Lipsticks for lunch, and the 100-days interview

I was privileged to be given an exclusive interview with the president this week. 

(What do you mean, "which president?") 

The following transcript was found in a bathroom at the new official US presidential residence at Mar-a-Lunko, alongside state secrets.

HENCHMAN: Mr President, there's a Ms Richmond to see you.

47: Who?... Is she hot?

HENCHMAN: Well, if you asking if she looks like Ivanka, I guess not.

47: Oh. Well, that's sad. So sad. Richmond, huh? Is she rich? I'm rich.

HENCHMAN: I don't know, Sir. She wants to interview you. Apparently, you've just boosted their ratings or something.

47: Terrific. I do that. I'm a mutual aid kind of guy. Everybody says so. OK, send her in.

RICHMOND: Hello, Mr President. Thank you for your valuable time away from the golf course. I'm here to thank you for your genius policies.

47: I'm a very stable genius. Everybody says so.

RICHMOND: Well, simply put, and I'll keep it simple for you, Donald, just how you like it: not everyone likes your policies, and by everyone I mean everyone in the world, except your MAGA fans, of course.

47: Great guys, my MAGA fans. They're the majority. Huge majority. The polls say it. I'm a great believer in democracy and majority rule. The rest of the world are just a minority. That's logic. So people who don't like my po-li-cies are just nasty. Sad losers. So sad.

RICHMOND: Well, I'm a great believer in democracy, too. It's great when we can all agree with you.

47: Totally. All the great people agree with me. Like you do ... You're hot, by the way. Not a 10, but you can work on it.

RICHMOND: Why, thank you, Donald. Between you and me, confidentially, do you think I'd look better as a blonde? I hope you don't mind my asking but I hear you're experienced with women.

47: Totally. Women thank me for my advice. They all do. Blonde is hot. 

RICHMOND: That's great to know, from an expert like you. Your wife Melania isn't blonde, though, but she must be "hot", too, right?

47: Not as hot as Ivanka. 

RICHMOND: Well, it sounds like a pity that American law doesn't let you marry your own daughter. But I'm sure you can change that. A quick Executive Order, maybe?

47: Sure. I'm good at those. ...You'd look hotter if you were blonde. Oh, and lose the glasses. 

RICHMOND: Your advice is invaluable, Mr President. I'll bear it in mind. And another day I'll ask you about how to achieve great hair and makeup. Before I get down to the interview proper ... how can I put this? Do you, er, need a diaper change? It's kind of stuffy in here.

47: You want to change my diapers? Everybody does. 

RICHMOND: I'm sure you have many sycophants to do that for you, Mr President.

47: What's sick-o-pants? 

RICHMOND: Brown-nosers, Mr President.

47: Sure. I have those. Lots. Great guys. What did you want to tell me about my great presidency? That there's never been a greater presidency?

RICHMOND: There's certainly never been a presidency like it, Donald. I think the whole world agrees on that. You'll recall that Italy recently sent its prime minister, Ms Meloni, to see you. Did you like her? She's blonde and wears the latest fashions and her name translates into English as Miss Melons. And she said she wanted to work with you to make the West great again. What did you think of Miss Melons' call to greatness?

47: Well, she had great melons, I'll say that. Huge.

RICHMOND: *Sigh* It's the answer I predicted. 

47: I'm very predictable. Everybody says so.

RICHMOND: Sure you are. And your position hasn't changed for at least an hour, and we're all very impressed by that. But really I just wanted to come here and thank you. You see, when you and your friends, like Mr Putin and Mr Orban and Mr Kim - funny how they all seem to be guys - all punch down on vulnerable people, like - oh, I don't know - transgender people, say, then all the rest of the free world associates your transphobia with madness, incompetence, dictatorship, repression and randomness and starts to feel sympathy for and support those vulnerable people. So at the end of the day, when the psycopathy of Putin has finally exhausted Russia, as it seems to be doing, and the madness of the Kims has finally starved the people of North Korea, and the narcissism of Orban has finally ruined Hungary, and maybe you've finished wrecking US hegemony and our trust in it just to save your gigantic yet fragile ego from the penalties of due legal process, everyone else will associate state-sponsored transphobia with the all lunacy, failure, criminality and violence that emanates from you and your chums and be more inclined to protect trans people from what they know to be overarchingly wrong, from that chaos that has caused them significant economic, socio-political and military difficulties.

47: Too many big words. I don't use big words.

RICHMOND: I'm sorry, Donald. I mean, trans people may be suffering now, but we will be stronger and more protected when you and your friends are done. 

47: You are fake news!

RICHMOND: Thank you from Sue's News and Views. This is Sue Richmond reporting from the new US presidential residence at Mar-a-Lunko. ...And you really do need a diaper change now, Mr President.

 

This is Sue Richmond, your roving reporter, with the latest political news ...

 

Lipsticks for lunch, or: learn languages with Sue

There were various items to buy that I couldn't get locally so I headed to the nearest big town. By the time I'd done my shopping I was hungry and decided to stop and have lunch at a really nice restaurant which French day-trippers choose to eat at because, let's face it, the French know decent food. 

I chose rossetti. These are a tiny transparent species of goby that these days replace bianchetti, which are the fry (babies) of sardines and anchovies that it's currently illegal to catch as stocks are low. Bianchetti means "little white ones" and rossetti means "little red ones". Rossetti also means "lipsticks" in Italian, because they're also little and red, and let's just say that when you're a trans girl these things kind of buzz round your mind all the time, so how could I resist ordering them? 

Each no more than an inch long, and cooked in lemon vapour, they are very delicate and make an ideal starter. 

Or you can colour your lips with them. Hey, no judgment.

Sue x 

Liberation

 Today is Liberation Day and it is important for me ... and, I hope, for you, too. It's 80 years to the day since axis forces surrendered in Italy and dictatorship and occupation ended. It's a public holiday. 

