Fertility Frustrations for a Rainbow Mom-to-Be

Single-parenthood is a challenge. Many in this position found themselves there by unsavory circumstances: a break-up or divorce, or the loss of a partner. Most people don’t choose this status from the get-go. But I am one of these slightly delusional individuals taking the mom path solo. Now I’m not some anti-marriage, down with love renegade, I was open to meeting Ms. Right and starting this journey together, but apparently the little woman is taking her sweet time showing up, and my biological clock became impatient. Feeling I was up to the task of raising what would undoubtedly be the angelic fruit of my loins (unless my mother gets her wish that I’ll have a child just like me), I pushed forward in my new fertility endeavor. I have no illusions about the difficulties that I will face as a single parent, however I was not prepared for the obstacles I would face as a single, lesbian woman seeking fertility treatments in America.

Finding a doctor was not hard. The first clinic I visited was not a favorite, but I sat through an hour long informative seminar to waive the nearly $400 consultation fee to meet with the doctor and devise a plan. Ultimately the plan was to push towards the most expensive option (IVF) without ruling out less-invasive possibilities. I moved on, enlisting the help of Yelp (let’s face it, they have everything) and found a qualified doctor in the area who took the time to genuinely get to know me and utilize a more conservative approach in treatment to start, IUI artificial insemination.

My lover the exam table

Although I understood that parenting alone would be hard and so would these treatments, I could not grasp the emotional rollercoaster I would find myself on as I went through each trial on my own. Few people knew of the genesis of my treatments, and none were there with me as I went through each appointment. The cold sterility of the offices, the echoing emptiness of a single occupant in what should have been a two person capacity room, and lobbies full of couples who glance questioningly my way when I enter without a better half. I chose this, but at times, I regretted it. Especially when the failures came.

The first treatment brought unexpected symptoms that indicated a successful pregnancy: nausea, breast sensitivity, moodiness, sensitivity to smell, and even a delayed menstrual cycle. Though I cautioned myself against getting my hopes up on the first try, all signs pointed to baby. And then they didn’t. The purported symptoms showed themselves to be nothing more than side effects of the fertility medications I was taking. The devastation poured down on me, and while my extremely small circle of support attempted to comfort me through texts, I cried by myself until I fell asleep, wondering if this would be easier to bear with someone by my side. The second and third tries were much the same, horrible side effects and broken dreams. While the doctor could see no natural cause of infertility, my stress levels were through the roof. I had recently moved my home, and my job was becoming exceedingly stressful to the point where I was ready to quit when I had no other job to go to. On top of this, I was not only racing the biological clock, but I was racing my depleting bank account as well.

A single $15 pill and prenatal vitamin

I had saved what I believed to be a fair amount of money, drawn on estimates of fertility treatment costs posted on the internet. But the hidden fees were never discussed, and my initial consultation with the failed clinic shocked me. Obviously costs of treatments are expensive, but in a place like America, where medical supplies, equipment, and medication is all grossly inflated, the costs can be absurd. To break down the costs of my first three treatments: 5 pills of fertility medication was approximately $75, the actual artificial insemination was $1,025, the cost of the single vial of sperm from the bank was $795 + $60 to rent the tank it was transported in (it would have cost $200 to ship it to my clinic, but my thrifty ass drove the 100-mile round trip to the bank to save whatever money I could), and the single shot that I took to trigger ovulation was $150. One basic treatment cost $2,100. In addition to these costs, I shelled out one time fees including $300 for an initial consultation, $100 for a blood test to check my hormone levels, and $325 for an HSG test, a most painful x-ray procedure where they fill your uterus and fallopian tubes with fluid to ensure everything is clear and clean. Needless to say the money meter was quickly falling.

$60 Sperm Tank

Now a heterosexual couple often times would only seek the assistance of a fertility doctor after several months or even a few years of trying, which, once they passed 12 months of failed attempts, a large portion of their treatments would be covered by insurance as they were determined to be struggling with infertility. Once seeking treatment, the couple would have a natural sperm provider in the male partner, so simply being heterosexual in a heterosexual relationship automatically saves them $1,000 in addition to the insurance coverage they’re granted. Lesbian couples and singletons are not afforded these same graces as they must pay full price from the beginning and pay for their man-worms (sorry, but the word sperm is becoming redundant). In my case, being single with one household income, I could not afford 12 months of treatment before my insurance would deem me “infertile” and begin paying for part of my treatments. Unfortunately, as time would tell, my doctor was not willing to treat me for IUI insemination for longer than 5 months anyways, but these hidden fees that were likely hiked to costs miles above manufacturing expenses (for example, they pay men on average $70 for each sperm sample then in turn charge desperate clients 12 times as much, citing storage fees) financially cripple those longing for a family.

Ovulation aka Ass Shot

Given the stress I was under and the growing frustration and devastation of what I was beginning to view as my failure as a woman, I opted to take a few months off to collect myself and try to get into a better place emotionally before another attempt. Then, after a brief consultation with my doctor, we decided to move forward with more intensive hormone supplements to assist in fertility, and drain my bank account a bit faster. Surprisingly in just three short months, the cost of the IUI cycle jumped from $1,025 to $1,325, the sperm had jumped from $855 to $925, and we added the hormone shots to the mix, two vials of which ran me $600. The shots also required aftercare pills, or additional hormones in the form of vaginal supplements, costing $200 for a two week supply. This, in hand with the typical 5 pills of fertility medications and the ovulation trigger shot added up to nearly $3,300.

