The Lovely Lady Tanner

1) Tell us about you


I'm a transgender twenty-four year old. I'm by many accounts some mixture of hipster and hippie, though such terms are often linked with disparagement. The gist boils down to this: I know who I am and what I value, and all of my world and will is bent towards making a universe more full of love, acceptance, and understanding. All of my artistic endeavors work towards finding and building connection with the people around me, from dancing, to singing, to playing the piano, to kink and shibari. There's a better world to be made, if we can fight our fear of letting people see the most vulnerable parts of ourselves. To some extent, this is the only description of me that I feel truly matters.



2) What impacts your gender identity?


This is a complex question, of course. I fear my answer will be novel-esque.
It must be admitted that my role model for men was never great, growing up. It would be untrue to say that the violence of the men in my life didn't bother me--scar me, even--but it would be just as untrue to claim that was the biggest difference I always felt. It was the modes of thinking that always alienated me. Even while I presented entirely masculine, and had never heard a differing concept of gender than that which prevails, I simply lived in a different world.


If I'm honest, though I much prefer female pronouns, I don't feel entirely aligned with women, either. Though I have often identified as genderfluid, this doesn't adequately describe myself. Rather, to me, gender has always been like wisps of smoke--visible as they are cast off by the source, but intangible and impossible to grasp when you reach out to hold them. The closest term I've found sounds nonsensical, but I feel it quite strongly: gendervoid. It meshes with other terms that sit roughly nearby on the spectrum: agender, omni-gender, pan-gender. All these words seem to most so boggling that it seems they can't have basis in anything other than delusion. But the truth is, while I find the feminine concept of the world generally more aware, and I definitively desire more of femininity in my presentation, I know that it is only marginally closer to who I am than any masculine identity would get.


Men in my life have always enacted small, verbal forms of violence on women--indeed, on many groups, identities, and races. Standing as I do at some point between, or some point askew, this has always galled me. Simply put, distance gives perspective.
This is not to say that my male body does not present discomfort. It is wrong, but androgyny or agendery are much nearer to my own mental image. I do not like my testicles, I am indifferent about my penis, I wish I didn't have so much body hair, and I am seething-loathful about my thinning hair. Overall, though, I have some form of truce with this body, and I do not feel an affinity towards having a vagina any more than I do having a penis. When I think about it, the parts of myself I feel most express my gender are, somehow, my face and my hands.


My hands have strength. They have veins from playing piano, they have scars from slips and cuts. But they also have dexterity. They are soft and smooth, and they are the tools by which I interact with the world. They clutch and caress with equal ease. Somehow, they feel more like sexual organs than the genitals I was born with. They have explored the bodies of many more people than what's between my legs. They are my anchor to the keyboard, and through my hands the ivory and ebony feel electric, reviving me and reminding me what I live for.


My face was once much prettier, before puberty overtook it, but it remains pretty in some ways. That puberty filled it out, but it will never blunt my eyes, or shorten my eyelashes. My eyebrows are shaped almost without input. My lips are full. At the same time, my chin is not terribly narrow. I can never escape the gray shadow of stubble; it is there moments after I shave. It is also an essential part of my interaction with the world: lips and tongues, food and smells, words and looks and sympathy.

What a strange world, where these parts most engender my inner self.

When you boil it down, my gender is confusing to me as it is for anyone else: I stand between, closer to feminine, and repelled by the blindness to pain that masculinity often brings. Being called a man twinges painfully, and being called a woman fits better than anything else, but it still never feels complete.
Take this long answer as you will.






3) What do you feel sis gendered people need to know?


That transgender is not always the same. We are not each a face of a single entity. We share many struggles, and we know each others' pain minutely--but for a trans-man and a trans-woman, knowing the pain and understanding the cause can make their difference almost as large as that between the average cis-gendered individual and any trans individual. Our solidarity does not come from sameness--it comes from sympathy, empathy, and the awareness that minority has forced upon us.



4) When did you come out to you?


It was a journey, I suppose. I heard about the term genderfluid when I went to college, learning it from a new partner (now a partner of six years). It made so much more sense than anything I'd learned. It took two years to realize fluidity was a step in the journey, and I was more feminine than I'd understood before. It wasn't about stepping towards femininity--it was about seeing the ways I'd distanced myself from masculinity without ever understanding it. I didn't have the words, so I did without. The entire process has been so subtle and powerful, like the shifting of continents over the earth's crust, that the best answer I can give is this: it was not a shocking, sudden movement. It was a slow crystallization, and I continue to learn today.