I went to the ceremonies in Sanremo and joined the mayor and local townspeople, veterans and partisans organisations, civic and military personnel, and the town band, to commemorate liberty, democracy, the rule of law, human rights and those who fought for them. There were hundreds of us and I was pleased to see so many young families, teenagers and students, not just us - ahem - older folks. 

At the war memorial

The Resistance here liberated much of this region before allied forces arrived. It's not exactly tank country, after all, with its steep, broken landscape. Partisans could be anyone: communists, monarchists, anarchists, nationalists, catholics, atheists, policemen, army deserters, shepherds, professors, engineers, women, men, boys... One thing all these disparate beliefs and people held in common was that fascism, dictatorship and repression are the common enemy of humanity. The crowd today reflects that broad swathe of people and beliefs. I see national flags, peace symbols, partisan neckscarves, civic banners, military caps, councillors in sashes, civilians in jeans ... a fluffy dog barks along to that defining partisan song, Bella Ciao.

At the memorial to the victims of the 1943 Cephalonia massacre.

My grandfathers fought, too, and this was also my personal commemoration of their sacrifices. (More on their amazing experiences below.) And my hope that freedom to live one's own life will not be crushed again. There's too much whiff of fascism in the air again now, and in nations that ought to know better.

The parade moves down the high street, Via Matteotti, named after the leader of the opposition to Mussolini in parliament who was murdered in 1924.

 

We end at the memorial to the resistance where the mayor gives a speech quoting Italo Calvino, one of the twentieth century's foremost writers, who was brought up in Sanremo and described his time as a teenage partisan here in his first novel. (I recommend the book.) Students read passages of poetry, prose, letters from death row; representatives of the national partisan organisation and the Alpine Corps remind us why we do this, that resistance continues every day, that calls to treat this as the last commemoration by today's fascists (they still exist, incredibly) cannot be accepted as we are surrounded by monuments to the random reprisals and executions of the past, and that wars, dictatorships and brutality continue today. We're standing outside the very fort built 300 years ago not to protect the town but to repress local rebellion. Its cannons point into the city centre.

Memorial to the resistance, with today's commemorative wreath.

 

The ceremony over, I go into the fort. It's free today. There are the cells where criminals were held, but also political prisoners. There's a photo exhibition on about migrants, people fleeing civil war in Syria or poverty in Subsaharan Africa. They're being shouted at by cops, trying to jump onto lorries passing frontiers, drowning in the sea, shivering in bombed-out buildings... This is why we commemorate and celebrate liberty and fight cruelty and brutality.

A fleeing mother holds her child close under a thermal blanket. This photo is recent, but the image, sadly, is timeless.

 

What my grandfathers told me

I had a grandfather who flew as a hobby. When war came, his business was bombed. Out of work and already trained, he joined the air force and rose to senior rank planning airborne invasions: Sicily, D-Day, Arnhem ... I have a significant piece of Pegasus Bridge memorabilia that commemorates his finest hour. Not content with victory in Europe, he went and joined his brother in the British Indian Army who was fighting the Japanese.

"Defy the beast," he would always say. "Whoever tries to crush liberty and humanity needs to be stopped. I lost my livelihood and six years of my life, but I wasn't going to lose my freedom or that of my family to those who ignore the rule of law. Decency, fair play and liberty are paramount."

My other grandfather was a type of policeman who specialised in corporate and tax fraud. Serious enough work for him and his unit to be issued sidearms. He ended up on the wrong side of the lines, in Milan, where axis forces cleared out on this day in 1945. Because he and his colleagues were the only officials left who had guns, they were given a vague order to "hold the city". Against whom? That wasn't specified. Three days later the partisans entered bearing the dead bodies of Mussolini, his mistress and some henchmen, whom they strung up in Piazzale Loreto. My grandfather swapped his uniform for civilian clothes and went to see the upside-down man who'd himself turned so many lives upside down. He criticised the partisans for allowing the crowd to abuse the bodies, thus providing fascist sympathisers ever after with notions of martyrdom. (Piazzale Loreto has been remodelled from big green square to ugly roundabout, with new buildings over the site of the hangings. This is deliberate so as to obliterate a site of pilgrimage.) After US troops entered the city, he was able to reveal that, despite his official position, he'd been working for the resistance.

As a financial expert, my grandfather always viewed fascists as con men, who rose to power through deception and manipulation, not through righteousness, hard graft and love of the common good as claimed. That bogus image of uprightness was part of the fraud. How apt that the fraudster-in-chief was himself upended.

What is fascism?

It is said that Mussolini's son Bruno once asked over an evening meal, "Dad, what exactly is fascism?" To which the Duce replied, "Shush and eat your dinner."

Academic and writer, Umberto Eco (best known for his 1980 novel The Name of the Rose, made into a 1986 film with Sean Connery) wrote a short essay, Ur-Fascism, that sums it up well. You can read it in English for free here or summarised on Wiki here. Tradition, paranoia, conflict, machismo and crushing of the weak are significant elements, but to me this line of Eco's sums up fascism best: "Fascism was a fuzzy totalitarianism, a collage of different philosophical and political ideas, a beehive of contradictions." That's the impression I get, too. Fascism collects the fears and failings of life's losers and pretends that they are collective strength; it is weak men's ideas of what strong men are. The fact that all these disparate outlooks may contradict one another is irrelevant, and is indeed what gives fascism its power; as both its adherents and enemies try to fathom meaning from this random mix of contradictions, it is busy bashing them all, perpetually. Orwell's famous 1984 "boot stamping on a human face for ever". 

