Big new boosts for trans youngsters (and older ones!)

 It's not all bad news for trans rights. Here are three very positive news items from the last few days, ending this month on a real high.

 

Scouts and guides

Italy has a large but very fragmented scouting culture and there has always been a number of competing scouting associations. Some are lay or non-religious or non-denominational and others are Catholic and have a religious component to their activities. The largest Catholic association, AGESCI, has around 185,000 members from the age of 8 upwards, and after many years of discussion in committee, it has come all out in favour of LGBT scouts and guides. So if you are a trans girl you can be a girl guide in their association. And trans boys can be scouts. Although I think girls have been accepted as scouts for some time now anyway. 

"We are not afraid of losing members," says the document issued by the AGESCI management committee this week. "For us the acceptance of anyone and everyone comes first and foremost. We make no distinction between boys and girls." They go on to state that homophobia and transphobia have been an obstacle to bringing their scout and guide packs closer together and that they feel that recognition of LGBT rights within their organisation is non-negotiable.

This is a very big step, and obviously a carefully considered one for an organisation that is affiliated to the Roman Catholic church which is one of the fiercest critics of LGBT rights. This move does follow evidence that people in Catholic dominated countries are not prepared simply to take orders from the clergy any more but to act according to their social conscience, as we have witnessed in, for example, recent referendums in the Republic of Ireland and the Catholic cantons of Switzerland where gay marriage has been clearly endorsed by the public.

 

Young people nowadays

It's always been said throughout history that "today's" younger generation is rude, wild and out of control, in contrast to the past. If you read back through opinion pieces, literature, laws and other texts throughout history, this is a repeating meme. It's something the media have always loved to harp on. Logically, this notion can only mean that Ug and Ogga from the Caveman Days had children who were little saints and it's all been downhill ever since. Really?

I read in the science press this month about several peer-reviewed studies of young people's behaviour and outlook, with reference in some cases to crime statistics, historic school records and the like. A very brief summary of the evidence, mainly from the USA, concludes that young people nowadays, far from being on the road to delinquency, are more tolerant, more empathetic, less neurotic and antisocial, more accepting of others (notably in LGBT matters), are less likely to become involved in crime, take drugs or get drunk than in the past; that IQ is rising and that most want to make something of themselves. This is super positive and it may well be that in a post-Trump, post-Putin world, where our young get to thrive, society could be really good.

Just as a footnote on this theme, my grandfather wrote some memoirs of childhood (which he didn't publish, sadly), about growing up in the Nineteen-Teens around the time of the First World War when he and his many siblings used to be pretty wild, playing all sorts of irresponsible pranks and doing dangerous stunts, like picking the lock of the firearms cupboard where rifles for the local Volunteer Training Corps were kept and shooting the fire station bell to make a satisfying clang all over the neighbourhood, or devising a flame-thrower from a garden sprayer that burnt the rose bushes to ash, or riding round on a motorbike wearing monkey masks and doffing their hats to the startled city traffic. Despite this career of violent youthful pastimes, neither he nor his brothers and sisters grew into irresponsible adults. As he said in his defence, given that at the time the grown-ups of Europe were busy gassing and shelling and bombing each other, his generation could hardly be blamed for being a bit wild.

 

Cannes Film Festival

Finally, last week I mentioned a couple of lesbian themed films that opened the nearby Cannes Film Festival. There have been other LGBT films showing there, and very pro-LGBT directors and stars like Pedro Almodovar and Penelope Cruz. 

The one film that seems exclusively dedicated to a trans theme is Cœur secret (A Secret Heart) by Tom Fontenille. The blurb:

Over the last 4 years, Lilou left her secret life behind, becoming a 64-year-old woman who enjoys DIY, gardening, cycling and looking after her grandchildren. As I accompanied her through her transformation [sic], I filmed a family healing its wounds and reinventing a place for everyone. This is my family, Lilou is my father. 

It's not so common to find a view of transition from a child's point of view rather than from that of the transitioner, their partner, friends or support team. It should be coming out in selected cinemas shortly.

 

Long weekend

Tuesday, June 2nd, is a public holiday here so the intervening Monday tends to get filled in with a day of annual leave to create what's called a "bridge". So it's basically a four-day weekend here when life won't be as normal. 

So what's a TGirl to do? Why, get dolled up, of course! I'm just trying out my new black nail varnish and have gone for a vampish look to start with...

