Archive for the 'Uncategorized' Category

13
Feb
14

“Transparent” A transparent Trans review.

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I just finished watching the pilot episode for “Transparent” the latest attempt out of Hollywood to portray the trans experience. And Wow. I mean, really, wow. That was not what I expected.

And I mean that as high praise. At least kind of. But let me explain.

I would be lying if I said I had gone into this without expectations. I’ve been hearing about this show for quite some time now. First rumours. Then confirmation. Then hints through the trans pipeline about the behind the scenes production.

It took very little detective action to take a look at who was working on this. It even turned out that I was connected to the director, Jill Soloway from about 20 different directions. Including the husband of the first woman I ever had a crush on at summer camp. Who I recently reconnected with when she asked if she could take some naked pictures of me! (They’re on the internet, if you really want to know that much about me. And they’re quite nice really!)

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Seriously, so much enduring love to my queer friend who saw through the facade of “straight white guy” and gave me her copy of this to read.

So that’s my full disclosure of a sort. And I went in with split expectations. On the one hand, some of the people I was connected to the director through are people whom I admire a great deal. Including my mentor and friend, the amazing improviser, David Razowsky. I also was very impressed by the work Soloway has done previously. Including as a producer and writer of the series Six Feet Under and director of a section of a film based on the autobiographical novel Valencia by queer author Michelle Tea. A book that was really quite inspirational to me when I read it out in L.A. just previous to my transition.

On the other hand. Hollywood hasn’t been doing the most bang-up job of representing trans people lately. There have been close steps, almost okays, but then they invariably fail.

With only a couple of exceptions, the late night television roster seems to have been a veritable factory of faux-pas and insensitive portrayals lately. And in primetime, we are still far too often portrayed as sex objects, psychos or the as punchline for jokes that were already old when Milton Berle was putting on a dress for laughs.

So I’ll admit, when I saw that the pilot for Transparent was out on Amazon Prime, I pressed play with a great deal of skepticism. If perhaps skepticism tempered with a bit of hope.

And right from the first moment, I was surprised. First of all, the titles. These weird, throwbacky, seventies sitcom style titles. A font that looked lifted straight from The Jeffersons.

As a child whose favourite babysitter growing up in the Seventies and Eighties was our little black and white tv, I was hooked instantly on a wriggling worm of nostalgia. So, imagine my surprise when the very next shot is of a couple in bed and, and….

Waitaminute! They’re showing that woman naked!

This isn’t the seventies anymore, this is how people actually sleep in their beds as couples!! Naked, with sheets partly thrown off. Because it gets hot in L.A.!

Holy heck!

Already I knew that whatever expectations I might have where going to be up for grabs. Still, I watched each scene, waiting for the reveal, ready to be all clever and know-it-all trans advice columnist and say, “Ah ha!” I knew the hammer was about to drop!! There it is! There’s the awful, cheap joke about a guy in a dress!

But it kept not happening.

Now, I don’t want to give too many spoilers here. I suggest that you watch the show yourself. Give it your own attention. If I were to tell you too, too much it would spoil what I liked most about it. Which was that I found it consistently surprising.

What I will tell you is that Jeffrey Tambor was quite sensitive in his portrayal of a late-middle-aged father in the beginnings of male-to-female transition. I consistently liked how he played each scene he was in. And his relationship with his three children was very real feeling to me.

Also, it’s a great deal more adult than what you may be used to on network tv. There’s nudity and there’s sex. Quite a lot of it actually for a half hour sitcom.

If that’s not your thing, you might want to steer clear. I know I have one friend who is not at all prudish personally, but who consistently fast-forwards through love scenes, because she just hates them! She’d get a nice short film out of this episode.

As for myself, I liked the more adult theme, mainly because I think it gives the writers a lot more leeway to explore genuine human stories. It opens up far more avenues than traditional sitcoms are able to explore. Which in turn, I hope, will allow the cast and writers to flesh out (Ha!! Sorry, I couldn’t resist…) a more authentic portrayal of the trans woman of the title and the characters around her.

F--k Yeah Jim Croce!!!

F–k Yeah Jim Croce!!!

There were a few other touches I liked personally. The music was one of them. There is a very nice scene where the daughter and son of the main character are going through their dad’s record collection and they stop to comment on a Jim Croce album that they loved.