Do you see any close logical ties between apocalyptic Christianity, billionaire capitalism, gun culture, unsolicited dick pics and deep-state conspiracy theory? No? That's OK, Trumpism provides a safe umbrella for them all to thrive under. That's fascism, just like the disparate values of conservative Catholicism, vorticist and futurist art movements that glorified aggression and the force of will, middle-class moneyspinning, hedonistic poetry, Roman history, socialism and military nostalgia were all grist to Mussolini's mill. For Hitler, Jews were both communist conspirators and capitalist plotters. Apparently simultaneously. Go figure. TERFs demand a UK court to define women, but not men, despite the feminist programme to seek equality. That's fascist contradiction, too. 

I've fought this shit all my life. I've reported aggressive and harassing Christofascists to the police; I've assisted getting violent, sexually brutal teachers jailed; I've reported and successfully sued overbearing bosses; I've removed transphobes and racists from my life with and without ceremony; I've assisted people get justice against conmen, exploitation and fraudsters, and against violent partners; I've voted and encouraged others to vote against dishonest politics; I moved to the European Union as I saw human rights in the United Kingdom stamped on... They're all types of fascism, oppression and brutality, and all from the same terrified narcissistic type of person who cannot bear that the false public narrative that hides their shame, phobias, loss or incompetence be exposed. The sheer amount of resilience needed to live in this world of false narratives sickens me. This is why I got up early to go to the ceremonies today. And because I want to live as a free person in this hostile world as best I can and as others tried to before me.

German playwright Bertolt Brecht reminded us in the last line of his 1941 Nazi parody "parable" play, The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, why we do this: "The womb he [i.e. Ui/Hitler] came from is still going strong".

Thanks for reading. Stay safe and free and legal.

Sue x

A pro-trans pope?

 There's a phrase in Italian, morto un papa se ne fa un altro - when a pope dies you just create another one. I.e. life goes on for the rest of us and no individual ever really makes waves.

Inevitably, the papers here in Italy are are full of little other than the death of Pope Francis yesterday. Even the Sports supplement dedicates its first nine pages to the pope's love for the beautiful game. I didn't bother checking if he was into boxing, too, or maybe enjoyed a round of darts, pint in hand. It smacks a bit of journalistic desperation when you try to link world events to your usual news fare. 

But anyway, there'll be a new pope soon. Will he be more open to trans people or be the usual repressive? This past one was supposedly more receptive to LGBT rights, saying sexuality was less important than other issues like war or poverty, but then going and making some ambiguous and pretty anti-LGBT comments, too. Fundamentally, I don't think the Catholic church can ever be pro-LGBT, it's just a question of how directly anti they may become in future. 

None of the Abrahamic religions - Judaism, Christianity or Islam - are into equal status for women. They're all into male dominance. Just ask an Afghan, an Iranian ... or an American from the Bible Belt. As you'd expect from religions deriving from the Fertile Crescent, fertility (whether crops, lambs or babies) is paramount and anything that reduces that productivity - like being gay - is to be rejected. Besides, gentile/pagan/infidel religions often have transgender/eunuch priests, and you mustn't copy anything that lot do. 

A change in attitude in the Vatican therefore seems unlikely to me. Most I have heard from the Catholic church about being trans is that it's just a variant of being gay. And that since Christianity (and Islam) are spread by preaching, that's how people get to be trans and gay - because someone persuaded them to be. Gimme a break!

I don't expect a change, therefore, just that transphobia may be more or less vocal with the next guy in the Vatican. That's right, the guy in the white frock, with lace sleeves on Sundays!

Pardon my cynicism but I am actually one of the few people who has actually taken the trouble to read all the Bible, the Koran, and many other holy texts and therefore I don't hold any hope for understanding between leaders of these religions and trans people. 

(By the way, my experience as young person was that ministers of these religions were often violent men addicted to punishment and physical assault, and to demanding respect rather than earning it. This for me has always tainted their claims that their religions bring peace, love, mercy and understanding. Your mileage may vary.)

 

The good stuff

As ever, Elle magazine is always for us and this week Elle Italia carries an interview with author Lucy Sante who explains how trans people are now the US government's official scapegoat.

I note that many of the general political vloggers and bloggers I follow, none of whom have ever mentioned trans matters before, are all roundly condemning the UK Supreme Court's anti-trans ruling last week. Allies emerge when official justice chooses injustice.

On the same subject, I'd like to say that, although I left the UK in 2018 to seek a new life in warmer climes for the sake of my health, and life where human rights are still valued and protected for the sake of my freedom, what happens in my former country still affects me as I haven't cut ties with my many friends there. So I'd like to thank and praise UK bloggers Clare, Jonathan and Lynn for making a public stand against this ruling at very short notice last weekend. I know others of my friends like Tania were out there, too. Bless you.

Stay safe and beautiful all of you. 

I end with a photo I took yesterday of my friend and lodger Mrs Collared Dove who has lived on my home for years with her husband. She likes to rest on my railings and I enjoy her company.

 

Mr Dove will often come and join her there, where they can be seen grooming each other, chatting, sharing a kiss or just sitting snuggled together enjoying the sunset. A lovely loving couple. I snapped the pair of them previously:

 

Sue x

Queer movie, soggy bunny, and liberation

 I haven't been to the cinema since 2018. Moving to another country and Covid restrictions are the main reason for that. Also the cinemas here have an infuriating habit of changing their movies and show times daily so you never really know what's on. But I was shopping the other day, saw that Daniel Craig's Queer was on just as I was passing a cinema and dived in out of the rain. I was interested to see how Craig is moving away from his Bond role. 

I hate James Bond. To me he epitomises all that is wrong both with masculinity and with the world order. But here's an actor associated with all that now playing a gay man in 1950s Mexico cruising the bars looking for some action but usually going home empty-handed and drunk and consoling himself with cocaine or heroin. In the end he gets off with a young bi man who flits between him and a girl but whom he persuades to join him in South America where he plans to experiment with ayahuasca, an experience that does not, in the end, go well. 

