My take on past lives

Reincarnation or past lives – here’s my take.  As I was alighting from bus 109 today, a thought came to my mind – we are reincarnated as a continuation of who we were in our previous lives.  We are reincarnated to continue learning the lessons we did not learn in our previous lives – and once we’ve learnt all the lesons we have to learn, we cease having to be reincarnated.  So I don’t believe that, if we are wicked in this life, we would be reincarnated as pigs, for example, our next life.  We may be reincarnated as pigs, but not because we are wicked in this lifetime, but because being a pig  is the best physical form for us to learn life’s important lessons (I sincerely hope not!)  There is no good or bad physical form – “good” and “bad” are but empty labels assigned by normative society.  We just need to be in the physical form that allows us to learn our lessons quickly.

So what are some important lessons transsexual women can learn in their lifetime? 

- Love.  Just look at your parents – the fact that they can love you over and above social stigma, over and above even themselves – that’s a lesson in true, unconditional love

- Clarity of mind.  Clarity of mind is when you see your body narrative not as something to be ashamed of, but as a map of your soul’s journey. Clarity of mind is when you realise that no matter what you do – lie or don’t lie, live in stealth or don’t live in stealth, dress sexily or don’t dress sexily – if a man loves you, he loves you for who you were, who you are and who you will be.  Stop making excuses for his bad behaviour.   It’s not like you are Romeo and Juliet.  And what’s with the “emotional issues” – who’s the woman here?

- Appreciation of biological diversity.  Do you know that only the male seahorse can become pregnant and continue the family line?  So what’s with this fixation with Adam and Eve, Lion and Lionness, Tiger and Tigress?  The animal kingdom is much more biologically diverse than you think - it’s not just a cock and bull story! 

- Understanding the distinction between religion and spirituality.  Religion is fabricated love – one-dimensional love that is dogmatic and intolerant.  Spirituality is about nurturing a loving spirit.  Spiritual people have only one mission in life – to create an environment where people feel secure and comfortable enough to express their uniqueness

-  Compassion for those whose paths are difficult, compassion for the marginalised and misunderstood

- Self respect.  Self respect means embracing your unique imprint and not allowing others to dilute your precious individualism

Amazing what a bus ride could do for you!

Nepotism? It’s so French!

There’s nothing more annoying for working class folks like me than to read about an undeserving individual being parachuted into haute society by virtue of his/her father’s influence.  No, I’m not talking about Singapore here.  The “Dauphin” in question is Jean Sarkozy, French President Nicholas Sarkozy’s eldest son who was recently offered the chairmanship of Epad, the agency that oversees billions of euros in contracts and business.  Only 23 years of age and still a law student, Sarkozy Junior is apparently the best candidate for this job (*#*&!!!), but we know the real reason of course.  We have long known that nepotism exists everywhere – and the notion that the West is the staunchest defender of egalitarian principles and meritocracy is at best an illusion, at worst war propaganda. 

The evil doesn’t stop with nepotism.  Following the collapse of Lehman Brothers and in the wake of the global financial crisis, the true colours of the Wall Street bigwigs were revealed – and now we know that Greed and pure Greed is their name (well actually we knew this long ago, but we perhaps underestimated the extent of their greed).  Against this backdrop of lurid greed and nepotism espoused by Anglo-Saxon males in the upper echelons of Western society, I wonder why Singapore youth still think it’s a privilege to work for the “big” accounting and financial powerhouses.  A stinking privilage indeed!  Don’t you know that most of the young European bosses parachuted into Singapore as MDs of MNCs are where they are by virtue of their ancient family ties and powerful connections back home?  Why do some of us still worship them like they are better people?  They are in fact neo-colonizers – subjugating impressionable natives with their smart business suits and dime-a-dozen MBAs*.  Wake up and smell the coffee people – have some integrity!

Well, as they say, if you can’t beat them, join them.  Perhaps I should lay claim to my father’s stall at Kopitiam and inherit his title as the hawker serving the best breakfast in Singapore.

*  Sorry Sir?  Your MBA is from Insead?  So what?  Could you stop the financial crisis?

Postscript: Nepotism is of course not the unique trait of the French.  The Chinese and Japanese have been practising it for centuries, so too the family-run businesses in Singapore.  However, they have never lay claim to being the bastions of egalitatarian values unlike the French and Americans, for example.  The bottomline is this: man is equally corrupt everywhere.

