Corporate Freeloaders

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How Beautiful My Children Are!

There is this thing – two, actually – that give me such joy in my life. They are my sons, and every morning when they arise they light my day. In fact, Trin is in my lap right now, helping me write this.

Studying
One of the many advantages of unschooling at home is that kids can choose their own desks and learn in comfort!

Reading
Sometimes Sam reads to me. At 6 1/2 years old, he reads at the 8th or 9th grade level. Another advantage to unschooling!

Working
Trin helping with the remodel. The boys are here every day, helping when they can, watching, learning the processes of construction. They're learning all the time. We could send them to school, I suppose, but I really don't want to slow them down that much.

Well, I started this post planning on just talking about how much I love my kids, how much joy they give me, how much meaning they give to my life, and so on, and it somehow turned into a celebration of unschooling! But then, I guess they really are connnected.

“Opposite” Sexes?

There is an ancient myth in our culture that men and women belong to "opposite" sexes. Based on this myth, our culture assigns men and women – and masculinity and femininity – to opposite qualities and characteristics. Under this paradigm, because men and masculinity are strong, women and femininity are weak. Because men and masculinity are rational, women and femininity are irrational.

This model is not only flawed, it is completely wrong. If masculinity and femininity were opposites, why (and how) would they be expressed in differing degrees in each individual? Most men have some feminine traits to some extent, and most women have some masculine traits. The reason these traits are assigned a value according to sex is that they are expressed more often and to a more intense extent in one sex than the other. Many of these traits are influenced by hormones, and everyone has them. For example, men usually do have greater physical strength than women, thanks to the upper body muscle mass induced by greater amounts of testosterone. However, it takes great strength to give birth, not to mention the other aspects of strength women show – endurance, flexibility, courage, etc.

The "opposite sex" model is not biological, it is political. Notice that in every case, masculinity is assigned to a higher value. It is a means to support and perpetuate a patriarchy that disempowers women and enables a monopoly on power for men. It's time to subscribe to a new paradigm. Men and women, masculinity and femininity, are complementary and equally valuable aspects of our humanity. Both are necessary to be completely human. And femininity should be celebrated and enjoyed by feminism and feminists, just as masculinity is in our culture.

Good and Evil

Part 3, or the third penalty, is good and evil: "In a spiritual life everything is morally charged; nothing is neutral. Choosing between good and evil is a daily effort, but taking responsibility for your choices makes you fully alive. … When we intensify our moral awareness, everything becomes a big deal."

On one level, I have a lot of skepticism regarding this. "Good" and "evil" are both evaluations. They are terms of relativity and judgment, vague and indistinct. What makes something good? What makes it evil? A few things are clear, but most – the vast majority – are situational. The same behavior causes harm in one circumstance, healing or help in another. For instance, killing somebody in one case is pure murder, and harms the individual and his family. In another, it saves someone's life and prevents harm. The real question, is what is the reason or motive for the action? What needs are being met or unmet, and to whom do those needs belong? And is there a different way to act, which will meet the needs of everyone involved.

Too often, the concept of good and evil leads to an abdication of responsibility, not a taking of it.

On another level, the idea that the meaning of life is found in spirituality, that choices are morally charged, and that taking responsibility for those choices is vital in a well-lived and honorable life – that resonates. And the more aware we are of the implications of our choices, even the most minor ones, the better we are equipped both to make choices that serve life, and to take responsibility for our failures. We are also better equipped to deal with the nuances that arise, and to choose the most honorable, and least harmful option when we are faced with situations that cause harm no matter which way we go.

For instance, when I chose to transition, it meant betraying a marriage of 16 years, and it meant taking my sons' father out of their life. It was the hardest choice I ever made, because I could see so clearly the people I was hurting by doing it, and they were the people I loved most in the world. Yet I could also see that choosing not to would hurt them even worse – in fact, that it was hurting them day by day. Kristin suffered my depression and dishonesty. I could not connect with my children very well – I was not emotionally available to them. And I was so damn close to suicide – how much worse that would have hurt them! Making that choice, my boys have two moms who love them and are fully available. I set an example of courage and integrity, to replace my former example of deception and depression. The price was large, and continues to be large, and there are plenty of people willing to condemn my choice from the comfort of their own moral armchairs. That's okay. They know not of what they speak. I met the needs of my family as best as I was able.

So I agree with the meaning behind Gatto's words, but not with his language. I think it's a lot more useful to think in terms of needs and feelings, than in terms of good and evil. Not only does it offer more flexibility when it comes to choosing strategies to meet needs, it also is a better path to embracing the responsibility, beauty, and pathos of life.

Pain

The second penalty of "original sin," as Gatto sees it, is pain. "Pain is a friend, because it forces our attention away from the world and refocuses it squarely on ourselves. Pain of all sorts is the way we learn insight, balance, and self-control. The siren call of "Feel good!" lures us to court desirable sensations and to despise pain as a spoiler of pleasure. Pain, however, is the road to self knowledge."

When I think about the pain in my life, I am convinced that Gatto is right. Pain is a friend. Perhaps not always, and not for all people, but for me, it has been a road to self-knowledge, and it has been a blessing. I used to be afraid of it, and run from it; but I never escaped. Then I turned into it and embraced and felt it fully. I found that not only did I survive, not only did it pass, but now I'm not afraid of it anymore.

Pain is the body's or the mind's signal that there is something wrong in your life, with which one must deal – and heal.