I was not hopeful for this round as tests indicated I was not responding to the hormones as well as I should, though they wreaked havoc on my system all the same and left me feeling overwhelmingly sick. With the physical illness, failure was not far behind as I took a blood test and soon received a call with the bad news that the treatment was unsuccessful. My heart sank even lower knowing how much money I spent on medications that seemingly made no difference at all. I’d received the news in the middle of the day; most people in my support system were at work and unable to speak. I cried alone on the couch with no one but my dog to offer an endearing paw. I sobbed so hard at times my breath caught in my throat and I frantically beat my chest to avoid suffocation. I fell apart. 

Jillian after my bad news

My grief was all-encompassing and my loneliness threatened to swallow me whole. People tried to understand, to help, but no one knew exactly what I was going through and many times their attempts of being helpful were perfectly damaging. I often heard stories of the aforementioned heterosexual couples who struggled for months and years but “just kept trying” and eventually it happened, so I should just keep trying too. My mental retort was always “you f***ed each other for free, are you going to pay the $3000 a month so I can keep trying?” Many regaled me with stories of how they were stressed about getting pregnant and once they relaxed, it worked, so I should relax too and it will happen. Again, that charming voice in my head shot back “this is not a glass of wine and a romantic evening with your partner kind of experience, why don’t you relax while you’re in stirrups under bright lights in a cold doctor’s office while some stranger pokes around your patootie!” A stranger, I duly noted, who never bought me dinner. They didn’t understand the money, they didn’t understand the strain of each doctor visit and the process of insemination, they couldn’t fathom the torture I put myself through physically and emotionally each month for a dream that may never realize.

100-mile traffic trek to sperm bank

The doctor sat me down after this fourth failed attempt. “Four cycles is a lot. You should have been pregnant by now.” Yeah, no shit doc. He cemented my inner distortions of being a failure as a woman, inciting my irrational anger at these horrid organs that have made my life hell once a month for years but can’t grant me this one wish. I knew the dreaded IVF conversation was coming, and flashbacks of the pushy doctor I first met came to mind as I awaited her affirmation. Then he bestowed a gift of hope lined with dark finality. “We’ll do one more round, up the hormones, try a new diet, but if this doesn’t work, we’ll have to move to IVF.” I knew IVF was not an option. While costs of IVF are minimal in other parts of the developed world, again, the inflation of medical costs in America obliterated hope in many struggling couples and women trying to get pregnant. The running cost in California for a single IVF cycle is $30,000 with an average success rate of 35-40% for women my age, meaning multiple cycles are likely. In comparison, many countries in Europe average a cost of $3,000-6,000, and those with socialized healthcare are likely to get a portion covered as well. This is where the dream of motherhood ends for many. And I thought it ended for me.

Daily Hormone Shots

I began to prepare for my final cycle. In addition to drastically changing the already strict diet I was on, I amped up the intensive exercise I was doing. I enlisted the help of a life coach to assist me in managing the overwhelming stress that I clearly was not wrangling in well enough on my own. And the doctor and I jumped the level of hormones I was taking, which ultimately jumped my final cost to over $4,700. My savings was gone, some added costs went to my credit card. I had resigned to the possibility that I would be broke and babyless, and began to estimate how long it would take me to save for adoption proceedings, which was no doubt another costly endeavor with hidden fees and other stresses much like this. I took my pregnancy test at the doctor, then ambled home to wait in dark apprehension for the phone call. After a few hours of random tearfulness and failed Netflix distractions, I took my dogs for a walk, carrying my cell, just in case. As I rounded a grassy bend, the phone rang and my heart stopped. The voice on the other end was unexpectedly cheerful, nothing like the last time when they were bracing me for bad news. I was confused. She gushed out that I received a positive pregnancy test, and I nearly collapsed to the sidewalk as my knees weakened beneath me in shocked relief. I was crying, I was dizzy, it felt both surreal and impossible. In my typical anxious form, I even rushed home and took a pregnancy test just to make sure the doctor’s office didn’t make a mistake. And for once, I waited to share my news as it was mine and mine alone, and I wanted to have a peaceful moment of joy with my little bean.

Vaginal Suppositories aka
Patootie Pills

While I continue to bask in the glory of my pregnancy (okay glory is a bit of an exaggeration, more like warm glow coupled with nausea, sore boobs, an insurmountable level of hormone-fueled bitchiness and 9 weeks of vaginal suppositories), I recognize how close I came to the end of my road, and how many never make it this far. For some, it’s the unfortunate path that has been drawn for their lives as biology just refuses to comply. For others, it’s a financial crisis, plaguing all individuals and couples, but none more so than members of the LGBTQ community. Of course I’m not asking for free services, but fair pricing and cost control to ensure we can pursue our dreams without going into drowning debt doesn’t seem like asking too much.

Because blood tests are more accurate than home pregnancy tests but my anxiety didn't care

Side note: I don't wish for this post to disparage adoption for LGBT couples in any way, I am and have always been open to adoption and it is still in my plans for my next child, however for some the importance of experiencing a biological pregnancy can be overwhelming and it was an experience I did not want to miss out on if I could help it. For those who cannot enjoy a biological pregnancy but know that parenthood is a must for their lives, please check out AdoptUSKids and consider fostering to adopt to provide a loving home to a kid in need.

Make America Straight Again!

