Delighted to share my latest article on Refinery29, on the real-life consequences of being publicly outed, as Survivor contestant Zeke Smith was on national television. It’s fun to have my work back up on Refinery29 after nearly a year. I’m looking forward to lots more edgy queer content coming up on R29.
Survivor host Jeff Probst said it best: “You can’t unring the bell.” I’m usually the first to hear when trans headlines make the news. Mom beat me to it last night. Her text, “You better turn on Survivor,” a show I normally ignore, lacked further explanation.
It was hardly the smoothest of debuts, but if you happen to be transgender, that’s a relatable feeling. NY Governor Andrew Cuomo instructed the Port Authority to light the One World Trade Center spire in the colors of transgender pride (blue, pink, and white) for the very first time on March 31st, 2017.
I perform standup comedy as a hobby, and sometimes it is fun to challenge myself by taking to an open mic in a totally new foreign city. This was me performing some British-infused transgender jokes at BarWotever, hosted by the Royal Vauxhall Tavern.
Find more of my standup comedy (including Jewish “semon comedy”) here:
Can you do the simple exercise Hannah’s come up with? It really puts in perspective how you “just know” some things about who you are. With Love, The Editors at Everyday Feminism Closed-captioning are provided. Please click on the CC button to see it.
Dear Friends, I am sure you are all wondering why I went to Serbia for a single day, and what the hell happened to me there. Well, here we go:
The long story short:
Saw a surgeon in Belgrade because I was worried if I didn’t go from Europe and drop a shit ton of money on airfare to see him on short notice, the entire process of getting him to operate on me would never move forward at all. I was right.
My doctors in New York had not coordinated with this surgeon AT ALL despite having suggested they had, and even suggesting I was supposed to have had surgery next week by him when he visited New York.
The surgeon wants $3500 to operate on me at his office in Belgrade, the soonest this could be is October. There is no guarantee he can fix everything that is wrong, but he will do what he can. This figure does not include other expenses I’d incur, none the least of which the $800 I spent to change all my fights around in a single night to see him at all.
I do not have $3500+, and I am applying for jobs right now that would make it impossible to take time off sufficient for a surgery in October. I am stuck delaying getting a job to have surgery (which I can’t afford) or trying to “move on” from my body problems long enough to earn the money and be able to take the time off, which is basically saying that having a fucked-up vagina never mattered in the first place.
I am fucked. Goodbye, I’m just done with all this shit.
Serbia seemed like a nice place. I was only there for 30hrs or I’d have loved to explore it more.
It was just another normal day in the airport security line. This time I was departing Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam. As a transgender woman and frequent traveler, I always opt-out of the new-fangled body scanners in favor of the pat-down. Always.