It was psychic pain that taught me to accept and embrace who I am, and enabled me to face a society that often disapproves of my transition, and holds me and it as insane, depraved, and contemptible. It taught me the value of integrity and connection, and enabled my courage. It taught me the value of marriage, and how very much I treasure that potentially happy estate.

Physical pain taught me much, as well. A back injury taught me the limitations of my body. Working through tendonitis taught me endurance and toughness, and inspired creativity. (I was on a boat without access to splints or anything, so I cut up a coat hanger, shaped it to hold my hand immobile, and taped it on with electrical tape. Crude, but it worked. I did, too.) I've learned a lot through pain – how to breathe into it, face it, experience it, relax into it, let it pass through you. If you tense up, it stops and stays inside.

Pain has taught me compassion. That alone makes it worthwhile.

While it's true that pain is not fun, and it's not desirable for its own sake, its effects are often salutary. Like anyone else, I'll do what I can to avoid it. Yet I've found that the best way to avoid it is to face it full on and experience it fully. Somehow, that makes it bearable, and often seems to enable me to go through it and out the other side. It's not fun, but it is a friend.

Work

Continuing my soliloquy on original sin from the last couple of days, I'll talk today about work.

"Work is the only avenue to genuine self-respect. Work develops independence, self-reliance, resourcefulness, and character. Without real work we will inevitably find despair, no matter how much money or power we have. Work … produces spiritual rewards unrelated to the reinforcement schedules of behavioral psychologists, but only if we tackle it gladly, without resentment."

What Gatto is speaking of here is not just physical labor or bureaucratic pencil-pushing. Work that creates self-respect has meaning. And that meaning comes from service, challenge, practicality, responsibility, free choice, and genuine self-expression, with simple goals like the common good and enriching life for others, including non-human life forms. Not abstract, but in clear, specific, and immediate ways.

For instance, as a child, my work in school was mostly a drab grey mush of meaninglessness. A few exceptions stand out – using a projection machine to learn to read faster when I was in sixth grade; making boxes in middle school shop class; FFA agronomy judging in tenth grade. Choice was key in every one of these exceptions. Mostly I experienced despair in school, and not all of that was from growing up transgendered in a world that didn't recognize it.

Sadder still, growing up on a ranch, I had natural meaning in work, caring for the animals we raised. Yet because that work was coerced, much of it was not meaningful and I did it poorly. Not all. I found deep meaning in caring for my own horse, and did it willingly. But there, I was doing it out of love, and "tackle[d] it gladly, without resentment.

So choice, or perception of choice, is vital in finding meaning in work. I believe it was one of the ancient Greek sages who said, "Nothing of value to the individual is obtained through coercion."

Today, I'm a bureaucrat, a government pencil-pusher. I suspect many people don't find much meaning in that, but I find the deepest meaning in my work in the service I do for others. This comes from guiding homeowners through the permitting process for building or remodeling their homes, and it comes from using the skills and knowledge I've obtained through years of carpentry work and architectural training and experience to ensure that the structures people build will be safe and durable. Sometimes the limits of the building code frustrate me in those goals, but mostly they provide useful parameters. Even in those moments of frustration, though, meaning can come, because part of my work is to suggest changes to the building code that will better meet the needs of society – that will better support the common good.

I find the tie to "original sin" tenuous, yet if that is the concept of the human condition, it works. Ultimately, it doesn't matter why the human condition is this way. What matters is that it is this way. The routes to meaningful, real work are many, and the meaning is found in our individual choices, in what is important to us as individuals, whether it be self-expression, as in painting the Sistine Chapel, or the practical physical labor of building a house. That there is so much dissatisfaction with work in our society, I believe, is a function of being unable to find the meaning in what we do. I suspect much of that inability is taught in the compulsory school system, where our children spend much of their most formative years doing work that benefits no one, without choice. I suspect it is carried on into our adult lives, and translates into addiction, broken families and marriages, and the unhappiness and despair so many of us find in our work.

The human condition is such that work is, indeed, a four letter word – but one that equates with "love," not "crap." Kahlil Gibran said, "Work is love made visible." If it isn't, there's something wrong.

Original Sin Redux

Yesterday I quoted John Taylor Gatto: “What constitutes a good life is clearly spelled out: self-knowledge, duty, responsibility, compassion, acceptance of loss, preparation for death.” Continuing my discussion from that post, I find it interesting that although Gatto writes in a conservative context when he talks about what constitutes the “good life,” I would call these liberal values. Conservatives feed on television and mindless religion, while liberals meditate and do yoga and dig deep for the Truth. Conservatives drive Hummers and Sequoias and buy slave-labor-made clothes at Walmart, liberals drive Priuses and bicycles and buy from local, independent stores. Conservatives contribute to libertarian think tanks that justify and promote the deregulation that unleashes corporate greed that hurts everyone, liberals contribute to food banks and the homeless. I see lots of old hippies wearing grey hair and wrinkles with pride, and Republican women coloring their hair and trying to look young. On and on.

It’s even worse at the social level. Republicans still refuse to take responsibility for torture, the invasion of Iraq, and the unregulated greed of the CEO’s (who are almost all Republican). They expressed their contempt for life and death by trying to keep Terry Schiavo’s body alive long after her brain had died. They refuse to accept the loss of our place in the world, and our duty to dismantle our empire.

