Summary

The author, a trans woman, reflects on the influential women in her life, including her mother, wife, and Michelle Obama, who have shaped her identity and provided strength and resilience in the face of adversity.

Abstract

The article delves into the personal journey of the author, a trans woman, who finds herself emulating the women in her life as she transitions. She pays homage to her mother, who was a source of love and protection in a challenging household, and her wife, who has shown incredible strength and resilience through hardships. The author also draws inspiration from Michelle Obama, admiring her grace and fortitude in the face of prejudice. The author acknowledges the collective strength of women, recognizing that her identity is an amalgamation of the powerful females she has encountered. In a gesture of solidarity and compassion, she pledges to donate her writing proceeds to UNICEF, highlighting the importance of aiding those in need, particularly children affected by conflict.

Opinions

The author believes that every woman, including trans women, naturally emulate female role models in their lives.
She expresses a deep admiration for her mother's toughness and ability to find joy despite an abusive marriage.
The author holds her wife in high regard for her stoicism, work ethic, and ability to handle adversity without complaint.
Michelle Obama is revered as a paragon of class and resilience, particularly in the face of racism and bigotry.
The author feels a responsibility to embody the strength of the women she admires and aims to reflect their independence and fortitude in her own life.
She is critical of media bias, noting the disproportionate coverage of suffering based on race, and calls for support of charitable organizations like UNICEF.
The author acknowledges the pain she has caused her wife and is determined to spend the rest of her

Trans Women have Women Role Models they Emulate

Every woman does

CW: Physical abuse, child abuse, domestic violence, sexual harrassment.

The horror that is occurring in Ukraine has opened my eyes to more suffering around the world. I am sure I should be helping other oppressed people, but this is on the news daily. I am sure it is because Ukraine is a majority white nation. That media bigotry does not negate the fact that there are children dying daily. I am not really sure how to do this, but I have decided to donate all of the proceeds from my writing to UNICEF. I have done some research, and they are a reputable charity that is doing good work. I would implore anyone who has the ability, to consider giving whatever you can to this, or any other charity. I appreciate my readers, and I hope I can make them proud.

As I stop focusing on being trans, and begin to focus on the woman I am to become, I realize that I emulate the women in my life. I guess it is natural, really. I am recreating myself, and I need an image. I have given this a great deal of thought, and I have found that the woman I am becoming is an amalgamation of many women.

My mom was an amazing woman.

She raised three children in a household where she was basically unpaid labor. My Dad treated her like a chattel. He was in the Navy and spent about half of the year out to sea. So we would go from a wonderful, fun house, half of the year, to an iron-fisted dictatorship for the other half. My Dad was a drinking man. He used to joke about a longer trip being a four beer trip. He was drunk almost all of the time. In our house, children were a labor force. We were not special little angels. My mom was our buffer.

I got smart. I could tell when my Dad was in a mood, and I stayed far out of his way. If we pushed my Mom too far, she would threaten to tell Dad. That was an effective tactic, but she never would have told him, because she truly loved us. That was a long time ago. Dad was not a nice man and he was no role model to me.

I was always my Mom’s favorite, or so I believe. She knew that I was not like my brothers. She would protect me but my mom could not be everywhere all of the time. My older brother was a bully; he took after my dad. I am the middle child. I just stayed out of his way. But my mom was tough. I think lower-middle-class women in that time were all tough. They were second-class citizens. This was not lost on me.

But my mom was tough. I think lower-middle-class women in that time were all tough.

I used to play with my Mom’s stuff. If I were ever alone in the house I would raid her closet. Her stuff was way too big on me, but I felt pretty for a time. She caught me a couple of times in her stuff with her makeup on. She always wanted to discuss it, but I was way too embarrassed to ever talk about it. My mom never told my dad. That right there, probably saved my life.

My mom was fun. She would dance around the house trying to get me to dance with her — I always refused. I would love that dance right about now. How my mom managed to laugh so much in the face of the abuse, is beyond me. But laugh she did. I love to laugh and I do much more laughing since I came out. My mom gave me some of her things for myself. That is some accepting stuff in 1974 rural America. My mom is in me.

My mom gave me some of her things for myself. That is some accepting stuff in 1974 rural America.

The next strong woman that I admire is of course, my wife.

She had a rough childhood. Her mom died from a brain aneurism when she was 8 years old. She was raising a baby at eight. That is a huge burden for a little girl to take on. She never complains about anything. I tell people that she would not say shit if she were standing in it. I admire her so very much. If I end up one-quarter of the woman she is, I will be thrilled.

We met in the Navy. I saw her deal with sexual harassment and misogyny on a weekly basis. No complaints. We got pregnant very soon after we met. She was the most beautiful pregnant woman I have ever seen. We tried daycare for a couple of weeks with my oldest, but they only changed her diaper two times in 9 hours, so we made the decision that we would rear our children ourselves. We made do on only one income. My wife can stretch a dollar. It never seemed like we were dirt poor. I am sure we would qualify for public assistance, but we never applied.

My wife started working when our youngest started kindergarten. She never calls in sick. I guess I want to look like her, because when I got my hair colored for the first time, it looked like her hair color used to before she decided to go grey naturally. I admire her so much. I have hurt her and I accept that. I am going to live the rest of my life trying to be like her. I will fail, but I will try.

I admire her so much. I have hurt her and I accept that. I am going to live the rest of my life trying to be like her.

When I look at women I admire, I look to Michelle Obama.

That woman exudes class. I, for the life of me, can’t understand how black folks can stay positive in the face of such hatred and bigotry. They tried to drag Mrs. Obama down, but they could not. I am transgender, so I know that I will face some hard times. I hope to have the strength to emulate Mrs. Obama when that happens.

I admire strong independent women, I know many. I see their strength, and I want to emulate them. I am a product of my environment, exactly like all other women. I just got a late start. I am not sure if I will ever make these women proud, but I know I certainly want to try.

Love, Kitty