The whole scene reminded me very much of my own father and his record collection. Which included that same Croce album, which I loved as well!

For me, that allowed me to flip perspectives and identify also with the kids of this trans parent. Their characters being much more of my own generation, than Tambor’s trans character.

As for Tambor himself, I also harboured very conflicted feelings. I really, really like Jeffrey Tambor as an actor.  And though he’s perhaps better known for his roles in Arrested Development or The Larry Sanders Show. I was a huge fan of the show, Max Headroom: 20 Minutes Into The Future when I was a geeky punk teenager. In fact, in many ways it was pretty seminal to the person I became. It still inspires what I aspire to be. “Live and direct.”

But picturing Tambor’s character from that show, a harried, perpetually stressed out television producer named Murray, as a trans woman, was causing me a bit of dissonance, to put it mildly. It was a little hard to shake.

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But Murray!! Your mustache is so epic!

Also, I’m really tired of seeing cis people (Someone who identifies as the gender they were identified as at birth. Ie., not trans.) play trans in tv and movies. Still, Tambor does an excellent acting job here, and given the early transition time period of this show, I found the casting to be actually appropriate.

To the producer’s credit, there appeared to be several authentic trans people playing smaller parts. And I have it on fairly good authority that if this show gets picked up for more episodes, they plan on casting a credible ensemble of genuine trans people. Fingers crossed.

So, would I recommend this show? Though I know the sort of trouble I could get in to with my more radical friends for saying this; yes, yes I would. I think it’s worth at least giving a chance to.

Transparent is currently available on Amazon Prime as an Amazon Original Pilot. A “Test Pilot” if you will! (I know, I know! Listen, I was a comic before I was a radical trans activist okay?? A girl’s just gotta get these things out sometimes.) And if enough people watch it and tell Amazon that they like it, the show will get a go at more episodes.

I rather hope it does. I’m curious to see where they go with this story and these characters. I’m hopeful they might even do it right! Certainly if they can continue to be able to surprise my jaded media-analyzing self, they’ll be on the right track.

And finally, I personally hope it gets picked up because, speaking frankly, I’d love to be part of that cast! This queer trans, activist, adventurer and pageant queen is ready to balance out all the marching and saving the world stuff with a little more of the making people laugh scene again!!

Slainte!

09
Sep
13

Let’s all do The Communication!

Hello friends. I have a few things to say on the subject of communication. Some broad thoughts and some specific requests.

 I will no longer respond to messages in my social media that don’t at least attempt proper grammar, spelling and punctuation. It makes me twitch when I open a message from an adult that looks like it could have been written by a toddler.

I’m not going to be a douche about it. I’m fine with slang, also standard netspeak. (Though if you are over 40, please try to have some idea of correct usage for netspeak/slang!! Srsly!) Also, if you genuinely are a terrible writer/speller who somehow has no access to auto-correct or spell check, don’t sweat it. However, if you do have those things, by all means, use them!

It’s actually pretty easy to tell the difference between people who can’t do things and people who simply aren’t trying. If you are trying but simply cannot do it, I’ll be nice I promise.

The only time I find it appropriate to bend these rules are when we are chatting/instant messaging IRL (See how I still used that in a proper sentence?!?). In which case, relaxation of these rules aides in speed and efficiency of communication. Let the flow of the conversation be your guide. But please at least start at the top of your intelligence.

Finally, if you have something to say, then say it! If you have a question, then ask it! Don’t make me dance around with endless rounds of “Hi”, “How r u?” or, “u busy”. This makes me really crazy. Especially since, given my improv training and natural inclinations, I will usually simply reflect whatever you lead with and it will take forever to get anywhere.

I’m an advice columnist, public figure, and if we are connected on a social media platform, I at least nominally think of you as a friend. You can ask me questions in private. It’s okay. I give you permission.

If you are worried, then let me know the nature of the question, so I can decide for myself. In all likelihood I’ll probably still be okay with it and I will definitely let you know either way. I do think politeness is awesome! And proper etiquette rocks!! But I’m not completely hung up on it. Just do your best and you’ll be fine.

Okay? I mean, I don’t want to be a jerk, but I am a writer and performer. Language is clearly kind of important to me. I like to surround myself with people who are relatively well-spoken. And I enjoy intelligent conversation more than most things.