And then I think that that assessment is simplistic – and that in practice, plenty of liberals share the same foibles. Really bad laws, like “No Child Left Behind” and the Patriot Act and the authorization to invade Iraq, received bipartisan support with the “liberal” side fully as enthusiastic as the conservative. It was the “liberal” justices who sided with the big corporation in saying that a private company could claim “eminent domain” and seize other private property from small owners – a travesty of justice in which it was actually Thomas and Scalia who dissented. Despite the actions and policies of Republicans and the consequences of their personal choices, conservatives do frequently claim those values – and sometimes live them. And liberals often do not live them.

Further, though I find the terms “good” and “evil” to be vague, evaluative, and more harmful than constructive, the basis on which Gatto speaks of them makes sense and translates into more useful and clear terms, such as “harmful” and “constructive.”

So I think the line between liberal and conservative is actually not narrow and clear, but wide and fuzzy – a vast grey area with personal choices that end up the same from either side. The reasoning and motivation may be different, but the values are often identical. The seeming wide gulf between us is a construct of the corporate media, which finds great value in keeping the American people divided, our energy wasted in battling against our neighbors rather than in working together to reestablish social equity and make sure our “leaders” are held accountable.

Perhaps one lesson is that integrity is the same, no matter what the religious or political philosophy behind it. Liberals and conservatives are the same: they either express integrity, wisdom, and compassion in each circumstance, or they don’t. And nobody gets it right – or wrong – every time.

Original Sin?

In his book, "A Different Kind of Teacher," John Taylor Gatto has an essay called, "In Defense of Original Sin." I don't usually buy the notion that somehow we've fallen from grace and are all guilty of sin – I usually disbelieve in sin itself. I tend to see behavior as harmful or fulfilling, rather than sinful, evil, or good. Yet here Gatto has a new way of looking at original sin that I find intriguing.

When Gatto says, "The primary goal of real education is not to deliver facts but to guide students to the truths that will allow them to take responsibility for their lives," I think he's getting at the same thing Pete Seeger was saying in the quote directly below the masthead on this blog. I think he's right. Facts are easy, just a Google search away. Truth, responsibility, and wisdom are not so easy, and they get right down the heart of the human condition. Gatto puts this in the context of American Christianity, relating it to original sin. The penalties attending expulsion from the Garden of Eden are work, pain, free will, and death – and each one of these is a burden for every single individual, and the path to fulfillment and a happy life.

Then Gatto breaks these four down. There are all the ways we try to avoid these penalties in our modern, corporate culture – pain pills, denial of aging, lack of morality, work is a nasty four-letter word, and a lot of it is meaningless pencil-pushing. Then there are the meanings he ascribes to these in the concept of original sin.

"On work: Work is the only avenue to genuine self-respect. Work develops independence, self-reliance, resourcefulness, and character. Without real work we will inevitably find despair, no matter how much money or power we have. Work … produces spiritual rewards unrelated to the reinforcement schedules of behavioral psychologists, but only if we tackle it gladly, without resentment."

"On pain: Pain is a friend, because it forces our attention away from the world and refocuses it squarely on ourselves. Pain of all sorts is the way we learn insight, balance, and self-control. The siren call of "Feel good!" lures us to court desirable sensations and to despise pain as a spoiler of pleasure. Pain, however, is the road to self knowledge."

"On good and evil: In a spiritual life everything is morally charged; nothing is neutral. Choosing between good and evil is a daily effort, but taking responsibility for your choices makes you fully alive. … When we intensify our moral awareness, everything becomes a big deal."

"On aging and death: This world is only a stage in some longer journey we do not understand. To fall in love with our physical beauty, wealth, health, or capacity for pleasure is to kid ourselves, because all that will be taken away. … The only thing that gives our choices any deep significance is the fact that none of this will last. Awareness of mortality gives relationships an urgency, makes our choices matter."

And to sum up: "The best lives seem to be full of contemplation, solitude, and self-examination; full of private, personal attempts to engage the riddles of existence, from the cosmic mystery of death to the smaller mystery of exchanging secrets with a cat. … What constitutes a good life is clearly spelled out: self-knowledge, duty, responsibility, compassion, acceptance of loss, preparation for death."

In other words, things we must do for ourselves, which no teacher can do for us.

To be continued…

Pokemon

Lately my kids have gotten interested (I refuse to use the word "obsessed") with Pokemon cards. They bought some, then traded with a neighbor for more, and in only a week or two have accumulated a pack of about a hundred cards, which they play with frequently. They're so enthusiastic they managed to talk me into a game, and taught me how to play. They even checked a Pokemon comic book out from the library.

I wish I could be more enthusiastic, but the game left me cold. At first glance, it seems too ambiguous. (Funny for me, the queen of ambiguity!) Or maybe just arbitrary. Or I have trouble discerning the pattern of it, which I find disturbing. But I think most of all it's the level of implied violence.

This came into much clearer focus when I read the comic to them. The premise was that a strong criminal was stealing Pokemon from a group of peaceful kids, led by an old man, who kept their Pokemon from battle. The peaceful Pokemon thus could not evolve, and the peaceful peopole were helpless victims of violence. A kid who got his Pokemon into frequent battles comes along, and through a series of adventures nearly gets killed, and his Pokemon nearly gets killed with him. But this level of violence stimulates the kid's Pokemon to "evolve" to a bigger, badder, more violent … creature. The Pokemon saves the kid's life, and together they go back and kill the strongman and his Pokemon.