There has been a whirlwind of emotions swirling around our heads and hearts since the shock of Tuesday's election hit us like a sledgehammer to the temple. Many fears and concerns have arisen since Trump wrapped his meaty little hands around the title of President Elect, including the fears of his purported wall, the ban on Muslims, immigrants, and refugees, degradation of the Black Lives Matter movement, and of course, his promise to repeal Marriage Equality. Hand and hand with his VP Mike Pence, the GOP elected candidates have sworn to work together to set the human rights clocks back 75 years.

While I am terrified at all of these prospects, I know there are pitfalls, legislative loops, protests, and filibusters that can stop many of Trump's proposed bills from being passed, in spite of the Republican control of Congress. However there are issues beyond the power of Congress that are in far more danger than the promises Trump will eventually break.

In June of 2015, the Supreme Court of the United States voted for Marriage Equality, securing equal rights to homosexuals throughout the nation and barring any future president, Senate, or House of Representatives from overturning the ruling. Only SCOTUS can undo their own decisions, and we felt secure under the steely protection of the highest court in the land. What we hadn't anticipated that when SC justice Antonin Scalia died, Congress would not permit Obama to nominate a replacement, which is the right of the sitting president. They reserved the right of the nomination to the future president, confident that the GOP would manage to regain control of the presidency. Now that Trump has taken the crown, he has presented a long list of conservative justices that he will nominate for the job. And all he needs is a Republican dominated Congress to get his nomination elected, which he now has.

Now Scalia was a conservative, but as the court had a liberal majority at the time, replacing a conservative with a conservative was not an immediate threat. Unfortunately many of the justices are elderly: Ruth Bader Ginsberg is 83, Anthony Kennedy is 80, and Steven Breyer is 78. Both Bader Ginsberg and Breyer are liberal, whereas Kennedy is a balanced Republican who maintains an objective approach to most issues. As time marches on for these justices, rumors and reports of retirement are looming in the air, along with legitimate concerns for eventual passing-ons given their chronological progression in life. The loss of these justices during the Trump Administration will undoubtedly secure a 6-3 or a 7-2 (god forbid an 8-1) court imbalance tipping the scales of justice in favor of the conservatives. This, of course, is just the first step in a lengthy process that could eventually endanger the Marriage Equality ruling, but all Trump really needs is one more justice to retire or die to accomplish the platform he and VP Pence have promised to the country.

From the get-go, Trump had been utilizing his platform to speak out against all laws passed that have permitted the LGBT community to progress to some semblance of normalcy in a heterosexist and heterocentric society. This includes the repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell, DOMA, Marriage Equality, and many other laws and bills that guaranteed protection against job discrimination and hate crimes. Trump and Pence argued that these laws infringe upon the rights of Americans to practice their own religions without fear of persecution. They have vowed to force transgendered individuals to use their "biologically appropriate bathrooms" or their birth-gender bathrooms, and have backed laws that would permit discrimination based on religious beliefs. Pence himself has vetoed and amended laws against generalized hate crimes because they included language that protected LGBTs in the past. In a move more frightening, Pence cut funding to an HIV treatment facility, arguing that federal dollars should not be given to "organizations that celebrate and encourage the types of behaviors that spread the HIV virus", and stated more money should be spent on treatment to assist individuals "seeking to change their sexual behaviors."

So let's dissect that last statement for a moment, because some may argue it can be interpreted in many ways. Changing sexual behaviors could have met that people could change their behaviors by practicing safe sex, or getting tested for HIV before engaging in sexual relationships, or consulting with their doctor about leading a healthy and safe sex life with an uninfected partner. But that tiny line preceding this statements sets it pretty clear for us, because no HIV treatment organization "celebrates" behaviors of unprotected sex, sharing needles, refusing to get yourself tested, or screwing your partner without any precautions or cares about infecting them. Not one. So we can only assume these behaviors are really referring to gays, and teaching them how not to be gay in order to avoid HIV (because straight people can't carry this disease). So essentially, Pence was refusing to help HIV inflected individuals unless they were willing to undergo treatment to stop gay behaviors, aka Conversion Therapy.

Conversion Therapy is, at its core, treatment to reprogram the homosexual brain to either suppress its natural urges toward the same sex, or to even teach the brain a sexual appreciation for the opposite sex. Historically, this has been attempted in many ways, including chemical castration, physical castration, electro-shock aversion therapy, medicinally induced aversion that made patients physically ill when having a biological response to sexual stimuli (think A Clockwork Orange), and other forms of physical abuse. Conversion Therapy has been denounced by the American Psychiatric Association and is banned in five states in America, but never fear, because our Vice President has argued for these interventions in the past and withheld HIV treatment from people who refused to get themselves "fixed."

So here's the main concern: after years of fighting for equality, our next President has vowed to repeal every single act that has affirmed our position as human beings in this nation allegedly built on equality. The Vice President is essentially a proponent of violent and aggressive therapies to cure the gay out of America. Once the conservatives dominate SCOTUS, only a few more steps need to be taken to ensure we're never equal again. First someone must bring a lawsuit against the state arguing that their religious beliefs have been infringed upon by allowing some flaming queen in San Francisco to get married. Because this is Post-Trump America, they will not have to prove much. Once this lawsuit gradually gets elevated to the Supreme Court, the court has to decide whether or not they will hear the case. Given that they owe their careers to this extremely anti-gay administration, I doubt they will refuse. At this point, they will vote, and gay marriage will be no more.

