Reigniting the Educational Passion

A mysterious fire was lit inside of me recently, and it threw me through a giant loop and began a semi-obsession towards trying to find my true calling.

In order to fully detail this newfound passion, let me first give a little backstory on my most recent time as a student. After a few years in the liberal arts, I decided to switch up my major towards Psychology; I had always had an interest in the field, but never really considered it as a career. Due to my lifelong obsession with the macabre, that included a love for most things crime based, I decided to enroll in online classes with an emphasis on Forensic Psychology. I highly enjoyed the subjects, and did great in all of my classes, spending multiple semesters on the Dean's list.

Unfortunately, I started dealing with some health issues that forced me to put a halt on my studies and by the time I was healthy again, while the passion still existed, the aspirations had faded and I allowed myself to give in to laziness and complacency, therefore, I chose not to reenroll and condemn myself to potentially being stuck in the world of retail for the rest of my life. As the years passed, I occasionally considered going back to school, but I could never reignite the passion that once filled my heart. That is, until a recent event triggered a dream which would awaken the enthusiasm inside of me.

Recently I had attended a BBQ hosted by the wonderful family who run the Transgender support group that I am a part of. Anybody who knows me and my story, know how important this group and its members are to me, and more so, are aware of how they have continued to inspire me to be a better person and find the truest parts of myself. The women who run the group have aspirations to create a bigger project, a Resource Center that would help members of the local transgender community with anything they would need, whether medical necessities or even legal advice.

During the BBQ, a young trans girl and her family were in attendance, she was new to our community and it excited many of us to not only see a new member joining us, but of course, it's always heartwarming to see someone so young whose parents are supportive of their gender identity and willing to do whatever they need in order to be there for their child. While I don't know anything about this girl's story, I came to witness an event that took place during the party. Something happened that led to her becoming increasingly upset, and our group leader took this girl and her family into a separate room for what could only be described as a group counselling session. As time passed, it appeared that whatever was the matter had been resolved, at least temporarily, and the group rejoined the party without further incident.

Fast forward to that evening, long after the party had ended and I was back at home, comfortably asleep in my bed. Suddenly, I was back at the party, deep in conversation with a group of friends when our group's leader came out from the room where this counselling session was taking place. She approached me and asked me if I could assist her with a situation and led me into this room where the young girl and her family sat. The dream then faded out of this location and I suddenly found myself sitting in an office, small but comfortable, a modest desk sat in the corner, and a few cozy pieces of furniture rounded out the room. Not much happened during this portion of the dream, and soon the office faded away and I slowly awoke from this dream, back in my bed, arm draped over my wife and for a brief moment, it was as if I forgot who or where I was, the sleep clearing from my mind.

It was 3:00am, I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but I felt like my mind was spinning at 100mph as the events of the dream lingered on my memory. I grabbed my phone and typed a few quick notes into my email before sending it to myself (I often due this whenever I need to later remind myself to research something) and feeling like I at least partly relieved the nagging feeling inside, I was able to drift back to sleep and finish the evening without interruption.

The next day, I awake with a determination to get myself moving in ways I hadn’t felt in years. I settled in at my computer and began my research into available online Bachelors programs with an emphasis on psychology and social work, I dug deeper into each program I found, looking for courses in gender studies and even found some that specifically referenced topics that included LGBT. I requested information about a few programs, and now, I wait for contact, desperately hoping that 1) I find the school with the course offerings that meet my new goals; 2) I can manage to afford any possible school enrollment that I may choose to proceed with; and 3) that at 35 years old, it's not too late for me, that I haven’t missed my opportunity to make something out of my life in a career that truly matters.

I guess now, only time will tell, hopefully soon I'll have a plan in place and can begin working my way towards becoming a gender therapist, working with members of the Transgender community, especially kids, helping them in ways that sadly, so few of us have been helped when we were those ages. Being a person of trust, an ally within the community, a mentor, and even a friend, as they find their identities and begin (or continue) their journey to becoming their true selves.

My First Pride Month

Back when I was a teenager in the late 90s/early 00s, I dabbled in crossdressing and very briefly contemplated if I was transgender. I dismissed the idea rather quickly and for a while, even successfully pushed all ideas of my dressing habits from my mind. In 2002, I came out to my family and close friends as bisexual and over the years prior to meeting Kerri; I had a few experiences with both men and women, although I never really had a strong interest in having a relationship with a man. Despite all of this, I never really felt like I was a member of the LGBT+ community until last year when Kerri and I found the Transgender Resource Center of Long Island.

In spite of my disassociation from being LGBT, I had always identified as an ally, and year after year, I had always tried to plan to attend either Long Island Pride or the big NYC Pride event. Unfortunately, for one reason or another, usually laziness, occasionally my work schedule, I continually failed to make it to view either event. But that finally changed in 2018 thanks to TRCLI, whose activism not only brought us into NYC Pride, but also created a new event this year, The Long Island Equality March & Pride Picnic.

