Msg to Black Trannies: The World Don’t Owe You Shit, Bitches!

I gave it a shot. Really I did.

I’m over this trans shit. Especially black female trannies. Tell me the truth. When you read the title of this post, how many of you thought of f-t-m trannies? Not one of you I’ll bet. From my experience and second-hand experience, female-to-male trans guys are really articulate, evolved and together. This post doesn’t apply to them.

The fact is that when you think of trannies, your mind pretty much goes to the male-to-female segment, not just because that’s what we are accustomed to and because they are all up in the media, but because they cause the most shit and get the most (usually bad) press. Google “transsexual female arrested for … “ and see where it takes you.

There are exceptions, most notably Laverne Cox, whom I suspect is either really smart or smart enough to hire image and publicist flacks to ensure she is palatable to the majority of American — except those who hate blacks whatever their gender. Nobody gets on the cover of Time without a lot of help.

An illiterate fag rag that is run by drugged-out, (high school) dropped-out queens and whose title I will never identify reported today in an “Exclusive” — meaning that no other outlet considers this shit worth mentioning — that a black tranny bitch was ranting about her mistreatment at a Dallas BBQ hellhole. (In these stories, ”mistreatment” is synonymous with “press coverage.”)

If you’re not from NYC, you may not have heard of Dallas BBQ (tagline: “Your Friends Are Here,” which translates to “The just out-of-prison bus unloaded on the corner”), so I will enlighten you.

Dallas BBQ — which in their “About Us” states was initially started by a Jewish couple in 1936; how predictable — is a dive for niggahs and their project bitches. There’s always some violent shit going on there. (Now here’s a biz that needs some image enhancement. Although maybe not. Could be that the bad shit is orchestrated by flacks so that it will attract niggahs to their comfort zone?) Plus I dare you to walk by one of them and look in the window — not for too long, mind you, because some niggah will come outside and shout, “What the fuck you looking at?” and smash a chair ovah yo’ head — and check out how many white customers are in there who look like they graduated high school. If you have fingers, you can use them for the body count.

The black tranny bitch — who is stylized, airbrushed and literally posing for her close-up in the photo below; is the AVP logo sanctioned or did she have it inserted there to impart some serious legitimacy? — says she was groped and insulted by some uncouth niggahs as she sashayed to meet her already seated gal pals. It goes on and on and, frankly, I’ve heard it all before and before.

But get this: Miss Gurl went back to the offending party’s table and told them that they were “assholes.” In this case, “assholes” is synonymous with “I’m gonna read you, but you’d better not respond negatively because I’m the victim and if you muss up my hair, I’m gonna fuck you up and yell transphobia!” What the fuck is up with these black bitches, whether presenting as male queens or females queens? Why are they always provoking a confrontation when mammals with a positive IQ who aren’t seeking press would stay far, far away from their tormentors? Op. cit.: publicity. (For the record, Laverne Cox would never pull this shit.)

So black tranny bitches, go turn some tricks with white men; they pay better. Go steal make-up from MAC. Go whine about how your gubment entitlements don’t enable you to get your weave maintained, as it should be?

The bottom line is that lowlifes who go to Dallas BBQ belong there, know what they’re getting into, and deserve everything they get regardless of what they’re packing inside their panties.

 

 

Crossing the “T”s: The Hyper-Sexualization of the Transsexual Movement

The headline on one gay rag site proclaimed, “Laverne Cox Becomes First Transgender Person On The Cover Of Time, Discusses Childhood Suicide Attempt.” Although the first part is not entirely true, Time is about as mainstream as media gets, so this is a big deal. Hello, one (million) slithering mom, come out from under your rock.

However, there’s a difference between Barack Obama on the cover of Time and Laverne Cox on its cover. The former is presenting himself as Barack Obama and he is the story; Laverne Cox is a symbol of what the story is about — allegedly the trans rights movement.