It is this concept that violence is necessary for improvement, and that the most violent, brutal creature is the most evolved creature, that I find so disturbing. From my own Christian background, raised to emulate the peaceful example of Jesus, to my deep admiration for Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, and Julia Butterfly Hill, to my current nonreligious spiritual efforts and imperfect study of Nonviolent Communication, this is antithetical to every value I hold dear, and to my own concept and philosophy of what is useful and healthy in life. When I see the concept of violence embodied in Pokemon, I fear that the generation of children we are raising will be unduly influenced toward the habits, philosophies, and mindsets that that have caused so much grief and pain in our world.

It is a test of faith, I suppose. I'm not willing to tell my kids they can't have them. The need for choice is too strong, and I would rather risk the influence of this insidious philosophy than provide an example of violent force by taking it away from them. I find instead, that I must trust – not only them, but the parenting that Kristin and I provide, and the Universal Love that inspires every human heart. I must trust that, given the example and comparison of these competing philosophies – that the most violent is the most evolved vs. that the most nonviolent is the most evolved – my children will choose the path that I hold dear. And if they don't, at least I have given them the freedom to make that choice.

I think they will make the choice I would prefer, ultimately. They're aware that Pokemon is a game, and that even the comic book is just fantasy, albeit a fantasy that I find profoundly disturbing and abhorrent. In the atmosphere of this family, and the unconditional love that nature and their parents provide, they are thriving.

But I'm not going to read that comic book again.

Depravity Catch-22

Jose answered my request for clarification mentioned a couple of posts ago, and in his explanation included this quote:

"The disfigurement of the human body through piercing and tattooing is depraved activity. The mutilation of the body through dismemberment, castration, etc., to become what one is not, is even more depraved."

The implications of this quote are interesting. What exactly is "disfigurement"? Does this standard include pierced ears and plucked eyebrows, or are those beautifications of the human body? I don't know, and it doesn't make much difference to me where he draws the line, because it does seem pretty clear that Jose is referring to people like me, and that he would include the facial laser and electrolysis that has removed my beard and the hormone therapy that's done such a great job of growing breasts, softening skin, and redistributing body fat. Which makes me a full-blown member of the "pro-death and depravity" culture.

It's when I see things like this that I'm very grateful for NVC. It's pretty easy to guess that Jose has needs for sanctity, predictability, and probably beauty that aren't met when he looks around and sees people getting tattoos and sex-reassignment surgery. What's not to like about those needs? Is there anyone out there who doesn't share them? I know I have them, in spades, though I'd choose to meet them in a different way. So, as I empathize with the needs behind his judgment, I feel not hurt, not angry, but sadness that my own need for being understood isn't met. It's a good, clean sadness, and a small one, because that need is met so thoroughly in so many other ways in my life.

I also find this interesting for the Catch-22 it sets up for me. (Not that I'm embracing it! I'm just fine as I am, thank you.) I didn't start the process of transition out of any desire for depravity – if anything, quite the opposite. Nor do I or anyone I know choose transition for the fun of it, because believe me, it's not fun. We do it for survival. When I reached the point where I simply could not go on as I was, I chose transition because the only other choice I could reasonably make was suicide or psychic anesthesia*. The result has been completely positive in my personal life and primarily positive in my social life. My kids like me better, most of the people I know like me better, I have more friends, the genuinely depraved sexual fantasies that used to torment me are gone, and the list of benefits goes on and on.

So Jose would leave me with no choice except depravity. Suicide, drunkenness, or transition. And I suspect he's not alone. I'm guessing it is this judgment that makes so many Christians despise transpeople.

I have no doubt, though, that he would not recognize this as the choice offered. I'm guessing he'd say there was also the choice to live as a godly man, that prayer and fasting would "cure" me, or something like. That's okay. He can't see my heart, and he has no idea of reality in which I've lived my life. But it's sad, because it prevents him from bearing witness to the beauty and travail that are my life. It's sad because it's a judgment that prevents understanding and withers compassion.

*psychic anesthesia is alcohol and drugs - those things that point the way to oblivion.

No on 8

There are times when you simply have to stand up for what is right.

I have embraced this issue before on this blog, but the issue then was abstract. Prop. 8 is specific and concrete, and it impacts human lives.

My legally married lesbian blog-friend Sara is in California to fight for marriage equality, and she wrote this beautiful, passionate plea.

When I engaged with opponents of marriage equality earlier, I asked them how allowing gays to marry would hurt them. None could give a satisfactory answer. They replied in abstractions – pointing to the dictionary, as if words on paper were more important than human lives and families. Or pointing to the Bible, as if their personal religious convictions gave them the right to make choices for other people, despite the clear language in the First Amendment to the United States Constitution forbidding the establishment of state religion. Now it seems that the best argument they can come up with is that granting marriage equality will somehow "neuter" their own heterosexual marriage. How? They can't answer. So they lie. In fact, granting marriage equality raises marriage from a privilege to the solid dignity and sacred power of a right, and so empowers heterosexual marriage as well as homosexual marriage.

A dear friend of mine in California – a woman who has dedicated her life to improving family relations and communication for all parents and children (my god, that sounds so cold, relative to the warmth and power of her love) – wrote in a letter recently, that her heart was breaking at the thought of losing her marriage. She married 12 years ago, and remarried, legally, on her twelfth anniversary. This is a woman who has saved countless marriages, through her teaching and work. My heart is breaking, too, as I write this, at the thought that her own marriage may be stolen.

Please, let's put an end to this fight, and go on to deal with the really serious problems our nation faces. If you can, go to http://www.noonprop8.com/ and make a donation. Call anyone you know in California and ask them to vote NO on 8. And if you're in California, please, vote for equality for all.

