Here is a story about a desperate green bird named Senior Verde and his attempt to win the heart of the woman he’s adored since he was a chick. Her name is Rosita. 

 Every mating season since adulthood, Senior Verde has danced for Rosita in front his bright green nest that he decorated just for her. No matter how bright the colors of his nest or no matter how hard he danced for her, she was unaffected by his efforts to court her.

 One day a chameleon comes into their village and wanders past senior Verde’s nest. Senior Verde sees the chameleon and he jumps out of his nest quickly.

“Hey lizard! Hey you with the eyes! My name is Senior Verde and I could use your help with something very important to me, please!”

The chameleon paused and gave his attention to Senior Verde.

 Why, you are the most brilliant green thing I have ever seen in my life! It is nearly the end of our one day a year to find a mate and Rosita is still unimpressed by me. Will you stand next to my green nest and make it even greener for my love?

The chameleon answered, “I am the chameleon of sunset.”

“That’s great” - said Verde, “Just a little to the left and…PERFECT! Don’t move an inch. Look lizard! she’s coming.”

Rosita approached the nest and again, she had very little enthusiasm for Verde and his love of the color green. What about her favorite color, pink; she asked internally.

She began to move to the next suitor when suddenly the sun began to set and the sky changed to all the colors of the rainbow. The colors of the sky met the chameleon on the jungle floor and began to change the hue of its skin. Rosita paused to watch the display. The chameleon rapidly changed from blue to green, then to red and then to orange, then purple and gold and finally pink. Senior Verde ran to the chameleon and told him to stop changing colors and to immediately return to the most vivid green he could produce. To Verde's shock, Rosita immediately fell in love with Senior Verde for putting on such a wonderful show for her.”

“Lizard! My friend. I am so sorry that I tried to make you into something you are not for my own selfish cause. It was your ability to change colors that won my love’s heart, even though you were the brightest color of green I’ve ever seen, you were also the most beautiful shade of every color that exists! Please tell me your name so that we can name our first born after you, my dear friend!”

“I am the chameleon of the sunset” he said and walked into the setting sun.

   Betty June loved all of her flowers with all of her heart and that love did not stop at the seeds. She knew that each and every one of the seeds had a special gift stored inside and she was overjoyed to see the gifts they gave each time one would grow.

In Betty's flower shop, it was considered cruel to keep seeds within pouches to sell to the customers. Instead they were contained within clear jars so they may gaze in wonder about the flower shop at all the plants that used to be little seeds just like they were. 

    Jeb was especially eager to grow as soon as possible. As far back as he could remember, he had always desired to become a rose. He wasn’t like the majority of other seeds in the jar who had not figured out what they wanted to become yet. Jeb wondered how the other seeds could have any doubt about what they should become in adulthood. Roses were beautiful and cherished as gifts of affection from lover to lover. They also had thorns which could prick those who we’re not delicate enough and do not appreciate their beauty. The ultimate goal for Jeb was to be chosen as a flower that will be gifted to someone to show affection. Jeb considered that life would be easy for him, seeing as he already had the answers to his future, or at least an idea of what he will become.

 One day a man came to Debbie’s shop and purchased a handful of seeds from Jeb’s jar. Jeb was one of the lucky ones to get picked. He squealed with joy the entire ride to his new home where he would turn into a beautiful Rose.

 Jeb was given his own pot with rich soil that glistened with vermiculite. The other seeds from Jeb’s jar were in the garden too; each having their own pot to grow in.

  Jeb joined the conversation his neighbors were having around him and soon found himself bragging about how quickly he would turn into the most wonderful shade of red they had ever seen. 

One neighbor expressed that he could not understand why Jeb wanted to be a rose so bad.

Another seed told Jeb that he doubted that anyone of them would turn into a rose at all, nor did he want to. He went on to say that it would be embarrassing having to deal with all the attention that roses generate.