But hey, not everyone I know and like is well-spoken or skilled at writing. I do understand. I am just so tired of opening my inboxes and seeing mangled language and corrupted communication. It wastes my time and yours. Plus, it makes me sad.

Do you remember the crying Indian (Native American) from those anti-littering ads from the late seventies and early eighties? Well, if you do, picture that whenever you start to type a message to me that has no capitalization or punctuation to speak of.

Crying Indian Ad

Let us please remember that the purpose of language is to facilitate effective communication between people.  When it is used properly, it’s even quite beautiful! To quote the linguist Henry Higgins in George Bernard Shaw’s play, ‘Pygmalion’: “Remember that you are a human being with a soul and the divine gift of articulate speech, that your native language is the language of Shakespeare and Milton and The Bible.”

Social media also has the positive potential to facilitate new kinds of effective communication between people. In ways we have never seen before! This does nothing to diminish the usefulness of properly used written forms however. If anything, it makes them all the more important!

As always, I love you all! And I look forward to some great communications!

23
Aug
13

Catching a band called ‘Homebody’ after doing a show, filled with energy

Music. The true thing. The sound moving through me. The beat. The rhythm. The glory.

I will never understand people who stand stock still. How can you not let yourself be taken away, traveled through space by such beauty. Waves of music.

Lost in the music. A speaker crashes. Glass smashes. It feels like part of the song to me.

I think, wow, that moved through me.

A forty year old version of Mac cleans the table. Black and white two-tone wingtip Docs and everything.

HouseLights on. Awkward end of the night vibe. The music will be back soon. Now the crowd scatters.

Beat Roaches.

24
May
12

To the boy I met tonight at Jacques.

Thank you.  I mean that absolutely sincerely.  As I meant also the compliments I paid to you.

You managed to do something for me tonight that almost no one male-indentified so far has managed to pull off.  Despite the fact that you claimed to be shy.  Despite your nervousness and your apparent lack of experience in places like we were at tonight or with girls like me.  Or perhaps because of those things….

You were brave.  You were polite.  You were cute and you made me smile.

I lead an unusual life, which you might easily have surmised.  I was perhaps stretching my star to refer to myself as “famous”.  But not by much.  I am at least internet famous.  Locally so as well.  I’m possibly even infamous in certain circles.  I am at least recognizable enough to know the experience of strangers approaching me in the street who already know my name and who I am….

And I am bold enough to be able to stand alone in front of a crowd of 10,000 people and presume that they might find me entertaining.  I am even bold enough to live my life quite in the open and very publicly as an Out Transgender Woman.  To be the woman I am, wherever I go.

It does not change the fact that I am also a shy, nervous girl.  Able to address a crowd in an urgent and powerful voice.  But afraid to speak to a cute boy at the bar.

Sometimes I just want that cute boy to take some part of the initiative.  Offer to buy me a drink.  Flirt.

And it’s not that there aren’t boys who don’t.  As I mentioned, there is a type.  The kind that is flattering enough, but that can’t ever get past my transsexual status.  Can’t just see me as an attractive woman.  Who is also trans.  They’ve got such a standard script, it’s hard not to finish their lines before they speak them themselves.

But you pulled it off.  You were able to find that line, despite your own nervousness and (I think…) inexperience with transwomen.  You were able to speak about my transness, ask your questions even.  All the while making me feel like just any average pretty girl with a handsome boy flirting with her at the bar.

It’s a fine line I ride you see.  For all my famous “queer transwoman-ness”, when it comes to boys, I’m just kind of a nervous straight girl.  Going through puberty for a second time.

I live in a weird in-between.  In a lot of ways, I have no place trying to meet men in a gay bar.  I’m a woman looking for a man.  Pretty surprisingly heterosexual for such a militantly queer woman.

And yet, “straight” bars have little more than frustration for me.  I’m too gay.  Too openly trans.  Not that I think there aren’t boys there who might find me attractive (I always hope…).  But almost all of them seem to be too afraid to even approach me.  Too afraid of their own sexuality perhaps.  Or maybe mine.  Or maybe I’m not “enough” of a woman for their friends…  Or.  Or….

I’m too straight for gay boys.  And too gay for straight boys.