Halloween? Let’s Celebrate the Hungry Ghost Festival Instead

Hattice’s Story

The following is an extract from an email sent to me by Hattice, not her real name.  Hattice is a Malay sister who recently married Mr Right (congratulations!).  Her email reinforces what I’ve been thinking for some time now – that transsexual women in Singapore are deeply traumatised individuals who need deep healing.  Currently our health system does not address this.  And it does not help that many of our counselling service providers are not trained to counsel individuals with gender identity conflict.  Either that or they have a Christian fundamentalist agenda.*  So much of our childhood trauma and pain is buried beneath layers of “social respectability” that if not dealt with either through counselling or some other therapy, will erupt in ugly and unexpected ways. 

* It is vile, despicable and thoroughly unprofessional for counsellors not to reveal their religious bias when counselling individuals with gender identity conflict – and there are a number of service providers in Singapore who do this with impunity.  So please check with me first if you require the services of a neutral, unbiased counsellor. 

Hattice’s story

I’ve read your blog, I hope you are alright, how’s the healing progress? I cannot fathom myself running and all that although I really should. I’ve always been tubby as a child and during sec sch, the TAF club teacher actually gave up on me. Haha.

That aside, I wanted to share something with you. I was telling my husband this the other night about my childhood, and I cried buckets. Something about your blog that hit the right note in my life. I feel that I despise people who are weak because I felt that if I could do it and if my mother could do it, and we survived, you can too. But at the same time, I feel weak and insecure inside, maybe that bold dominant character was just a front, to reassure people that I love that it’s gonna be ok, I’m here for you, but let’s face it, deep down I am unsure of the future too and I too am scared. One moment I’m this Xena warrior princess and the next I feel like little orphan Annie. So bizarre.

I had an epiphany about life few days ago, and it struck me hard. I discovered that I actually I might have tourrette’s (however how you spelt it) syndrome when I was much younger and it went unnoticed. Either because my mother was a) hardly home, b) didn’t know what it was and thought it was just a growing up phase. Can you imagine if I was actually autistic or something and no one notices and thought it’s just a growing up phase? I was angry when that reality hits me.

I think I might have split personality, and I don’t know how dominant or serious it is -  yet. One moment I am this compassionate loving girl who wants nothing but world peace, seeing hungry children makes me cry, kittens, like some snow white in a fairy tale surrounded by creatures big and small and so tender and mild. The other side of me, is very dark and morbid. Snakes, disregard and contempt for human life, corporate capitalist monster, I even thought I was the antichrist.

Scary isn’t it.

It was during this epiphany that I realize that my father didn’t do anything for me or my sister when I was growing up and that he was a cheating lying man so much so that I deleted him from Facebook. Why should I bother trying to be nice to him and try to be a part of his life or to get his acceptance when he does nothing for me? So I decided to delete him.

I feel angry about the way I was raised, I feel angry with my mom, but I can’t blame her. It’s not her fault that things turn out this way. So I have this anger inside me which I can’t seem to put the blame on anyone, and it’s frustrating. It’s like there isn’t any closure.

I was abused by everyone when I grow up, and it’s not fair. I was only 5 but yet I was expected to be a man of the family taking care of my young 2 years old asthmatic sister cos daddy decided to fuck a Japanese whore and brought her home and showed to his parents, to which my grandma said to that girl that my dad wasn’t married. So basically she’s saying my sister and I are bastards. And poor mom had to work 2 jobs just to keep us alive. She used to be a housewife, so she really didn’t have that much savings, so when dad decided to divorce her and she suddenly finds herself with two toddlers, one who is asthmatic and we both needed diapers and milk with no house nor savings, things took a drastic turn. We had to “hutang” the mama shop downstairs at the void deck for rice and milk

Mom would beat the hell out of me and my sister everytime we did something wrong, and I don’t mean caning. I got hit by umbrellas, belt buckle, broomsticks, I even ever gotten a slap with a hot spatula cos my mom was frying something, and she smack me with that hot metal spatula. Once I got caught playing with fire, she tied me up with a rope and tried to burn the rope and engulf me with flames.

The neighbours would see everytime I got a caning, it was humiliating, My evil antichrist Lucifer stepfather even laughed and said I looked like a teenage mutant ninja turtle when I was being beaten by my mom cos I was fat.