 

More photos after the weekend.

I'm also inventing new slimming but filling and nutritious recipes, like this concoction of spinach, chard, escarole lettuce and turnip greens with an egg and some mozzarella cheese, and a chilli pepper thrown in to liven it up. All local ingredients, very tasty and ideal for the season. Here's my dish part-way through cooking.

 

 

Comments

Thank you for all your interesting, encouraging, funny and otherwise worthwhile comments this year. I do appreciate feedback and interaction. The only requirement is to sign up to Blogger, which I've found a very effective way of reducing spam almost to nothing. 

Have a good weekend. 

Sue x  

Why do you want to be a woman?

 Questions, questions. 

I've often been asked "So why do you want to be a woman?"

It's the wrong question. I don't want to be a woman. Being trans is something that I am, that happened to me, that I have no say in, like my genes or skin colour. There's nothing I can do about it. I wish I wasn't trans but there we are. I do what I can with it in the circumstances I find myself in.

"Are you a woman?" 

I'd like to be treated as one.

"What, even though women have worse pay, suffer more violence and are usually second-class citizens?"

Even that. 

"But you have been a man."

We all play our roles in life. Your behaviour as a parent is not the same as your behavior at work or in the gym or whatever other roles you have. You act the part and stay safe.

"But why wear skirts? Most of us women wear trousers."

True, and so do I quite often, but a skirt gives me a more obvious feminine shape, it signals femininity more clearly and, since I've been forced to wear trousers for much of my life, I'd rather have something more obviously different. What we wear is not just for warmth and decency but is also a strong social signal. 

"But can't you wear a skirt for men, like a kilt?"

A kilt is a man's garment and that's not the deal here. 

And so on. I've been interrogated like this many times, usually by women, some out of curiosity, some more aggressively. It's sometimes hard to judge what is interest expressed poorly and what is rude intrusion.

"What's your real name?"

Sue.

"No, I mean your real name."

Still Sue. 

"So, like, have you had the operation?"

Have you always been rude? 

Is this how you normally approach strangers?  

It gets boring, sometimes weird, always uncomfortable, and sometimes nasty. As trans people, I think we've all been there. If you're not trans, please simply get to know your trans person in a normal way, and the answers to your questions will doubtless emerge in due time.

 

Blue nails, and other colours

So I've been experimenting with new nail varnishes and I tried the blue one, a colour I've never used before. But blue is for boys, right? (see conversations above.)

 

It needed two coats as it was very watery, which is one downside of getting a cheap one. The upside of getting a cheap one is that you don't lose much money if you don't like it, and so far I don't like it.

I want to try it with some sporty grey leggings and a matching blue top just to see if it works better in a casual context but the weather's been a bit too hot for that. It should cool a bit by the weekend and I'll try again.

Actually, the weather is reasonable for late May here, about 30C, and not as bad as some other places in Europe, but it hit very suddenly. Even I like a slow run-up to hot weather, or cold for that matter.

Anyway, the plants are loving it and there's a riot of colour in the hedgerows here and on plants clambering over the lampposts.   

 

I think my nails might look better with one of these shades!

The statue of Spring on the promenade:

 

Sue x  

On the trail of the authentic French maid

 I’ve just spent a few days in France and I came across a couple of French maids. 

One was alive and well and cleaned my hotel room. The other was a dummy in a museum. Neither was wearing the classic French Maid outfit so beloved of TGirls, hen parties and the like. 

Live maid was very slim and wore a sensible top and leggings. It’s what I wear at home for cleaning, too, though I envied her slim frame. 

(That, Sue, is because she does hard physical work all day, and isn't slouched over the computer stuffing her gob with chocolates.) …Sorry, the voice of my Inner Valkyrie interjecting there.

As for dummy maid, well, here she is. 

None of that black minidress stuff. So I don’t know where the modern concept of the French maid came from.

This was in the local museum in Fréjus in Provence, which had a lot of other nineteenth-century female outfits, which I am happy to copy here since I know it sets some readers' hearts a-flutter. Here in Provence a lace cap and lace shawl were essential, though. I like lace myself (see final pic).

Fréjus was very interesting as it used to be a Roman naval base. Despite the huge number of Roman remains scattered everywhere, from harbour walls with a complete lighthouse to monumental gateways, theatre, amphitheatre, aqueduct, and a fort that was so solid it was used again as such in World War II, the town makes very little of it all. There’s scope for a Roman theme park here, especially as it’s where Cleopatra’s fleet was moored after the Romans had captured it. Throw in Astérix, too, if you like!