A slow-burn motion picture lasting over two hours with more emotion than motion. It's sexually explicit - a middle-class porn film almost. The queerness of the title refers as much to the frequent dream sequences where we either gain a vision of the character's desires or accompany him on his drug-fuelled trips. Even Mexico City by night is a somewhat misty dreamscape. Based on a novella by William S Burroughs, this was interesting though not outstanding, the emotional story being told as much through facial expression as action. I think Craig was not bad - he plays quite a good drunk, although the gurning at young men is less convincing. Not bad either is his attractive co-star, Drew Starkey. And Lesley Manville was interesting as a mad anthropologist. I admire her for being a mature actress who isn't scared of close-ups of her facial imperfections. The anachronistic soundtrack jarred, though. 

Sue's Reviews gives three and a bit stars. Wishing Danial Craig well in getting other roles that display more versatility than thuggish Bond. And I'm all for in-your-face LGBT themes in this day and age.

A pansy star photographed in San Marino last week. Queer gets three and a bit pansy stars.

 

Rain

It never stops raining. For a location that boasts 300 days of sunshine a year, I think we've had enough wet, grey days since autumn to last the rest of the decade. Torrential rain yesterday brought quite a bit of damage. I'm thankful to the kind motorist who slowed down as he drove through our flooded road so he didn't splash me. Pedestrians appreciate thoughtful motorists. 

Monday is a public holiday and traditionally it's barbecue day in Italy. I have some bunny burgers (a local speciality) and I have my fingers crossed for a dry day. I pity the hotels and beach bars that have seen low bookings for this weekend that opens the summer season.

 

Liberation

Next Friday, April 25th, is also a public holiday in Italy. It's Liberation Day that commemorates the surrender of axis forces in the Italian theatre of World War II. This year is the 80th anniversary and I plan to join the parades and report back. Given that this week transphobia was enshrined in the Hungarian constitution and a court ruling in the UK creates similar difficulties, the fight against fascism and hate never ends. I was raised by a fascist and I'd hope to offer some thoughts on combating that political attitude based on my personal experience and on advice from my grandfathers who fought the fascists last time round.

Sue x

A trans-eye view of San Marino

 Last week I spent a couple of days in the Most Serene Republic of San Marino and it was lovely. If its peacefulness at night is any way of judging, then serene is a good description. It was stunning, the views breathtaking. 

I went for two reasons. I'm curious to see the 7 small European states, taking inspiration from Gina’s Interrail trip two years ago (here). I also wanted to investigate its queer culture, if any, and, of course, its food and drink. I’m also fascinated by political geography and constitutional arrangements, too.  

You’ll recall I went to tiny Monaco in February (here). San Marino is a bit bigger, although it’s still the fifth smallest country in the world in terms of both population and area (34,000 and 61 sq km). It claims to be the oldest continuously independent state in the world, though it’s not quite clear when it could really claim sovereign independence as opposed to just autonomy. Let’s just say it’s been running its own affairs since the Middle Ages and has never lost that: Napoleon didn’t touch them, nor the unification of Italy; only World War II saw bombing and occupation by allied forces despite its neutrality.

The location is incredible: Mount Titano dominates the surrounding land, peaking at 750m (2500 ft), with a sheer outcrop up to 200m (650 ft) high on which the capital is built with its three defining forts.

 

Needless to say the views from the top are breathtaking, with the Apennine mountains south and west, and the plain of Romagna and the Adriatic Sea stretching away east and north. Here are some amazing views.

This is a trans blog so let’s talk about stuff of direct interest to trans people. I stayed in the pleasant Hotel Cesare on the heights of San Marino city and, yes, I did choose this room because of the pink bathroom tiles! 

Although its gay rights are progressive (homosexuality was decriminalised as early as 1865), and they even had the world's first openly gay head of state in 2022, there's never been a Pride event there and there are few specific trans rights. Amazingly, almost the first person I saw on arrival was a British trans woman on a bench on her phone. Now it’s always tempting for one trans woman to try to engage another: “Hi! You’re trans and I’m trans so, hey, we could like totally hang out and do trans stuff together!” But no, we do not do this. We don’t interrupt people on phone calls either. So, blonde British trans lady with phone, I hope you had a nice visit to San Marino. It’s full of young people, school trips and the like, so I’m sure it’s a safe place for TGirls who want to go out dressed. I remained in my everyday andro mode.

Two other things of possible trans interest were in the cabinet of curiosities. (My Lonely Planet guide sees the weird museums as a highlight of San Marino, i.e. museums of vampires and werewolves, waxworks and illusions, among others; the cabinet of curiosities is particularly recommended.) Here are 18th-century wig spectacles that attach under your wig and therefore can’t fall off, and (behind) a wig stand and basin for hanging your outsize wig à la Marie Antoinette. You fill the basin with water and this stops mice and insects from climbing into it. I think both these items are a must have!

This lady with the smallest waist ever is merely aspirational!

As for this item for ladies who need to deal with gentlemen who get too close, I'd say it's a must for any trans club with admirers in!

Although I also wonder if it wasn't on loan from the werewolf museum!

The rest of this entry is about history, constitution and food.

As an independent state it has all the trappings of government, just very tiny, like in Monaco: the government house with chambers for its Council of 60 and its Council of 12, the tiny ministry buildings, the tiny embassies and military HQ, the tiny museums …

The Parliament House

The Chamber of the Council of 60

The Ministry of the Environment. San Marino has all the ministries any other country has, but they're all about this size.

All very cute, but it works.