5) Shout out to big supporters:


Oh, goodness, I'm no good at this. There are so many people who have supported me. I worry that those who don't make it on the list will be hurt. I wouldn't have survived the last four years without the people who share my life, and I'm sparing with the people whom I'll allow to say. Suffice to say this: if I keep you around, you're a gem that lights up my world. You make life worth living. I'll help you remember that even when everything seems dark, the same way you did for me.



6) Learn more resources:


Honestly, my education in such matters is a hodge-podge of personal experience and interaction with other members of the community. Most of my internet learning goes on through Wikipedia, so if you're willing to treat it like tv-tropes, go nuts. Otherwise, I don't go in for searching out specific places people can learn more. I'm busy figuring my own world out.



7) What would you like to see the Albuquerque leaders do to support you?


I would like to see less binarism. Leather Fiesta, while a wonderful time, had a men's dungeon and a women's dungeon. It was a painful thing to look at. It was painful in more ways than one. I understand the reason, and I support it: safety and comfort. But I think there could be a middle-ground: smaller dungeons that people are absolutely not allowed to be in unless actively playing is one possibility that comes to mind. I don't know the answer. I don't mean to say that my pain overrides the reasoning behind it. I just know that the presence, and its results, were very painful to me.


8) What would you like others going through your path to know?



Shit happens. Pain happens. I won't pretend that happenstance isn't a cruel, uncompromising taskmaster. But I will tell you this: every failure, every pain, and every disappointment is an opportunity to remember who you are. We have a choice to absorb our pain and let it become us, enacting our pain on others in sometimes obvious, sometimes subtle ways. Or we have a choice to feel it, let it pass through us, and take from it the lesson we typically forget applies to both physical and emotional discomfort: this tells you something should be different. Find what should change, and try to change it. Remember how that pain washed over you when you feel the urge to cause pain to others. Remember it as the signpost it is: this was wrong.




9) What is your biggest inner personal challenge?


Not typing too much.
More seriously, it's balancing shame with self-love. I learned shame early, and have only recently begun to learn self-love. The world I grew up in taught me that I was worthless, and this was the spur for me trying to learn how to be a good person. Which is undeniably a good, central part of who I am. But it is also the source of my depression, my suicidal ideation, my fear of being trapped in one place for the rest of my life. From shame I learned how to demand of myself how to be perfect, and was only with humility that I learned that perfection doesn't exist, and how to admit that I have done good work in the name of my journey. I take pride in that, as I take fullness from the work it will always demand.




10) What do you get tired of hearing or experiencing?


"Why aren't you going to transition?"
I'm not unlearned. I know what transition entails, to a large extent. It's pain, and it's money, and it's years of work, all to get only marginally closer to presenting how I feel. When I put on a dress, I get more dysphoric--those curve-demanding garments remind my brain that my body is nothing like what our culture demands of a woman. I know myself enough to know I'll never feel like I look beautiful to others that way, even if it does get closer to my weird gender identity. As it stands, I sometimes feel beautiful to others now. Handsome, sometimes.


This body is a walking container. If I'm stuck with a masculine one, at least I like my hands and my face. At least I have people who love me. I'll incorporate masculinity and femininity until I find a blend that expresses who I am. And I'm tired of people telling me that fear shouldn't stop me from transitioning.



Thank  you Lovely Lady Tanner for opening your world to  us. Your words and insight are greatly appreciated.
 

"Hi, my name is Keli and I am slave identified.”

So last weekend was amazing! My slave/my love was not well,  so I wrapped her up  in  a blanket like a glowworm and kissed her and commanded her to rest, and I headed out to AEL.   

Saturday night I truly had such a wonderful time. First off the hosts B&s were wonderful! The house was warm and welcoming and the play stations had a wonderful and loving energy.  So thank you HOSTS! 

I knew it was going to be an interesting night when as they were doing the AEL rounds and everyone was introducing and identifying themselves I said “Hi, my name is Keli and I am slave identified.” 

