect any or ALL of these and really truly NEED support in the world we live in.  If we don't stand up for one another then we stand alone.  I refuse to allow #metoo to become #ME.  We are all connected.  These issues are all connected.  

Misogyny runs so deep we sometimes mistake it for our own sweat as it drips down our forehead, but it can be washed away if we just dive into the water together, and stop trying to fight over the damn floaty.  

Women can be defined a multitude of ways, and always have been.  Allowing ONE definition to dominate is actually a product of the patriarchy.  We know this.  Ancient cultures show us this.  Nature teaches us this.  We need to stop thinking so much and just listen.  Just hear people when they say "I just want to be who I am and live on this Earth and be respected" and say "Okay,  How can I help?". 

Why I Still Mourn The Loss of Robin Williams

We are coming up on the fifth anniversary of the day the world lost actor/comedian Robin Williams.
I never had the privilege of meeting him.  He wasn't a friend of the family, or a pen pal of any kind.  He was a famous person who existed on the television for as long as I can remember, but at some point for me, he became so much more.  Somehow, it wasn't until a friend shared something recently that I felt I could put words to my experience.

You see, as a child growing up with the ADHD experience in the 1980s, there weren't a lot of adults who understood my struggles, even the teachers at that time.   Though some may have been better with children than others, none of them had any concept or training apparently in the different ways of learning or how behavior was a window into a child's needs or inner world.  I never felt seen or appreciated by any of my early childhood teachers.  The only time a teacher seemed to notice me was in disapproving looks, and it wasn't until high school that I felt a respectful, reciprocal connection with a teacher...and then one betrayed me...but that's another story.   

I remember seeing Robin Williams on TV, whether he was playing Mork or doing stand up or playing grown-up Peter Pan, I felt an instant connection to him.  It was like he became my mentor just in existing as himself.  I had started performing on stage around age 7, and I knew he was playing a role when I saw him, but his energy was SO engaging and familiar to me as a fellow hyper-kinetic human and performer (and yes, I know some of those years he was on Cocaine...but I think you can see what I'm saying).  Here was this famous, hilarious, charismatic, hyperactive, successful adult...who was BELOVED by audiences around the world.  He was praised for being well rounded and multi faceted as an actor and as a person.  Every account of him personally is of his generosity and kindness to people he met, and his charity work with Comic Relief was a huge part of his life.

It wouldn't be a complete picture here either without noting that, in filling this need I had for a relatable icon, Mr. Williams was immediately added to what I later came to refer to as my "virtual surrogate father list".  I had a father, who I loved, but he was absent in some of the most critical ways, so like many people with a void in their role-model column, Robin was a prime stand in candidate...but it wasn't until I saw Dead Poet Society that he impacted my life in a more direct way.

The film is itself is one of my favorites of all time.  It portrays a group of high school boys at a New England preparatory school in the early 1960s, and their struggle to preserve themselves as individuals in a system determined to create elitist automatons.  Enter the "radical" new teacher, Mr. Keating; played by Robin Williams...come to bring the young men English literature with a side of life-altering inspiration.  There is more...but we'll get there later.

Now, being inspired by Dead Poet Society has an almost cliche` status at this point.  It was even the butt of a joke in an episode of the television show Friends.  We get it.  Carpe Diem!
But for me...as a young student of the theater with an already deep running respect for that man as an actor and public figure, the messages of that film stuck to me fast and hard.  It's a story almost entirely peopled with men and boys, but I don't think that even occurred to me because Mr. Keating's gentle leadership transcended gender and time and status.  He was just a brilliant teacher fighting the good fight, and an artist who passionately expressed every chance he could...and I knew that in whatever way I was able, that was how I wanted to live.

With a framed black and white photograph of Mr. Keating standing on his desk resting on my desk, I began my journey to become a teaching artist in theater.  My path has had many turns in the decades I have shared with the stage, and the hardest years by far have been the ones where I was not anywhere near one.  But now, as I find myself diving back into teaching and the performing arts full force, I am reminded of just how strong this connection really was...and still is.

I mentioned before that a friend shared something which prompted all of this.  We were at a gathering, discussing experiences as children and specifically, as children with ADHD brains.  We were the ones rolling on the floor when we weren't supposed to be, or staring out the window and missing ALL of the instructions for the things.  She was talking about having that good teacher...that teacher who understood you, who SAW you for who you were, and saw past all those little quirks, and saw your potential...and supported you.

I never had that teacher in a classroom.  Not then...as I explained before.  And when she said that, a light bulb went on in my head.  That's why Mr. Williams was so important to me.
When I saw HIM, I was "seen".  I was suddenly okay.  I was an acceptable human being, because look at HIM!  All the wisdom of Mr. Rodgers managed to get in my head somehow, but it was through Mr. Williams that I connected with the messages.
But then...he died.
He died by suicide.  He died by suicide after struggling with depression and addiction and inner turmoil his entire career.
And that is what kinda broke me...because I relate to some of that too.
Not a lot...but a little.  Enough to feel a wake-up call...because Robin Williams was amazing.  He was successful.  He was talented and skilled and educated and kind...and he struggled with mental illness...and it took him.
So it's a wake-up call.
Because if someone like HIM could be lost in a feeling of worthlessness, and loneliness, then non of us are immune.
So now, Robin inspires me in other ways.
I'm still moved by his performances, and his legacy...but I am also inspired to reach out to my friends who struggle with depression a little more.  I am reminded to check in with myself a little more, to not let the "mask" trick me into pretending I'm fine, when I'm really not.
To keep asking for help, and to keep connected to those who love me and lift me up, and to lift up those around me whenever possible.

That is what Robin Williams has given me.  That is why I still cry when I hear the Genie in Aladdin, or apparently even hear Will Smith sing the song he used to sing.  I still have deep sadness about the loss of my Mr. Keating, but I will continue to carry the messages he brought to us all in my heart every day:
"Carpe Diem! Seize the day...make your lives extraordinary"...because he did...and I will continue to stand on my proverbial desk so as never to forget: "when you think you understand something, you must look at it from angle."

Thank you oh Captain,
my Captain.