I enjoyed the local food very much. Where I live, on the coast near the French border, the emphasis is on fish; here, though, it’s meat and I enjoyed cappelletti (like ravioli) in broth, home made and excellent, meatballs in tomato sauce with quantities of roast potatoes, and an outstanding mixed grill cooked before me. The local Brugneto wine is very heavy and put me to sleep immediately I got back to the hotel! Lighter is the Valdragone. I also tried the sweet dessert wine, Oro dei Goti (Goths’ gold) to wash down some really tasty fruit sorbets. All better than the tiny sandwich I was offered on the train there!

A lovely trip altogether. The weather was springlike and I wish I’d stayed longer as I only saw San Marino city and there’s more to see in the surrounding villages. I took hundreds of photos so I've posted just a small selection.

Paraglider above the oldest fort

A bar with an amazing view

Prison cell with elaborate 19th-century graffiti. San Marino was one of the very first countries to abolish the death penalty altogether, in 1865, more than 200 years after the last execution actually happened.

This is what an almost sheer drop of 600 feet (200m) looks like! This fort is impregnable!

Sue x

Hiding in plain sight, with Goth gold

 I'm still on my travels and since I have a nosey relative buzzing around me today, I'm going to make a relatively short post. 

The thing about nosey people, or relatives (who all by definition feel have the same right to know just whatever it is they want about you), is that they actually rarely notice the glaringly obvious. Here I sit typing with my lovely long manicured nails, in my female clothes - flat fronted trousers, tights, blouse and cardigan (nothing glaringly feminine but certainly far from masculine) - and it goes unnoticed. Blow your nose or go to the bathroom, though, and they're all agog! 

In fact, this relative burst in on me when I was dressing and caught me in my knickers and didn't notice those. They're not pink and frilly, admittedly, but they are definitely women's not men's. 

People see what they want to see. I'm finding this method of dressing unisex or androgynously or whatever you want to call it is working for me. I know I am dressed as a woman outside my home even if not presenting as one but no-one pesters me about my being trans. It's a compromise between safety and privacy on the one hand and my daily need to be feminine on the other. I wrote a piece with the same title in the same situation three years ago (here) but I'm now all-in and I practically never wear anything from the men's racks any more. This system won't work for everyone, of course - and I will freely admit that it's not 'me', the true Sue - but given the increase in anti-trans attitudes in certain countries, I mention it as a compromise that might work for other trans people.

I will be writing up my very pleasant trip to San Marino next, once I am back at home. But for inspiration and as a taster, here is some Goth jewellery I saw there that was found in the territory. It belonged to a lady who was not just a Goth but an Ostrogoth living in the fifth or sixth century, presumably a wealthy women, maybe a princess. The original pieces have largely been dispersed to other museums around the world so these are copies in the San Marino State Museum. I think they're beautiful.

 

We've all dreamed of being a Goth princess, right? 

I also tried a local San Marino wine appositely called Goth gold (oro dei goti) which is an amber coloured sweet dessert wine that went very well with my fruit sorbets. Yes, I've been trying the local food and drink, inevitably. A lovely trip with truly breathtaking views from San Marino City on the summit of Mount Titano. Here's the view from my hotel:

Watch this space. Have a nice weekend.

Sue x 

Pride season, purity culture, and the Wotsit of Rage

 I usually end the week with a summary of the stuff that's happening and it's pretty varied.

 

Pride season

Pride Season in the Northern Hemisphere opens, as far as I know, with Sanremo Pride, Italy, which is tomorrow and is my most local event. It's not a large meeting - about 2000 are expected - as this is a less populated, sleepy corner of queerdom. The focus this year is on the trans community because we are most under attack right now. 

I've decided not to go for logistical reasons. It's not possible, even if I get someone to give me a lift, or take a taxi, not to run a high risk of outing myself to the neighbourhood, especially on a Saturday which is the busiest day of the week. I won't bore you with the complexities of the details or my concerns. Much as I am aching to go, I think a better option is to go to a different Pride in this region where I can check into a hotel and get properly dolled up and be anonymous. Yes, that's what it's like for most of us. As one friend crudely put it, you don't cr*p in your own back yard. Safety is paramount. It's also why I did nothing for Trans Day of Visibility earlier this week.

The Wotsit of Rage and the campaign against reality

Last month my opening post was a quote from a British political vlogger who used the expression "about as popular as hedgehog suppository" to describe Trump's popularity among the British public. This week he comes up with a new epithet for Trump: the "Wotsit of Rage", which had me doubled up. For readers outside the United Kingdom, I should explain that a Wotsit is a popular but unhealthy corn puff snack, somewhat orange in colour. (Wiki article and illustration here: Wotsits). 

Personally, given who we're talking about, I'd have said Cheetos would be more apt than Wotsits!

(For information, the vlogger is a guy called Phil who "likes talking about politics" and whose approach is mainly to set up a current affairs topic as an aunt sally and knock it down with reason and humour. He's an old-style UK Labour Party supporter, of which there are not so many these days, so you need to take his stance into account, but he's up-front about that. That said, when I was younger (like, in the '80s, just as a random example), the political spectrum was broader than it is now, yet one was always able to have a civilized discussion with people from anywhere else on that spectrum, which is uncommon nowadays. I find the change to today's more abusive, more rigid attitudes repellent. I'm no nostalgia fiend but previously (1) everyone was genuinely interested in the progress and welfare of their country as a whole, differences being essentially on what was the best approach, and (2) nobody questioned reality. There was no flat earth theory, faked moon landings, 'deep state' psychosis or social-media endorsed narcissism to contend. So I find Phil refreshingly old-fashioned in his approach! His YouTube channel: A Different Bias)

 

Purity culture and rape culture

This week I have been binge-watching drag queen Landon Reid's marvellous ripostes to "creepy conservative men" who contact him when he's dressed in (often exquisite) female fashions because they think he's a woman. They offer obscene and sexist suggestions whilst invariably turning out to be evangelical Christians, usually married or with a strong church leaning, some even having "purity buddies" to help keep them away from "impure thoughts and temptations". It shows how the purity culture, the guns + Jesus + Trump obsessions of so many American men (OK, let's be fair to America, many men from all over are similar) are so closely tied to denigrating, crushing and sexually overpowering women. There's plenty of mansplaining and self-owns along the way. A witty exposé of a frightening trait of our era. Try this typical one:

 

Plus Landon offers makeup tips on how to recreate the looks of female icons like Sabrina Carpenter or Endora, and even male ones like Donald Trump and Ted Cruz!