It’s frustrating to put it mildly.  These are the thoughts that tear me to shreds before I fall fitfully asleep some nights.

But you pulled it off.  You found that balance.  You managed to make me feel like a beautiful woman while acknowledging me as a transwoman.

Even in the middle of a bar full of stunningly coiffed and elaborately made-up drag queens.  You made me feel fabulous.  Even though I had no makeup on, no painted armour to hide under.  You made me feel pretty.

You were brave.  You were polite.  You were cute and you made me smile.

You bought me drinks without my having to prompt you and without an overt agenda.  At least no more so than any guy buying drinks for an attractive woman!

Thank you for walking with me and thank you for your nervous banter.  I was nervous too.  And it helped.

And thank you for the sweetest goodnight kiss outside the T station so I could get back to my car.  You made me feel like the woman most boys seem to forget that I am.  Like the woman, I myself sometimes forget I am.

We might not meet again.  I can’t be sure the name you gave me was real or just yours for tonight.  But you have my card, and as you can see, if you’ve gone surfing, I really am this person I said I was.  If you’ve come this far, then these words have made their way through the 1s And 0s Post.

And so, boy I met tonight, thank you for being not a boy, but an actual man.  It’s nice to meet one.  It gives me hope.

I was really pretty desperately needing that.

Slainte!

26
Apr
12

An encounter on the street in Any-City USA

The following exchange just happened.

A voice from behind startles me as I’m walking home from CVS around dusk.  It’s undecipherable, recognizable by tone as being a greeting or compliment of some kind.  I jump slightly, but try to hide my surprise.

“Hey.”  I say, as a youngish man neatly dressed in “urban” styled sportswear and cap, passes me on my right.

Walking in the same direction he falls into step just ahead of me.

I stand up straight.  Head high, proud.  I carefully keep my gait confident and relaxed looking.  Carefully cover up any visible nervousness.  A long-practiced routine.

Looking back at me he says, “You have pretty, long, blonde hair.”

“Thanks.”  I acknowledge cheerfully.

“Are you gay?”

“I’m… Queer.”  Why do I make that distinction?  I speak the language and I know there is no fine distinction in this version of English.

Beat.  Still walking.

“You like to dress up like a woman?”

“Actually, I am a woman.  I’m a transgender woman, I’m just a little butched up today.”

Actually, I’m not really, I’m just not all that ‘femmed’ up.  Jeans, beat-up Chucks and my long, military styled, Activist Coat.

“You like big Puerto Rican dick?”

“I have no idea actually.”

“You have a place of your own?”

“No, I live with roommates.”

Beat.  Still walking.  Still trying to seem as relaxed as possible without breaking stride.  Smiling damnit.

“You want to find a place?  Go out in the woods somewhere and suck my dick?”

I chuckle intentionally, determinedly not sounding nervous or thrown, like it’s somehow terribly amusing and charming.

“No thank you.  I appreciate the offer.  But I’ve got work to get on to.”

We go several awkward steps in silence.  While he pulls ahead slightly; I’m still not breaking my stride or changing my manner, trying to seem completely affable.

Thankfully, as we approach the actual woods, the man stops and enters an apartment building door.  I keep going.  Smiling damnit, smiling.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

This sort of thing is something that happens to me, unfortunately, fairly regularly when I go out and about in the world.  Especially in the city, though I don’t really believe it’s exclusively a city phenomenon, I just walk more in a city.  There is more opportunity to encounter strangers on the street.

It is worth noting here that I do not feel as if there is anyone to protect me, but me.  Especially when I’m out by myself.  Which is often.

I have never had strangers come to my aid.  And almost every time I’ve contacted the police for help I have either been harassed or much, much worse.

So, it’s the magic number Me and whatever tools I have at my disposal.  Which is mainly my wits and experience with all sorts of different people in all sorts of settings.

It’s a tricky situation on a number of levels.  On one level, it’s very dangerous feeling when it happens.  I’m a transgender woman, alone.  And though my size tends to give me a level of protection, it’s a double-edged sword.  My size can easily make someone feel threatened.

My experience is that the sort of person who would make comments like this on the street, tends to have some dangerous insecurities that can suddenly turn hostile.  I have to be very careful to keep everything on the level of light banter.  As a tall person, I can’t afford to show any hostility.  If I can hold it together, my height alone will make them think twice about starting something.  But hostility on my part can far too easily cause the encounter to spiral out of control into real physical violence.