This is of course a lengthy process which could take years, but if Trump is able to deliver a conservative ruled Supreme Court, he doesn't have to be president if and when a new lawsuit finally gets to SCOTUS, Until another justice retires or dies and the next president is able to elect a liberal, we're in trouble, and I believe that while this will be difficult to achieve, it is by no means impossible. With an administration that is so geared toward and amped up on hatred, bigotry, homophobia, heterosexism, and just plain ignorance, I am scared for myself and my fellow gaybugs and butterflies (that's LGBs and Trans, respectively).

And this America, is why the Rainbow movement is terrified today.

Trump supporting the LGBT community just days before the election 

because he realized he needed us.

From Darkness We Will Rise

My heart is breaking. I am bewildered, angry, and depressed. The events that have taken place this past weekend were incomprehensible to say the least, and the world has been left in a stunned, solemn silence. There are no words that haven't already been flung onto the front of a newspaper or thrust into the headline of an online publication. There is nothing new to say about another mass shooting in America, which is steadily becoming the norm of our daily lives. But for some reason, this particular shooting hit home a lot harder. While the devastation of every attack and shooting has broken my heart, this was the first time I genuinely wept over one and I truly believe it's because I realize how easily this could have been me or my friends. This attack was targeted toward us, and in spite of the perceived progress we have made in America this past year, our lives remain a dangerous existence.

Facts and details about the Pulse nightclub shooting are still pouring in and updates can change any sliver of information at any moment, but currently this is what we know: The shooter, Omar Saddiqui Mateen, entered the Orlando-based nightclub with firearms at approximately 2 am Sunday morning. He opened fire, and as many clubbers hit the floor, he shot and killed at least 50 individuals and seriously injured more than 53. After a hostage situation and multiple shoot-outs with police, Mateen was shot and killed. Mateen claimed the attacks for the militant terrorist group ISIS, however it has yet to be confirmed if he had actual ties to the group and was acting under their orders or if he simply admired their belief system and went rogue. The FBI have confirmed that he was previously under investigation for possible terrorist activities. Either way, ISIS is more than happy to take credit for the attacks. His father, on the other hand, maintains that Mateen was not acting in the name of any religion but truly because he was angered when seeing two men kissing in Miami a few months ago. Mateen also has an alleged history of domestic violence, aggression, and mental illness according to his ex-wife.

Tales of horror continue to emerge from the darkness of this night: mothers share their children's final texts, waiting for any sign of life, witnesses recount the massacre and the cries for help that will fill their ears and nightmares for months to come, victims still fight for their lives. Again, traumas that are no different from the other attacks that have plagued this nation and this world, with the exception of one detail. We were very specific targets; we were targeted for being who we are.

In Paris, they were targeted simply for being a component of the western world. In Sandy Hook, they were a matter of proximity and convenience. In Columbine, they were targeted for familiarity and revenge. In Aurora, they were random movie-goers. These were not matters of a particular demographic, a certain religion, race, or gender. These poor wretches were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. In this attack, it was specific and hate-driven; the homophobic slaughter of gays who just wanted to love freely, be as they are, and dance the night away on Pride weekend. That is what is truly terrifying. That in this day and age, such vehement hatred can burn so hot that you can decimate the lives of hundreds over a simple kiss. And it has shaken the very core of me.

Like me, many are rattled by the violence, and fear is never a good recipe for resolving social, political, or national issues. The irrational cries of closing the borders have resounded, military retaliation for ISIS have been demanded, and undoubtedly we will see another predictable rise in Islamophobia as angry bigotry sweeps through the country. But the one ongoing and justifiable concern that rings through all the fear mongering is the issue of gun control.

The proponents of gun rights have been relentlessly clutching to the draconian and likely sorely misinterpreted Second Amendment in their right to bear arms (sorry, couldn't help myself). Various solutions have arisen in an attempt to limit shootings such as these, including extensive background checks and even restrictions and prohibitions from purchasing firearms. But all fall short of being remotely effective. Background checks will only be successful if the individual in question has received mental health services and has been involuntarily hospitalized, reported as a threat to others, or is under court-orders or a conservatorship. And just a note, even if an individual has been hospitalized with a grave mental illness, or detained for threatening to harm another individual, they are only prohibited from obtaining a firearm for 5 years. Then the jig is up. But none of this matters when many private gun dealers are not required to complete a background check. Only public firearm dealers and shops are required by law to run a full background check on their customers. If you contact a gun owner directly through Craig's List, the PennySaver, whatever, you can purchase a gun by simply ensuring your payment goes through, no questions asked. It has been confirmed that Mateen legally purchased his firearms, in spite of being under FBI investigation years ago for possible terrorist activity, because those investigations were closed and he passed his prohibition period.

The problem with gun control is that there is no singular sure-fire solution, but a complete ban will significantly reduce the threats that face this country. Arguments of "well they'll still sell them on the black market!" and "look how well the drug war is going, crack is illegal but it's everywhere! Guns will be the same way!" are general responses to the push for eliminating the second amendment. So if we can't stop illegal activities, we should just make them legal to relieve ourselves the headache of failure. Others claim that they have the right to keep their weapons because they use the guns to protect their families from burglars and can use a concealed weapon to stop mass shootings. Sadly, there are far more family members getting killed from accidental discharges than burglars, and zero mass shootings being avoided thanks to some upstanding NRA member. In fact, many shootings occur because people steal guns from "responsible gun owners" who don't lock their firearms up. Some cry out "from my cold dead fingers!" but I press these individuals, if you want your guns so badly, why haven't you solved the problem? Where are your recommendations and why haven't you implemented them? If gun proponents can present a viable solution to significantly reduce if not eliminate altogether mass shootings and still keep guns legal, then I'm all for it. But I haven't heard a damn thing from them yet.

