Anti-HERO Leader Defends Man Who Photographed Women in Bathroom |




Anti-HERO Leader Defends Man Who Photographed Women in Bathroom |

“Attorney Jared Woodfill, the ringleader of the successful campaign to repeal Houston’s nondiscrimination ordinance, is reportedly representing a man who has been sued for secretly taking photos of naked women in a bathroom. The campaign used the slogan ‘No Men In Women’s Bathrooms’ to stir fears of transgender individuals.”

Beautiful Darling (2009)



I watched a movie I didn’t know existed until a few days ago, about a woman I knew nothing about. Now I sit here with tears in my eyes and a sadness in my heart because hers was a life too short.

The movie is ‘Beautiful Darling, The Life and Times of Candy Darling, Andy Warhol Superstar’

The title seems a little dry after watching the film, though accurate in it’s way. 

I’ll share with you the storyline as given on IMBD website.

“Candy Darling was a fixture in the New York Off-Broadway scene in the 60s, in Warhol films such as Women in Revolt and Flesh, and became a prominent personality in Warhol’s circles, influencing such noted contemporary artists as Madonna, David Bowie and Lou Reed. This documentary will use a series of interviews, archival footage, and images from Candy’s home in Massapequa, NY. Archival footage includes rare 25 year old interviews conducted by Jeremiah Newton with members of Warhol’s Factory and Tennessee Williams. The film features interviews with colleagues, contemporaries and friends of Candy, including John Waters, Peter Beard, Holly Woodlawn, Bob Colacello, Geraldine Smith, Pat Hackett and Ron Delsener.”


My thoughts…

Watching this, I found myself fascinated by Candy. I wanted to know more about her, who she was, why she was… If I hadn’t know from the description on Netflix that she was Transsexual, I never would have guessed and it wouldn’t have mattered if I did. She was, by her own hand and deed, larger than life. The flame which draws the moth, and like the flame, burned out too soon.

She was part of time which, when looking back, seems so far from us now. A different climate, a different understanding… society has moved on… Yet it really hasn’t. What you see and hear of life in the New York LGBT community of the late 60s, early 70s isn’t so far removed from where we stand at this moment. Maybe laws have changed, maybe people want to believe things are better, yet listen to the words of those interviewed, see their reactions to the memories which lie no so far beneath the surface and you will the same battles we fight today.

I do have to wonder about this film and it’s purpose. If it is to showcase a lost treasure, it does it well. If it is meant to be a cautionary tale, it does leave the proper impression. But if it is meant as a way to honor a unique soul. To spotlight the trials and tribulations of life… well then, I feel it missed the mark just a little.

You get a glimpse, through her journal of the sadness and loneliness which marked her days on the earth. You can just see, almost hidden from view, her desperate need to be accepted and loved for who and what she was.

And you can feel the weight of each passing day in which she did not find what she wanted most.

If your interested, the movie is on Netflix, available to streaming. 

Really? No, Really?



Ok, maybe it’s just me but why does it seem when you talk about being Trans, either gender or sexual, the first thing which pops into a persons head is you wearing a dress?


I was speaking to someone about my weekend, which I find to have been somewhat of a mixed bag. On one hand I spent to majority of my time as Kira. What this means is Saturday I wore a hooded pull over, jeans, and boots.(See included Picture). Sunday I wore a turtle neck sweater, jeans, and boots. I also have silicone “fakes” which happen to be an A cup because lets be honest, a flat chest just doesn’t cut it, girls… otherwise who would wear a padded bra in the first place?

Anyway. The point being, I wanted to be just another girl out and that’s the way I dressed. I didn’t even bother with make up, it was just too cold to worry about it and no one even noticed.

Oh, and I wore my hair of course. I wouldn’t step out without it.

So, I mention this to one girl I know and she wonders what I mean by being “dressed” so I described what I wore and I think she got it. I told another girl I work with and the first thing she asks.. “Did you wear a dress?”


In this weather?

“No”, I told her and described the outfits I wore. I explained I only own one dress and I wouldn’t wear it with temps in the teens. 

Still, I have to wonder, where does this image come from? Even after I have said more than once I prefer jeans or dress pants some people still think I’m playing dress up or something. Just who do they think I am, Barbie?

Then again this was the same woman who asked me if I was going to show up at work in a skirt… I’m a flipping custodian, not a runway model.

I swear, no matter how open minded people try to be they can still find some way to be offensive without even trying. I thought I had explained, more than once, this isn’t a game. It isn’t a joke. It is who I am and it is deadly serious… but I guess some just can’t get past the stereotype which has been a constant meme in our society.

I find it frustrating and rather sad, really.

I suppose it’s to be expected, when I mentioned having to travel to seek out proper medical treatment, the first thing I was asked, “you mean surgery?”

No. I was speaking of HRT.

Winter Came Knocking

Well, Winter has arrived. Yesterday the temps dropped from near 50 to a low of 20 this morning. Welcome to the Mid-West folks. I suppose I shouldn’t complain, (though I will), there are places West and North of us who saw worse weather. 

Every year I dread the coming of Winter. It seems as though once I get cold, I can’t warm up until sometime in July. I doesn’t help I came close to getting frostbite when I was a child or all the stories I could tell of walking to school all year long no matter how wet or cold it got or how deep the snow was. The only saving grace was it wasn’t up hill in either direction… 

Here’s a fun little story for you. When I was in the fourth or fifth grade we had a very snowy winter which was fun on many levels. Back in those days we had student vs. teacher snowball fights. Wherever the snow had been piled we built tunnels and forts and played until we had to be drug back into the classroom.

The down side? Keep reading…


The way I went home was along a set of abandoned railroad tracks which were raised higher than the surrounding land. On either side were drainage ditches which made reaching the top a challenge even with a path worn from countless feet, bikes, and the occasional horse. This path wasn’t overly wide though it was easy to see most of the year. The problem came when there was a lot of snow and this year we had more than our share. Unless you knew exactly where to walk you would find yourself in one of the ditches which might not have been a problem except for the fact the snow had filled them to overflowing and all you could see was a graceful swoop of white arching up to the tracks.

At the deepest part of ditch the snow was at least five feet deep. How do I know this? Because it had been snowing all day and no one thought letting us out early was a good idea and so the well trodden path I would have followed was no where to be seen which meant I had to either make a best guess or take a longer way home.

Turns out I’m lousy at guessing. I missed the path by several feet and suddenly found myself at the bottom of a hole with snow above my head.

Thankfully this area had a number of saplings which were within my grasp. In those days I was small for my age and whip thin so I was able to use them to drag myself to the surface and slowly inch my way to where I could stand up. I don’t know how long it took but I was soaked to the skin and freezing before it was over and I still had a long walk home in front of me. Still, had I not been able to get out, I doubt anyone would have found me before the Spring thaw.

In the end my ears and toes were as close as you can get to being frostbit without turning black. Every ounce of clothing was frozen stiff and I was more blue than anything.

Obviously I survived more or less no worse for wear, but I think it understandable how this experience has remained so strong in my memory. 

So yeah, Winter and I aren’t exactly the best of friends.