  A few weeks passed and one morning Jeb noticed that nearly all of the other pots in the garden had budded. Little green leaves could be seen on the tops of all the pots surrounding Jeb. This worried him deeply. Why had he not started to grow yet? He was exhausted from trying so hard to grow each day. He would stay up at night later than the others and stare at the moon, hoping it would help him grow.

 A few months passed and now it was clear to Jeb that the other seeds were turning into blackberry bushes. Every last one of them had begun to produce their first berries. 

 Jeb was not a berry bush. He knew that. How could he possibly become something that did not even have a flower? Sure, they had thorns like roses, and that was sort-of appealing to Jeb, but it was simply not what he wanted to be all in all.

 A year passed and Jeb had not grown into anything.

     He hadn’t given up on becoming a rose and knew he never would. This thought scared him. If all he wanted to become was something that he could not be, then would he turn out to be nothing at all? He would even settle for becoming a blackberry bush. They were not adored such as roses and no lover would ever give one as a gift, but they sort of looked like Roses and at this point it was about survival for Jeb. 

  Jeb pictured all the other flowers besides Rose’s that he used to see at the flower shop. He tried with all his will to grow into a morning glory for a few days and then after that decided that he was to flower into a daffodil; that phase lasted for a few weeks. He even tried to talk to the bushes about his new identities as various different flowers and pretended to have as much enthusiasm about being a lilac as he had shared about becoming a rose. The bushes ignored the tiny sound coming from their former peer and around that time,  most of the bushes had resolved to flat out ignore Jeb when he spoke. 

   The man who’s garden they lived in came out one day and picked the season’s wealth of berries from the bushes around Jeb and the bushes were all very pleased that their fruits were being so thoroughly enjoyed. 

  Finally, the man came out to the garden again one day and looked down into Jeb’s pot. He grabbed Jeb and placed him in a tiny jar and put the jar in his car. Jeb was nervous at first but soon ecstatic to be in  Betty June's flower shop once again.

  The man complained to Betty that this seed had not grown into a bush. Debbie exchanged  Jeb for another seed. Jeb could not return to the jar with the other seeds, he knew that. He was too old and didn’t grow. He was certain that he was to be thrown into the trash. 

   He gazed at the Roses that he grew up admiring within the flower shop and he wept. 

   Betty loved her seeds too much to just throw Jeb in the trash. She tried a few different mixtures of soil and exposed Jeb to different amounts of lights each day. Jeb sat in his new pot and thought to himself that Debbie was sure to give up trying to make him grow, but sure enough, suddenly Jeb began to sprout little green leaves. 

  Within a month, Jeb was a full-grown Marigold.

Betty said to herself that he was the most beautiful Marigold she had ever grown.

  A young man came into the shop shortly after Jeb had grown and asked for the most beautiful flower he could buy for his wife. Betty didn’t need any time to decide which one to send the man home with. The man agreed with Betty that Jeb was certainly the most beautiful flower he had ever seen.

Foreword: 

             No adversity is meant toward the gay community in this opinion piece.

         I have been transitioning from male to female for almost two years now, and I’ve witnessed what I consider to be the implications of what could be a potentially genocide within the so-called “gay community.” in years to come.

     Transwomen are displaced within the LGBTQ community and this will lead to more trans suicides. 

        The suicide rate for transgender people is a staggering statistic that I need not mention, because as we all know; transgender people have a very high risk of killing themselves. What’s worse is other people within the LGBTQ community including gay men, do not represent trans culture. It turns out, the queer community does not have a whole lot in common with us, thought they at one time faced the same struggle. Therefore transwomen have very few outlets for support.

 I’m not saying that people within the queer community do not empathize with us, simply put, they do not face the same challenges of survival that transwomen face. A gay guy can get a job pretty much anywhere nowadays and so can a lesbian or anyone else within the spectrum, that is...except for transwomen.

There is no community for trans people yet. 

  This is not the fault of queer folk and their community, it’s also our fault. Transwomen have failed to come together as their own community and willingly alienate themselves from each other because of learned behaviors that are reactions to how society treats us.