As if the massacre of Pulse was not horrific enough, terror lurked in the shadows much closer to home after a man was arrested on his way to LA Pride "heavily armed." James Howell of Indiana was detained outside a resident's home early in Santa Monica when he was knocking on their windows and door. In his car, the police found three assault rifles and a significant amount of ammunition and high-capacity magazines. He also had a bucket filled with substances that was potentially a crude homemade explosive device. He denies any intent to harm any individuals at the parade, but clearly his possessions suggest otherwise. You're not hunting bear with an assault rifle and a bucket bomb on the streets of West Hollywood. It was sheer luck that the police crossed paths with this man before he made his way out to the parade. In a crowd of 400,000 with bombs and bullets, the death toll would have quickly exceeded Orlando's as the west coast would have been enveloped in its own nightmare.

But we shine on. In spite of the terror we felt and feel, and the devastation that crippled us, in spite of the months and years it will take to recover and heal, we will continue to survive and thrive. The attack on Pulse nightclub only pushed more gays and allies to the streets of LA and Washington DC to demonstrate their unity. Fearless, people marched in the parade, some donning black armbands to honor their fallen brothers and sisters. Many have rallied around the nation and the world voicing their support, even some countries and world leaders that typically do not support homosexuality. Following reports of blood shortages, lines of straight allies curled around parking lots and street corners to donate, especially since our gay brothers are banned from doing so, citing superfluous concerns about tainted blood supply. For so many years we have endured. We have fought, we have battled our way out of the dark closet and into the glaring sunlight of freedom and equality, and we refuse to return to the depths whence we came. We are stronger, we are united, we are fearless. Whatever few will harm us, many more will protect us. When hatred rears its ugly head, love will always answer the call.

Oversung Heroine

When Caitlyn Jenner first came out as a transgendered woman, there were many predictable responses from the less educated right and even some from the middle who are still finding their feet when it comes to understanding gender identity issues. For her bravery in facing a very private decision in a very public manner, she was dubbed a hero and was awarded the Glamour Magazine's Woman of the Year award, among other notable acknowledgements. Following this, there was a tidal wave of backlash that swept across the internet, some of which trickled onto my Facebook feed as many argued that "a man dressed as a woman is no hero." They posted photos of courageous soldiers carrying their wounded brethren across the battlefields to safety, lamenting "this is a real hero!" One man even returned his wife's posthumous Woman of the Year award to Glamour Magazine after being sickened by the publication's choice to honor a trans woman. He stated it was insulting to his wife's memory, who perished during rescue efforts in the 9/11 attacks, and to many other past recipients. The definition of a hero has become more and more subjective as time goes on, but does Caitlyn deserve to wear the crown?

As society has progressed, step by step people have overcome their ignorance and their fear of the unknown and the misunderstood. We have taken great leaps in the human rights movement as people have gradually come to comprehend the "homosexual condition." Previously society believed we had a defective brain, that something didn't connect properly or develop properly, that something was wrong with us. Now they know that the the homosexual heart loves exactly the same way as the straight ones do, that homosexual love is as deep and profound and devoted as heterosexual love can be. But the next obstacle appears to be a bit much as many who are strong supporters of lesbians and gays still believe transgendered people to be defective with poor brain connections or limited neurological development, or possibly mentally ill. You're a hero if you find the courage to come out of the closet, but you're sick if you find the courage to adopt your true gender identity.

Caitlyn Jenner faced no easy task when she decided to come out as a female. She was mocked, attacked, and harassed. Petitions were signed to have her gold medals from the Olympic games revoked. She became the butt of every comedian's joke in late night talk shows, and she has added one more rock to the pile of "things gone wrong in America" arguments. But in spite of her own courage and bravery for her personal journey, I will say that as a public figurehead, Caitlyn Jenner is no hero.

After coming out as transgendered, the LBGT population rallied around her and adopted her as their mascot. Following her spread in Vanity Fair magazine, Caitlyn set hearts pounding and tongues wagging as people cheered her on in her very public transition. She landed a reality show chronicling her new life which often features her previous reality TV brood, the Kardashians and Jenners, and as previously mentioned, she began collecting awards and making speeches and public appearances all over the US. But the party was over when Caitlyn made an appearance on the show of America's favorite lesbian hero, Ellen Degeneres.

Identifying herself as a "traditionalist," Caitlyn admitted that she disagreed with gay marriage years ago and felt marriage should be between a man and a woman. She allowed that now she "doesn't want to get in the way of anyone's happiness," but sounded so reluctant in this, it was painfully obvious she negotiated her stance to avoid offending the gay, married talk show host sitting a few feet from her face. Tackling the terminology of matrimonial equality, she rescinded, "if that word marriage is really so important to you, I can go with it." Like I mean, if I have to, I guess I can deal with it. Strangely, the transgendered star adopted many arguments that conservatives like her have used against the LGBT community in order to support her own stance against her own community. She wept and demanded her own rights as a trans woman but couldn't comprehend why our rights as homosexuals were critical too. But she didn't stop there.

