By Stephanie Mott

“A great many of us, myself most definitely included, have placed our faith into battle after battle where we have tried anything but love.”

The 10^th Verse of the 2^nd Chapter of the Gospel of Luke says, “And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.”

However, the United States is currently on a runaway train, racing toward an increasing inevitable crash in a place that is more like frightening senselessness and imminent pain. This, of course, for all people who have historically been marginalized and oppressed (and murdered, and enslaved, and incarcerated, and separated from their children, and turned away from the table).

So, whatever happened to good tidings and great joy?

By Stephanie Mott

And ultimately, an ideology that says you can determine my gender identity is broken and is causing a lot of pain, and that’s why it’s important to bring us back to what we know to be true and good.

The Kansas Republican Party has lost its mind, and its heart, and its soul. Not that this is news in Kansas right now, rather more of a status quo, but if any doubt still remained, the recently approved resolution on “sexuality” removed any remnants of even the most basic humanity.

In case you missed it, KRP approved, by voice vote, this resolution completely inaccurate and horribly destructive to transgender and gender non-conforming (TGNC) Kansans, and then turned around and absurdly proposed it was the product of love.

By Stephanie Mott I started taking hormones in October, 2006. The first few weeks (after the first two weeks) were so full of feelings. Feelings I had suppressed forever, exploding like water bursting through a broken dam. Feelings I never experienced before, emerging like tender buds, exposing themselves to the sunlight, and offering a curious suggestion of the flowers preparing to blossom. As time passed, I began to understand a little about what they meant to me, and about me. Each a tiny clue about who I’ve been, who I am, and who I might become. Each a veiled hint as to my dreams, my values, and my fears. Each revealing another secret, multi-dimensional puzzle piece of my soul. The struggle of having brand new “fifteen-year-old” feelings as a “fifty-something” woman, yields itself to the amazing awakening to that which has always been. The sadness of not being the little girl, is lessened by the discovery of the woman. The truth cries. At its own inherent beauty. For the lost lifetime of illusion. And from the instant certainty that it can never again be taken away. Still, new feelings reveal themselves from time to time. The most common, the most powerful, and the most amazing feelings are about love. I had no idea. For each of the parts of me, is a corresponding need. There are far more love feelings than I could have ever imagined. Here are just a few. Maternal love. As I arrive home from grocery shopping, and the young man from next door is mowing my grass, and I am overwhelmed by the quite unexpected need to make him a sandwich and give him a glass of milk. As a young woman enters my life, looking for someone to help her find herself again, and looking to me.
A daughter’s love for her mother. Impossible. She died in 1989. But God gave me a new mom. And I am her daughter. Don’t tell me there isn’t a miracle happening here.
Sisterly love. The nuances of sorority are nothing like the “facts” of fraternity. I finally belong to the place where I am – no longer a “misfit in the land of lost toys”, as Toni, one of my many amazing new sisters, would say. Physical love. Sometimes I am near some guy and I get feelings in places I don’t even have yet! OMG. Romantic love. I place my comparatively small hand in his, and a different feeling of correctness travels throughout me. He becomes a part of every thought, as though I have become more, without losing me in the process. He compliments my womanhood, my personhood. To steal (and amend) a line from the movie, As Good As It Gets, he “makes me want to be a better woman.” As years have now gone by, I find that truly understanding my feelings is just another of the multitude of unsolved riddles of life, generally summed up in the one-word question, “Why?” And in its place, comes the understanding that time spent asking is time spent not living. And living is the gift. The spoils of war, as it were. The battle done. Now comes the feeling most pervasive to my existence, wholly unwilling to allow the battlefield to prepare for yet another victim. The struggles are senseless, in that they should never have happened. You will not swallow one more child as I stand silent. As you purposefully destroy soul after soul in some misguided quest to bring light to the darkness, you bring darkness to the light. Your path, from this moment forward, will be required to go through me – and millions like me – all of us feeling the same feelings. It is not anger. It is far more powerful than anger. It is truth. It is justice. It is equality. It is freedom. It is time. It has been said, “to feel is to be alive”. For some, when the feelings are ones of hopelessness, to feel is to die. The most memorable feelings of my life today are these. The feeling of realizing I was not alone – it was possible for me to transition. The feeling of seeing myself in the mirror. And the feeling of knowing I can make a difference. However, in the final analysis, nothing compares to the feeling of feeling without fear – the feeling of the freedom to be me. Stephanie’s columns can also be found at Liberty Press. Stephanie Mott is executive director of the Kansas Statewide Transgender Education Project and a member of the Board of Directors at Metropolitan Community Church of Topeka She can be reached at stephanie.mott@k-step.org or stephaniem@mcctopeka.org ]]>

