So You're Against Transgender Restroom Usage?

So You're Against Transgender Restroom Usage?

By Jackie Pollock, Guest Author

You know I'm getting tired of hearing how bad Transgender People are; that transgender people are nothing more than perverts who get enjoyment out of peeping on females in the restroom. I'm here to tell you that in reality all transgender people want to do in public restrooms is the same doggone thing that everyone else who uses a public restroom wants to do; transgender people just want to use the restroom, do their business, wash up, and leave the restroom period. The amount that want to “spy on women and girls” don't even exist; they're fictional; they're mythical.

Why are our politicians not focusing on more prominent issues such as homelessness, economic growth (that's way too slow in my opinion), pulling us OUT of the middle east, ensuring equality for all, and more issues that are in more dire need of solving. North Carolina's House Bill Two (2), AKA HB2, makes it unsafe from transgender people to use public facilities. In the opinion of this writer signing of House Bill 2 is an illegal bill as it supports Sexual Harassment and Sexual Assault. Since Governor Patrick “Pat” McCrory signed that bill into law he basically allowed the legalization of Sexual Assault and Sexual Harassment and activated the so-called “Bathroom Police” he should be arrested and charged with the felonies of Conspiracy to commit Sexual Harassment and Conspiracy to commit Sexual Assault. I can tell you if someone grabs my genitals that is not my significant other I would be hollering for an attorney and that person would be presented with a Summons to Appear in the Civil Case I would file against that person (if not their employer as well) for Sexual Harassment and Assault. The Law Enforcement Agencies have said they won't enforce it they find it a violation of Law Enforcement Ethics.

I would ask folks to face the facts; the facts are Transgender People are desiring to do nothing but use the facilities when the restroom is entered. Also that Transgender People are part of society and have been for many years. When it comes to restroom usage and a person's Gender Identity here's the bestidea: LEAVE EVERYONE ALONE AND LET THEM LIVE AND USE THE RESTROOM FACILITIES IN PEACE!!!!!!!!

Begin/End

As I look back over my life, I'm amazed that my life has been a constant stream of beginnings and endings, death of the old and the dawn of the new life, as it were.  From entering preschool to the day I graduated high school or college, to the day I walked into Calvary Chapel, to the time I walked out of Calvary Chapel, my wedding day and that fateful day I received my final divorce papers, and on and on it goes.

A particular crushing beginning and ending is the moment I was officially diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.   Looking back at myself during that time,  it felt more like the end of it all rather than any sort of beginning.  The end of my career, the end of so many friendships, the end of my sense of self, and almost the end of my life; however today I realize it was, in fact, the dawn of a new sense of self.

A nearby Jewish temple has a "tree of life" stained glass window at the front of their sanctuary.  During the times that I have gone to this temple, for whatever reason, I always find myself transfixed by this image.  The Tree of Life is a design similar to a DNA strand, the bottom part being the beginning and the top part the final resolution.  It's the middle part that really fascinates me.  The middle part being the times of our lives when we struggle to persevere, work our way through hard times, and once we find our way out, find that by working through all of it, our new lives, our real selves, emerge.

The Climb

Today there is a new trend called the "semicolon" movement.  This thrills me completely.  The thought that this ; can signify a person's need to take a break for their mental health is a victory in my eyes.  For I have long sense seen myself as one who goes before, a role model as it were to future generations.  During my time of struggling with my mental illness, there was no such thing as the 'semicolon' movement.   My friends and I who were diagnosed and struggling during that time had to deal with the disapproval of family, friends, and society for having to pause from life.  In addition to dealing with debilitating depression, the rapid mood swings, the suicidal ideation, and sometimes the high highs, we had to face the societal stigma of mental illness.

So, what did we do? We fought.  We stood up and were open and honest with ourselves and the world around at us.  We did it for our own health, our own happiness, and our own futures.  We fought against the backlash of stigma.  And, in the end, we stand victorious with those struggling now showing that they too can overcome.  We stand as beacons of hope, those who have gone through it and survived, and even more so, are thriving.

So, the endings in my life are not always that.  They are also beginnings.

The Story of My Life

It Begins With An Ending

Lisa pushed open the door of the computer lab and felt the cold blast of the Oregon winter force itself upon her skin, pricking her nerves further with the pang of loss and loneliness. Her boyfriend or whatever he was had finally ended things and had left her with a shattered heart and an empty feeling of despair, leaving echoes in her soul, loose memories rippling through her mind of a time when she had more confidence, a warmer time of bliss and love.

As she made her way, plodding slowly, she knew another night was upon her of homework and red wine, after the cafeteria dorm dinner, with her friends, both ways to block out the emptiness with a constant busyness and buzz.

In the state nearby, in the small city of Santa Clara, Jen Ames hurried home from her friends' house, zipping her windbreaker over her t-shirt to block out the chill spraying from the ocean. School had ended a few hours before and she had gone to her friends to study for the test the following day. Now, she hurried home to have a quick dinner before joining her parents' and her new friends for the Golgotha Temple bible study.

She did like this church better than the droll Methodist church her mom used to drag them all to—For here, the services were cool, vibrant yet relaxed. The senior pastor always wore Hawaiian shirts, the worship band played contemporary Christian songs that spoke right to her heart, the pastors taught in a way that made the Bible understandable and relevant to her life.

In his home in Northern California, Levi Temple sat dejectedly staring at his computer screen in his darkened study. Above him, in the bathroom, he could hear the bath water running for his children's post-dinner nightly rituals. His wife, Lorena's, soft voice came through the walls as she spoke to the children, working them through the process of bath, bed, and beyond.

She had given him the pass for this nightly ritual, as she could see his mind in a storm. It still affected him, even after fifteen years of leaving Golgotha Temple.  They had made a play of his name, Levi from the Levites the servants of God and his last name Temple, as if he was married to the church, a servant of the church.  He could feel the pangs of shame, the memories of the suffocating control in his youth, and his eventual abrupt departure that left him with a loss so far-reaching he could still feel the after-effects these many years later. He heaved a sigh outward and blinked back the hot tears in his eyes. Resting his hands on the keyboard, he begin to type, his story, his memories, and his thoughts on what had happened to him.

“Maybe this,” he said to himself. “Maybe this will help.”

Crucify