I Want A KAMMOK

When I was little, my family had a hammock. I think it was from my aunt, uncle, and cousins in Belize — and it was amazing. It was so comfortable, and I loved it. Sometimes I’d use it for napping (okay, not really — I didn’t nap when I was younger because I didn’t want to waste the day — but I’d lay down in it and just enjoy); sometimes my friends and I would use it as a swing. It eventually went away (I think it wore out), and I miss it. But now I have just discovered the KAMMOK on Kickstarter, and I want one. 

Not Your Usual Trans Childhood Narrative

EXPLORING TRANS – WEDNESDAY, MARCH 31, 2010, 5:40 PM

When I was little, my grandmother made me a pink princess costume for Halloween: a little petal pink shift, a darker pink cape that tied with a white grosgrain ribbon and was trimmed with sequins, and a pale pink satin tiara, also trimmed with sequins. I loved it. After Halloween, that costume ended up in my dress up box (a purple box with white hearts), and I played with it all the time.

I Feel Like I’m Losing Myself

EXPLORING TRANS – SATURDAY, JULY 10, 2010, 8:11 PM

I feel like I’m being pulled in so many different directions. I don’t know how — I’ve never know how — to deal with multiple identities in a way that didn’t cause one of them to be neglected and ignored. I’m a Korean adoptee, but I’m also queer and trans, and I haven’t yet been able to figure out a way to unite those identities, instead of simply pushing one to the foreground and the other to the back.

It Will Always Be Camp Snoopy To Me

Oh, amusement park at the Mall of America, you'll always be Camp Snoopy to me.

While I was at the Mall of America the other day, I was rudely reminded that Camp Snoopy no longer exists — or at least, not as I knew and loved it. For several years, when I was little, my parents would take several of my friends and me to Camp Snoopy for my birthday. We’d get wristbands and run around the park all day, riding all the rides. It was glorious. Camp Snoopy has a very special place in my heart. And now, that timeless, lovable Camp Snoopy has been replaced by Nickelodeon Universe.

Darren Criss and Somewhere Only We Know

I am completely captivated by the Darren Criss/Glee version of “Somewhere Only We Know.” It’s gorgeous. Of course, I also adore Darren Criss (and I love Blaine’s performance skills, even though the character sometimes makes me want to facepalm when he’s not singing). 

Broken Promises and Castles Built On Air

When I was little, there was someone I idolized. She was brilliant, and I loved her. She was always full of grandiose ideas. She always made plans — we’ll make Christmas cookies, complete with edible silver dragees; we’ll go for sushi at the place where her friend works; we’ll go see you in your high school play. Some of the ideas I knew would never come true — that wasn’t even really the point of them — tours around California, for example — these wonderful, brilliant plans that I knew weren’t real, but I couldn’t help but get swept up in her enthusiasm, imagining just for a moment how incredible it would be if they were true. Some of them . . . some of them I really thought were meant as promises, not just building castles in the air — those were the ones that really hurt when nothing ever happened.

“Don’t Laugh At Me”

I first heard Mark Wills’ song “Don’t Laugh At Me” at camp, almost ten years ago. It’s a lovely song — the music itself tugs at my heartstrings a little, and the lyrics send a powerful message. It’s not perfect, and I’m a bit uncomfortable with the implication that it is because god views us as equals that bullying isn’t acceptable, but I do like that it seems honest and real.

“Don’t laugh at me / Don’t call me names / Don’t get your pleasure from my pain” – It doesn’t try to pretend that we should all live together as one big happy family; all the song asks for is for people to be acknowledged and be recognized as fellow humans, for people not to be torn down in order to make others feel better about themselves. Is that so much to ask?

GenderQueer: Voices From Beyond the Sexual Binary

GenderQueer: Voices From Beyond the Sexual Binary

(Edited by Joan Nestle, Clare Howell, and Riki Wilchins)

I refer to this book, and the collection of essays in the front by Riki Wilchins, constantly. It’s a wonderful anthology, and it shows — in real people’s voices, not just academic theory — that there’s so much more to gender than merely “man” and “woman.” It’s one of the first trans-related books I ever read; I bought it, Wilchins’ Queer Theory, Gender Theory, and Leslie Feinberg’s Trans Liberation at the 2009 MN Trans Health and Wellness Conference.

Perhaps one of my favorite quotes about gender is in Wilchins’ essay “A Continuous Nonverbal Communication:” “In fact, throughout our entire waking lives we are carrying out a continuous nonverbal dialogue with the world, saying, ‘This is who I am, this is how I feel about myself, this is how I want you to see me‘” (12). To me, that statement sums up why it is so important to allow people to identify and express their gender as they will — to do otherwise would be to render them invisible and deny who they are.

Gratefully Yours

Until recently, I’ve had a big problem with the word “gratitude.” I didn’t like it; I didn’t want to use it; and I certainly wasn’t going to say that I’m grateful to my parents for feeding me, housing me, clothing me, and basically doing what parents should.

Working at the State Fair and Pita Gourmet

The other day, I was absolutely craving a pita filled with sliced cucumbers, bacon, and garlic-sour cream dressing. Oh my god, that is such a fantastic combination.

When I was younger, I used to work at the MN State Fair. For several years, I worked for Pita Gourmet, which was run by family friends. I never actually worked in the stand selling food, but I made the food. We worked in a kitchen at “the ice house,” the office for Gopher State Ice Co — Larry Abdo in charge of Golfer State Ice and the ice boys, and his wife Carol in charge of Pita Gourmet and the pita girls.