My sister wasn’t spared either. Whenever I did something wrong, and I told her to keep quiet cos if mom found out, I’d be dead, but mom did found out anyway, and she beat my sister too after she hit me, for not telling her and for hiding something from her. Growing up, we both fantasize that when we are old and successful, we don’t wanna take care of mom cos she was a poisonous vicious woman. Imagine having that morbid thoughts in primary school.

But I loved my sister. I once got caught stealing ice cream from the storekeeper cos my sister wanted ice cream and we couldn’t afford it. Needless to say I got beaten the life out of me.

Life was hard. Mom was hardly around, and fast food was a luxury we can only afford on special occasions like birthdays. Funny how a person didn’t grow up on fastfood got to grow so fat. But yeah, we look forward to birthdays cos birthdays are the only time we can afford to eat fastfood.

My religious teacher who teach kids from my neigbourhood how to read the quran, she wouldn’t give a second thought caning and discipline us whenever we did something wrong. When I complained to my mom, her answer was “You must have done something wrong/naughty that’s why she hit you. If you are well behaved why would she hit you for no reason??” Sometimes, when I did something wrong, she would hit me infront of the neighbourhood kids, call my mother about my “wrongdoing” and when I get home I get beaten up again by my mother. So basically I get beaten up twice for whatever mistake that I did. She would take out her stiletto heels and threatened to hit me with it in public whenever I misbehaved or something.

I grew up believing I was adopted, for after being hit so much, I wonder what mother would beat the child, unless she wasn’t the one who gave birth to it.

I grew up in bedok, but I was enrolled in a school in Victoria street, and I have to wake up 5:30 in the morning, had cold shower and take the 6am bus to school. Sometimes, im too tired, I would sleep in the bus on the way home, and would miss my stop and end up in Simei or Pasir Ris, and I have NEVER been there so it looked like some scary part of Singapore – I was totally hopelessly lost. And I was in pri 1. It’s not fair. I struggled but so did my mom. I would go to that school until I was pri 2, it wasn’t until pri 3 that I was transferred to a school in bedok – even then my mother had to appeal to the MP for me to go to that school.

Teachers in that school hit me too whenever I didn’t submit my homework in front of classmates.  

 I grew up abused, scared and confused. And well verse in messy divorces. Quite a feat eh?

But I don’t hate her. I pity her. It isn’t her fault. She did try her best to provide for us, having two jobs, the up and down family court and syariah court, (its disturbing if your 6 years old and you can memorize where is the syariah court, what floor and what bus to go there).

 She taught me English and read to me English fairy tales and books, as a result my Malay sucked. So with my sister, she did the reverse, and my sister’s English isn’t as god as mine, but her prowess of the bahasa was formidable. I would ask her for help in malay, and she would ask me for help in English (two days ago she asked me what topsy-turvy means, and she’s turning 21 next mth. Go Figure.)

I still act like a child sometimes just to act cute, behind closed doors to my hubby but I realized deeper its not really about acting cute. Its about behaving something was taken away from me. My childhood. But in a way, im lucky that my mom wasn’t home most of the time, so that I can play masak masak, dolls, and wear her skirt, wear her heels, make up and brooch and use magic markers to paint my fingers brown like henna, just like malay weddings and pretend I was a bride. I took solace and comfort myself by imagining I was going to be a successful beautiful woman having a career but dramatic love life. And all this, while I’m still a young boy.

It’s definitely not normal don’t you think?

I never knew how to socialize with the opposite sex. I grew up with my sister, my neighbors who are girls, school mates who are girls, but I never had a guy friend before. Broken relationships with men who only wanted to fuck me in the ass after I’ve done so much in the name of “love” pretty much confirms my hatred and disability to have normal guy friends.

I guess, all this because, I never had a father growing up. I guess I have daddy issues.

And yes, I was and still am, an angry, dark bitchy child in me beneath the miss mary sunshine persona. Sometimes I’m confused and scared, like what am I really. This mood swings of being good and evil all in one person and mind scares me. I chose to take the easy way out, blame it on satan and ask god for help, So far God has been kind and good to me, and I have so many things to be thankful for. Which is why I decided to sacrifice a lamb this Hari Raya Haji to offer thanks to Allah.