Months later, Caitlyn raised eyebrows again when she announced that she would be supporting GOP candidates in the presidential elections, in spite of the fact that they are all staunch opponents of LGBT rights and the human rights movement as a whole, and many are not that great for the gender equality movement either. Today, Caitlyn has announced that she wants to be an ambassador to Ted Cruz, a very conservative candidate who has publicly stated he would work to end federal equal marriage laws and would stop anti-discrimination laws protecting trans people. She argued that even though he does not have a great position on trans issues, he's "very nice" and if he becomes president, she would like to work with him to help him understand the trans community and the obstacles they face. Instead of gliding on some hopeless prayer that we can change his lifelong and deeply rooted Evangelical beliefs against LGBTs, wouldn't it just be better to keep him from getting elected altogether? Though she hasn't quite given him her full endorsement yet, the only other front-running Republican candidate left is Trump, so with her promise to endorse the GOP, either way we're screwed.

Caitlyn is famous because she is trans. Caitlyn is rich because she is trans. Caitlyn is being worshipped because she is trans. But Caitlyn is anti-gay marriage and has repeatedly announced her support for political candidates that have openly argued against Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender rights. This shining, glittering, rainbow-filled community has embraced you and lifted you up onto this pedestal in hopes that you could be their voice, and you repay them by arguing against their rights and backing the people who could soon have the power to take those rights away. Taking the publicity, the fame, the awards, and the money that the world has handed you in being publicly trans, then refusing to help the LGBT communities where and when it means the most does not make you a hero. It makes you a money-grubbing publicity whore.

Let's get one thing straight: in this world that is inundated with negativity and fueled by criticism, it takes so much courage and insurmountable bravery to face the backlash you get for being yourself, which pours down on you in cascades of hatred day by day. To wake up every morning and challenge the archaic societal norms knowing you will be harassed, attacked, and mocked is no easy feat. Many don't survive. Leelah Alcorn committed suicide when her parents refused to accept her as a female and isolated her from her peers by taking her out of school when she refused to live her lie as a boy. Even after her death, her parents refused to acknowledge her as a female and buried her under her male birth name. Lucia McCalip just took her own life a few days ago with pong seeds after being bullied and attacked by her peers. Her mother referred to her by her male birth name and only shared photos of her as a male with the press, also indicating possible acceptance issues at home. This life is not for the weak of heart, and transgendered people are heroes, but let's shine the light on the true heroes and heroines and forget these shady oversung heroes. Me personally, I'm all about Team Jazz.

Secrets Unfold

Today is my grandmother's birthday. It has been less than three months since she passed away, and though at times I feel like life is back to normal, there are those moments when a picture pops up or one of the songs I used on her memorial video seeps out of the car radio, and that familiar ache returns to my chest, accompanied by that lump in my throat. My grandmother was the special-standard grandmother, special in that she was mine, standard in that she did what every wonderful loving grandparent does. She reveled in spoiling us 8 grandchildren during birthdays, Christmases, and on occasion during a sleepover at her house. She continued to spoil her 15 great-grandchildren and begged for more, namely from me, who has yet to contribute to the family legacy. But it had been years since she asked about my love life, since she nagged about my needing to find a husband and pop out a few more rugrats. And though I wondered, I was never sure why.

My grandmother was raised in the 1930s as a conservative Christian woman. Along with those 1940s and 50s traditions of refusing to leave the house without perfect make-up and hair, with mastering perfect etiquette, with being the perfect wife and mother above all else came the mentality of the traditional family. A man, a woman, marriage, and biological children. There was never to be any variance from this equation and any divergence would not be tolerated. Needless to say it didn't sit well with her when her youngest son came out of the closet as gay and it took her years to adjust to the idea, decades before she became fully supportive of it.

In spite of her gradual transition to the unconditional support and love of my uncle, my mother was concerned about how she would handle my own coming out, and strongly advised against it. "It would just break your grandmother's heart if she knew." So I continued on through the years, biting my tongue, endearing the multiple affrontals of inquiries about my lacking love life, the many are you dating anyones, the why haven't you found anyone yets and the but you're such a nice looking young ladys, before we graduated to the I want more great-grandchildren damn it, adopt one if you have tos. There were attempted set ups, such as that nice young man from Honda they met while car shopping, who was apparently perfect for me because "he's Mexican too!" before offering to give him my number (my grandmother was white, I am half Mexican). Sometimes these conversations were agony, sometimes I just wanted to tell her the truth, so she could understand, so she could stop trying to set me up with car salesmen. But I couldn't risk breaking her heart. So I stayed silent.

As I grew older and became more comfortable in my skin, I was less cautious with my secret. It is a full time job to be in the closet and it is utterly exhausting, but as most of my family came to realize this truth, I had to work to keep my grandmother in the dark. I eventually friended her on Facebook as she learned to navigate social media, but I would block her from seeing my gay-related posts to protect her fragile heart. After awhile, knowingly or unknowingly, some of these posts may have slipped through the filters, though I don't recall if I intended to block them or if I was just tired of it. I don't remember if this coincided with the time the questions gradually stopped. I just noticed one day that my grandmother no longer asked about boyfriends and marriage. It brought both relief and confusion, but it slipped to the back of my mind and I rarely gave it much thought anymore. I simply enjoyed the time I had with my grandmother.

The family parties continued, the board games, the Facebook posts, it was just grandmother and granddaughter spending time together without much thought about whatever lay beneath our surfaces. It didn't seem as important to share this secret with her and I didn't concern myself with it, figuring I would worry about it when I met someone I would want to bring home to the family, which I had yet to do. But I still had those moments where I grew weary of carrying this rock on my shoulders.

