More Cassandra!

I recently mentioned Cassandra Cass and Brianna Austin here in Cyrsti's Condo. Perhaps I should have reversed the lady's names and called it the ABC posts?
Sorry, you know how so I like a little play on words in my little mind!
At any rate (as luck would have it) Brianna just posted a a set of pix and a link to Transtasia on her TG Reporter. 
Co incidentally, check out my lasted post while you are there!
Thanks!

Flying Above the Babble

As I skim the surface of the cyber world searching for Cyrsti's Condo content...on occasion I find a person who uses the written word effectively to describe the trans life experience.
A person who can rise above the babble (including mine) and make sense.
Recently (of course) I have read posts from so called experts taking the terms cross dresser and transvestite to task.
What's the old term "Sticks and Stones can break my Bones but Words just Confuse Me?"
I'm passing along an article called Blurred Youth: An Introduction into Femininity. It was published in the Daily Titan from California State University Fullerton.
Read Julie Nitori's story here.

Echoes of our Lives

Perhaps by now you have heard the story of the transsexual Matrix co-director Lana Wachowski who reemerged in Hollywood this past July.
Over the years. Lana and her brother Andy have been notoriously solitary. A fact Lana recently said had nothing to do with her gender.

Recently, Wachowski was awarded the Visibility Award by the Human Rights Campaign, after her recent decision to end a long-standing policy of ignoring press and public appearances and to instead openly acknowledge her transition to womanhood. Which opened the opportunity for wide reaching public relations benefits for the transgender community.

 While accepting her award, Wachowski gave a moving 25-minute speech about her painful past growing up transgender, being bullied by a nun at her Catholic school and why she nearly committed suicide. I began to believe voices in my head -- I was a freak, that I am broken, that there is something wrong with me, that I will never be lovable. After school I go to the nearby Burger King and write a suicide note. But it was addressed to my parents and I really wanted to convince them that it wasn’t their fault, it was just that I didn’t belong... When I see the headlight I take off my backpack and I put it on the bench. It has the note in front of it. I try not to think of anything but jumping as the train comes. Just as the platform begins to rumble suddenly I notice someone walking down the ramp. It is a skinny older old man wearing overly large, 1970s square-style glasses that remind of the ones my grandma wears. He stares at me the way animals stare at each other. I don’t know why he wouldn’t look away. All I know is that because he didn’t, I am still here... I am here because when I was young, I wanted very badly to be a writer, I wanted to be a filmmaker, but I couldn’t find anyone like me in the world and it felt like my dreams were foreclosed simply because my gender was less typical than others.

A video of her entire speech is available here.