 

Going abroad (just!)

Next week I had planned to go to Germany but family health issues prevent it. Instead, I will be in Milan again and also spending a couple of days in San Marino, which is the oldest continually independent state in the world, with the oldest written constitution (sorry again, USA). 

San Marino has always been a republic headed by two Captains-Regent, who are colleagues elected every six months in the style of the Consuls of the ancient Roman Republic (c. 510 BC - 27 BC), who were elected annually. In 2022, Paolo Rondelli, an openly gay man, was elected as one Captain-Regent, thus becoming the world's first openly gay head of state. There have been plenty of gay/bi heads of state before, of course (e.g. James VI and I of Scotland and England in the 16th/17th centuries), but not declaredly so.

Sadly, trans rights seem to be lagging behind gay rights in the republic. I will report back.

 

Passenger action group

A couple of weeks ago I grumbled about the collapse, yet again, of the lousy French train service to Italy and the lousier attempts to get stranded passengers a replacement bus, meaning I walked much of the way home (section titled "A night in the mountains" here). Last week two further even worse failures that left passengers living on this side of the French border stranded until late at night finally prompted the establishment of a passenger action group. A cross-border bus, even a boat, might at least alleviate the misery at bad times, and be a competitive alternative on a normal day.

 

Thank you for reading. Have a good weekend. Don't overdose on Wotsits.

Sue x

Trans creativity, March: from punk to opera

 Although transphobia is pretty rampant right now, I don't despair as I see a lot of transpositive things around, especially in the world of the performing arts. Indeed, as transphobia becomes increasingly associated with inhumane, crazy leaders such as Putin and Trump, I expect other better regulated nations to oppose transphobia. I'm coining the term "Posiblogger" for those of us who write positively about trans achievements and progress, which continue apace despite the hate in some corners.

Last month I focused inevitably on pop music because of the massive influence of the Sanremo Music Festival, always an LGBT-positive event. This month I'll focus on alternative types of music, starting with words from a rather different musician, John Lydon, otherwise known as Johnny Rotten, who will be performing in Genoa, Italy, this week. In a long interview in my daily paper he is asked "what is punk according to Johnny Rotten?" His reply: "Punk is fleeing from all those horrible traditions, from uniformity and restrictions, and instead being what you want. ... Punk is being true to yourself and not to a system. That's Johnny Rotten's answer." That did resonate with me as being trans also involves being true to yourself, being what you want and not conforming with the system. 

So as I sit here in my torn fishnets sticking another safety pin in my ear, let me tell you about what gender non-conforming things I've found in the world of the arts this month. Sorry, Johnny, but actually it's mainly about opera this month, which - a bit like British pantomime - has always had a defining tradition of crossdressing roles from its inception. Here are some items I've spotted elsewhere in the music press.

 

Castrato roles

Thankfully, we have banned the unjust and cruel practice of creating castratos but there is a huge revival of interest these days in music from the era when they dominated the musical stage. Such roles are now usually (though not always) taken by women, such as Cecilia Molinari, a leading mezzo-soprano who has shown great interest in working en travesti in male roles as, for instance, Orpheus in Gluck's Orpheus and Eurydice, as Ariodante in Handel's opera of that name, and, of course, Cherubino in Mozart's Marriage of Figaro, traditionally a 'trouser role' for female singers. A female voice and a male voice are never the same even in the same registers so these days there are compromises to be made. There are, of course, high male countertenors who sometimes take female roles. (Whole books are written on this so we'll keep the topic short this brief here.)

 

Islam and the West

Interestingly and encouragingly, a traditional female role, the Duchess of Crakentorp in Donizetti's La fille du régiment was taken by a man in the latest production at the Muscat opera house in the Sultanate of Oman, an islamic state. Islam is uneasy with things that in the West attract little notice, such as open signs of affection or consumption of alcohol, so producers of Western opera have to tread carefully with certain scenes with kissing and booze to avoid local censorship. Nominally at least, modern Islam also disapproves of heterodox sexuality and gender expression (the Koran itself seems to me to be somewhat less squeamish) so given the gender bending that's always been inherent in opera, this recent acceptance seems a positive sign that the less fundamentalist corners of Islam might be mellowing further as regards gendered roles. 

 

Contemporary opera and productions with gender nonconformity

Here's a brief run through other opera productions this season that involve crossdressing/trans/gender-nonconforming roles:

- Olga Neuwirth, a contemporary Austrian composer, whose 2019 opera Orlando, based on the ultimate gender switching novel by Virginia Wolfe, continues to see this acclaimed work of hers performed.

- Romain Dumas, another contemporary composer and conductor, is still awaiting the opportunity to have his opera Les mirifiques aventures du Chevalier d’Eon (The Amazing Adventures of the Chevalier d'Eon) performed. The Chavelier d'Eon is, of course, Charles or Charlotte de Beaumont, Louis XV's diplomat and spy and something of a patron saint of the trans community. 

- Another contemporary composer, Mikael Karlsson, has written the opera Fanny and Alexander, based on the Ingmar Bergman film. Its recent, sold-out world première saw countertenor Aryeh Nussbaum Cohen as genderless character Ismael. The opera is in English and here is Ismael's scene (15 minutes):

 

(I'm pleased that modern "classical" music is moving away from the dissonance that was so prevalent when I was younger! I like the background graphics here, too.)

