Archive for June, 2012

The War On Gays

Posted: June 27, 2012 in equal rights, gay lesbian
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Gay men being lined up at a concentration camp in Germany. Gays were also persecuted and tortured by Hitler, but society does not talk about US.

When we look back at history, as far back as there has been recorded history, there has been oppression. It seems that everyone, somewhere in time was oppressed in some way. Look at your ancestors. There is a good chance that they were an oppressed people at some point in time. It is also highly likely that they were also in the role of oppressor at some point, as well. 

I find this an inexplicable part of human history. People seem to feel an inherent need to put others beneath them in some way. Generally, it seems that this is done to give themselves some sense of superiority. 

Religions have notoriously tried to oppress other religions and the people of those faiths. The Crusades are one example. There are COUNTLESS acts in history of one religious group persecuting others for believing things that they do not agree with. They seem driven by their god(s) to commit random acts of hate against those who would dare to think differently. 

I’m not trying to start a “hate session” on religion today in any way. I do find myself completely baffled by the fact that people who often claim to be very religious or “God fearing” are often the perpetrators of some of the most vicious and heinous assaults on other people. 

What is it about society and ‘civilization’ that drives people to judge each other so harshly? What makes these people take things a step further and go out of their way to try to show the world how they are right and others are wrong? It seems like some people make a life out of trying to oppress other people. What do they get out of this and what does it prove?

When murders, rapes, tortures, hate, lies and misinformation are spread in the name of one’s personal beliefs in order to oppress others it would seem to be the opposite of practicing any ‘true’ religion to me. “Because I believe that the bible says it is wrong” is just simply not a good enough excuse to abuse, victimize and oppress other people. 

A true believer of any ‘faith’ would surely have to admit that their belief system is based upon certain basic tenants which include and are not limited to things such as ‘killing and murder are wrong’. I would also posit that most world religions also hold the philosophy of ‘do unto others as you would have done unto you’, though it may be worded in a thousand other ways. 

Today, the murder of gays and lesbians has actually hit an all time high. We (gays and lesbians) are living in one of the most dangerous times in history for us. While we are enjoying more freedoms than we have ever had in many places in the world, our brethren around the world are suffering immensely. Even in the United States, where I should point out that we have not reached the status of ‘equal’ yet, we are seeing murders and hate crimes reaching levels that are truly troubling and frightening.

With change comes growing pains. With change also comes suffering. The old adage that ‘things must get worse before they get better’ often holds true. We are in a time of extreme change and unrest. 

I’ve been ‘out’ for over 26 years now and the things I have seen change in those 26 years are truly amazing and wonderful. What I am seeing recently is troubling and maddening. While I realize it is part of the process, I’d like to point out to the GLBTQ community that we are truly at war here. Whether you realize it or not, we are fighting a battle for rights that has been ongoing for centuries. We stand on the verge of changing the world. 

There are those who would have us go back into our closets and keep to ourselves. If it were up to these people, you’d never be able to talk about your partner publicly, much less hold hands on the street. These people will say that they don’t have a problem with it, they just don’t want it ‘in their face’. They don’t understand that they have been ‘in our face’ now for generations. We have the opportunity to educate, to talk and to stand our ground now as never before. It may be more important now than ever. 

As wounded as I am each and every day when I log into FaceBook or watch the news and see that another gay teen has committed suicide, or that another gay person has been targeted in a hate crime and murdered or wounded horribly it only serves to make me more firm in my stand for my rights.

Two teens being hanged to death in Iraq simply for being gay.

When I see the photos of homosexual men lynched in the streets of Middle Eastern countries, simply for being who they are, it only strengthens my resolve. I WILL have my equality. It WILL happen in my lifetime. Change IS coming and I will be the harbinger of it, along with others like me. 

I don’t intend to respond with violence and I beseech you to do the same. Be calm, be peaceful and simply show your patience, persistence and resolve. KNOW that change is coming and it will. Talk to everyone, educate those who will listen, use every social networking tool that you have at your disposal, come out of your closets and be counted – for there is safety in numbers! 

I challenge you to be a good citizen. I challenge you to be successful. Whatever you do, be the best at it. Let the world see you as a PERSON. Treat others with kindness and decency before you expect it for yourself. Let us not stoop to their levels. Carry yourself with grace and dignity. 