Before any soul mate came into my life, before any lavish coming out ceremony, my grandmother grew very ill and passed away on November 20th, 2015. I was there in her final moments and the flashbacks of such have kept me from any quick recovery of the loss. Being my last living biological grandparent, my heart was ripped from my chest. I didn't give that secret I kept from her much thought in the few days after her death, but one night my mom was sitting on my couch as we cried and chatted away about our fondest memories of her. I'm not even sure how the conversation came about, but in one fell swoop my mother stopped my heart.

"She knew, you know."
"What?"
"Nanie knew you were gay."
"What, really?"
"Yeah we were talking about it one night. She just said 'I don't care, I just want Jae to find someone and be happy. That's all I ever wanted for her.'"

I fell apart. I cried. I sobbed. My mother swears she had told me about this conversation in the past, and I agonized over the lost opportunity to have this heart-to-heart conversation with my grandmother myself. There was nothing I wanted more than to simply remove this mask and be myself with each and every family member in my life, but no one more so than her. But I find some solace in knowing that as I was holding my own carefully guarded secret, she was holding her secret of unconditional love and acceptance, and with it, the truth that, tradition aside, nothing comes before the love of your family.

Happy Birthday Nanie.

Hey Homophobes: We're Not Listening...Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah

The passage of equal marriage rights by the Supreme Court of the United States last month was a landmark moment for the human rights movement in America. In one fell swoop, years of same sex discrimination imploded and rainbows flew across the nation. Our troubles did in fact melt like lemon drops, and I was met with a grounding peace I had never known.

That’s not to say, of course, that the adversity we had been faced with for centuries dissipated into bitter sweet candies. The homophobes, the God-fearing, Bible-thumping, holy rollers, even the borderline opposition (you know, those people who have gay friends they love and respect but would never grant them the same rights) have risen and screamed out in agony after losing this war. The waters surged and the levees shuddered in the storm they tried to concoct. Many have refused to honor the law, others have whined and tantrummed and cried on social media, posting under the hashtag #godwins and fighting on Instagram about their discriminatory beliefs and dated moral codes. I have no doubt the Westboro Church and other Evangelicals are keeping their eyes peeled for the first sign of God’s vengeance: natural disasters, a terrible tragedy somewhere, a surprise renewal contract for American Idol, possibly a glass of spilled milk, who knows? God may not like cookies. People are even going to ridiculous extremes in calling attention to the passing law. One county in Missouri has decided that they will fly their flags at half-mast once a month every month for the next year, mourning the death of traditional marriage. One store owner has even posted a sign outside of his shop lamenting “No Gays Allowed.”

But what I found is that with the support of SCOTUS, I’m taking it all in stride.  Where frustration and anger and exasperation once boiled, now laughter, smirks, and little chortles blossom. In debates on Instagram with anti-gay posters, I laughed, I joked with them, I professed my love for them in an attempt to stave them off, then carefully and light-heartedly slammed a few ridiculous arguments they threw out. When I read of the half-mast flags, I snorted at the pathetic attempt to whine and pout nationally. When I saw the photo of sign at a highly exclusive, hetero-only hardware store, I revered his First Amendment Rights to be an asshole. And here’s why:

When California first voted on gay marriage in 2000 with the long since forgotten Prop 22, I remember the anger and the frustration I felt as a 16 year old who couldn’t vote (who couldn’t comprehend why we were voting on my personal life in the first place) and whose fate was in the hands of millions of adults who had never met me. I remember reading the arguments, listening to the debates about gay marriage and beating my fists on the table because I had no voice and couldn’t convince these people who were against me to let me live my life. When Prop 8 revisited the ballots, I found my voice, and I would argue on every forum I could find, desperately trying to sway the majority, screaming for my own pitiful right to just love and marry whomever I wanted. And I would rage. The anger that boiled in me overflowed in the face of adversity, of the opposition who had raised more campaign money, who spent more dollars convincing people that equal rights were not only a sin but the end of civilization as we knew it. I felt as though I was trying to beat back a tidal wave, and I was failing miserably. Nothing I said made much of a difference. We lost. We lost by a much smaller margin than that of the 2000 vote, but we lost nonetheless. The gay-bashing, the public demonstrations, the TV advertisements, all the homophobia thrown in my face that people had spent countless hours and money on had stripped me of any hope of being normal.

When SCOTUS released their decision on June 26^th, 2015, all of that genuine adversity disappeared. You know, the adversity that could actually do any harm. In one moment, the opposition had lost, and there was nothing more to be said. The law is done, the Supreme Court declared it so and there can be no challenges, no appeals, no more votes, no more ballots, no more campaigns, no millions of people with their hands in my life, directing me this way and that. This is true freedom.

In the discussions on the boards, many people retorted with “I have a right to my opinions!” Which is entirely true; however in the past, these opinions impacted your choices on the ballots and the votes, which stopped them from being simple opinions and became tallies to take my rights away. Now they have been reduced to nothing more than ignorant, hate-fueled, ridiculous points of view that mean nothing to me. I don’t have to waste my time and energy convincing you of anything. My life is mine now. You can go to your corner of the world and be stupid, I can go to mine and be whatever I want, married to whomever I choose, and I don’t have to give you a second thought. I can laugh at your pathetic attempts to bitch and moan and fly flags at half-mast, because your little dramatic displays will not change the fact that you lost; though I won’t hesitate to remind you of the countless homosexuals who have gone to war and defended that flag and the country that wouldn’t give them equal rights so you could have your childish fit in the land of the free.