By Stephanie Mott I started taking hormones in October, 2006. The first few weeks (after the first two weeks) were so full of feelings. Feelings I had suppressed forever, exploding like water bursting through a broken dam. Feelings I never experienced before, emerging like tender buds, exposing themselves to the sunlight, and offering a curious suggestion of the flowers preparing to blossom. As time passed, I began to understand a little about what they meant to me, and about me. Each a tiny clue about who I’ve been, who I am, and who I might become. Each a veiled hint as to my dreams, my values, and my fears. Each revealing another secret, multi-dimensional puzzle piece of my soul. The struggle of having brand new “fifteen-year-old” feelings as a “fifty-something” woman, yields itself to the amazing awakening to that which has always been. The sadness of not being the little girl, is lessened by the discovery of the woman. The truth cries. At its own inherent beauty. For the lost lifetime of illusion. And from the instant certainty that it can never again be taken away. Still, new feelings reveal themselves from time to time. The most common, the most powerful, and the most amazing feelings are about love. I had no idea. For each of the parts of me, is a corresponding need. There are far more love feelings than I could have ever imagined. Here are just a few. Maternal love. As I arrive home from grocery shopping, and the young man from next door is mowing my grass, and I am overwhelmed by the quite unexpected need to make him a sandwich and give him a glass of milk. As a young woman enters my life, looking for someone to help her find herself again, and looking to me.
A daughter’s love for her mother. Impossible. She died in 1989. But God gave me a new mom. And I am her daughter. Don’t tell me there isn’t a miracle happening here.
Sisterly love. The nuances of sorority are nothing like the “facts” of fraternity. I finally belong to the place where I am – no longer a “misfit in the land of lost toys”, as Toni, one of my many amazing new sisters, would say. Physical love. Sometimes I am near some guy and I get feelings in places I don’t even have yet! OMG. Romantic love. I place my comparatively small hand in his, and a different feeling of correctness travels throughout me. He becomes a part of every thought, as though I have become more, without losing me in the process. He compliments my womanhood, my personhood. To steal (and amend) a line from the movie, As Good As It Gets, he “makes me want to be a better woman.” As years have now gone by, I find that truly understanding my feelings is just another of the multitude of unsolved riddles of life, generally summed up in the one-word question, “Why?” And in its place, comes the understanding that time spent asking is time spent not living. And living is the gift. The spoils of war, as it were. The battle done. Now comes the feeling most pervasive to my existence, wholly unwilling to allow the battlefield to prepare for yet another victim. The struggles are senseless, in that they should never have happened. You will not swallow one more child as I stand silent. As you purposefully destroy soul after soul in some misguided quest to bring light to the darkness, you bring darkness to the light. Your path, from this moment forward, will be required to go through me – and millions like me – all of us feeling the same feelings. It is not anger. It is far more powerful than anger. It is truth. It is justice. It is equality. It is freedom. It is time. It has been said, “to feel is to be alive”. For some, when the feelings are ones of hopelessness, to feel is to die. The most memorable feelings of my life today are these. The feeling of realizing I was not alone – it was possible for me to transition. The feeling of seeing myself in the mirror. And the feeling of knowing I can make a difference. However, in the final analysis, nothing compares to the feeling of feeling without fear – the feeling of the freedom to be me. Stephanie’s columns can also be found at Liberty Press. Stephanie Mott is executive director of the Kansas Statewide Transgender Education Project and a member of the Board of Directors at Metropolitan Community Church of Topeka She can be reached at stephanie.mott@k-step.org or stephaniem@mcctopeka.org ]]>

