Just because I was born with a penis…

Just because I was born with a penis, doesn’t mean I’m a male.

I have a penis, and I personally identify as a male.

Should another human make the decision for me as to which sex identify? No.

Should a government tell me if I am a woman or a man based on a bodily organ between my legs? Hell Fucking No.

Whether I identify as male or female (or neither) is what I am, from what is deep inside of me. That which is my own identity which is me. No one else decides for me who or what I am that is uniquely me. Period.

I have no right to choose for another human who or what they are. I collectively with others as a society, have no right to force any individual to be something other than that which is them themselves from deep within their souls.

What is between another human’s legs does not make anyone who or what they are. That which is deep within a person’s soul is who they are, character is who they are, honesty is who they are, personality is who they are, kindness, work, creativity, contributions, service, love, originality, beauty is who they are. Sex is not who or what a human is.

Sex or gender, and sexuality for that matter, is only a small part of a human, of a person. Sex is not what or who I am, and nor is it who or what you are.

No person nor any government has the right to decide who or what I am, or who or what you are.

Respect, equality, understanding and acceptance are the qualities that I support and strive for. I only ask the same in return. I expect and support a government that shares these values.

Speak now, before it’s too late.

Opinion piece

I have an opinion. So does the maker of this New York Times video.

We both have the right to express our opinions. We also have the right to agree or disagree or even maybe find a grey area or common ground, or at least we do right now.

If we wish to be able to freely have our opinions, express our opinions, debate our opinions and work toward common good we all must vote in the November midterms. That is vote before it’s too late.

Oh and the video? It’s worth the watch.

Capital Treasures

As we sit boarding our stopover flight in Denver, memories of the past week of travels fill Fearsome’s brain. He asked that I post a few pics to document a few of his favorites.

Easter at the National Cathedral

Spring gardens at Dumbarton Oaks

Cezanne 

Pollack

Nickson

Warhol

Hopper

A Leader

An Inspiration

A Cause

May we never forget the cause. May we pick up the baton and continue forward.

MLK

“We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct action campaign that was “well timed” in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word “Wait!” It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This “Wait” has almost always meant “Never.” We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that “justice too long delayed is justice denied.”
We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jet-like speed toward gaining political independence, but we still creep at horse and buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, “Wait.” But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six-year-old daughter why she can’t go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five-year-old son who is asking: “Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?”; when you take a cross county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading “white” and “colored”; when your first name becomes “nigger,” your middle name becomes “boy” (however old you are) and your last name becomes “John,” and your wife and mother are never given the respected title “Mrs.”; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of “nobodiness” — then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait.”

…Martin Luther King Jr  …April 1963