- a new production of Les Brigands by Jacques Offenbach (1819-1880) - best known for composing the can-can! - is in decidedly queer mode in Barry Kosky's "divine" production playing in Paris this summer. Here's the trailer:

 - Just as an illustration of the typical crossdressing fun of opera, Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971) wrote a short one-act comic opera Mavra in 1921-22, which a recent production has twinned with the better known one-act comic opera Gianni Schicchi by Giacomo Puccini (1858-1924) - the one with the famous aria O mio babbino caro - as part of last year's centenary commemorations of Puccini's death. In Mavra, a girl smuggles her lover into her home disguised as a female cook. 

So if you're trans and can sing, you might want to consider a career in opera! There's plenty of scope for alternative gender expression just in this season's offerings, as you can see. For more on this theme, I also wrote about opera and musical theatre six months ago here: Trans Creatives, October '24.

 

Nest month there'll be more on the visual arts. If opera isn't your thing and you've been missing painting and sculpture, I can recommend beautiful Franziska from Frankfurt's recent post about her visit to an art student exhibition in Düsseldorf, Germany, here: Weekend trip crossdressed: the class of 2024. 

Sue x

Underwear on the line, or the girl who kept goldfish in her shoes

 So it's been much more like spring this week ... apart from short, sharp showers that the weather men have not predicted. One evening I had to rush out to gather in my washing in as a heavy shower hit and, although I succeeded in keeping the washing reasonably dry, my shoes got quite wet. Ballet flats have low gunwales! They weren't properly dry by next morning so I left them outside in the sun. A dry day was promised and so I went out shopping for a couple of hours ... and another shower hit. When I got home my shoes were full of water! I could've kept small fish in them! These weather men have a lot to answer for!

They're dry now and don't seem any the worse for the experience. The goldfish order has been cancelled.

I'm also able to dry my - ahem - more feminine garments outdoors now because of the improved weather and the fact that the partition between me and mini-Trump next door has been fully mended and filled at last. Before that, my outdoor washing was pretty much visible to anyone next door and you don't want anything too obviously feminine being seen if they think you're a guy. Avoid awkward questions is my policy.

I'm afraid my slimming drive has been a bit of a failure recently. Ongoing poor weather over the month has resulted in a need for large quantities of chocolate to keep up the spirits. It's the only remedy!

 

So I'm looking forward to the clocks going forward on Sunday as that officially endorses the lighter, longer days that are necessary for good health.

Also, I decided to eat lunch out one day at my favourite restaurant and they were hosting a party that evening with live music and had produced canapés for it and they used me as their official taste testing guinea pig. That was before I ordered lunch! So kind of a fail there. But given that the lunch was super delicious and they gave me a discount, I'll accept the expanded waist without too much complaint. By the way, fresh salmon marinaded with tangerine sounds weird but is amazing.

They often do live music there, in fact, and have photos of lots of music stars who've graced the Sanremo Festival and local music clubs over the decades. I daren't reveal my ignorance of who they all are. For instance, I just call this photo of theirs, "the guy who trod on a Lego". 

As mentioned last time, I've been going through this blog to save it in case of any need to migrate. At the same time, I've been continuing to go through it methodically adding labels to posts and mending broken links where possible. There are over 700 posts so this takes time!

 

Looking ahead

This weekend I shall be observing the partial solar eclipse (safely - never look directly at the sun), planting chillis, lavender and more herbs, and maybe I'll do my face and hair properly. 

I've just booked a trip to San Marino for the week after next, another location on my planned tour of microstates. 

 

A dip in the archives 

Going through my blog reminds me that I haven't posted a dip into the archives for a while. Here's a post from November 2012 describing meet-ups with other girls in the bars and Indian restaurants of Brick Lane, London, with recent updates on venues and websites. 

Link: The Brick Lane Set

It's partly a tribute to my fun friend Ann Drogyny (in red) who passed away last year. Gone but not forgotten.

Have a good weekend.

Sue x

Spring cleaning ... in more ways than one

 How to do business with the USA if you're trans. 

This week the weather has improved a lot and there's a new smell in the air here, of warm beach. I sensed it as I walked along the promenade in the sunshine today. It's time to open the windows and get the garden furniture out. I've been able to eat my lunch outdoors every day since Sunday, at last. Normally here you can do that quite a few times over the winter but not this year, as I have already lamented.

 

We have a bumper crop of oranges outside the front door this year. Sadly, they're the bitter ornamental variety and no good for eating. But they look jolly.

So yes, it's time for spring cleaning, planting herbs and generally getting busy. First, though, I've decided that my working time over the next week will be dedicated to completing the saving of this blog in an alternative format in case it needs to migrate. So far Blogger has been run by Google and I use Apple products and these companies are still, as far as I can judge, the more hippy, less Trumpy ends of the US IT industry, so I don't expect an immediate problem. But it's clear that the USA is going to pot fast so I'd like to be sure of my continued existence in electronic media. Frankly, the sooner the rest of the world can dump its reliance on US products and services, the better. There's a huge potential for European and South Asian development in the IT and other sectors now; an unexpected windfall. 

I'm no longer bothered about having lost my Facebook account to hackers six months ago. Given that Facebook's focus was increasingly on adverts or clips that might be of interest rather than what my friends were up to, and given the Zuckster's increasing cuddling up to Trump, and given the harvesting of personal information that's always been FB's policy, I think it's time to dump it and US-based social media sites like it. They're not very safe. As one alternative with a trans focus, I'm thinking of getting more active again on TV Chix, a UK-based trans forum that I didn't use to like much as it was quite sleazy once but seems less so now. There have been some good suggestions for other sites and platforms from other trans bloggers recently, like Izzy here and Lynn here.