By Stephanie Mott Editor’s note: I first came across Stephanie when I read about her recent educational tour through Kansas. I thought her unique voice would be a great addition to lgbtSr, emailed her, and now she’s with us! Enjoy this first of her monthly columns, and look for an upcoming interview. Stephanie’s columns also appear at Liberty Press. Calvin and Hobbes has always been one of my favorite comic strips. Calvin has a view on life that states without doubt that life is to be lived, and rules are for people who are satisfied by experiencing only those things which are possible if you follow the rules. I am not in the habit of identifying with the male of the species, but Calvin’s ability to see everything through a different lens speaks volumes to me. One of my favorite strips has Calvin hammering nails into the living room coffee table. When his mom screams, “What are you doing?”, he pauses, looks at her and asks, “Is this a trick question?” This said, my most favorite of the C&H comics have to do with the “Transmogrifier.” Wikipedia defines a transmogrifier as “a device that transforms its user into any desired shape.” Calvin transforms himself into a tiger and a whole new world of adventure magically opens up before him. This new world is full of sarcasm and naiveté, discovery and contemplation, and the kind of basic simple truth that we somehow seem to forget to experience when we are no longer a child.
In as much as that I have not yet had gender reassignment surgery, you probably don’t have to guess what I would do with a transmogrifier if I had one. After I had achieved my desired “shape,” I would likely proceed directly to the nearest pond in search of an appropriate frog. This also said, I wonder if the transmogrification that takes place during transition isn’t more on the inside, than on the outside. I remember the quiet little “boy” who sat at the back of the class and didn’t raise a hand even though there was no doubt about the answer. The child who did not wish to draw attention. I remember the weight of putting on my “Steven suit” day after day, year after year. I remember searching for anyone or anything that would change my reality. I remember believing that the possibilities of life were few, and even those that were possible were still just too hard. I walked out of the Shawnee County courthouse today and couldn’t help but notice the way my skirt flowed in the wind. I am still amazed many times each day as I realize once again that I am allowed to live in the world as who I am. I didn’t need to get anyone’s permission. I only needed to allow myself to be free. The possibilities of life are now boundless, and I don’t believe for a minute that this is an experience limited to transgender people. I believe that this is something that is waiting for anyone who can shed whatever expectations cause them to buy into the lie. What happens in a world where we preconceive our experiences of the day based wholly on the experiences of yesterday? What happens in a world where we don’t? What happens when we spread out our souls like the wings of butterflies and do nothing more than let the wind take us where it will? Albert Einstein said, “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” As I ponder the meaning of these statements, I remember what Joni Mitchell wrote, and what Judy Collins sang, “I’ve looked at life from both sides now. From win and lose. And still somehow. It’s life’s illusions I recall. I really don’t know life. At all.” Something happened along the journey. It is no longer important for me to know life in the sense that I understand it. The illusions are not so much what I saw, as what I didn’t see. And I am suddenly thrust into a brand new world. It is full of sarcasm and naiveté, discovery and contemplation, and the kind of basic simple truth that I had forgotten quite some time before. A speaker in a motivational seminar once asked the audience if we saw the glass as half full, or as half empty. Everyone, including myself, dutifully chose A or B. Asked the same question today, I will tell you the answer is C: My cup runneth over. I pause for a moment as I write these words and tears begin to fill my eyes. Not because I am sad. Not because I am happy. Because I have been transmogrified. Stephanie Mott is a member of the Board of Directors at Metropolitan Community Church of Topeka and executive director of the Kansas Statewide Transgender Education Project. She can be reached at stephaniem@mcctopeka.org or stephanie.mott@k-step.org.]]>