I don’t really know what I was thinking. I think that I was busy holding in a fart, or being blindsided by T’s comfortable penis, to the point where I really wasn’t focused on what I was saying. So for the rest of the night I received a lot of well  meaning and playful shit. It was very funny and set the tone for the rest of the night for me.

It was also a night full of receiving wondrous gifts. 

First I received a horse nipper and file kit. THANK YOU D &E!   Those of you who are horse people can really get that!

Then I received the first of my two double floggers, it was done by “T” of Tease and wow. Everything that I wanted and more. It is deerskin and despite the falls is extremely light beautifully balanced and just stunning. Now to be clear --I have no idea how to use them -- but I will be finding out this month! 

Then I got to play with Vlad. It was something that I had been thinking about that I wanted to do for a while. I had ordered some special barbed wire from the “internet machine” and went to Home Depot because I needed a certain type of screws.   

I had a mock up of a ball bag. The idea was I could wrap his balls in a bag and fill it full of whatever I want, screws, ice, that sort of thing. Well after trying the ball bag, it is clearly going to need some work. But the idea is solid, so I will keep working with my prototype. 

The play was heavy.  I told him to keep his eyes shut, I wrapped his ball in the ball bag and put the screws in and then wrapped his cock in barbed wire.

It took some work and so I had to sit down and really concentrate. I need to really watch the color and temperature of his cock because I was doing something very new. I also really in touch with him and would ask the   “good pain bad pain” question. I would go  from  wrapping and re wrapping his cock in  the barbed  wire,  trying to  get a good wrap  that I wanted,  and squeezing his balls with  the screws.

When we finished and went downstairs I was more under then I knew. I made him sit and got him some water, but for some reason didn’t get him something to eat and didn’t remember to cover him. Mrs. RuffDomme was wonderful and seeing how out of it I was brought me some water. 

I think it was a lot more intense that I thought it was going to be.

Silly, but true.

I was under for a while, including the next day. 

I also received my other flogger, completed.  

Wow. I am so under still from the heady amazing experience of the weekend. I know that his blog is boastful. But I am really proud of what I accomplished.  

I am hopeful that My Love/my slave the glowworm will be feeling better soon. I love her and the only thing missing was her smile cheering me on.

More learning, more play, more love

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Why I got to go home

It was Sunday night and I was at the Wet Munch. I was surrounded by the most amazing people. My slave stayed home this time, so I was going to have enough fun for both of us. I knew that I had to leave early to get to work in the morning. It was the first day on my new job.  
 

So I went out to our brand new truck and turned the key and TA -DA!  

Nothing.  

Panic rose in my throat. 

I did it again. 

Silence.  

As the panic started slowly working its way through my body I turned and who is looking in my window? Just Horns.  The panic started to abate as I stumbled out of the car and repeated to him over and over “she’s not working”. Before I knew it Horns, Ninjet, Tran, and Sherlock were all over the truck. 

I mean it, ALL OVER HER. In, out, and, finally under. All of them talking and mumbling to each other in some sort of car language that I couldn’t understand. 

It was then that he problem was identified. 

Someone had stolen the starter from the truck. Someone had laid under the truck and taken it.

When Ninjet first told me I panicked. I remember backing up and not knowing why. I was so confused that my head was whirling. The only thing that kept replaying in my mind was the time that I was shot at in Florida. They were coming back. I was stranded and they were coming.

Just so  that you know, it made no more sense to me at that moment then it does now. 

It just was an “is”. No explanation. 

I remember Ninjet holding me in her arms. I remember D and E standing right there. I remember Sherlock  giving me his card and telling me to  call  him  if I needed to  get back  and forth. I remember Zoe taking me by the hand, and Connyfornia coming out to make sure everything was OK.

I had a plan right away, call AAA, and get towed to CarMax where I bought her. Vlad offered up his apartment for the night, and offered to drive me to the apartment that night and to work the next morning. J&L called and offered rides. Zoe offered to take me home. 

It was so much. I kept going from being completely OK to falling apart and crying. The memories of gunshots dogging the voices of the now. Then someone slipped something into my hand, I looked down. It was a card.  A credit card. I remember a voice saying “it should cover the bulk of the cost of the part.” I remember trying to give it back and the person not taking it. I remember thinking “this isn’t right. I have to give it back.” But not being able to. I remember saying thank you and feeling like it couldn’t possibly be enough to say thank you. 