Proposition H8 is not the end – it is only the beginning. Every time something like this happens, we feel more energized, more convicted, more determined. We are not going away. We, your lesbian, gay, and trans neighbors, will continue to laugh, to love, to raise our families, and fight for equality.

Peace.

Socialized Medicine? Let’s Do the Math (or at least make some conservative estimates)

With our health infrastructure crumbling, 50 million folks without health insurance, and a growing sense of urgency, you frequently hear about the evils of "socialized medicine." So I thought, let's take a closer look. Let's do the math, and see just how bad we'll get ripped off if we nationalize health insurance and adopt a single-payer insurance system like what France or Germany or Sweden or Japan or some other backward, socialist liberal country does. Sure and if we do, our health system will go right down the tubes and be like theirs, huh?

Oh, wait. Their systems are all rated LOTS better than ours. Though we do pay about 2.5 times as much, per capita.

For simplicity's sake, I'm just going to figure this as if we expanded Medicare to include everyone. After all, we've already got socialized medicine, which by law is required to try to make itself competitive with private insurance. This is tough, since Medicare operates at about 3% overhead, and private insurers operate at 12% t0 30%. So, by law, Medicare is not allowed to negotiate drug prices, it excludes a huge number of people based on age and ability, and they've got tons of complicated, stupid paperwork that drives health providers nuts and makes them hesitate to accept Medicare patients.

So, my employer pays about $6.35 per hour that I work into private health insurance. Under Medicare, I'd save, conservatively, 10%. (6.35x.1=.635) So, right off the bat, I get a 64 cent raise. Cool.

Then the math gets more complicated. For instance, I know that there will be 50 million more people with health insurance, but how many of them would be taxpayers? I don't know the details well enough – does that number include kids and workers, or just workers? Either way, it's going to spread the premium base, and so bring down the cost. Let's call it another 10 cent reduction in my share. Now I've got a 74 cent raise.

But folks that are uninsured now will have access to regular checkups and wellness programs, so overall emergency room costs will go way down. I don't know how to account for this mathematically, either, so let's conservatively take another 10 cent reduction in my share. And my raise is up to 84 cents.

And what if we allowed Medicare to negotiate drug prices? I wonder how much that would save? I don't know, but it's bound to be significant. Let's say that savings reduces my share another 10 cents. I'm nearing a dollar! (And that's not even counting if we allowed Medicare to negotiate the cost of procedures.)

So what if the paperwork problem were fixed, which should be pretty basic since Medicare wouldn't have to exclude everybody who is young and healthy. That would reduce the costs to providers, so Medicare wouldn't pay as much – say, 6 cents.

Wow! A dollar raise! Just for socializing medical insurance!

What would your raise be?

And how cool would it be if every kid had health insurance? (Real cool, in my opinion.)

Of course, that doesn't account for the fact that the money I pay into Medicare taxes currently goes to cover the oldest, sickest people around – in other words, by adding young, healthy people to the premium pool, my current taxes would go down.

How would this affect health providers? Wouldn't they be totally demoralized by getting paid by a socialized insurance program? Doctors would flock across our borders to work in Canada and Mexico and …

Oh, wait. Yeah, they probably wouldn't. They'd just have an easier time with paperwork. (Believe me, any fix of this nature is not complete without fixing the Medicare paperwork nightmare.) And their liability insurance would probably go down a lot. So their overhead would go down, further reducing costs, and even if their pay got reduced through negotiations, the savings in insurance would likely mean increased take-home.

But you couldn't pick your doctor, right?

Why not? They're all getting paid by the same insurer. Seems like having a license to practice medicine automatically puts them into the preferred provider pool, which means you'd have more choice of which doctor to use.

But there has to be some downside to socializing medical insurance. Right?

Well, it would mean increasing taxes. My share of that would be $5.35/hour (worst case scenario). Which still leaves me a dollar per hour more in discretionary income. I'm actually okay with that. (Some employers might not want to pay out all of their savings on health insurance to wages. So, join a union!) Only Republicans are so anti-tax they'd rather spend lots of money on inefficient private systems and reduce take home wages than surrender their ideology.

For the past 30 years or so, we've been bombarded with the myth that government efficiency is an oxymoron. It's true that government is typically incompetent and inefficient in producing goods and moving them around. But in fact government does excel in certain efficiencies, and one of these is insurance. Social Security, for instance, is an enormous program; yet it operates at under 3% overhead. Medicare is the biggest health care payer in the nation, yet it has by far the lowest overhead of any health insurance company. Continuing down our course of blind ideology to support a myth that the "free market" provides the best service in all situations and circumstances, while the data, both from our own nation and from the rest of the world, proves otherwise is worse than stupid. It's insane. When it means withholding health care from sick people and kids, it's cruel and unjust.

It's also very, very expensive.

Stuff and Poverty

Okay, back to the Peace Conference I attended about a month ago. It was a powerful event, and I met some rich and powerful people.

I met Marshall Rosenberg, who travels around the world mediating conflicts and creating peace. He chooses to live on a poverty income so that he doesn't have to pay taxes that support the Iraq Occupation.

I met Julia Butterfly Hill, who spent over two years living in a tree to save its life.

I learned about Mohandas Gandhi, who gave away all his possessions to live a life of poverty in service to his people.

I met Bonnie Tinker, who lives on her non-profit, and has been arrested many times in nonviolent demonstrations against oppression.