Roman harbour wall with lighthouse

Aqueduct in a local park

           

Roman tower that's now a block of flats

 

The quays at the new marina are named after the commanders of that war: Cleopatra, Antony, Agrippa … and there are some modern sculptures celebrating the Pelagos Whale Sanctuary, which covers a large section of the Northern Mediterranean. The whales like it here as the water is somewhat cooler than the rest of the Med, which must surely be a consideration if you have to go around with a blubber overcoat. 

For British readers, this is where Agricola, one-time Roman governor of Britain was born.

On a strangely related note, supermarkets in the Med usually have an out-of-the-way rack with “weird” foreign foods like baked beans, soy sauce, maple syrup, tacos and the like, but here at the Intermarché all this stuff, from ramen noodles to pickled gherkins, is labelled “Anglo-Saxon products”.

That made me laugh. Doubtless, Agricola would have approved. Barbarians are all much the same, right? 

Although the nearby Cannes Film Festival has opened with two films on love between women, La Vie d’une femme and Nagi Notes, I didn’t spot any LGBT history in Fréjus, despite having my regular travelling companions, Luggy the LGBT Crab and Lizzy the Lesbian Lobster, to sniff these things out. But here’s Luggy at the Roman arena, ready to take on the gladiators.

There were plenty of hybrid medieval critters painted in the rafters of the cathedral cloister, though. Being neither one thing nor another is a bit similar to being trans sometimes.

And I did have a nice moment when I stopped for a shop owner on the pavement who was taking photos of two prettily dressed models in the doorway of her boutique. “Merci, madame,” she said to me. Despite my having no fem hair and makeup, something made her recognise my status. No, don’t apologise, I’m happy with “madame”.



The food blog

This being France, I wanted to make it a bit of a gastronomic trip, too, and treat myself to some really good food even if it stretched my budget. 

The local cuisine is both meat and fish based, with plenty of fresh vegetables. The best restaurant was L’Amandier where I had a lovely smoked trout and goat’s cheese starter, slow-braised chicken breast, basil gravy and spring vegetables that was amazing, and a banana sorbet with chocolate tart to finish. I had no idea you could sorbet a banana but evidently you can. I must experiment. Nice local white wine, too, and pleasant, unhurried service. Incidentally, the lady in charge had the most beautiful, multicoloured, pleated, floaty, three-quarter length skirt and I really want one like it. 

Autres Ray’son is another specialist in local recipes. A friendly place where I enjoyed a good fresh salad with ham, some grilled fish (not so keen on the garlic rice, though), and a fabulous ice-cream sundae. Also nice was Brasserie Hermès in the pretty main square where I enjoyed the day’s special of pork terrine with crunchy bread, followed by a good veal escalope with mushrooms, and a perfect chocolate mousse. Efficient, friendly service there, too. And a nice location near the mini cathedral, town hall and fountain:

There are few ethnic restaurants in Italy so I take advantage when I go to France. Le Mahana’s Polynesian fried chicken in sauce with an exotic salad was delicious. Great cocktails there, too. 

Vietnamese cuisine is one of my favourites and Viet d’Azur had some nice nems (like spring rolls), and an excellent noodle dish with pork and mixed veg. As for the shredded iced coconut, that was special. Give me coconut and I’m your friend for life! 

By the way, although I rarely drink beer, the relaxed Old School pub by the harbour has an excellent selection of Belgian beers and I enjoyed my favourite beer there, Kwak ambrée. Here’s an old photo from 2018 with a Kwak ... and Provence-appropriate lace. Cheers!

Anyway, I’m home now and back to my favourite hobbies of trying new nail varnishes and testing perfumes. More on that another day …

Sue x

Wiggy thoughts

 Hair is massively important. Sure, it protects the head from the sun, but socially it indicates so much. "I am a woman" or "I am a man" is usually the first item on the hair agenda.

The issue of hair is especially important to us trans women, MtF crossdressers, etc. I came to a realisation recently: that all but two of the many trans women I know who have transitioned had their own hair, not wigs. It has to be a serious consideration that if you transition with little or no hair you will (almost certainly) be wearing a wig every day for the rest of your life, and that's a huge outlay over time. Maybe I just happen to know hairy transitioners so it's just coincidence ... or maybe not.

