Most Black lesbians were closeted, correctly recognizing the Black community's lack of interest in our position, as well as the many more immediate threats to our survival as Black people in a racist society.
-- Audre Lorde, Zami: A New Spelling of My Name
My phone died and it will be the weekend before I can take it to be fixed. Sunday morning, a Windows Mobile update was pushed to the phone and by 8 PM, it was dead and refused to take a charge.
I found some incredibly nice people at the South Valley Unitarian Society (read: Church) a few miles from my place. The women of the church gave me a wonderful welcome Sunday and I attended the Interweave (the UU organization for promoting LGBT rights) potluck halfway up the mountain. As usual, I was the only trans person there, among the wonderful gay men and lesbians, and we just talked about whatever was on our minds. Peter told me as I was sitting there that I just radiated "woman." (Pretty amazing for someone who was once "all boy" before puberty.) I understand that more specific trans community support is available at the Pride Center.
A coworker took me to lunch yesterday and today. There's a cafeteria we walk to where I can get a small soup, salad and small fountain drink for little over three dollars; besides, it's nice to have her along for company. She tells me there is a lesbian club in town called the Paper Moon, picking up on the fact that I'm mostly lesbian. It sounds so similar to the hangout in Louisville I sometimes frequented that it's worth checking out.
Again, my supposed reputation seems to proceed me, as the Senior Vice President of Technology asked me yesterday on the way out the door if I was Sophie, was glad they finally got to meet me and said, "I have heard great things about you." I could only meekly reply, "I hope I can live up to my expectations."
My children are thriving. My oldest, almost 13, has made honor band, the volleyball team and is in AP courses. My youngest, just turned 7, is in Excel, expects me to call and tell her "Good Night" every night. Sometimes, on the phone, she slips and calls me "Mom," pauses and corrects it before I realize she was actually talking to me. It's going to be hard the next few days since my cell phone just died out of the clear blue Sunday. Meanwhile, I'm keeping my chat window open until 8:30 PM mountain time.
I am starting to finally adjust to my new place. It's starting to feel like home--my home. I am back to playing a lot of Farmville and reading to while away the time. Eventually, I'll restore my activity levels to their former state.
Meanwhile, I think I have crops to harvest.
Hugs and God Bless,