Have I said too much? Looking back it’s quite an Email I must say, but it felt good to just type and let the feelings and emotions pour out. I feel better now.

Thank you in advance for taking the time to actually read this email. I know it’s a super long one. Sometimes I feel unfair to burden you with stories of my childhood but I cant help it. It just flows out like a jack in a box, popping out everything, cannot be contained. I apologise for taking too much of your time.

I’d like to end the email from a haiku I learnt in sec 1, and I still remembered it:

“Trapped in a burning cave,

Never to show up white again.

The toast pops up.”

PS: I cried while typing this email as flashbacks played in my mind like a bad VH1 episode.

Another email from Hattice

Oh a few details I wanna add. I hated my dad cos a few times he was supposed to take me out as part of the weekend visiting custody rights, he only came to see me once a month, and on the last minute he would cancelled it after weeks of fantasizing where and what I can do with daddy ad I was all showered, dressed up, only to get disappointed of it not gonna happen. And he would lie, promising me of having a good life, promise me this and that, but nothing came out of it. I was too young to know any better, but now, I hated him more than ever.

You know, this came across my mind, like wouldn’t it be cool if I was fighting these demons in me al the evil and whatnots and I received a stigmata or something? Heh heh. Can’t imagine the whole diocese will be shaking with news of a transwoman who had stigmata.  

I loved performing arts, use to be on ELDDS in sec sch and dance and drama, friends always say im larger than life, but I now realize, its just a fascade to cover up something. That loneliness and emptiness that we both shared I guess. Maybe that’s what struck a chord in me while reading your blog. Maybe it was more.

Why compromise is never a good thing

A reader wrote to me saying she often vacillates between feeling lonely and having random sex with men just so she can have a morsel of affection.  She almost always doesn’t feel good about it but nothing she does right now can help her stop the feelings of loneliness.  I’m sure many of you identify with her feelings.  And so do I.  In fact, I once had a “relationship” with a man who was attached.  He’s a relatively attractive man, much older than I am, and what’s important is he’s not afraid to be seen with me in public.  In fact, he likes me a lot.  But my intentions – and perhaps his as well – weren’t entirely clear back then.  We were hanging on to each other in a world where being in a relationship – as illusory as the relationship is – means you’re normal, being unattached means you’re undesirable.  I cruised along with this one man with a few others on the fringes until I met someone who simply took my breath away.  Someone who set off fireworks within me.  That relationship didn’t work out too, but after that, everything else paled into significance.  It was a very traumatic period for me, but it has also made it impossible for me to compromise anymore – not when I’ve tasted what it’s like to be with someone you truly like/love. 

In my recent conversation with my dear friend and mentor Ken Dollarhide, he said that transsexual women more than anyone else assume great personal responsibility for their lives in daring to define their identities and embrace their true selves in the face of hostility and social prejudice.  How true - but how lonesome too!  Because we’re surrounded by people who generally prefer to follow the herd and even if they find us attractive, dare not openly embrace us for fear of being ridiculed by the herd. 

But let me tell you this – when one day, this guy whom you like takes the bold step of breaking away from the herd and embraces and loves you for who you are, regardless of what anyone else thinks, then the love between the two of you will be deeper and more far reaching than what most couples commonly experience.

Remember, dear reader, that you were made for men – compromise will only bring you boys. 

 

Obtaining my WSQ Certification in Identifying Gemstones

Today marks another milestone in my otherwise unremarkable life – I passed the practical test for the WSQ (Workforce Skills Qualification) Certification in Identifying Gemstones and they’ll be sending me the certificate in a couple of weeks’ time.  Putting aside the WSQ certification, I became interested in gemstones after my trip to Sri Lanka.  How do you identify gemstones?  How do you distinguish between natural and synthetic stones?  How can you tell if a stone is heat treated?  These are all the skills taught over three months.  Typically, those who enrol in the course are either students completing a module in the Diploma in Retail Management or gem collectors. 

The lessons at Nanyang Gemological Institute are really thorough and fun, and our lecturer Leon Lek is experienced, patient and knowledgeable.  Check out Nanyang’s website if ever you wish to have your gemstones appraised in Singapore – they charge less than half the market price and they are experts in their field.   I will definitely attend the courses in identifying and grading diamonds and jadeite next year, with the intention of enrolling in the Gemological Institute of America diploma course thereafter.   I will certainly miss going to Shaw Centre every Monday, Wednesday and Friday night for the course, but I can look forward to the classes next year.  Meanwhile, I’ll be starting Turkish language lessons this Saturday. 