After the conference, as I drove to pick up my kids, I thought about that, and how I couldn't give up my stuff to live a life like that. I've got kids, for god's sake. A job. How could I give all that up?

Like a ray of light, I suddenly understood how I could. It was so clear that I exclaimed out loud.

I can surrender all my stuff in my heart, right now.

So I did. I gave up all my stuff; essentially gave it away. I don't own anything, I just use it. If I lose it, loan it, or have it taken away from me, I'll use something else.

I don't own my house. It's just where I live. If I lose it, I'll go live somewhere else.

I don't own my job. It's just where I serve right now. If I lose it, I'll find a better way to serve.

I don't even own my kids. I love them, sure, but if something happens to them that separates us, I know that they will be taken care of. And they're going to grow up and leave anyway. They're their own people.

A sense of freedom swept over me. What a celebration to have an insight like that! I realized in that moment that I am free. I can make decisions about what to do without fear. And that's pretty darn cool.

Now the only problem is how to keep that sensibility. I've had moments since when the cares of everyday life creep in and take that sense of freedom and choice away, but for the most part, it's been working. I still have that sense of possibility. I've still given everything away in my heart. I'm still free. And I've set an intention to keep that freedom and unattachment to my stuff.

"How Did He Get Here?"

This question was answered by this comment from someone called "Black Diaspora" on Field Negro's blog. I copy it in its entirety here because I found it profound:

"Referring to Obama, a man in the audience at one of McCain's gatherings threw this question out as though it was a live grenade, and paused long enough to watch it explode over and [sic] appreciative crowd of Obama haters.

The question is at the heart of McCain's run for the White House where he watched his lead in certain key states see-saw, and finally trend in a direction that is favoring an electoral victory for Obama.

The man in the audience clearly understood the process whereby this black, inexperienced upstart was now challenging his party's nominee for the highest office of the land.

He understood, and so did the others in the audience.

But the man wasn't questioning the process, only the outcome of that process.

He understood that Obama, a black man, could not have reached his current pinnacle without the help (and votes) of many whites.

Sure blacks had voted for him as well, but in no way would that have allowed Obama to beat the Clinton machine and capture the biggest plum in politicaldom--the nomination of a major political party, and only a November election away from the presidency.

I believe the man felt betrayed. He felt betrayed by a those whites in society who ignored a longstanding understanding in this country that stated it's okay for a black man to try, but it's not okay for him to be taken seriously; he's not supposed to get this far.

He's not supposed to be competing this sucessfully with a white man (He should have been stopped long before now.), and doing it with the help and support of other whites.

What twist of fate brought this possibility, this calamity upon us--that a black man may win the White House, and do so by defeating a white man, a POW, and war hero at that.

It's almost as though some unspoken agreement had been violated, some tacit rule had been broken, some holy icon shattered--that the likes of an Obama would be allowed to enjoy so much political success in this country.

You could hear the plea in his question: we're the heir apparents; we're the rightful owners; we're the ones this country was made for.

And you knew, whether Obama becomes president or not, something unacceptable, and almost hidden, has besieged this country--a disquieting realization that time did not stand still, that what was true is no longer true, that America has changed, it's not the country of our forefathers, black or white, and not the nation of a privileged few, but the nation of a new generation of Americans willing to blaze new trails, and flirt with new beginnings.

Yes, "How did we get here?" "

I'd like to claim my part in the "new generation" Black Diaspora spoke of, and further, in eight years and one hundred days, I hope that President Obama is replaced by a woman.

A New Low for the RSM

We live in interesting times – markets crashing, the specter of extremist Islamic terrorism, and the first African-American presidential candidate of a major party leading in the polls. We also have a long history of violence, racism, assassinations, and domestic terrorism, such as. So I feel a particular disgust with the rhetoric recently coming out of the McCain camp and the Republican Smear Machine equating Barack Obama with terrorism.

This is a tactic that would be disgusting if we had a history entirely devoid of violence and racism. But given our history – given the Birmingham church bombing that killed four young girls back in 1963; given the assassinations of Martin Luther King, JFK, RFK, and even the attempt at Ronald Reagan's life; given the long history of lynchings and the Ku Klux Klan; and given the understandable national reaction to the extreme terrorist attack of 9/11, this goes beyond disgusting. It is, whether intentionally or not, incitement to violence. Members of the Republican Party are provoking an assassination attempt on a candidate for president of the United States.

Perhaps it's just habit, going back to the successful race-baiting tactics of Lee Atwater, through the more recent lies of the Swift Boat campaign. But McCain's strategists are intelligent, careful, and experienced at manipulating voters and the public. I have a hard time believing they don't know what they're doing. They should be aware that 9/11 and the color of Mr. Obama's skin change everything.

McCain and Palin are currently conducting a campaign that is without honor. It is vile. It is unworthy of a veteran and war hero of this nation.

It seems that Mr. McCain is becoming aware of that. I just hope that he can defuse the situation before it becomes something he cannot control at all.

Meanwhile, Mr. Obama, please – keep your head down. Wear a bullet-proof vest everywhere you go.

My prayers for your safety go with you.

Some of My Heroes

• Gandhi
• Julia Butterfly Hill
• Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
• Marshall Rosenberg
• Harriet Tubman
• Mary Baker Eddy
• Sylvia Rivera
• Henry David Thoreau
• Kristin
• Bonnie Tinker
• Lynn Conway

“Unregulated chemicals …

… were discovered in some of the base drinking water systems in the early 1980's. At this time, the Marine Corps is funding health studies to determine … whether or not there may be an association between exposure to the water and certain health conditions."

