to all porn performers, I’m sorry


Let me begin by saying that I’m not here to judge anyone’s choices to view or purchase pornography. What follows are my viewpoints on my own behavior alone, and I do not extend them to anyone.

Thing is, I’ve had a mild porn addiction for about a decade now. (Is viewing 2 – 3x a week “mild”? I don’t know.)

But no matter how I try to rationalize it, no matter how normalized it becomes in society, in my heart, for me, I just know porn is wrong. Not in any religious “sinful” sense, but just in a way that sets off alarms in my own basic sense of human decency. And there are ethical problems within the industry, of course (which I won’t even go into at the moment) which make me very uncomfortable about watching porn.

Yet still I do it. It’s just so appealing at a physical level.

I’m especially sorry to all the women actors in porn. I’ve lusted after you and objectified you, and so many of you have been victimized in ways that so many of us will never know or understand. Yes yes, I know, there’s a long standing debate that rages over the sexual politics of pornography (“empowerment or objectification?”), and some might accuse me of “white knighting” or benevolent sexism, but the fact of the matter is, I know what’s right and wrong, and I know when I’m not viewing a woman in the appropriate context. I have a wife and a daughter, and I just can’t deal with the cognitive dissonance any longer of loving and respecting them while indulging the fantasy of a woman as a casual sex object. Some women porn performers might genuinely enjoy their work. If so, fantastic. More power to them. But for my part, I FEEL that I’ve done wrong by viewing it.

I don’t subscribe to r/nofap. I’m not a teetotaler about masturbation or erotica in general. That’s not what this is about. This is about me publicly declaring that I just don’t want this anymore, and to each and every performer in the industry–especially those who have been victimized in any way–I’m sorry. I’m sorry that men like me made it possible for the industry to exist in the first place. I should be better than this.

image credit: harrison.anthony25, (CC-BY SA 2.0)

a friend

An old friend had me to her house yesterday and made me chai.  A friend.  I can’t even remember what YEAR it was that I had a social visit with someone who wasn’t family or from work.  My soul needed this more than I imagined.  When you’re early middle-aged and your time is consumed by work, family, suburban stupidity, and just surviving in the face of chronic mental illness, friends become a luxury that you just don’t have anymore.

image credit: Bobbi Newman, flickr.  (CC-BY-NC-SA 2.0)

so much heartbreak when my daughter was little


There are those quiet, still moments when you stop moving, and your past burdens race to catch up to you.  And you have to bear them again.  Some of them are overwhelming.

When my daughter “C” was a toddler and later on well into her childhood, between about 2 and 8, I was heavily and mournfully addicted to prescription drugs.  Mostly functionally addicted, albeit, just barely enough to hold down my job at times, but still deeply dependent on both opioids and benzodiazepines.

I loved her so, so much.  I always have.  I tried to be a good father, and everyone says I’ve been a fantastic dad all her life: present, adoring, supportive, involved, all that.  But for those six years at least, I was also frequently zonked out of my fucking mind, and absolutely couldn’t stop.  I suppose you can be a good parent while high, but only by a combination of the degree of relative mental blitzing of the particular meds you’re on, your determination to be a good parent, and sheer goddamn luck.

I remember one afternoon after work I had picked C up from daycare.  M wasn’t going to be home until later.  Suddenly I woke up in bed with the phone ringing.  It was M.  “So where is C?” she asked.  I knew instantly from the tone of her voice that it wasn’t a question.  It was a challenge.  M had come home, found me stoned unconscious on the bed, and our toddler child awake somewhere in the house and completely unsupervised.  M had taken her and driven elsewhere, probably to her parents’ house.  I was instantly both sober and devastated.  Crushed by my own parental failure and moral culpability.

But it didn’t stop me.  The worst self-inflicted cut, with the blood reflected in the eyes of my precious daughter, was yet to come.

It was a few years later.  When, I don’t know, but C was still more or less an older toddler.  A young child.  Maybe 5 or 6, I guess.  I was in the habit of stealing M’s narcotic pain medication.  She kept it locked in a zipping travel pouch, but like all addicts desperate for a fix, I had figured out a way to get into it undetected.  One afternoon in the kitchen I was doing exactly that when C ambled in, gasped, and exclaimed, “But that’s MOMMY’S medicine!”  Of course she didn’t know anything about narcotics or addiction, just that I was doing something genuinely wrong.  Even little kids know that stealing isn’t OK, and she could tell that’s what I was doing.  And that’s when I did something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.

Upon hearing her exclaim “But that’s MOMMY’S medicine!” I quickly shot C an angry look and put my finger to my lips in the universal SHH! gesture.  M was in the next room and could have heard her, and I couldn’t risk my own kid getting me busted.  So I silenced her.  Forced her into complicity.  Took her tiny young moral conscience and strangled it.

I’ll never forget that, and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.

