How the Other Half Lives

Don't hold me to the percentage of transgender sex workers around the world. Probably way short of 50% but I did encounter a trans sister of sorts almost a week ago a couple blocks from my house.

I live a couple blocks away from a less than upscale neighborhood corner known for it's bar (home to a fatal shooting last summer) drug deals and of course prostitutes.  Just a little insight into why I'm cleaning out and moving.  I've been here for the greatest part of the years between 1978 and now and the area has come and gone with it's inhabitants- now this time-I'm going.

Going I was, when this person walked across the cross walk ahead of me in the street, wearing a red "hoodie" jeans and matching red lipstick.  Obviously a cross dressed or transgender hooker of color. Nothing was coming and as I slowly rolled through the stop sign our eyes met for a moment.  My first impression was to feel total disgust until I thought of one particular young trans woman I met last summer at the Trans Ohio Symposium who grew up on the streets of Detroit and LA when her parents kicked her out. Again I felt disgust-on how she had been treated.

It's likely I won't see her again and even more likely to learn anything of her life.  Just seeing her for that brief second though gave me a brief glance into how the other half lives- and how helpless I felt.

The Wonder of Diversity

Everyonce in a while here in Cyrsti's Condo, as dawn is breaking, (also known as the butt crack of dawn) I have a chance to surf around and visit some of the bloggers I link up with here and who they link up with. This morning I landed on Marian's Blog, Crossing T's and Dotting I's, and read her "Scratching an Itch" post which primarily dealt with shopping. From her blog I jumped to a blog I'm not linked to Call Me Meg. Her recent post "Not Trans But..." caught my attention there. What was that all about?

Marian and Meg are about all of us in some small way as is the less than glamorous trans sex worker who has plied her trade in my town for years. I used to say yikes and ran as hard as I could from believing I had anything in common with her. Who knows though we all may be linked with a transgender gene as yet non discovered? I certainly came away with a different view of some of the poor trans kids who end up on the streets when I met a former one at Trans-Ohio this year. Sure I can relate to the Marian's, Meg's and Stana's of the world because of similar social upbringings but am I missing the big picture?

Two things are certain. We are an ancient tribe which quite possibly traces it's roots to the first caveman who tried on the woman's loin cloth and went out to collect berries instead of going on the hunt for a Mastodon. And, we are a highly egocentric group for any number of reasons. Putting on my "shrink" cap for a second, I think it is tough not to be.  Most of us are hidden in our own closets for so long, it's tough to break out of the "it's my world, don't mess with it" lifestyle.

As normally happens, dawn has broken here in western Ohio as has my dog's usual summer battle with fleas. It's time to hope my back is better and embark on a epic wrestling match at a local self serve dog wash. She is not small, very stubborn and has a very thick coat of fur. A lot like me without the fur!