The Gift Of Insight

It’s my birthday on Sunday, and I am in the traditional mode here.  Those around me have no idea who I am or what I would like, so the obligation is for me to shop for myself and they feel good buying me something.

That’s tough in two ways.  First, the mode I am in, the mode I believe that I have to be in, is denial. I have walked away from desire, in an attempt to move beyond needs.  “If you have no needs,” Oprah’s psychologist Robin Smith says, “you have no self.” 

But more than that is the difficulty of being that insvisible, of knowing how much I have exposed myself in the last five decades and realizing that if they don’t know me by now, they don’t really want to know me.

On one of these tranny lists there is a partner who believes she is being pagan and holy, mystical and healing.  The way she approaches it, though, is to see the transpeople on the list as abject and broken.  She offers {{{{huggs}}}} and platitudes, then switches the subject to something that may well contradict what the transperson was saying, that often negates their sharing.

It’s my sense that she does this so she doesn’t have to actually lose control and open her heart to what we offer.  If she can’t placate us with strokes, how can she actually placate her partner?

I actually like to listen to people.  When they offer some deep part of themselves, they offer me the gift of insight, allowing me to glimpse humanity in a mirror and be reminded of what we share, of what lies within me.

But, as I have said before, the most painful part of being trans is to not be able to give gifts and have them accepted.  This partner, in her callow cuteness, just reminds me of my pain, and that makes her unsafe.

If the director doesn’t realize
what a courageous thing the actor is doing
by touching on some emotionally tender spot,
then the actor will be wary of doing that.
 Arthur Penn, Director

Wary?  Oh yes.

And all I have to do is have no needs.  No self.

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