That information came to me yesterday in a letter from the US Marine Corps, forwarded by the IRS since the Marines don't know where to find me anymore. The Marine Corps is "actively seeking individuals who resided or worked aboard Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune." They want me to call them up and tell them all about my health history.

My first response to reading it was fury. I felt so angry to be part of a scientific experiment, without my knowledge or consent – and I couldn't help but wonder if it didn't impact my gender dysphoria.

Now, maybe I'm jumping to conclusions. Maybe it was accidental, or unintended, and there's nothing here but healthy concern for my well-being.

However, the United States government has a long history of using US citizens as guinea pigs in tests and experiments without consent or knowledge. Hanford. Gulf War Syndrome. The Tuskogee Experiment.

These "unregulated chemicals" were released on a Marine Corps base. Security is generally pretty tight in these locations, and I have a hard time believing that someone just came in and dumped some strange chemicals into the water, and nobody asked them what they were doing. The chemicals may have been "unregulated," but they were certainly known.

And if they were "discovered" in the early 1980's, why did it take them 25 years to notify me, or seek me out, and ask for my health information?

No. My Marine Corps colleagues and I were human guinea pigs in some chemical experiment, and now it's time to collect the data on long-term effects.

I'm not going to call them up and give them any.

At least, not willingly.

The letter ends: "We appreciate your support in helping us reach all former residents and employees as we want to ensure the widest dissemination of information to our Marine family." The cynicism drips off the page.

I felt a lot of anger at first, and some fear – what was in the water? How did it affect me? Those bastards! Etc.

Thank God for Kristin and her NVC magic. After the boys went to sleep, she came and we talked for awhile. I cried a bit, and got empathy and some other treatment she gives that gets to the bottom of feelings and needs. I unraveled the anger to find feelings of helplessness underneath, and she showed me how that anger empowers me by defying the helplessness. And I came out of it, once again, stronger than before.

I am not a victim. It doesn't matter what that experiment did to me, if indeed it did anything. I am in control of my own life, and I am coming into my own, with the power of nonviolence behind and in me. I'm making a difference in this world – a small difference perhaps, but it is there.

I'm grateful.

But I'm still not going to call the Marine Corps up and give them any data.

A Constitutional Aside

I've heard a lot of people say that this country is one where the majority rules. I don't think it's as simple as that. I believe that our Founding Parents wisely established a three-legged stool of government to balance the convictions of the majority with the needs of the minority.

In high school civics class, I was taught that the purpose of the legislative branch of government is to make laws, the executive branch to enforce them, and the judicial branch to interpret them. I think this is really their roles, not their purposes – what they do, not the intent behind what they do.

The real purpose of the legislative branch is to establish the will of the majority of our citizens.

And the purpose of the judicial branch is to protect the minority from tyranny by the majority. In other words, to make sure that any law passed by the majority impacts all people equally; and that the majority cannot make laws that violate the rights of the minority.

This system doesn't work perfectly – the judiciary is too easily swayed by majority opinion or personal conviction – but often it works pretty darn well. A good case is California, where the California Supreme Court made the correct call in requiring that the laws of marriage apply equally to all people. That is the purpose of the court, doing what it is meant to do, doing what it does best.

Discussion?

Thoughts on God and Sex [Revised]

There's an interesting distinction in my battered old King James that is replaced with the word 'homosexuality' in a lot of the newer translations. The word homosexuality wasn't even coined until something like the 1890's, so using it in a Bible translation seems the height of hubris. Anyway, in Romans 1:26-27, Paul says "…even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature: and likewise the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another…" Big-time condemnation of homosexuality and homosexuals, right?

But remember who Paul was speaking to. He was a Roman Jew living in an area that was saturated in Greek culture. Remember what a mentor was originally? He was an older Greek man who accepted a post-pubescent boy to be his apprentice, student, and paramour. Every man was expected to mentor somebody, and every boy expected to be mentored. Remember Sodom? Who wanted to have sex with Abram and Lot? That's right, it was every single man in town. (All the married ones, too.) It wasn't a few women shacking up together that earned Lesbos its reputation.

So who was Paul talking about? Read the whole chapter. It sounds a hell of a lot like a hell of a lot of people. Not just a few queers.

Was he condemning homosexuals? Or condemning people who had sex against their own nature?

Who hurt other people more – Barney Frank, the openly gay congressman from Massachusetts who enjoys a loving relationship with another man, or that pastor in Colorado, what was his name, Ted Haggard or something, who ripped his family and church apart with his relationship with a gay prostitute?

Homosexuality isn't a choice. Nobody in their right mind, in our culture, would make a choice like that, and invite all the hate, ridicule, discrimination, and physical danger of gay-bashing that comes with it. You're gay because that's who you are, and either God made you that way, or God got the hell out of the way and it was a random chance, or God doesn't exist, or God made a mistake. Oops. Sorry, Tom. I got these rules, see, but I just made you in a way that you can never obey them and be true to yourself at the same time. You don't obey them, and I'm gonna drop you into a fire and torture you forever. Tough life, dude, good luck.

It's tough to say with Paul [- at least, it is for me, because I disagree with a lot of what he said -] but I think he [had intentions of helping people live happier lives]. I'm guessing he was talking about heterosexuals. And that would imply that it's a sin for a homosexual to get married and have sex with a person of the opposite sex. That's right. I said that Paul's words imply that sometimes it's a sin to have heterosexual sex within the bonds of matrimony.