       How did this happen?

               Well first we must consider how queer communities' function. There is such a small percentage of gay to straight people in the world. Non-heteronormative people must find very subjective scenarios in which they can meet with their fellow community. Usually bars and businesses within the hospitality industry are the only place that queer people can go to where they know they will be unanimously accepted and will have a chance at finding more like-minded individuals. The problem with queer folks only having a handful of places to go to meet, is that bars and clubs are very niche by nature and do not whole-heartedly accept all who come. Therefore, individuals who seek others who are the like-minded, must first be accepted by the establishment and social circuit of the queer folks, before they are allowed to enter the “gay community” which nowadays seems to me to be just a catch-phrase that is tethered to the social clique that claims to be it.

              It has been detrimental us transwomen having been lumped in haphazardly with gay men and gay women who are simply put, different than us and us transwomen face urgent and unique struggles that they do not face anymore and have not in decades.  In my experience gay men and women, generally don’t understand trans issues as much as they would like to think they do, to no fault of their own as they are not trans people.  Having said that, I am not mentioning female to male trans-persons because females can become passable with hormones with much greater ease than a man can become a woman, also a woman is generally allowed to look like a guy in society already.

   Since the queer community is so tight-knit, belonging to it is a popularity contest and nothing more. There is an incentive for gay folks to be critical when deciding whom they deem may enter their exclusive and coveted community, as a newcomer may threaten their volatile position within the clique that they’ve jockeyed so hard to achieve. 

So, where else can transwomen meet besides gay bars?

          It is unacceptable still, to be a trans person and especially a crossdresser in this world, unless of course you are “passable.” 

“It’s 2020, what do you mean that it’s unacceptable to be trans.” You might say.

Guys, do me a favor. Go put a dress and some makeup on and try to find a job and then tell me that it is acceptable. People say it that doesn’t matter what others think and to just be you. Well, it actually matters to the point of life and death. If you don’t get work because you are not passable but identify as a woman, you end up on the streets and then you either die from poverty,  kill yourself, or contract HIV from hooking; which is the only real job for transwomen besides porn (unless you were grandfathered into your current job, that I guarantee loathes the fact that you still work there and that there’s nothing they can do to get rid of you.)

         Since transwomen are reduced to using sleezy hookup apps in order to find one another, if they attempt to do so at all, there is real missing sense of community. On these sites, transwomen basically work as escorts or camgirls, because being transgender - they are unable to obtain regular jobs or virtually any work that is not sex-related.

    If you are a fellow trans and try to reach out to other trans on these sleezy hookup sites, the chances are that you will not get a response of any kind from your peer who is just there to work. I have not seen a desire for transwomen to have any connection with others alike in such sites, in my brief experience as a transwoman on such sites.

    Transwomen treating each other like human beings is counterintuitive to our nature now as we have been programmed by society to accept being treated like dirt, and when you feel like dirt, you don’t have the self-esteem or will to lift others up. I fear that transwomen are beginning to see other transwomen as they might see themselves. Worthless.

              A transwomen communicating with another transwomen, does little to validate their identity as a sex toy for men and could even compromise their self-image, if they feel inferior to the transwoman they are communicating with in some way and thus instead of coming together in one of the only places we can find each other, we avoid interacting with one another and are instead competitive because of this toxic mentality.

   There are chatrooms for trans people, but anything political is strictly prohibited. This makes no sense to me as we are at a time in our history where our sect of society desperately needs to be organizing with one another and not just following those who do not understand or have our needs.

   I’ve seen other transwomen being standoffish to each other too many times to remain silent about it. I understand it though. Transwomen treating each other like human beings is becoming counterintuitive to what we have been programmed to believe by society. On a large scale, the only economically viable utility a transwoman has to offer society is sex. We now accept being treated like dirt by the people we have no choice but to entertain in order to survive, and when you feel like dirt, you don’t have the self-esteem or will to lift others up, which us transwomen so desperately need to do for one another but alas, it seems that transwomen see other transwomen as they see themselves - as worthless. 