All addicts have different stories, different scars.  Mine are relatively tame.  I never killed anyone or prostituted myself.  But I lied, I stole, and worst of all, I endangered my daughter or betrayed her goodness.

So what I can remember of her young life, is soaked with that heartbreak.

is crossgender expression ethical?

Is crossgender expression–specifically, the expression by a man of typically “female” traits, such as wearing women’s clothes, or painting his nails, etc–ethical behavior?  As with any area of ethical inquiry, the question is hardly clear-cut, and as a feminist, an ally of sexual minority communities (which includes transgendered persons), and a man who strives to be moral, I really need to get this figured out insofar as I’m able: I need to reconcile competing value sets as well as I can.

It might not occur to some people that the ethics of feminine crossgender expression is even really a “question” at all.  In the modern, more tolerant and inclusive era in which people are free to explore and express alternate sexual orientations and gender identities, we might assume that any identity or form of gender expression is free for appropriation with little or no philosophical consequence.

But very few such things are without any philosophical consequence, especially in the sensitive arena of sex and gender politics.  I’ll admit, I myself was ignorant of how transgender expression might be controversial until I read some literature by feminists who fall on the more TERF end of the spectrum.  (‘TERF’ being an acronym for trans-exclusive radical feminist; these are feminists who, to describe it briefly, either deny the validity of the male-to-female transgender experience and/or claim that it is an ideology and set of behaviors that perpetuate sexism.)  I disagree with a fair number of TERF arguments and overall find them to be regressively radical and ironically hierarchical, but I do think there is sufficient merit in their concerns regarding female identity and gender to address the present topic.

So here’s what I aim to do:  I will lay out each point that I can conceive for thinking that male-to-female gender expression is NOT ethical, and then I will attempt a self-rebuttal.  Maybe in this manner I’ll come to some sort of insight that resolves the matter for me.  (I’ll assume for argument’s sake that there are no relationship issues involved: no deceiving a spouse or partner by hiding crossdressing, no causing a rift in a marriage with such behavior, etc.  That would render the whole discussion moot, because it would obviously be unethical.)

Why male-to-female gender appropriation is NOT ethical:

1.  It is predicated upon envy, a “sin” in the classic sense.  When a man sees female objects or bodies that don’t belong to him, that he can’t possibly hope to ever “possess” in the fullest possible sense he (perhaps sexually) desires, he grows envious.  Obviously, unethical.

2.  It is deliberate, conscious, willful, and selfish.  It is not an innocent pathology or mental illness in which the man has no idea what he is doing; he very clearly knows that he is appropriating female gender forms and is largely careless that what he is doing might have gender-political consequences.

3.  It draws from women’s exclusive set of gender forms.  The man who chooses to dress, speak, or behave “like a woman” is doing so exactly because those forms are more or less unique to women.  Accordingly, if these gender forms are unique to women, then he is appropriating things that are not “neutral” or “common” in a way that would make them free for his personal use.  He is invading feminine space and removing feminine content.

4.  It ignores the significance of the history and lived experience behind the gender forms that are being appropriated.  A man who “feels like a woman” and dresses in a skirt and paints his nails cannot ultimately know what it is like to have gone through female puberty, adolescence and menstruation, to be catcalled and sexually harassed, or to live an entire life of womanhood in a patriarchal society.  MtF gender appropriation in this sense is at best ignorant, disrespectful, and counterprogressive.

Self-rebuttals:  Why male-to-female gender appropriation is at the very least ethically neutral:

1.  While I’m not sure that it’s ethical or healthy to envy anything, neither am I sure that it’s particularly unusual or unethical.  “Oh my god, I wish I had his abs.”  “Damn, why can’t my hair look like hers?” and so on.  Now, there is likely a deeper pathology here than simply wishing you had someone’s beautiful ab muscles who happens to be of the same sex as you, but that’s beyond the scope of the present essay.  But suffice to say, I don’t think even that is unethical, as it stems from a psychological need, not simple covetousness or vanity.

2.  I think this is the most serious criticism and the most difficult one to deal with.  But even it operates under the assumption that there are always gender-political consequences of male-to-female gender expression.  This is not necessarily the case.  Not all women or feminists view the issue the same way.  Further, it assumes that all crossgender-expressing men are aloof and selfish.  This can hardly be the case.  Surely there must be a great number who are conscientious, well-intentioned, and who engage earnestly with TERF-minded women on these issues.