We can show the entire world that we are human, we have dignity, we have pride and we are not going to settle for less than what anyone else has anymore. We do not choose who we are, anymore than any child chooses to be born in any particular country, of any particular color or into any particular religion.

Get up off the sofa and write your congressman today and tell them how you feel. Register to vote and do it! Support the president who supported you. Get involved, even if it is just posting on social medias. This is your chance and this is our time. We stand at the edge of the finish line. The closer we get, the harder they are fighting back – the reason the hate crimes are now higher than ever. 

Don’t you see the writing on the wall? WE ARE WINNING THIS BATTLE! They know it. They are angry and those who aren’t glued together quite right are going to come unglued and do hateful things in retaliation. While it is horrible and unjust, it means we are making progress. It is a sad part of fighting for anything. Sometimes we have casualties. 

Please, take a moment to remember all those that we have lost along the way. The victims lay along the path to equality and we must remember them, for they sacrificed so that we could go on. NEVER FORGET! The innocent teens that felt there was no life for them have taken their own lives and in doing so became martyrs to this cause. Don’t let them die in vain. Honor them by continuing to fight.

Take my hand and cross the line with me. Let’s finish this race together. I know it is a race that we can win – we already are. 

Twitter – JesseMacGregorJones@MyButchWorld

FaceBook Fan Page - http://www.facebook.com/MyButchWorld

http://www.jessemacgregorjones.com/

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Hate Is NOT A Family Value! STOP TEACHING IT!

Posted: June 26, 2012 in equal rights, gay lesbian
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Cory was the victim of hate recently. He has no medical insurance. Click his photo to see how you can help and read more about his personal story.

I am working on a new book to document hate crimes committed against gays and lesbians. Initially, I was only going to cover lesbians, particularly butch lesbians. I’ve revisited this, having taken a hard look at the way gay men have been abused and victimized by society.

The GLBTQ community has enough division. I felt that including everyone in this book would serve them all the same justice and dignity. My goal is to give a voice to the victims so that they may move on to becoming survivors. This story is just one of thousands and thousands of sickening acts perpetrated against a class of people, just because they are who they are.

 In actuality, this is no different from the lynchings and burning crosses that happened when African-Americans were seeking to have equal rights in this country as well. The time has come for America to move on and accept that change is coming. We are not going to take these vicious acts lying down anymore.

Here is one story from an interview that I’ve done. Her name has been changed for obvious reasons.

She was only 29 years old. She identified as butch, wore her hair short and had never been with a man in her life. Going to a Christmas party one night would change her life forever.

“Tamara” was from out-of-town. Her friend, a straight male, had invited her to attend a Christmas party that his workplace was throwing for the holidays. Like most Christmas parties, there was dancing, laughter and a little bit of alcohol involved.

Most women know that men can become overly flirtatious when they drink too much. On this night, two young men were flirting with Tamara quite a bit. “At first I didn’t think much of it…I even danced with them”, she recalls. As the evening wore on, their advances become more and more inappropriate.

“They started talking about a threesome and trying to get me interested in that with them. I didn’t really know what else to do, so I finally told them that I was a lesbian”, Tamara’s voice trails off momentarily. Obviously the memories are filling her mind and she’s trying to control her voice.

With a deep breath she goes on to explain that the two men went on about their partying and left her alone after that. “I really didn’t give them another thought”, she states.

At midnight, Tamara left the party to walk to where she was staying. She only needed to go just a short distance down the road and imagined it would only take ten minutes to get there. She hadn’t taken into account that it had been snowing and the snow made some spots impassable. Tamara found herself walking on the next street over.

Not being all that familiar with New Jersey, she came to an area of warehouses that probably would not have been anyone’s choice to be walking past at such an hour. “I saw headlights from a car coming up the road behind me. I didn’t think anything of it, but I noticed that they weren’t passing me. Then I heard the car stop and I heard footsteps. I pretty much knew what was happening.”

The two men from the party had followed her by car. The more aggressive of the two men came around in front of her and stopped her. “He called me a ‘fucking dyke’ and said ‘what are you too good to sleep with me?’” I can hear her voice begin to break as she continues telling me her story and my heart is heavy, for I know what is coming. I almost want to spare her. It seems too much.

“I said ‘please, let me walk by’ and as I tried to keep walking, he punched me in the face.” It was then that she fell backwards into the snow and the second man then knelt down and pinned her arms and shoulders to the ground.