             The gay community has failed at making being a transwoman or male crossdresser acceptable in society, we are merely tolerated. Just because gay men put on drag shows, it does not mean that they know what it is like to live life in those clothes and it’s like calling a Mexican person Brazilian just because they are both south of us. I’m not saying that queer folk have an obligation to us to change the world for trans people, but it is offensive to see them march every year for freedom for LGBTQ folk during the embarrassing shit show that is pride and accomplish zero political or social change with the effort. Every year there's a new parade for the community in cities all over the world and not a damn thing has gotten better for people like me. If the gay community used the man-power and finances they have for Pride on raising the issue of transwomen being unable to make a living in this country unless they become a prostitute.  I would argue that an African American man in the 50’s had a significantly higher chance of finding work of any kind than a transwoman does in America today. We face discrimination every day to a similar degree that an African American person did in the 60’s and that is unacceptable.

If you don’t understand what I mean so far, you are probably not trans or you are and are passable as a female.

      If you are a man and you are reading this, go put a dress and some makeup on and try to find a job and then tell me that it is acceptable to dress in women's clothing. It is worse than having a face-tattoo and five felonies when looking for work. People say it that doesn’t matter what others think and to just be you. Well, it actually matters to the point of life and death. If you don’t get work because you are not passable but identify as a woman, you end up on the streets and then you either die from poverty, kill yourself, or contract HIV from hooking; which is the only real job for transwomen besides porn (unless you were grandfathered into your current job, that I guarantee loathes the fact that you still work there and that there’s nothing they can do to get rid of you.)

           If you’re trans and you’re reading this and it makes you angry, I’m sorry but please express why! Maybe you feel like you let yourself and your community down by not engaging with your peers and you might feel embarrassed for buying into the competitive rat-race of being accepted in a community that doesn’t quite understand you Maybe after you read this, you will take the time to give extra effort towards your sisters or brothers who reach out to you because, whether this is a rant or not, you know very well that your actions may be the last straw for someone who is considering ending their life because they have no place in this world….yet.

I’m calling for transwomen to come together as a community and to realize that the LGBTQ community has failed us and that we are failing ourselves. I am asking my fellow transwomen to become okay with having a political dialogue, because this world does not accept us yet and it is time to find our voice.

I've seen what life is and I've got no right to it and you know something? I've made up my mind, I can't decide.

That's three strikes, there's a red light and the lonely stars are blinking and they're twinkling in the twilight.

Oh holy, Oh holy light. You're burnin bright the people say

Oh holy, holy light. One look and I'll be saved.

Holy, Oh holy light. I thought I might of seen you one day.

So holy, So holy Light

Come 'round to guide my way.

So I can see the light.

No I wont believe my eyes.

I got two minds and I got one heart

There's a thousand ways to be who you are.

I never knew the real me before.

My hearts aching and I'm making love to you and I'm

Tired of breakin' all the rules

I'm making fools of us

Holy, Holy Light. I'm on my knees, I might as well pray.

Oh Holy, Oh Holy Light. Don't you shine me on,

don't you come too late in my life

Oh holy light...

I know! I know I'm gonna die someday!

Oh holy light!

Won't you make the darkness go away

No, I won't. No, I will never never believe my wretched eyes, holy light!

Heaven dont you spare me no angel yes I’m crying but there’s a silver lining and I know that I alone can save myself, I dont need no help I dont need no angel. No no no. So heaven dont you spare me no angel. I’m down, so down, but you just stay put on your cloud and save your Angel’s for somebody good. I dont need mo angel. No no no. In the corner of my eye. I saw a ghost, well, it wasn’t christ. It was just my bath towel in the corner of my room. It werent no angel. No angel please.