It's hard to explain just how emotional it can be to attend an event such as Pride, to be surrounded by so many others who have had many of the same experiences as you; who have fought for their rights and for their identity, and in many cases, for their lives. The sound of spectators as they excitedly show their support from the sidewalks, telling you through their screams and applause that they respect you, that they sympathize with you, and that as an ally, they will fight with you. Just writing about it brings chills to my spine and fills me with a pure sense of emotion rivaled only so far by the day Kerri and I were married.

On June 16^th, our roughly 30 person group met at the Sayville train station and prepared to march for half a mile to the Common Ground at Rotary Park before having the Pride Picnic. I don't personally know how many marchers we had exactly, but I would estimate there may have been about a hundred and fifty people lined up with our little group that morning. A week earlier, Kerri had surgery to repair three torn ligaments in her right ankle, so we rented her a wheelchair and I stood behind her, ready to steer her down Railroad Ave.

We set off, and I successfully made it roughly half of the way through our journey when mild weakness began to take over from the extreme heat. I quickly passed the reigns over to one of our closest friends who was thankfully marching next to us. When we reached our destination and the picnic begun, I had a secondary task, as my company happened to be one of the sponsors for the afternoon. I met with my coworker who was gracious enough to come out on her day off and help me setup and run our booth where we gave away some toys, candy, and of course, information about our products.

The day was amazing, and as it wrapped up, we didn't want it to end. Hundreds of people came through the park that afternoon and showed their support for our little upstart group and for the entire Long Island LGBT community. Forgive me for sounding like a broken record, but there really is no appropriate way to best describe how incredible it is to witness such support.

The following week flew by, and before we knew it, June 24^th was among us and it was time to march once again, this time in Greenwich Village, NYC. Kerri and I took the train with 5 of our friends, steering her wheelchair along the Long Island Rail Road and the always insane NYC Subway system. When we found the rest of our friends from TRCLI, there seemed to be an unspoken feeling of wonder among everybody, a couple of which, like Kerri and myself, had never even attended NYC Pride as a spectator, never mind actually marching.

At about 1:15, we were finally given the go ahead, and the march was on… we began our trek, with other organizations about 5 feet in front of and behind us, keeping the pace with everyone, occasionally being forced to stop for a few moments, chanting in protest (Queers Don't Deny It; Stonewall Was a Riot) and working the crowd (Raise Your Hand If You Love Someone Who's Trans).

After my bout of dizziness the following week, I had enlisted a few friends to stay nearby in case I had a similar issue; with the NYC march being a little more than 4 times the length of Sayville, I wanted to be as prepared as possible for any setbacks. It turned out that it was my back which required me to stop pushing Kerri, but it wasn't long before the heat got to my head as well. I kept sipping away at my water bottle, but despite the hydration, about halfway through the march, I began to feel mild lightheartedness. I pushed on anyway, refusing to be forced the event early; I took a moment to alert a couple of friends as to how I was feeling, knowing it was important to have somebody keeping an eye on me in case matters got worse. I did however, mostly of a mixture of stubbornness, refuse to admit to Kerri just how bad I felt. She could sense the matter of course, in the way that only parents and soul mates can; and continually asked me if I was OK. Time and time again, I looked her in the eyes and with a smile on my face, told her I was fine, just warm.

At about 2:20, we reached the area we were all most excited for; passing the giant news booth setup by ABC/Eyewitness News. We cheered and chanted as we passed the cameras, hoping our friends and family at home would get the opportunity to see us for even a brief moment (they did), and moments later, we took the big turn onto Christopher Street and passed the famous Stonewall Inn where 49 years ago, a police raid led to the riots that directly launched the first Pride event.  It was amazing to walk this route, and I'm not the only one who could almost feel the spirit of our predecessors from 1969, amazing men and women who had had enough of the hatred towards our community. I thought of Marsha Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, the transgender women who according to many were among the first to fight back that fateful night.

Picture courtesy of ABC News

As the afternoon continued and inevitably came to a close, the term pride truly came to hold a brand new meaning in my heart. Of course, the core meaning is the one most directly implied with the event title of Pride Parade, as we stand strong and show not only our honor at being who we are despite the hatred that many tend to show towards our community, we also celebrate those that came before us and helped pave the way for us. Those who stood up and fought back when being LGBT was a crime, and would not rest until they had the same rights as everyone around them.

But it was a comment by my friend Mila that helped me think of a new meaning for the Pride event, and maybe it's been suggested previously by others before me, but it's a thought that gives me chills to think of. Mila told us that although Pride is a celebration, it is first and foremost a protest, and until every member of our community has equal rights, it will always be a protest. This got into my mind and I started thinking about the millions of people worldwide who fight for their rights, not just members of the LGBT community, but in all of the other communities that have been, and/or continue to be oppressed for no other reason than being themselves.

Picture courtesy of U.A. Nigro

For each of these groups, I think of a second definition of the word pride, which Google dictionary defines as "a group of lions forming a social unit." And I truly believe that this definition appropriately describes our community; we've come together and formed a family that goes far beyond blood, and together we fight besides each other, for our lives and for our freedoms… with our pride and most importantly, for our pride.