Stalker

Stalker

By Kira A. Moore

 

It is jealous, this thing,

That stalks me,

Of the treasures that I hold,

 

A suggestion,

A thought,

A possibility of motion.

 

Shadow to shadow,

Peering from the dark,

Danger lurking, awaiting.

 

And then

 

A jump, a pounce,

bounding energy unfurled,

Fury.

 

Another mouse toy

Has met its

Demise.

Girl In The Mirror

Girl In The Mirror

By Kira A. Moore

 

 

Play,

Where memories are stored,

In boxes and bags,

And baskets.

 

With cotton and polyester,

Cashmere and silk,

And the feather boa.

 

Tickles,

Giggles and grins.

Innocent laughter,

From deep within.

 

Grandma’s hat,

Falling over innocent eyes,

So blue and clear,

Shining with joy.

 

Mommies shoes,

Too big today,

But not for long,

Too soon too small.

 

 

Being Human

 

There are days when I have no idea what I might write about. Days that when I try to force my brain to come up with something that I might want to say, about myself or the world in general, and I keep pulling up blanks. Then out of the blue I run across something that sets off that drive, that need, to address a topic that I can feel passionate about. Something that hits so close to home that it cannot be ignored. This is just such a post.

 

There are some very serious questions I find myself asking on a daily basis as a way of judging where I need to go on a given day; Who was I yesterday? Who am I today? and Who do I hope to be tomorrow?

I have found that the answer sometimes changes,sometimes stays the same, and then there are days I just don’t have an answer. I guess in the end the reason for that is because I’ve been asking the wrong question, and for the wrong reasons.

You see, this questioning has been in regards to being male or female and how I think I want to present  myself.

I’ve been thinking this way because I have allowed myself to fall into the trap of seeing myself only in regards to what those around me insist on seeing in me. The problem of course is that I am more than the flesh I carry around. I am more than what people see as male or female and I am more than simply masculine or feminine.

In seeking to define myself in terms that society insists on, I have restricted the truth of who I am.

At times I feel like a woman inside a man’s body, other times I feel masculine, a man in the correct body. There are times when I take on being MTF, dressing, using makeup, striving to present a complete image and there are times I feel no such desire.

At this point, I have decided to accept these MTF feelings, but keep the male body and identity. In this way I feel like I am being true to who I am, by simply being myself. When I feel the need, I can dress up and present as the woman I am inside.

I am learning to stop labeling behaviors as masculine and feminine. Behaviors are not tied to gender. The same as thoughts and feelings. Our gender should not define us, it should compliment us.

In the end there is only one truth:

I am human, nothing more, nothing less.

So who Ordered the Pink Unicorn?

EssexGirlBecky

At playschool, all little Alexander wanted was to be Alexandra. Now the eleven year old is seeking hormone treatment. The Jugendamt (Youth Department) is set against it.

“Hi, I’m Alex!” The smiling girl, who opens the door to an old but pretty dwelling somewhere in Berlin, has long blonde hair, wears skinny jeans and a blouse. But this lovely eleven year old character, who readily shows us her pink room with white furniture and a pink unicorn on the, this should be a boy!

No, nothing suggests ‘boy’ here, yet for Alex gender identity has become a battlefield. Alex is transsexual – a girl with the sexual characteristics of a boy. And because of that, the child is now threatened with a secure psychiatric ward. The Youth Department wants to section her.

“For how long have you believed that you are a girl?” Alex looks me in the eye and answers back “for…

View original post 1,381 more words

Spark

Spark

By Kira A. Moore

Midnight dances

In orange embrace,

Tongues speak

With voiceless anger,

Spirits rise,

Then flare,

And die.

Within night’s

Cold embrace,

Life exemplified,

Between Heaven and Hell.

Spirits rise,

Then flare,

And die.

Tomorrow’s promise,

Within your eyes,

Passions flame,

Is there perfected.

Spirits rise,

Then flare,

And die.

A Matter of Balance

 

Over the last several weeks I have found myself in the position of having to regain my balance in regards to how I am presenting myself to people around me. For the majority of my life I have hidden behind a masculine mask that gave me a definite set of rules to follow. Now I find that I’m not really comfortable following the old rules but I haven’t figured out the new ones.

What do I mean? Well, under the old rules I was expected to keep up on the local football and baseball teams. I would be asked about this player or that, about possible trades, and what an injury to so and so might mean. I really couldn’t have cared less, but i put in the effort to be able to answer such questions. Now? I still don’t care and I am having trouble summoning up the energy to bother. After all, for the most part, these guys wouldn’t normally bother asking a girl this stuff or expect her to answer, so why should they expect me to? For the same reason that I answered them before.

Because they don’t see and wouldn’t understand that the cover doesn’t equal the book.

Don’t get me wrong, there a plenty of women who are interested in this stuff, in fact I work with several who know more about what’s in the sports news than the men, but I’m not one of them. Never have been, probably never will be. I am sick of acting like I care, acting like someone I’m not just to get along with people I wouldn’t bother having a beer with if I saw them in a bar after work. At the same time I can’t pull a one eighty and expect to maintain the same working relationships I have had for almost two decades. To avoid needless conflict and tension, I need to maintain a certain level of interest. Over time I can wind things down until they reflect my true feelings. Subtle change is the way to go. It will certainly raise fewer eyebrows.