I'm sorry for American readers of this blog, who are pretty well adjusted and humane to judge by their comments and other reading preferences, and who probably share my disgust. But the reality is that US tech lords' current bullying, spying on, threatening customers or encouraging threatening situations are actually bad business moves. As American businessmen of Trump's generation are so fond of saying with a shrug when they ruin a community by shutting down its main source of employment or terminating a useful service: "it's just business". Or even "it is what it is, cupcake", a phrase beloved of The Donald, which he cheerfully uses with a shrug on occasions such as his brother dying or the pandemic killing over a million US citizens. People are quitting US businesses and markets fast right now. But if a country elects a failed businessman to run a government of dysfunctional psychopaths, what can you expect? And if cold approval of suffering is how the US administration approaches business these days, then we shrug at the shrinking US economy and state simply that it is what it is, cupcake. 

Sue x

Dysphoria attack, and getting away

 It's been a strange week. A dysphoria attack, a few days away, a long lonely walk across the mountains at night, and a unexpected miracle.

 

Dysphoria attack

Last weekend was the flower festival with marching bands and flower-decked floats. On Saturday it was raining and I decided to stay in and go to the main parade on Sunday. But on opening the Sunday morning paper and seeing the big photos of Saturday's marching majorettes, female dancers in leotards or fancy frocks, I had a real meltdown. I don't have much body dysmorphia, thank goodness, which is why surgical transition has always been an unlikely option for me, and I keep dysphoria at bay by dressing as a woman every day and enjoying other more feminine items and activities, but some things can trigger real anguish about my gender and for some reason dancers in costume is one of those things. Ballerinas in pancake tutus particularly, but drum majorettes, too, even gymnasts. Maybe it's the skimpy outfits and motions, both designed to emphasize the female form, that thing that I don't fully have. Combined with bad memories of how my sisters were always being packed off to ballet classes, ice skating lessons and the like (none of which they ever took to, incidentally) and I would have loved to do but wasn't allowed to because "it's not for boys". 

Gender dysphoria stinks. Transphobes have no idea and no care.

Go away, just go away. Please just go away. AaaAAurrRgh!!! :-( [Photo tribute: Hugo Martinez]

So I avoided the flower festival altogether, which is just as well as I would've felt pain.

 

A break in Nice, France

I went to Nice during the week. It's not far but the journey there and back is so slow and difficult that it's easier to book an apartment or hotel and stay overnight as they are really cheap at this time of year. This actually saved money as Nice's restaurants are overpriced and I could cook for myself in my apartment. I wanted to spend time in homeware shops and media outlets, see the famous Saleya flower and herb markets, and do a bit more sightseeing. I was partly successful in all of that but even 48 hours wasn't enough. 

Some photos:

The Bay of Angels lined by the famous Promenade des Anglais under a moody sky with occasional divine beams from above ...

The great cascade in the fortress above the city ...

I love the Greek-style mosaics on the citadel, the site of the original Greek city of Nikaia ...

 

The staircase telling the story of Odysseus and the various unsavoury characters he meets, such as the Cyclops, Circe the witch, and sea monsters ...

 

I'll spare you more of these but I loved them. Modern Port Lympia lies near to where human habitation has been dated to 400,000 years ago ...

The Saleya street market stalls are very pretty, including spices, local lavender and soap ...

 

Among other things, the soap stall sold bars made of asses' milk. Cleopatra would approve, no doubt. (Personally, I prefer not to invest in businesses offering Egyptian goods - they're usually pyramid schemes!)

So it was a good little break. 

 

A night in the mountains

It's 25 miles (40 kilometres) from home to Nice as the crow flies (or, more aptly, as the mountain eagle soars, or as the seagull skims the waves). But the journey is always slow no matter what means of transport you choose, and the geography of the area is largely to blame - narrow winding roads, frontier posts, steep climbs, tunnels ... 

I went by train. My journey home back to Italy was awful as a tree fell on the tracks between Menton, France, and Ventimiglia, Italy. This is a normal occurrence, along with rockfalls, floods, etc. and you have to adapt to the dynamic landscape if you live locally. But it's how the railway is managed that is the main problem and French railways have always been arguably the lousiest in Europe. They promised a rail replacement bus to Italy and kept promising and after two hours of false promises I asked them if they weren't just talking rubbish and why were they wasting our time when we could have been making alternative plans. 

Since there are no cross-border buses and cross-border taxis cost an unbelievable sum - more than three nights in a hotel! - I took my suitcase on wheels and walked most of the 12 km from Menton to Ventimiglia up and down the winding mountain road that runs through the steep craggy landscape of the border lands where the Alps hit the Mediterranean (illustrated in my post here). If they hadn't wasted my time I'd have been at Ventimiglia by sunset; as it was I was mainly walking in the dark. I didn't spot any wolves (though perhaps they spotted me ... and licked their lips as they loped silently along, keeping pace ...) Anyway, the rare bus that serves the sparsely dotted mountain hamlets of the frontier country caught up with me and took me the last 4 km to Ventimiglia from where getting home was easy. 

You may think me nuts but I've always sworn that if you want to get from A to B without fuss then your own two feet are a sure guarantee that you'll get there and within a certain time. 

 

Miracle

And when I got home I found that the crooked mini-Trump next door had got his latest set of workmen to place the new panels in the dividing wall between us, a job that's been waiting for four years and which I was just on the point of asking the relevant arbitrators to intervene on. The job's been done very well and professionally and without a word. He may have sensed my bad vibes or something. This gives me greater privacy and what TGirl doesn't want that?

Altogether a very strange week.

Have a good weekend. And please soothe any dysphoria you may have with a pretty frock and your favourite perfume.  

Sue x