Nursie bites nails

 I've spent the last ten days looking after this relative of mine who spent six months in hospital and who is now home. That's mainly involved my going shopping and doing a bit of light housework for him. His nurse has visited daily to deal with his dressings and check on his health, which is just as well as the only things I know about nursing come from watching too many Carry-On films and that's probably unsuitable training for real life.  

 

Ooh, you've got a big growth there, Mr Boggis. Don't worry, we'll have it off right away.

Given that this morning he walked to the chemist, the newsagent and the bakery himself, I'm thinking that my presence here is now more for the sake of company than anything useful. I expected to be here much of November but I'll be going home for a bit next week. 

I am not obviously dressed as a woman, although I always am. I have to be discreet about washing and drying my underwear here, though, as it's clearly feminine. I got a compliment from him on my shoes, despite their being women's shoes, which made me chuckle inside. 

Last night we watched an old episode of Commissario Montalbano, the well-known Sicilian police drama, in which one character was having an affair with a trans woman. My relative turned to me and informed me, as he does every time any trans woman, drag queen, crossdresser or feminine queer person ever appears on TV, that "that's a man, you know." Apart from the condescension of assuming I need such information, and that the actress playing the trans character (Morgana Gargiulo) is actually trans herself, the transophobia is brazen. I guess it wasn't so bad this time; usually he comes out with things like, "That's not a woman, he's got a penis, you know". The fact that this blunt, bigoted commentary from him seems compulsory every time a trans face appears on TV or in the press suggests the phobia runs very deep indeed, like my father's frothing abuse each and every time a black person is on TV. But all my family are like this, and not just about trans or race matters. To them anyone who is not precisely like themselves in sexuality, culture, skin tone, beliefs, preferences or whatever is a deranged pervert. I assume there is a bigotry gene since cultural and generational trauma doesn't seem to me to be enough to explain all this. 

Trying to discuss or reason with bigots is something I no longer engage in as it tends just to make such people more stubborn in their views rather than admit they've been ignorant or abusive.

By the way, you've no idea how difficult it is to visit trans sites and blogs and write this one whilst I'm in the home of someone who is always curious as to what I'm doing or about to do. Why are families so nosey?

As I said before, I am doing this stint at my relative's home as I owe him a big favour but after this I'll be reducing contact with family even further, and it's not close even now. They're bad people and it's taken me decades to come to terms with that sad reality. I just wish life had been different. Trans people who have supportive relatives and loving households should count their blessings.

I'd bite my nails with frustration but, being a trans woman, having them nice, neat and long overrides that urge. 

 

Fashion capital

I'm in the fashion capital, Milan, and I've been looking in the windows of the Quadrilateral, the main fashion district, for any weird and wonderful outfits or accessories but I'm sorry to say that they're all now already outfitted for Christmas. I do a Milan Christmas fashion post virtually every year so photos will have to wait till I declare that it's Christmas! My blog, my rules!

 

Replies 

Thanks for your comments, which have been very encouraging and kind. We seem to be in a period when I can reply so do keep them coming. 

Sue x