The other side of this is my relationships with my female coworkers. Over the years I had maintained a polite distance. They never expected me to be involved in their conversations unless it was some form of gossip or another, (which like sports, is something I couldn’t care less about).. They never thought to include me in their little circle and I wasn’t about to try and insinuate myself without an invitation.

Now I want to be more involved, but appearances and history are working against me. I think that again, over time, I can at least move into the shadow of that circle, but I will never be fully included. The trick is showing that I am open to inclusion, even if it is only from the very edges, without appearing to be false in my intentions. To seem like a man trying to invade that female space.

In the end I am trying to find a balance between exclusion and inclusion. Redefining myself in a world where the rules have already been written.

Life would have been much simpler if I could have figured this stuff out years ago, but since when has life ever been simple?

 

Christopher Came Home Today

Christopher Came Home Today

By Kira A. Moore

 

Christopher came home today,

though I did not see him.

Not yet they said,

Not yet.

 

I never got

to say “Hello.”

 

I saw Christopher today.

So handsome,

In dress blues,

hat in hand.

 

But I did not see his eyes,

his beautiful eyes,

as blue as the sky.

 

I got to say,

“Good bye.”

Just A Day

 

Have you ever had one of those days? You know, the sun rises, passes overhead and then goes down.  A day when nothing special or dramatic happens. You get up and do the chores, maybe listen to some music, play with the kids. Then its dinner and some television and you go to bed.

It’s just another day.

That has been my day today. It’s a little out of synch to “regular” people in that I work nights, but otherwise it was a regular boring day.

So why is that a big deal? Well, it isn’t, and that’s the point.

Not every day has to be a soap opera. Not every day has to be filled with drama. Not every day has to end with someone on the verge of tears.

No, some days are just plain old boring days.

You know what? I like plain. I like boring. I like a day when I can look back and nothing really comes to mind other than I got more laundry washed and folded than I thought I did.

Will every day be like this? I don’t know, probably not, but I like to think that they might.

Sailing

Sailing

By Kira A. Moore

Upon strong tides,

Two sails

And a dream.

Singing with whale

and wind,

 

Dolphins play.

 

Reach beyond

The setting sun,

To where waves

and heaven meets.

Transition

Transition. This one word has caused me a great deal of angst over the past few months.

It’s one of, if not the first, things someone wants to know when they hear the word “Transgender”.

Are you going to Transition?

For A it wasn’t the first question she had, but it was in her top five. It is also one of her greatest fears.

Are you going to Transition?

So just what does this word mean? According to the dictionary:

Transition: [tran-zish-uhn]

1. Movement, passage, or change from one position, state, stage, subject, concept, etc., to another; change.

2. A movement, development, or evolution from one form, stage, or style to another.

Go and look at wikipedia and you’ll get a brain full of what this word means for someone in the Transgender community;

The process of changing one’s gender presentation to accord with one’s internal sense of one’s gender.

What I found of interest though is to be found in the “Terminology” section.

Transitioning is sometime confused with sexual reassignment surgery (SRS), but that is only one possible element of transitioning. Most people who transition choose not to have SRS, or do not have the means to do so. Whereas SRS is a surgical procedure, transitioning is more of holistic and usually includes physical, psychological, social, and emotional changes. Some genderqueer and intersex people have little or no desire to undergo surgery to change

There is a lot more if you want to read it. You can spend a great deal of time looking into this not only on line but in your local library. It won’t take long for you to be overloaded with information, opinions, and personal thoughts from everyone from experts to Joe down the street. Spend a couple of months at it like me and you’ll have it running out of your ears.

When I first came out I was asked if I thought I would need to transition, (meaning having SRS), and my feeling was that, no, I did not need to physically become female. In the following months this issue became rather murky after I had spoken to more people, read more blogs and articles, and generally confused the hell out of myself.

I even had someone tell me that I was fooling myself if I thought I didn’t need SRS. Sooner or later I was going to have it done because I didn’t have a choice.

That sure wasn’t something that I needed to hear when I was the middle of a life changing storm of biblical proportions.

It has taken me months to understand what I really need to be a happy, whole person… that is for right now. I can’t know what the future might hold and it is possible that my feeling on this will change; but for now, right this moment, I have an answer that works for me.

What is that answer?

It is that I do not need SRS or HRT to be happy and whole. I do however, need to transition in other ways that don’t require making major physical changes.

I am changing, I am becoming more of the person I know in my heart that I am. I am willing to make and indeed am making many changes physically, psychologically, and emotionally.

They are nothing major at the moment, just things like grooming, clothing choices, and the allowing myself to think, to feel, and to interact with others in ways that feel more natural, more in line with what’s going on inside.

This may not sound like much, but when I am trying to shed decades of assumed behaviors, years of suppressing my true emotions, of hiding my thoughts and mannerisms, even theses small steps are major accomplishments.

That I have opened up so much would come as a shock to those who have known me in the past.