The first man ripped open the button-down shirt that she was wearing, sending buttons flying. As he did so she recalls that he said, “Ya’ shoulda’ just said yes.” He then removed her pants and her shirt, all this while she is on the freezing, snow-covered ground. He pulled the boxer shorts that she was wearing off, but he chose to pull a knife from his pocket and cut away the sports bra that she was wearing.

It was then that he forced himself onto her, carrying out his act as she tried to pretend that it wasn’t happening to her. He was rough and violent, seeming to intentionally be inflicting as much pain upon her as he could. As he ‘finished’ he moved to switch places with the other man, but before they switched, he punched her in the face again, viciously. His intent was to make her as senseless and helpless as possible. There would be no running or escape.

As the second man now began raping her, the more aggressive man with the knife was hovering over her face telling her, “If you scream, you’re gonna die.”

Tamara’s voice is changing and it is obvious that this is very difficult for her. Quietly she states almost matter of factly, “You know, when they switched places and he got off me, I could actually smell blood. I knew I was bleeding.”

When the second assailant had finished, she was punched in the face for the third time. “They took my clothes and left me in the bloody snow. I stayed there until I was found about 7 to 7 ½ hours later”, she is telling the story now as if she is outside of it, looking in. “A warehouse owner found me the next morning and called an ambulance. He thought I was dead at first, because I was actually blue. I was laying in a patch of red, blood-covered snow. When he walked to me, he bent and touched my shoulder and I flinched. He immediately took his coat off and covered me while he called an ambulance.”

Tamara then recalls that, “He was a nice, older man. He even came to visit me in the hospital.” She goes on to tell me that she spent one month in the hospital recovering from her wounds. She had a broken nose, a fractured jaw, three cracked ribs and so much internal damage that she had to have internal stitches. She also had second degree frostbite that she was treated for as well. 

I was amazed at the horribly long time in the hospital and she made it clear that, “I was scared to leave”. She goes on, “I couldn’t have any male doctors or nurses. I would start screaming. It was a long time before I could even be around a man at all, even out in public. I’d shake, sweat and even throw-up.”

This is not even close to the end of Tamara’s story. While in the hospital, the rape kit also confirmed that she was pregnant on top of everything else. “I carried the baby full-term but had to have a c-section because of all the vaginal tearing. I couldn’t have a normal delivery.”

She put the child up for adoption. He was adopted in an open adoption and now has two lesbian parents. “I chose the parents. I get pictures every six months and a letter.” Tamara sees him and he knows who she is, referring to her as his “Tummy Mommy”.

I asked her what I though would be a difficult question, “Is it hard for you to look at him?”

“No!” she shot right back, “He looks just like me. He’s a clone. When I look at him, I see me. Besides, it isn’t his fault what happened. I do not see anybody else but me.” My respect for her has grown immensely by this point, as I wonder if I’d be able to handle myself as well in this same situation.

I pushed a little further and said, “And if he hadn’t looked like you?”

“I’d love him just the same! It wasn’t HIS fault.”, she says with absolute certainty in her voice. Yes, my respect for her is great.

The two men, thanks to surveillance cameras at the warehouses, were caught and prosecuted. Each man received a 30 year sentence because the entire act was caught on video and the knife was used to charge them with attempted murder. The charges were aggravated rape and attempted first degree murder. Because of Tamara’s own painful testimony of the party happenings, it was found that what they did was also premeditated.

The men are eligible for parole in 10 years. They have already served 3 years. To me, this seems like a drop in the bucket for what these animals did to her. I cannot help but ask her, “Are you okay with that? I mean…how does that make you feel?”

Once again, she shows me what true human dignity is about and responds, “I think they got a fair sentence. I’m a practicing Buddhist and by forgiving them I am taking the power away from them. I realize that holding on to the pain and hate would only hurt me more.”

To make her story even more touching, she’s only told 3 people this story. Her own family doesn’t know that this happened to her. She has never received any therapy for the incident and even, in fact, thanked me for letting her tell her secret. “It feels better, like a weight is coming off of me.”

Tamara – you know who you really are – you are a class act. I am in awe of your ability to heal and continue forward with your life. I’m inspired at your ability to forgive. Thank you for allowing me to tell your story.

This was an interview done for an upcoming book by author Jesse MacGregor-Jones. Names have been changed to protect the privacy of the victim. I am still seeking more stories and interviews with people who have been victims of hate crimes. Please, contact me at one of the sources below. Thanks for reading and sharing this important message about hate.