I really need new hair. By which I mean new wigs. Real hair would be nice but nature forbids. Or rather, nature has given me lots of hair but only where it's no use, rather than on top where it would be ideal. Maybe it's possible to make a wig out of excess bottom hair. The downside is that it might keep blowing off! (An old joke, probably from some student mag.)

Sigh. If only nature would co-operate. But then nature could really do with giving me a whole body morph, in which case the hair is just a detail.

I have some wigs that somehow keep working despite being very old. But I must make an appointment with a wig specialist soon to get new ones and look into new styles as I think I need to start considering looks for older ladies. 

My go-to style that I think suits me very very well is the Noriko "Carrie" range, especially in colours like cappuccino and coffee latte. (I no longer drink coffee but evidently my hair loves it!) I like its length, its body and the easy-going flicks and curls that can be rearranged, though it's sometimes hard to keep everything in place, especially if there's a bit of wind. Yes, I do sometimes add a little spray, but too much of that and you eventually end up with a rigid helmet of hair that takes ages to wash, plump and restyle.

 

A photo of the latte one in action:

And a more recent one: 

 

Tidier cappuccino:

I have bought some cheap wigs over the years purely to experiment with new styles. There's no point buying something costly to start with that then doesn't work so well. I appreciate opinions on this blog, but they've tended to come back negative on these looks so far. I do actually like the silver style I play at witches with and maybe transforming into a silver-haired older lady might be on the cards?

 

Obviously, this is a cheap joke shop wig that sheds nylon everywhere and is probably too long but the colour might work in real life, and I like the bangs, too. It certainly would catch attention. As ever, readers' opinions invited.

 

Sadly, Noriko doesn't have physical outlets in Italy so I hope to visit a specialist when I am next in London in July. I used to visit Trendco in Kensington a lot when I lived in England and I really valued their honest advice and unhurried assistance. They now seem to be the London Hair Clinic behind Oxford Street so I'll try them for new advice and fitting. I notice they have my usual styles and colours in stock. 

 

Trips 

I'm trying to have a few days away every month this year, to make up for last year's cancellations due to care duties, and because I'm finding my explorations are proving fascinating. Next week I'll be in Provence again as I loved my trip there in February. This time I'll be in Fréjus. The location caught my eye in the travel guide as it was a Roman port where Cleopatra's fleet was moored after the Romans had captured it. 

 

I hope it'll provide some interesting material, preferably trans or at least LGBT related. One of the local products is asses' milk soap and Cleo is famously said to have bathed in it, so there's that on my shopping list...

Anyway, here's some entertainment for your weekend with the original trailer for Carry on Cleo. Watch out for her poisonous asp! :-D 

 

Sue x 

Colours of spring

 It's been six months since I had a perfect set of nails. I really wrecked my right index finger last autumn. And I mean wrecked: I've never had such damage so as to bleed and have to bandage it for several weeks. And my right thumb keeps breaking and getting caught on things. I'm not sure what this spate of bad luck is all about. Anyway, last week I bought lots of new nail varnishes in colours I've never tried before, so I'm starting to give them a go and see how I feel about them.

First up: lilac. Or Rimmels' "Lovey Dovey".

 

Quite pretty, and it would go well with some items I've got, like this tunic top. 

 

I'll try out the other colours one by one.

 

Beautiful Sussex 

I got back from my trip to England safely and it was such a success that I've booked another trip there in July. Two weekends ago I went to stay with a friend and former colleague (she was my mentor in an office job once). She retired ages ago and is now 80 but you would never guess to see her aliveness and I wanted to see her before she moves North to be closer to her son.

It was a beautiful spring weekend in the Sussex Weald, the classic rolling landscape of Southern England. She has a very pretty garden full of songbirds, woodpeckers, nuthatches and more. We went to the historic garden of Sheffield Park which was vibrant in the spring sunshine. The background photo on my blog was taken at nearby Painshill Park, also designed in the 18th century by Capability Brown and both are classic English landscape gardens that look natural but are wholly artificial. I'm not sure my nail polish can match some of these colours...

Coot nest with four chicks

Five Canada goslings. They're sweet at this age. Then they grow up and become a pest!

 

David Attenborough

Many happy returns to Sir David "Whispering Dave" Attenborough on his 100th birthday. 