Remember – you’re never too old (or young) to learn.  Constantly expanding my horizons has been instrumental in helping me keep depression and negative thoughts at bay.  If you are a Singapore citizen, there’re many affordable options too.  Check out the Diploma in Retail Management link above. 

Have a great evening!

Reached my sexual peak? Sorry, I’m nowhere near that yet!

I’m on a blogging high today, mainly because I’m down with the flu and I’ve been cooped up at home for the entire day.  But this is my last post before the clock strikes midnight.  Ivanka Trump’s imminent wedding brings to mind her fabulous mother Ivana Trump - the cougar of all cougars.  At 60, she was recently seen hanging out with 22-year-old French model John David Dery at an awards dinner.  The bottomline is we have got to learn to live life to the full like Ivana so we have no regrets on our death bed.  Yes, as heterosexual trans women, we often pine for the “one” who will turn all rain into sunshine, but please, as long as we’re not hurting anyone (like taking another woman’s husband, for example), as long as we’re both consenting adults, I say let’s all learn from Ivana Trump.  When all else fails, remember her famous words, “Remember girls, don’t get mad, get everything.”

Reached my sexual peak?  Sorry, I’m nowhere there yet.

Read all about the fabulous Ivana here.

I write, and so I am

It struck me as I was chewing my roti prata (Indian flat bread) supper and reading Orhan Pamuk’s Istanbul – Memories and The City (yes, I’m still reading the book) that I’ve perhaps found my raison d’etre – or that this has always been a part of my life except that I didn’t realise it until – well, let’s not be dramatic and say “today” – until recently.  Let’s put it like this – without a soul mate, without a life partner, without children, without my family, without my marathon, without my windsurfing, without my mosaic art – I would definitely be lonely.  But without the ability and facility to pen down my thoughts like this, to share them with you, my dear reader, night after night…without these things I cannot live.  I write, and so I am. 

The blog is, in my opinion, the greatest invention of the 21st century.  It has allowed me to share my joys, sorrows, laughter and tears with you wherever I am.   And that not only makes my occasionally difficult life less challenging, it also provides the silver lining in the clouds for me. 

A big thank you, my readers, for being my constant companions. 

You read, therefore you are.

Just be yourself – Ginger Lynette Leong

Here’s one gutsy trans lady – and Singaporean to boot – who recently won the Shu Uemura  make-up competition and who is now headed for KL to take part in the regional competition.  Lianhe Wanbao, the evening press interviewed her and also published a snippet on her life story (attached below).  Well done Ginger – here’s wishing you all the best in KL.

What is the value of your life?

A 37-year-old promising Singapore eye doctor drowns while diving.  He leaves behind a young wife and two kids.  By all accounts, he is the type of Singaporean that our government loves – intelligent, heterosexual, married with two kids, socially contributing, etc.*  Whereas the 55-year-old baby boomer who died of sudden cardiac arrest whilst having sex with a prostitute in Geylang would probably not have made the headlines if not for the spectacular way in which he died.  

What is the value of our lives?  I’m sure there is a social value scorecard lying around somewhere that takes into account an individual’s contributions to society and “future yields”.  So in the eyes of society, my life probably isn’t worth much because I don’t contribute to population growth and the issues I champion aren’t exactly those that Singapore values.  Yet when you look at the eulogies that poured in after sennator Ted Kennedy’s death – he’s called a “legend”, “defender of a dream” – you’ll realise that in other societies, such as the US for example, the social value scorecard is very much less utilitarian and more idealistic.  Forget about the murky circumstances surrounding the death of his young, nubile political aide.  Forget about his womanising ways.  Just remember that when Ted Kennedy spoke, he spoke fearlessly and passionately for the masses, the poor, the uninsured and sexual minorities. 

I don’t know whether I’ve accurately reflected Ted Kennedy’s legacy or not, but I pretty darn like the way the Americans remember their heroes and heroines.  One thing’s for sure – Singapore isn’t going to fine-tune its social value scorecard anytime soon: we can’t find enough people to render version 2.1 useful.

*  That said, my condolences to the diver’s family and may God guide them through this difficult period.