Twitter – JesseMacGregorJones@MyButchWorld   FaceBook – www.facebook.com/jessemacgregorjones

Fan Page – www.facebook.com/MyButchWorld

Bibliography – Twisted: Flashbacks, Butch Sexology – Tales From the Erotic Zone

20 Tamworth Street

Posted: June 25, 2012 in Uncategorized
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This is an excerpt from a book that a dear friend of mine is working on, most likely to be titled, “20 Tamworth Street”. His blog is also titled “20 Tamworth Drive” and he is one of the most talented indie writers I know. His book is about growing up in Manchester during WW II, at the time the Nazi’s were bombing and destroying his world around him. This excerpt is in the after years, when Manchester and the rest of Europe struggled to recover. The author was faced with working in a coal mine at the age of only 15. Please, read his guest blog today and jump over to his page and follow him if you find yourself compelled to know more. His name is Terrence Flannery and you’ll not be disappointed. – Jesse MacGregor-Jones

Citizens of London, during the blitz raids, seeking shelter in the underground tunnels. Manchester received heavy damages over the Christmas holiday. My friend, Terry, is a survivor.

My schooling finished, I walked away, free and happy from the little Catholic school of St Wilfrid and after a few weeks working in a clothing factory,  I began my basic training for the coal mines at the “Robin Hood Pit” outside my home town of Manchester in Lancashire.

Trainees did not enjoy shower privileges in the main facilities at the mine and so I travelled home on the bus covered in coal dust but always enjoying a seat all to myself.

Two days a week we attended college and learned about mining methods and the remaining days we spent at the pit.

Our instructors were older “Colliers,”   men experienced in all the hazards of  coal mining.  They were laconic,  tough, time worn men constantly chewing wads of tobacco, turning their heads to the side and spitting thick black jets into the dusty  ground and wiping their mouths with the backs of their hands;  broken hands with fingers and thumbs missing.

Their faces and bodies were marked with scars etched in blue. “Tattoos” from the coal dust  that had become en-grained in the wounds as they lay, waiting to be brought from the coal face to the surface and the ambulance that would take them to the hospital.  From them we learned of the dangers of working in the pit, related in a matter of fact way and sprinkled with anecdotes from their experiences.   We learned the first law of the coal miner–it is a high crime for matches to be found on your person when you are underground.  With the ever present danger of gas underground if a miner should be tempted to light a cigarette, an explosion can occur which would cost many lives.

In their care we entered the cage and were lowered down a thousand feet on long creaking cables into the darkness of the pit. Watching the walls of the main shaft pass by and listening to the drip of water as we sank ever further from the sunlight and fresh air, where we would  learn how to hook up the Tubs in long lines to the moving cables that snaked along the floor of the mine and sometimes at waist height to and from the face bringing up the coal.

These thick steel cables are made up of smaller steel threads twisted together in a spiral to form the finished cable. Over time some of these threads break and when   separated form deadly hooks which will easily remove a finger or thumb from the hand of a careless haulage worker or drag him along in a deadly grip if he should handle the cable.

On that first day down the pit, we walked along the main drag. a huge shaft, with two way traffic of tubs rattling noisily in long lines filled with coal, like commuter trains to and from the coal face, pulled by endless steel cables.

This shaft is a very busy thoroughfare, well established, secure and well lit, but with  all the signs of settlement where the the pressure of millions of tons of the earth above has moved, bearing down inexorably, crumbling  supports in places and bending the steel.  This is not a sight you welcome on your first day underground, and our “guides” would tell us stories of how the roof would settle on a new wooden prop if it was badly fitted, shooting it twenty feet,  a deadly projectile for anyone in it’s path.

In some of the larger pits we visited, the face was reached by a small electric passenger train with open seated carriages carrying miners down to the coal face, where they would often work for a shift on their hands and knees working with explosives and digging out the coal.  We stood to the side and watched them pass,  joking  and poking fun at each other, in that special way that men have when they share a life that takes them on a daily journey close to death.

They are like soldiers at war who know they may yet see their friends die before their eyes.  There is that popular saying, “This is the first day of the rest of your life,” but down here in the earth’s womb they know only too well it could be the last day of theirs’.

For people on the surface, the pleasure of work, of job fulfillment,  comes, not just in the end result of what they do, but of creating and organizing in clean conditions with windows to the outside world and the sight of the sun and a blue sky.