Which I definitely want to avoid.

So I put on the act.  Easy-going attitude and confident, but unconcerned poise.  I never break my stride though.  And never show a real reaction.  Not a bit of nervousness or unease.  Amused but not laughing at.

Also, on another level, and this is rather a sad one.  More often than not, the only ‘positive’ attention I get from men is of this sort.  The only ones who tell me I’m pretty or who actively flirt with me, follow it up by asking if I’d like to suck their dick.

Online, they send me a picture of it.

It’s not that I think all men are like this.  I’ve met a few who are sweet and charming, and I have to believe there are some who even find me attractive.  Sadly, they have not thus far been especially forthcoming.

So there’s this weirdly mixed feeling.  I’m scared.  I’m deeply offended.  And at the same time, I’m oddly pleased that a man actually finds me pretty.

And that’s usually where I summon the smile from.  The one that keeps things light and keeps me from getting killed or ‘just’ beaten up.

The asshole gets to go home and think it’s perfectly okay to speak to a transwoman (or probably ANY woman) like that.  And I just get to go home.  Alive.

The brain blender flips on to ‘High’.   My guts churn.

29
Jan
11

The People Of The Book (DJ Erisis Sacred Sounds Mashup)

This is a mashup I made some time ago.  When I first heard the Muslim Call To Prayer (or at least really listened to it) I was inspired by how beautiful it was.  It kept rolling around in my head for some time and I realized that it reminded me a great deal of other sacred sounds I was familiar with from the Christian and Jewish traditions.

Realizing this, I wanted to find a way to express those echoes.  To show how these separate faiths which all derive from shared roots, retain however a great deal of harmonic synthesis.  The three are one.

I have been hesitant to share this however out of a desire not show disrespect to any of the faiths represented here.  The recent uprisings in Egypt however, and their cross-faith solidarity, inspired me to share this.  I do hope you find it as beautiful as I do.

Click the link to my Podomatic blog to hear it:

04
Dec
10

An open response to the author of “‘Transwomen’ Are Merely Castrated Men”.

Dear Bev Jo,

Wow.  I had to sit down and pour myself a large glass of Irish whiskey before I tried to respond to your essay, entitled, “’Transwomen’ Are Merely Castrated Men”.  I always seem to forget that such hatred still exists among folks who should understand us the best.

First of all, I am glad that this essay was reposted, despite it’s initial removal.  I do not believe in censorship or the suppression of ideas in any way shape or form.  I am also glad to see your essay returned to this forum Bev, because of a basic rule I learned in High School journalism class.  Or rather the explanation of the rule.

The rule was an admonition against editorializing unnecessarily.  The explanation we were given was that, if you give enough rope to someone with a bad or hateful or simply misguided opinion, they will as sure as the sunrise hang themselves from their own words.

Fortunately for this response, I ended up not as a strict journalist, but as a columnist.  I hang myself from my own words for (a tiny portion of) a living!!

The first time I came across this essay, I just skipped past it.  Given the headline, I was pretty certain of the brand of hate I would find.  I’ve been forcing myself to read Janice Raymond’s “The Transsexual Empire” recently out of a desire to be as fully and accurately informed about the material which has been used to support and to justify the oppression of my sisters and brothers for so very many years.

“Know thine enemy,” as it were.

You can imagine my surprise when I realized that Prof. Raymond’s book was classic Science Fiction!!!  It was a familiar formula to any sci-fi nerd.  She starts with ideas and examples that are pretty close to things that are actually going on in the real world of today.  The male dominated medical establishment for example.  An establishment that for many years forced transwomen into very heteronormative boxes and roles if they wanted to be able to transition, to receive PERMISSION to be themselves.

But then Prof. Raymond takes these examples and spins them out into pure paranoid fantasy!!  She imagines an evil cabal of men and their occasional female lackey-puppets, who conspire in backrooms and high offices to infiltrate female spaces and minds through the crafty deployment of their “She-Male” shock troops!!

I’m not even trying to refute the long-held and insidious power of our overly-Patriarchal society here.  I’m just saying that what Prof. Raymond suggests would be a dumb plan!  If it were an episode of Star Trek, you’d accuse the writers of being cheap hacks!!