Known all over the world as an excellent broadcaster he is also an approachable, personable man. He lived close to my primary school and came and told us about animals one day. He could often be seen strolling to the shops locally in the same bush jacket he wore on his jungle escapades. Altogether a nice, genuine man and it's great to hear he is in good health at such an impressive age.

I'm not sure my pictures of water bird chicks above will win any wildlife photography prizes, but treat them as a birthday card from an appreciative viewer.

Sue x 

Pink Punters: a tribute

 I am very sad to hear that fire has destroyed the Pink Punters night club in England. 

Like many, I benefited very much from the security afforded by a dedicated LGBT venue when I was a nervous debutante. The owner has indicated he will rebuild and I wish him every good fortune in that. 

Firstly, a tribute to the staff, who have also received praise from the fire service, for evacuating everyone without fuss or injuries (it's a big place spread over three floors and a yard and holds up to 650 people). At a time when one of the chief items of news where I now live is the inquiry into the New Year's Eve fire at a not dissimilar venue at Crans-Montana in Switzerland, where 41 young people died and 115 were injured, not enough thanks and attention is given to people who do things right in these circumstances. Owner Frank McMahon deserves praise for ensuring his staff were properly trained and safety procedures operated correctly. I believe Frank lost his home as well as his business in the blaze. All my love and sympathy to him and the staff for the effects on their livelihoods and for the trauma suffered. Also the distress no doubt suffered by the person arrested on suspicion of arson who has now been released. And the patrons there at the time. The human costs of these tragedies is underestimated.

In the first instance, when LGBT people, and especially trans people, are under open attack from UK authorities, the media and hate groups, it was hard not to attribute malice to the fire. But arson has been ruled out by the police and fire brigade and the blaze is deemed to have been accidental. It does follow a spate of smaller fires at the venue. 

It takes a long time to recover from tragedies like this and I have sent PPs thanks for past times and such hope for their future as I can offer.

Pink Punters was a local institution and many straight and cis people in the Milton Keynes area went there in preference to clubs elsewhere in a city that is often criticised for its poor nightlife because they found it safe, well run and more fun. I recall one evening when my friends and I went on a non-trans night and it was full of local clubbers with us TGirls as a minority. That's good, actually, as I look forward to a day when the term "trans-friendly" is redundant and everyone can feel welcome and at home anywhere.

So thank you, Pink Punters, for being the venue where I had my very first evening out in public and attended my very first event as Sue, in January 2010. The friends I met on that occasion are still good friends. The fact that UK Angels chose PPs as the venue for a national meet-up on their tenth anniversary that day is a tribute to the place. I revisited several times and eventually was privileged to be able to accompany other girls there on their first outings. Like Leeds First Friday, Nottingham Invasion, Sparkle and the like, Pink Punters has been a significant focus for the UK's trans community, and the colourful Pink Punters double decker bus is frequently seen at Pride parades and other events (see below). I wish PPs well in its expressed desire to rise from the ashes, like the brilliantly coloured phoenix bird of legend. 

You can send messages of support to PPs via their message form Pink Punters messages, via PPs' Facebook or Instagram pages, or through local LGBT charities. 

I have only a few photos immediately to hand from the days when Pink Punters was a regular venue for me, in the years 2010-2013, but here are some of those I can muster at present: 

PP's official photo of Ange and me, May 2010

With a bunch of girls including Emma W, Mandy, Tina, Helen ... Feb 2011

With Maddy in the yard, Dec 2012

With Tiff and Ange, upstairs lounge, Oct 2010

With Emma W and Mandy upstairs, Feb 2011

On the main dancefloor. There's another dancefloor deep down in the depths of the dark basement for weird types who like to thrash around to louder noise.

Not playing pool. May 2010

Upstairs, Feb 2011 

Upstairs, Oct 2010

With Tiff, Ange and Gayna in the Yard, May 2010

With Emma H, Gina, Tiff, Maddy and Bobby, Dec 2012

Waiting to go in ...

... and returning to the hotel opposite the club.

The Pink Punters bus at Sparkle 2010 (with Emma doing her thing on stage).

Most of my visits there were before I started this blog but I have previously written about three of the times I went, which present as an illustration of what PPs was to us. 

January 2010 

December 2012

December 2013 

Thank you, Pinks, for all the good times. May there be more.

Sue x