In the coal mines there is little joy other than the close camaraderie,  doing a hard days work in dirty dangerous conditions with only the knowledge a man has fed his family for another day.

Without doubt these are very special men.

Once at the bottom of the shaft we would go to a training tunnel in a safe area of the mine,  set up for trainees to learn their trade. This time was used to get them  accustomed to being entombed for hours in dusty claustrophobic silence often with only the light from our battery powered lamps on our helmets.

Once in this area, with the help of short training runs of tracks we could learn how to safely hook and unhook the tubs,  spin them around, and push them back and forth with pretend industry.

On our breaks we ate our “snap,”  sandwiches wrapped in bits of paper, by our mothers, which we carried with us in our “snap tins.” The first sip of water from our bottles used to clear the coal dust which thickened in the mouth and throat,  we spat loudly onto the floor, mimicking  our instructors,  and laughed out loud,  children playing at the work of men.

We’d sit together in the dust and the darkness and tell stories of how the ghosts of miners killed in accidents still roamed the mine, unable to find their way to the surface.

Part of our training included extinguishing our lights to experience the total darkness where not even our hands  pressing on our noses were visible. The stories were many, of miners who had lain trapped when the shaft caved in, and had died waiting for rescue as they ran out of air and water, and the power from their batteries had given out leaving them in pitch darkness. They would strike a pipe with a hammer a rock to signal life for rescuers they knew would be searching for them.  The pipe would carry the sound beyond the cave in. This would sometimes be the last sound they were heard to make.  We knew with all the certainty of youth it could never happen to us.

At first to my young eyes this had all seemed exciting and almost glamorous but soon enough I came to see the descent differently, the cage was my coffin, my life slipping away from me as if I were descending into my grave.

No matter how I tried, it was never possible to wash the coal dust off myself completely and I carried the mark of the coal miner.  Away from the sun, my face was a grainy pale white but my eyes were faintly rimmed with black:  the mascara of the pit.  At the end of each day down the pit I would go to the public baths where for a few pennies I would be given a small piece of soap and a towel. The attendant would show me to a tub in a private cubicle and fill the tub with hot water and I would soak away the dirt for twenty minutes before going for a swim in the public pool.

In time I  completed my training at the Robin Hood Pit and said goodbye to my instructors and friends in my group, ready to begin life as a coal miner.  I was fifteen years old.

Moving Forward By Moving On

Posted: June 23, 2012 in gay lesbian
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Sometimes we KNOW the answers to the issues going on in our lives but it takes friends to help point those things out to us. Perhaps we don’t always want to face those truths because it seems like we are admitting failure or that we’ve made wrong choices. Sometimes it might mean that we really don’t know where we are or why we are there and that can be a very scary thing.

Readily I will admit that I am a handful. I’m a butch lesbian and we’re not always easy to figure out. We are walking enigmas and it isn’t because we choose to be, we just are. We are part of many different worlds and sometimes we don’t even know our feelings. We’re tough on the outside and like melted chocolate on the inside. We cry more than you do. If a butch lets you see her cry…she really trusts you, because like men…we hide our feelings. Part of us feels like we have to be tough. Our estrogen reminds us that we’re girls, sometimes when we least expect it. Most of us wear our hearts on our sleeve and get hurt very easily.

A friend pointed out to me last night that when we are brought up in a Christian society with Christian values, that we are often taught that we should be self-sacrificing – that this is a virtue all should seek to have. We carry this into our personal and private lives to the point of actually being detrimental to our own spiritual well-being. We sacrifice our own needs to please the people that we are with, thinking that this is the right way to go about making relationships “work”. We give to others when we often have needs of our own that are being neglected. Somehow we think that this is okay. We convince ourselves that this is what we must do in order to find happiness. Is it really making us happy?

Ask yourself how many times you have been in a relationship where you felt that you compromised your time, your energy and your feelings without getting much, if anything, given back to you. How easily did you slip into this habit of apologizing for your own feelings? How often have you found yourself in the role of setting aside YOUR time, YOUR wants and YOUR feelings just to be with someone who took those things from you readily without ever offering to give this back to you in return?