It was then that the whole Cadre of community, Horns, Tran, Sherlock, and D put the truck into neutral and pushed it to a place where it could get towed. I was in utter AWE and shock.

When I called the tow company D&E stayed out to wait for the truck as Zoe took me inside. Ninjet stayed at my feet, Vlad got me something to drink. 

I was dazed and confused and triggered. I couldn’t focus. Connyfornia stayed close, and so did Vlad. I just kept thinking if I don’t move soon they are coming, and they are coming with their guns.

I tried to talk, say something that would take the attention of the fact that I was being so irrational.  So the three of us, I, Ninjet, and Zoe tried coming up with theories as to why the starter was taken. I said that a  blind amputee grandmother needed a starter so  that she could go  and teach  the young orphan children  how to  read. Ninjet had seen people take stuff before and her philosophy was that they must have needed it real bad.  She tried so hard to comfort me.  As did Zoe, as she kept one hand on my leg and one on my back. 

When the tow truck came, about 30 minute later they took the truck and I had to ride with them. I stayed at Vlad's over night and appeared on my first day a little worn, but showered and teeth brushed. 

Throughout the day I found that the theft was not covered by warranty, and the insurance company wanted 500$ for it, which was our deductible. That, however didn’t matter because we didn’t have 500$ anyway.  

 So all day Tran worked his ass off to find my truck a new starter.

Ninjet offered to put it on after she got off work, and with the credit card gift, the part was completely affordable.  

After work I met them at CarMax again thanks to Vlad getting me there, and within minutes the truck was up and running and purring like a kitten.

I offered to pay them both, they refused. I gave then what I had, my hugs and love. 

And I got to go home.  

I got to hug and kiss my wife. I got to sleep beside her and snuggle up next to her in my sleep.

I got to pet the pups, and feed the horses. I got to sit on the couch as the cats all clamored for the best spot to lie on my body. 

I got to go home. 

I have no words that could possibly convey the gratitude, love an overwhelming amount of support that I feel.

You “Cadre of Community”  have closed the chapter in my life where my slave and I faced mountains alone.  

I can never again say that we are by ourselves out here.  What you did, all of you, will be in my heart forever.

All my love and hugs,

K

Your two choices.

So it is 2016. Wow.  So much is on my mind.  For right now I am thinking back to a discussion I had in 2015 with a group at Synagogue.  It was fun and nonsensical until it turned to the “state of the world”. The group who I was talking to took to a real negative look on things. The typical sentiment of how bad things are, how horrific the world is, blah- blah- blah. 

When engaged in these types of conversations I will only let it go so far, then I interject and this is what I say. 

“I disagree with you, all of you. For the first time in our world I am allowed to marry the woman I love and openly care for her. The cops are not as likely to target me BECAUSE I am in a gay bar. I can be out, proud, and EMPLOYED. I can hold her hand in mine while the power of my legal wedding ring SHINES.  I disagree that our world is a pile of shit. It is the goldmine of opportunity. And I will never discount how incredibly lucky I am to have been born now and not 200 years ago.”

I am not saying that there are things in the world that are horrific. I am not that blinded. But what I am saying is that I refuse to not look at our lives as a continuum. The past and the now. What we have on our fingertips is beyond anything that has ever happened before and is the ability for us to look back at our progression and affect our future on a way that has never happened before.

Information is above all things POWER. It has never been less true then now. 

So what am I saying here?

I think what I am saying is use this year as a call to find your voice. Blog, write, speak. Say those things this year that you have let fear hold from your lips and hands. 

Be bold in yourself and your relationships. Remember WHO you are and embrace the power of that.  

Ask yourself the tough questions without the noise of the people and world around you, who are you, what do you want, and what are you settling for now? I said you, not those around you, not those who what you to be a certain way for them- just you. 

And then take a breath, close your eyes and act on it.

Don’t let this year go by without the world feeling the thunder of your boots and the ripple of your words. 

This is a call for you to find you, your potential, your power, your “self”. And then to be honest to that self. 

Never forget that who we are is ever changing, ever growing and ever evolving. That leaves you with two choices.

Evolve through your own choosing- or through someone else’s. 

But either way – it WILL happen. 

And Never. Never. Never forget where we came from:

https://news.yahoo.com/uniquely-nasty--the-u-s--governments-war-on-gays-191808993.html