3.  This one is rather tricky.  If we say that one set of gender forms is exclusive to women, we run the risk of staking out an “essentialist” position, ie, that the two-X chromosome female sex has an inherent set of gender forms that correspond to it.  That’s a reductionist, sexist, and well…patently false ideology.  However, neither can we truthfully say in this context that gender forms such as makeup, nail polish, etc are totally non-exclusive to women, because the very reason the man seeks them out is because they are more or less exclusive to women; appropriating womanly forms is his entire goal.  So I’m in something of a catch-22 with respect to wanting to adhere to my simultaneous feminist and LGBTQ+ values.  But I think perhaps there is middle ground: such forms are exclusive enough to women to draw the interest of the crossdresser, but they are not so exclusive as to prescribe a woman’s essential identity.  Accordingly they are free for ethical appropriation.  Clothing, for example, cannot be used as an absolutely defining gender marker.  If a woman claims that a skirt is “hers” and hers alone by dint of her sex, then she is ironically making the same sort of argument that in olden times men would have made to prohibit her from wearing men’s garments.

4.  I don’t have much of a rebuttal for this one because I’m not sure that it amounts to an ethical argument against MtF crossgender expression in the first place.  I truly fail to see how just because a man might not understand the full lived experience of being a woman, that he cannot ethically and respectfully express feminine gender forms.  Would it not be a sexist statement for an old man welder to tell a novice woman welder, “You don’t know what it’s like to work in the shop as a man your whole life, surrounded by men…the camaraderie, the bonding, the testosterone, the difficulty of the work.  Just because you wear the mask and the gloves and hold the torch, doesn’t make you a welder.”?  Of course it’s patently sexist.  Women absolutely do have legitimate cause to be concerned that their lived experiences may be ignored, devalued, or misunderstood by men who crossdress or otherwise express “their” gender forms, but this has little to do with ethics on an individual basis.  Further, there is the question of empathy: Again, just because a man has not fully lived life as a woman, does not mean he is completely detached, unfamiliar, or otherwise aloof to a woman’s life experiences.  He could have grown up with a mother, aunts, sisters, friends, etc, observing their lives and deeply empathizing with them as they navigated life.  So to say that a man shouldn’t express female gender forms because doing so ignores the significance of the history and lived experience behind the gender forms that are being appropriated, is to deny that man’s capacity to exercise gender empathy.

image credit: AnonMoos, 2009 (WikiMedia Commons, Public Domain).



I am by almost all measures a gentle and patient person.  Loving, kind, and generous, able to get along well and with nearly anyone.  Utterly vanilla.  I’m a librarian, for fuck’s sake.

Most who know me, though, will also recognize that I can get very irritable from time to time, especially on the job.  No biggie there.  Everyone can.  Just part of being human.

What’s disturbing, however, is how much seething, latent RAGE I perpetually carry that no one perceives.  Most of the time even I am not aware of it.  Only in the past year or so have I come to recognize this about myself.  It’s not directed at anyone or anything in particular: fury doesn’t need a target or a purpose.

I’m not sure where exactly it comes from, but I have a theory that the cocktail is two parts severe chronic anxiety, one part boredom, and one part broken heart.

I want so much to be a good father and husband, and I’m TERRIFIED of failure.  I’ve sobbed so many times in sheer terror over whether or not I’ll fail my daughter in this regard.  That kind of anxiety will crush you.

At the same time, I’m bored shitless by my job.  Although there are some responsibilities and aspects of it that are challenging, I spend half the day working the circ desk: basically doing the job a trained monkey could do.  $65K in student loan debt to be a library desk clerk.  I’m paid ridiculously well, so I really can’t complain, but I feel so bored and useless.  The only nice part of my day is seeing my friend and getting to chat with her.

Which brings me to…

Heartbreak.  I have no real friends outside of work.  My only lifelong friend broke off contact with me when I moved to Texas.  It became clear that for years I had been nothing more than a convenience to him.  And now, given my responsibilities as a father, husband, homeowner, employee, citizen, commuter, bipolar patient etc, I just don’t have time to make new friends.  Plus, in some ways, I feel profoundly alone, even at home.  I do a massive amount of housework, without a lot of help from M.  It’s so stressful, and I feel resentful.  Oh, and nine years later, I still haven’t recovered from those two weeks of combined Sub and benzo withdrawal.  I was traumatized.  That torched my heart and mind into a gory mess of throbbing melted ash.  I didn’t ask for it.  I didn’t ask for any of that.

Sometimes I fantasize about suicide, I’m so angry.


slave names, 1783 – 1859

May these never be wiped from my family’s memory.  The crime is not our personal fault, but the legacy is our problem.

Dosso.  Jamar.  Nan.  Peter.  Amaretta.  Abram.  Demar.  Delia.  Ben.  Hagar.  Matina.  Primus.  Sabrina.  Bella.  Job.  Phobe.  Aurelia.  Hally.  Daniel.  Harry.  Adjutant.  Moses.  Pepe.  Nancy.  Sophy.  Richard.  Maria.  Peggy.  William Henry.  Daniel.  Austin.  George.  Joe.  Josh.  Fanny.  Jimmy.  Frances.  Wellington.  Kitty.  William.  Ozman.  Julia.  Fred.  Henry.

Derosset slave names 1783 to 1859

Which sing the open truth of my heart