And yes, I even defend the store owner and the numerous bakeries who refuse to serve homosexuals and their partners. This is America my friends, and the first amendment guarantees your rights to believe what you want and act how you choose with your own property. I believe these store owners have the right to refuse service to whomever they want, just as I would reserve and exercise the right to refuse service to any racist, homophobic, Islamophobic, Anti-Semite, sexist, bigoted asshole who walked into my store.  If you take away their rights to choose who they serve, they can take away our rights to choose as well, and I don’t want to give assholes cake. It’s my cake. Mine. However, as an American, I have the right not to spend my money in your store. This is a capitalistic country; you need my money to keep your shop in business. If you want to throw away your life savings, your blood, sweat, and tears that you poured into this business over some moral beliefs, so be it! I will go elsewhere, I will advise my friends to go elsewhere, and you can sit in your empty store and count your blessings and your overdue bills. That’s freedom baby.

Now don’t get me wrong, there is still some real shit going on out there, there will still be gay-bashing, there will still be fights for other rights like gay adoption (we won the workplace discrimination bit), but choose your battles. Don’t sweat the small stuff, the ridiculous stuff, the infantile stuff. We won. Let the idiots scream it out until they grow tired and slip away like a toddler ready for a nap. Their opinions, their viewpoints, their beliefs do not define us or determine our lives any longer. 

Whispers in the Rainbow Painted Night

Monumental. That is the only word that has been cycling through my mind today following the Supreme Court Ruling legalizing gay marriage throughout the states. Simply monumental. This is so much more than a piece of history, this is the catalyst of the gay rights movement; this is our Women’s Vote in 1920, this is our Brown vs. the Board of Education, this is the close of our Civil War. I cannot even begin to wrap my head around the significance of this vote, this ruling, this declaration of humanity in the US. There is a peace to be found in finally being recognized.

Naturally I had no doubt that SCOTUS would legalize gay marriage, they had the safety net to do it. When they were first invited to hear the mind-bending arguments against the California rulings of Proposition 8, only a handful of states had legalized gay marriage. It was politically and socially unsafe to suddenly be the trailblazers for equal rights, to force so many undetermined states into acknowledging what the majority still viewed as an abomination. No one wanted to be the ones to let gay marriage in. Let’s face it: from 2010 to 2014, doing the right thing was career suicide for the justices. But no one wanted to be the ones to extinguish the possibility of equality forever either, because they knew the change was inevitable. More and more states were moving towards legalization, and many other countries in the west have been passing equality laws for years. Waiting and biding their time, the justices shuffled their feet and turned away petitions to hear any cases on gay marriage until a fair amount of states had already taken it upon themselves to pass the laws, and when those who hadn’t were few and far between, they went for the kill. Silencing those hanging in the balance, the court ruled in favor of the rainbow, and took all the credit for what most states had to do on their own.  But their ruling has eliminated any possibilities for an opposition to file an appeal, to motion for repeal, to put a new law on the ballot or to amend a standing one. It’s all said and done.

But this of course has drawn the little cockroaches from their dark corners to begin their pouting and spouting of hatred, promises of rebellion, ignoring the ruling, even some declarations to divorce their straight partners and preachers who swear they will set themselves on fire (whatever, just call me first so I can grab the marshmallows). Perpetrators of discrimination are still demanding tolerance of their own narrow-minded and bigoted views, and others just stand in noticeably stunned silence over the loss. But as I said to one person earlier this evening, “you had a good run, 3,000 years of hatred; you need to accept that your time has come to an end.”

The suffering that the gay community has endured over the years worldwide has been unimaginable, including social stigmas, gay bashing, the exclusion from gay rights and protective anti-discrimination laws, horribly violent gay cure therapies, and even murders and genocides (it is estimated that anywhere from 10,000-25,000 homosexuals were killed by Hitler’s Third Reich movement). We’ve even been blamed for horrible events such as the Newton shootings, 9/11, global warming, and natural disasters like earthquakes, tsunamis, and hurricanes. Me personally, I wouldn’t be that offended by the insinuation, I’d be more inclined to use them as a pick up line: “hey baby, you know that earthquake last night? That was me.” *WINK*

But all jokes aside, growing up gay in the US these past few decades has been hell, as I documented more thoroughly in my previous posts, Though I have no idea how hard it was five or six decades ago, I realized earlier today that today’s generation has no idea what we have gone through, the struggle we faced, the fight we fought so they can have what we never did: security and freedom in who you are from birth to the grave. Many of my gay clients are out in the open: they have boyfriends and girlfriends at school, they’re out to parents and friends, and they’re loved and supported. Some still get bullied, but none of them have any idea who Matthew Shepard is or the torture he went through for being himself in the 90s. It's a different time and a different world, many of us had parents who struggled (and continue to struggle) through their acceptance of us. We never would have dared to be out in high school for fear of getting beaten or killed, and mind you, this was in Southern California in 2002, not Alabama 1980; the way things were such a short time ago are distant shadows for today's youth. This morning, one client haplessly raised his hands and noted “we have equal rights…yay.” Child, this deserves so much more than a slightly enthusiastic yay. This is historic. And we’ve lived to see it.

We’re equal. We can marry. Soon we will have total federal protection with anti-discrimination laws. Soon we will be able to adopt children and provide loving homes to our families all over the US. And with this comes a new revelation: we’re okay. We are normal. We don’t have to cry anymore. We don’t have to die anymore in the face of cruel, heart-rending adversity. We’re human, just like everyone else. And finally, this country thinks so too. The voices of hate have become whispers in the rainbow painted night.