Disclosure: I have never been very involved with trans people whether as transsexuals, transvestites or what has become almost instantly called just trans. The closest I ever came was having a credit card called “Tramsmedia,” about which a friend who used to wear drag asked, “Is it for transvestites in the media?” This was over 30 years ago. In our current era, a credit card for such a demographic could do quite well.

I don’t like the thought of transvestites and transsexuals being lumped under the same rubric. It’s insulting to the later and opportunistic for the former, a group I have noticed will sacrifice a goat to get press.

My personal definition is that a transvestite (aka “tranny”) is a person of one gender who dresses up in the clothes of a person of an opposite gender and may or not attempt to affect the persona of the gender being portrayed. The connotation is usually for entertainment, fun or profit (read: hooker). The appellation of “drag queen” falls into this category. I abhor drag queen entertainment and drag queen-ism. It is reactionary and regressive, based upon a belief that effeminate (gay) men must dress up as clownish, demanding caricatures of women (gargantuan tits, hair and heels) in order to gain the attention and acceptance of more masculine homos. Put these trannies sans accoutrements at a table in a bar and watch them be ignored. I would rather have a lit cigar shoved up my nose than have to sit through a drag performance. I cringe and want to throw up.

Transsexuals, while gaining intense notoriety lately, are what the unprepossessing old-school definition entails: a person trapped in the body of someone of the opposite sex — the author of the Time article refers to “those who identify with a gender other than the sex they were assigned at birth” — although for reasons I won’t discuss here, most people think of it as a man trapped in a woman’s body and less often the other way around.

There’s been talk lately of PC police, I mean, pricks, attempting to convince liberal assholes that “tranny” is an insulting word. Amusingly these assholes are too stupid (or secluded) to realize whom they were messing with. Famous trannies have put on their brightest and biggest gear and told them where to go.

My concern over Ms. Cox is not with her but with what she symbolizes. I admit that I don’t know much about her, although when I have heard her speak, she has always been poised and articulate, is that she is one of those trans stereotypes that heteros (and, I suspect, homos) expect to see on the magazine covers and on talk shows. That is, she’s gorgeous and enviable. I can think of other transsexuals who could also have graced the cover of Time: Chaz Bono (we know all about him already, although it is surprising how understated he is regarding self-promotion considering his mitochondrial DNA), Ryland Whittington and family (a 6 year-old transgender poster child would probably result in more mags being burned than sold), or even Chelsea Manning (oh, right, she’s — wrongly — in prison).

None of them would sell magazines like a very light-skinned black and blonde female with provocative lips in a tight, ruched Spandex number with nylons and high heels will. (WTF! Am I describing Maxim or Time?) If you don’t think Time needs a hot chick on a magazine cover, consider this: the last time I perused Time was in a waiting room and it contained all of 60 pages. I checked.

In an article published in the Village Voice in the 1970s, the legendary Jamaica Kincaid, while writing about Raquel Welch, asked, “In a world where there is so much ugliness, why can’t someone just be beautiful?” You have to imagine Ms. Kincaid saying it in her mellifluous Antiguan accent, but the fact is it’s still a good question.

But when will we — and by we, I mean mainstream America and me — see coverage of just plain ordinary trans people, the ones who wouldn’t know an eyeliner from a jetliner; or the trans couch potatoes who look like everyone else in the subdivision and wouldn’t stop traffic unless they got run over.

I worry that young trans kids think they have to be glamorous or fabulous or super-butch even if that’s not who they really are. Haven’t we gone this route with gay men and lesbians? From the sissy boys becoming steroid queens and the lezbos morphing into dykes with bikes, haven’t we learned that hyper-sexualization isn’t a necessity to earn your queer card? Do we really need trans boys who are indoctrinated to be models or covergirls? Or trans girls who wouldn’t be caught dead without a tool belt or crowbar because that’s what real men carry?

It seems to me that the trans transformation is about really about realness? And if you go through all this anguish to embody yourself in your body, who needs someone else’s baggage when you check-into whom you finally want to be?