The funny thing about those people is that they justify it in a way that makes you actually feel guilty for having your own wants and needs. These people can manipulate you in ways that you don’t even see until DAYS later sometimes. If you are lucky, you’ll see it in days. Sometimes it takes years to realize that you’ve been in a relationship where you gave up so much of yourself just to be with that person. Some times you even question your own thoughts and belief system because they make you feel that your beliefs are somehow wrong, just because they are different from theirs. You find yourself thinking that there must be something WRONG with yourself and your views. You begin to feel as if you are always defending yourself and when you do, the other person is offended by this. It’s as if ‘how dare you have feelings that I don’t share and feel you have the right to express them and make ME feel bad’ and you begin thinking that everything about yourself is wrong somehow.

You begin to change yourself in ways to feel accepted. You convince yourself that you are making positive changes in your life and you rationalize that change is good. You forget that the reasons for the change may not actually be positive. Change is never good when you are doing it to seek acceptance from someone else. In the end you simply feel manipulated and you’ll realize that the person you were trying to ingratiate yourself to really doesn’t care as much about your feelings as you do about theirs and everything is really totally one-sided.

People say that you shouldn’t have expectations or that you shouldn’t do something for someone else and expect something in return. I say that for friendships and in family situations this might hold true, but in a relationship you should absolutely have expectations of reciprocation. If there isn’t give AND take then it simply isn’t a relationship at all…it’s just you trying to make another person happy while they continue to take whatever you are willing to give.

I have more respect for myself than this. I am 44 years old and I have FINALLY reached the point in my life where I am no longer willing to accept that I am here to please someone else all the time while they have no regard for my emotional or physical needs. If you are not here for me when I need you, if you are emotionally unavailable and indifferent to my feelings, then I just don’t need you in my life.

I’m actually quite happy being alone. Eventually, someday someone will come along that understands that I don’t want someone to change me, judge me, evaluate me, observe me, critique me, point out my flaws, analyze me, tell me what’s wrong with me, try to improve me, or expect my time without giving me theirs. I don’t need someone to  tell me that they are too tired to think about planning anything with me and put all the planning on me – because it makes me feel that I’m not worth your time or your energy. I AM worth someone’s time…perhaps just not yours. I’m special and I deserve someone who treats me that way and makes me feel important in their life, rather than me always being the one making them feel important in mine. I AM more than an option!

Stripped To The Bone

Posted: June 15, 2012 in life lessons, self-help
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When it comes to living our lives, we surround ourselves with the trivial things for so long that we begin to lose ourselves  and our true purpose in this world. Human beings get caught-up in the need and desire to earn more money, buy more things, rub elbows with all the right people to help us earn more, so we can buy new things – and the circle never ends. This simply becomes life and at some point, normally at about the age of 40, we suddenly look around one day and wonder what the hell happened.

What happened to the childhood wonder? Where did the passion go and why do we feel so little on the inside except empty? Where is my joy and why do I feel cheated? We find ourselves mourning for the child we used to be and the dreams that never became reality.

What dreams have you let go of or simply forgotten because life beat you down, wore you out and pushed you into an alternate reality? I’m reminded of an old joke that my anthropology professor used to tell about playing dirty jokes on chimps. Wanna see something funny? Give a chimp an onion and watch them peel and peel until nothing’s left. Sometimes I feel like that chimp…how much can be peeled away until there’s nothing left?

It’s exhausting. I see your pain. I feel your pain. I express it for all of us. I’m a writer.

I do my best to install a zipper to my very soul and give you access to the zipper. As a human being, I strip myself down to the bone day after day. Every word I write is a little piece of me. Every pain has a root in reality.

I have nothing else to offer you but my pain and the beautiful reality of my suffering. This is a human condition. This is human. This is me. Pain can be beautiful. Pain can be addictive. Pain can be just what saves us, wakes us and moves us. I am pain … let me move you. Let me wash over you and bathe you in my emotion.

“Let me see you stripped down to the bone…let me hear you screaming just for me.”

Gay Teen Suicides

Posted: June 14, 2012 in Uncategorized
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I’m tired of seeing something about a new gay teen suicide every single day. My heart is heavy for these kids who left the world too soon to know that it gets better and that someone out there DID care. For their families…I know the sorrow of being one of those ‘left behind’ and the unanswered questions and sorrows that will haunt them the rest of their lives. God be with them because they are going to need the strength.

Please, take 3 minutes and 23 seconds of your day to watch this video and listen to this song. People all over the world are being persecuted for trying to just be who they are. It isn’t a choice. No one chooses this life and if you believe that, you’re kidding yourself because you have some issues of your own to deal with.