So I skipped your article Bev Jo.  Daily life was beating me up pretty badly as it was this week and I had little desire to be insulted or belittled by the words of a Raymond acolyte.

But then this afternoon a friend from the local LGBT community posted the link for your essay to my facebook page with the comment that I should, “(… )get all on top of this! I couldn’t read past the 4th paragraph…… completely aghast….”  So I clicked the link and began to read.  And while I always try to keep an open mind, it was much as I expected.  Vintage venom.

I’m left wondering about some things Bev.  And yes, I’m talking to you as much as I’m talking to the other folks reading this.

You make wild assumptions and broad categorizations about transwomen.  You seem to think we are all of one mold.  So I ask you this:  Are you exactly like your lesbian sisters?  Are every one of you “man haters”?  For that matter, do all cisgender women, in your opinion, have the same motivations and desires?  Is there an agenda you are all following?

How would you feel if someone seriously suggested these things to you?  Stated them as fact.

I noticed that one of your supporting commenters was using the name of a famous female serial killer.  Does that mean all women are killers?

That’s basically the type of analogy you use to link transwomen to the individuals who fired guns at Michigan Womyn’s Fest.  Where you actually use concrete examples, you make exceptionally broad inferences about all transwomen based on very small samples.

Would it be okay if you said, “All black people are… “ or “Catholics are simply…”?

You seem so full of hate and willful ignorance.  Your words indicate that you haven’t even considered expanding your worldview, or even considering any new arguments in at least 3 decades.  I find that sad.

Probably you think of yourself as a good person.  Passionate and caring even.  It’s an odds-on bet that you have loved and been loved.  At least I hope you have.

So why such hate?  What horrible things have transwomen done to YOU, that you are able to justify such strongly-spoken bigotry?

I have been extremely fortunate myself to have known and worked with a great many absolutely wonderful lesbian identified women.  I was born in Northampton, Massachusetts, popularly known as “Lesbianville USA”.  I write for an independent LGBT newspaper, run by an amazing lesbian couple.  I serve side by side with an inspirational and opinionated group of lesbians on the Board of Directors of Noho Pride as the first transwoman to do so in it’s 30 year history!  I speak out and fight as an activist for LGBQ rights as much as I do for Trans Rights!!

And though I identify as very openly Queer and find myself attracted to folks of all manner of gender presentations, I have been in a long-term relationship with another woman for some years.  I have never identified myself as “lesbian”, but I am often identified as such because of the person I choose to love.  I am honoured to be so identified when that happens.

More broadly, I was raised by and grew up around countless very, very strong women, many of whom counted themselves as feminists.  My Mother and Grandmother were both lifelong feminists, who lived the ideals of feminism in their lives and taught me those ideals as well.

Along with those ideals though, they taught me the value of tolerance and compassion.  They taught me to respect all people and all of nature.  To celebrate the many differences between us as well as our commonalities.

But more than anything, they taught me that no person is inherently better than any other.  We may have our individual strengths and weaknesses and our peculiar quirks and those are good, but they do not make us superior in any fundamental way.

The one thing I was never allowed to say in my Grandmother’s presence was the word “hate”.  I might strongly dislike something, but hate was to be avoided.

So I ask you Bev Jo, to strongly reconsider the ideas you are putting forth into the world.  They may seem well-founded and worthwhile to you, as much or more so now as 30 years ago perhaps.  But please believe me when I tell you, as an Out, Queer, Transwoman living my life with the daily fussilade of slings and arrows that are routinely hurled at me.  Who is regularly and sometimes brutally oppressed for simply trying to be myself, to live life simply as the woman I am.  Please believe me when I tell you that your words have consequences.  Your anger waters the flowers of hatred and bigotry against transpeople.

I’m not even asking you to like us, or completely accept us.  As much as I support your right to speak up about what you believe, I am asking you to consider the violence of your words.  Realize that we transpeople are often denied the basic necessities of life and all too frequently even beaten or killed as a direct result of the justifications you offer.

Instead of tearing our communities apart, we should stand together against our various oppressors.  It is the only way we may all of us redress the systematic imbalances that continue to bedevil not only the LGBT community but Women generally!

Sincerely,

Lorelei Erisis




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