Confessions of a Middle-aged Transinista

Somewhere along the line, I became a Transinista. I don’t know how it happened — there was no recruitment drive — I just found myself looking at a photo of myself dressed in combat boots, mirrored sunglasses, floppy angel wings trimmed with sequins and feathers, and sporting a lit stogie dangling out of my mouth. “Holy Jeebiz,” I muttered. “That’s got to be Photoshopped. And I don’t appreciate the moustache.” Now, I think my credentials are pretty good. I’m not a litigation activist, my focus has been on community-building. Part of this has meant learning a lot of perspectives (our community is incredibly diverse), and then trying to teach T-folk what the other groups of T-folk are all about. And learning what I could about Intersex, crossdressers, gender renegades, drag performers, Two-Spirits, non-op transsexuals as well as those who clearly need the operation has introduced me to a wide experience

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