Give me a good song, a real work of art. Come on and take your pen and stick it in my heart. Give me a good song. Play it on guitar. No dont look at them, they dont know what you are. Wont you get through the hard, hard, hard times? Is there a tune to carry me through the hard times? I’m counting on you, I read the news, these is hard times. Would you get me through the hard, hard, hard times with your good song. Find it at the bar, dry it out, take it to the charts. Give me a good song. A song about childhood. A song about being a man who demands to be understood. Now I’m driving around, think I’ll leave town, that’ll make me feel good. There’s a world on my mind. On my mind. An entire world on my mind. On my mind. Wont you get me through the hard, the hard, the hard times. I need a tune tonget me through these hard times. I’m counting on, I saw the news, these is hard times. Get me through, through, through the hard times. With your good song. Iyi yi yi need a good song for those hard times.

Suddenly my life has become a bad country song. My car wont start. My bike has a flat tire. My bank accounts overdrawn. I had to get rid of my poor dog. In my head. There’s a bad country song. I get out of bed, I’m living in a bad country song. My dad offered his help but his wife’s a bitch my mother lost her mind. My brothers can’t be bothered they’re looking down on me. I got $4.39 to my name. In my head. There’s a bad country song. I get out of bed. I’m living in a bad country song. I just want to sing the blues. Man I’m so sick of hearing this tune. Its stuck in my head and I’ll be whistling and tapping my foot i just keep on listening. It’s in my head. Lifes a bad country song. I get out of bed. Living in a bad country song.

Spare change? How about a slice…or one of those 7-11 boneless chicken wings? God bless everyone on Santa Monica. I missed or I’m late for my alanon meeting. Dont mess with me. I’ll cut your throat. Get out of my country. Dont sink my boat. Dont mess with me. I’m a bad bad man. Can’t feel my feet. Got the dead man’s hands. But in another…in another life I was supreme. In another life, people listened to me. Time for another life. Time for another life. My kidneys hurt. Can’t take another aspirin or beer. The universe says things. I listen to her. She looks me in the eyes. Oooohh. She took my motorcycle. But I’ve got a bass guitar. You know what she’s doing? Shes figuring me out. See what I’m about in this life. Dont mess with me. I’ll kill you dead. Get out of my country. Get out of my head. Dont mess with me. I got the devils goat. I can’t care less. I choose to beg. But in another, in another, in another, in another, in another life, I was supreme. In another life, people listened to me. Time for another life. Time for another life. I used to be Martin Luther king baby! I remember when I was pocahontas. They built the pyramids for me baby! They called me “Old Blood And Guts” yes, in another, in another, in another, in another, in another life, I was supreme. In another life, people listened to me. Time for another life. Time for another life. Time for another life.

Its Christmas time and in the morning, the ones we love will open a morning. Its Christmas time, a time for mourning. A year is gone, but a new year is forming. Happy holiday. I’m giving love, leave it under a tree. Happy holiday, from God above and his only son. Happy holiday. With gilded glory, your story goes on. Happy Holiday. Happy holiday. Yes its Christmas time and in the evening, the faithless just might start believing. Well its christmas time, my god I’m a sinner. Next time around, I’ll be a winner. Happy Holiday. I’m giving love, shove it down the chimney. Happy holiday from Jesus Christ, God bless your eyes. Happy Holiday, with gilded glory your story goes on. Happy holiday. Happy holiday.

I…I’ve been away. I’ve been around but I dont know what to say. Go…go. its not your place. Quit hanging around like someone owes you something. Do you move me? What do you do for me? You got to prove to me that your of some use to me. I’m a somebody. A somebody. Your talking to a somebody. A somebody. He was sharp, barrel-chested and brave. He fought in world war 2 he passed at 93. A fool works himself to death. Cross yourself he’s turning blue as your drink. Do you move me? What do you do for me? You’ve got to prove to me. That your of some use to me. I’m a somebody. I’m a somebody. Talking to a somebody. A walking talking somebody. You are not yourself, how’s your mental health? Wheres the you that I knew? I want that stranger back. Come whisper in my ear. All I hear are facts and they bore me so. Are you still here? Somebody, somebody move me. Make something finally mean something. I’m a somebody. I’m somebody.