Decidedly Obscure Human Complaints.

Ivan Coyote on gender pronouns earlier today: I have never cared too much about what you call me. I’ve never been too hung up on labels, mostly because there are so few that stick properly to me, not to mention the fact that most adhesives give me a nasty rash. I can’t even tolerate a cheap band-aid. Four decades of straddling the gender fence has taught me many things. I have learned to tolerate being called things that I really am not. I have come to an uneasy truce with the fact that there are not really enough gender pronouns, boxes on government forms or safe bathroom stalls for people like myself. Read more >

Look what I got today: A new card from my bank reflecting my name change! I got to flash it earlier for a delicious refreshing iced beverage. Posed by my equally enthusiastic kitties, Theseus "Kitten" Arkadash Thomas (calico, 4 years old) and Evilbunny Thomas (Wearing the tuxedo. 16 years old! I've had him since I was a wee 12 years of age): No more debit card utilizing problems for me!

Today I got an amended birth certificate and a new state I.D.! It all began when my friend, Jude, let me borrow hiz car to run errands. In exchange, I let hir borrow my laptop so ze could work from a coffee shop instead of going-in-to-the-office-work for the day. Done, deal, next. I then asked my roommate, Steph, and my brother, to meet me at the downtown vegan hot dog stand. This part of my tale is very essential because it fueled us for the errands ahead. As I scarfed down my italian sausage with chips and beverage, I asked Steph if she would also like to accompany me to the Utah Office of Vital Records and Statistics to acquire me an amended birth certificate. I don't know why poor Steph agreed to come. It could have been the good mood she was in eating a vegan hot dog, or just that it was sunny out - for whatever reason, she accepted my unsavory errand-accompanying-to-NOT-FUN-places offer. And onwards we went, to the land of Vital Records. The wait wasn't long. I fi

Erin in her furry outfit and I on our magical adventures! 

Last Wednesday, June 23rd, I heard back from my therapist that he had faxed two letters to the Judge appointed to my case. One saying that yes, I'm trans and yes, I should have my gender legally changed. The other being a copy of the original letter that he wrote for my doctor in support of starting hormone therapy. My friend, Andrew, joined me at the court house with the following mission: hunt down the clerk assigned to my case to find out about my gender change. The hunt was simple. Her presumed locale was easy to find but - she wasn't in. Instead, there was a note at the front counter that directed my attention to a phone on the wall next to a list of clerks and extensions to reach them. So I dialed her extension and she answered. I gave her my info and she replied, "Oh, yes. Everything has been granted.", wha? Seriously? Even the fee waiver!? To clarify I asked, " Everything ? The name change, the gender change, and the fee waiver ?", "Yes.

I called the court clerk last Tuesday to inquire if the judge had made his decision(s) yet in regards to my gender change or the fee waiver. She informed me that nothing in my case file indicated he had made decisions yet, and she promised to hunt him down when court wasn't in session and get back to me. And she did. He wants a letter from my therapist confirming that I am, in fact, trans. I thumbed through my papers looking around desperately for "The Letter" - what's required from a therapist in order to have a doctor prescribe hormones. The last I saw it I was either bringing the original or a copy to my doctor in December of 2009. In the end, I couldn't find that letter for the life of me. I had to ask the therapist who originally wrote it for me for another letter - whether it's a new one or the original - to bring to the judge. I haven't heard back from him yet, so tomorrow I'm going to figure out what the fax number for my judge is, call m

Just a couple of weeks ago I got all of my nitty gritty paperwork filed at the court house for my official, legally recognized name and gender change. I was assigned a case number and a judge and a date for my hearing - today! After learning which judge was appointed to my case, I looked into his history a bit. I learned that he's LDS, a graduate of Brigham Young University, and had no history of any gender change cases. Admittedly, all of the above made me nervous. But I reassured myself that he is a judge and will hopefully be fair. And everything would work out just fine. I woke up all giddy and nervous about my big court day. My mom called to let me know that she'd be coming with me to provide moral support. Aww!  My dad also called, asking if I'd heard from my mother. I told him that I had, she's on her way to pick me up and that we'd be grabbing coffee before heading to the hearing. He grumbled for a bit, said goodbye, and hung up. That was his way of sa

My pride well got tapped out this weekend, which resulted in approximately 2 hours of sleep fueling the entire endeavor and sleeping in until 1pm recovering from it yesterday. I also lost my voice a bit from all of the puberty-ridden squealing-while-attempting-to-scream that went on. It never, not once, sounded anything like hooting. More like a cracky, screeching ... I don't know what. Essentially, when it comes to Pride Weekend , I do everything I can to drag it out as long as possible. It's like this magical little micro-world where everyone celebrates the freedom to just, well - be . Hetero, homo, bi, pan, genderqueer, male, female, cis, trans, whatever - everyone is just there expressing themselves however they want in an environment that's safe, accepting, and celebratory of diversity. Something I wish I saw in my macro-world more often. My Pride started Thursday night with Salt Lake's first ever Miss City Weekly Drag Pageant : All of the performers

Big news! Yesterday morning, at long last, I filed my paperwork for a name AND gender change! These are the steps that I took to do so: 1) Following the instructions here , I downloaded and mailed in the Department of Corrections Certification Regarding Sex Offender Registry (PDF) form months ago. When I didn't hear back after two weeks, it dawned on me that I should probably call to find out why. Low and behold, I was informed that I should have read those instructions more carefully because they also required a self-addressed and stamped envelope. So I got an envelope, self-addressed it, stamped it, folded it up and stuffed it into another envelope that I addressed to S.O.R.P. / 14717 Minuteman Drive / Draper, UT 84020 and mailed off. In less than a week I had the form back, signed and ready to go. 2) So then I included it with these other forms I printed and filled out from here (all in PDF format): Cover Sheet for Civil Actions Request for Hearing . Notice for

My last post now leads to a review for the binder I wore on my trip and have been wearing continuously (and washing - don't fret!) these past few weeks: the Underwork's Double Front Compression Shirt (Model 997) in size large. I chose to wear it on my camping trip to the desert because I knew that a.) it's the least hot due to not double-binding and b.) I can most comfortably wear my smallest/lightest shirts in it because it binds tight enough solo. I initially purchased it in XL , tried it on, and sent it back for L . When I tried L on for the first time, it felt too tight. I wasn't able to put it on like a shirt, and instead had to step into it and lift it up. And now, just a few weeks later and even after washing, it's snug, fits well, and I can put it on like a shirt. It's, by far, my favorite binder. I like it so much that I have a hard time not wearing it every.single.day and leaving my other binders on their hangers to gather lint and dust.

I spent the weekend basking in the land of Goblins! A land with a lot of sand, sun, campers, 4-wheelers, and Memorial Weekend visitors. So many that, while reading in my tent, about five 4-wheelers in a row would come roaring past about four feet away. Repeatedly. I would also like to note that one driver had an infant strapped to her chest. I have never, ever gone camping on Memorial Weekend before. It has always meant LOTS OF PEOPLE ALL CAMPING AT THE SAME TIME - and, for me, I love camping to, well, get away from lots of people. This land of goblins is named, appropriately enough, Goblin Valley. And here's what it looks like: It's beautiful. But without an air-conditioned car and water, I think I'd last about a day. This Valley is so neat. Camping in it gave me heat stroke because I'm a pale American of Welsh decent who isn't built for the desert - but, despite all of my desert-everyone-else-is-in-air-conditioned-campers-while-we're-actually-in-a-t