(I think that's why Republicans have so many problems holding their marriages sacred. At least when Democrats cheat, they cheat with people of the opposite sex.)

The question is, do we generalize Paul's condemnations in the first chapter of Romans to mean that the problem is sex outside of marriage and individual nature, or do we generalize it to mean that the problem is homosexual sex?

If it's the first, are we furthering the gospel by ensuring that between two or three percent of the population cannot have sex that is natural to them within the sanctity of marriage?

How do we decide which position Paul was taking? How do we gain the wisdom to make that choice? And what is our responsibility to do so, and sit in judgment over our fellow humans? Does Paul, or perhaps Jesus, offer any guidance?

Well, perhaps.

I turn my battered old Bible to Matthew 5:44, and read, "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you."

I flip the page. It's made of rice paper, thin, delicate, and torn from many readings, so I turn it carefully, kind of holding the torn pieces together. And there I see Matthew 7:1-3: "Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye?" I turn the pages again, to Matthew 22:21, where Jesus says, "Render therefore unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's"

(Y'all can have your new translations. I'll keep my old King James, with its beauty and poetry. And it smells good, too.)

Maybe we don't have to make that choice.

Maybe we don't have to take that responsibility unto ourselves.

Maybe we can withdraw from the argument, and let God do the judging.

But wouldn't that mean we'd have to let people decide for themselves who they thought it was natural to marry? Wouldn't that mean changing the laws to admit the whole range of gender and sex into the legal institution of marriage? Men with men, women with women, transpeople with whoever?

Wouldn't that destroy our society?

Um… well – what does it change, on a practical level? Those folks are getting married in their own churches already. They're giving birth, adopting, raising kids, and doing it with legal hurtles we don't have to deal with. But they're making it work. They're signing contracts and living wills that ensure they own their children and that they'll be with their partners in medical emergencies. They're planning ahead and enriching lawyers left and right. They're facing life with courage and passion, and yes, love.

What is our responsibility to our fellow humans – and, for that matter, to the elect of God, our own congregations?

What does it mean to come out from the world, and be separate?

If our neighbors Tom and Andrew want to go down to the courthouse and sign a contract to love each other and raise their daughter together, we don't have to officiate at their wedding, do we?

No.

We don't have to welcome them into our pews, do we?

No.

We don't have to say we agree with them, do we?

No.

We don't have to compromise our faith in any way, do we?

No.

The legal contract that they sign in front of the county clerk doesn't equate in any way with sacred vows spoken at the holy altar of God, does it?

No. That contract is sealed with the "image and superscription" of Caesar (or, at least, the state).

We can, however, stand out in front of the courthouse, and show 'em Romans 1:26-27, and explain that we're really worried that they're making a big mistake, and all those bad things Paul threatens are going to happen to them, and tell them how much we love them and how badly we'll miss them if they don't make it into heaven with us. That's what we'd do if we really loved them, like Jesus says we should, right?

But if we really loved them, would we stop them from passing by and making that mistake? Would we raise a gun, and point it at them, and tell them we'll shoot if they pass through those courthouse doors? Would we join arms together and form a human chain that would block them, and use our greater numbers to prevent them from acting on their own conscience?

Because that's what you're doing.

What would Jesus do?

Courage

I've been thinking about courage lately. It's one of those virtues I've held in high regard for my entire life, perhaps because I spent so much of that life without it. Also thinking about transition, and all that that means and is – a chaos of thoughts and experiences: Sitting on a gender dysphoria panel talking about my life, and one of the audience says, "The two of you have more courage than everyone else in the room put together." Walking up to one of the most awkward and obvious transwomen I've ever seen, prior to my transition, and she said, "It's not courage. I'm just doing what I have to do." Coming out to my sister, and she turned to my brother and said, "I never knew we had a limp wrist in our family." My friend Devin downplaying her own courage after someone complimented her on the way she faces life and surgery.

It's actually a common theme among transpeople, that people say we're courageous, and we reply with something like, "Nah. It's not courage. You just do what you have to do." I certainly feel like that, most of the time. You just reach a point where you're so tired of hiding who you are, of lying to everyone, of loneliness, you just don't care anymore. The truth is better than a lie, no matter how badly the truth hurts. And you rip the mask off your face, stomp it into the gutter, and go out into the world with your self laid bare.

It's not courage that enables us to strip off the mask. That's exhaustion.

But it is courage to show who you are to a world that judges you and hates you because of who you are.

It's the courage of the Muslim woman who dons her head scarf to walk down an American sidewalk.

It's the courage of the black man who walks through the doors of a Fortune 500 company to ask for a job.

It's the courage of a gay couple holding hands in public.

It's the courage to raise your head up in the face of a life that's kicked you around, and living that life – and not only living it but embracing it with your whole heart.

It's not unique, and it's not really all that special. It's everywhere you look – it hides in every human heart – yet too often it's hidden away in a life not fully lived.

When you get right down to it, though – it is very special indeed. And when you're a transwoman, every time you step into the public eye you make a statement of courage. It gets to be such a habit, you don't even notice. It's just life, normal, boring, and taken for granted.

I don't want to take it for granted. I want to cherish it, value it, hold it close and raise it high like a candle lit on top of a hill, for all the world to see. Not to show you I'm special and have something you don't have.

No, I want to hold it up so that you can see what it is, and know that you have it, too.