FREE BOOK DAYS June 15, 16 and 17

Posted: June 13, 2012 in Uncategorized
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For gay teens…suicide isn’t the answer. It gets better and I’m living proof. Someone DOES care.

Hey, who doesn’t like FREE BOOKS?

On June 15, 16 and 17 you can go to Amazon and download the Kindle version of my e-book, “Twisted: Flashbacks”, TOTALLY FREE!!

No Kindle? No problem! You can download Kindle for My PC – FREE on Amazon and read any Kindle book on your pc.

What’s the catch? There is no catch…I’m just asking you to ReTweet, Share, Like, PinIt, and copy this to your blogs, pages and posts. Tell your friends about it. Hell, tell perfect strangers about it. I’m either crazy or I’m totally brilliant. I just want my book out there in the hands of as many people as possible. The only thing I am asking you to do is to help me give this away for free over those three days!

If you download my book for free, will you also share a link to it so that someone else can download it too? That’s it! That is ALL I ask! Can you do that? GREAT!

PS…if you really like the book and want to get a discount on the next book in the Twisted series, go to Amazon and leave a great review. Shoot me an email with details of your review to JesseMacGregorJones@gmail.com. When I verify that you left a review of the book, I’ll give you a code to use to get 50% off the next new book! This offer is good until July 15th. Code can be used anytime, so get your review sent to me by July 15th, 2012!

Thanks!

Jesse

On Being Thankful and Giving Away Free Books

Posted: June 13, 2012 in Uncategorized
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Life is great. I feel so very happy to be alive right now and to have things going so well. Thanks to my many readers out there. You make my day when you read my posts, visit my pages and have comments for me. I appreciate you.

I’ve worked hard for everything in life I’ve ever gotten. Not one thing has ever been handed to me. I have sometimes been stubborn in learning my lessons and I have also been slow to grasp when I was being given opportunities and/or second chances. I realize that right now, right this very moment, I am living a second chance and I’m not taking it for granted this time around.

I’d like to think that age has a way of making us more open to learning lessons and grasping the deeper meaning of situations and opportunities that come along. Personally, I feel like I am much more open now than I ever was at any other point in my life. Perhaps it is this openness and willingness to change and be influenced by the world around me that is bringing such positive energy to me now? Things are just going great right now.

For many years, I’ve wanted to pursue writing as a full-time venture. When I struck out to do so, I knew I’d be giving some things in life up. I knew that financially things would be tough for a while and that I was not going to get rich. What I really wanted more than anything else was just to be happy though.

I’ve worked hard and put in some long hours. There are days that my wrists hurt from all the typing and nights that I can’t sleep because I have projects swimming around in my head and deadlines that are looming. Still, I’m one of the luckiest people that I know. I’m blessed to be doing what I love. I’ve found a happiness and a satisfaction that I’ve never had before.

The universe seems to be rewarding me for making changes. I’ve accomplished professional goals that I used to think weren’t going to happen. I’ve met new friends and people who make me laugh and bring a new perspective into my world. I’ve met someone who fills me with happiness whenever she walks into the room and just getting an email from her brings me joy as I’ve not felt in oh so very long.

My world is settling into a calm and peaceful state that I’ve not had for so many years. I’d forgotten how truly wonderful it could be to feel so content. All feels right with my world and I am thankful. In my state of bliss, I’m overcome with the desire to do something nice. For all of you, I wish to share my happiness by giving you a gift. From June 15th to June 17th, you may download “Twisted: Flashbacks”, my latest book, absolutely free of charge. Consider it my way of paying it forward.

Thanks to all of you who have followed me. I hope you continue to follow me. I hope you tell your friends about me. I hope you tell everyone you know about the free book. I hope you Tweet it, “share” it, “like” it, blog it, “press” it, “pin” it and whatever else you wanna do with it. :) Most of all, I hope you “enjoy” it.

On Changing My Name …

Posted: June 10, 2012 in Uncategorized
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This is a subject that comes up very frequently for me, as I’ve been using an “assumed” name now for quite a while and just hadn’t bothered to change it legally. I’ve wrestled with the implications for a long time now, in regards to how other people were going to handle it. I already know that a lot of people are simply going to call me whatever they want, regardless of what I want. I know that many people who have known me for 30+ years are simply not going to understand why I am changing my name. People who’ve known me a short time don’t understand why I haven’t already just done it. I thought that today would be a good day to tell everyone how I feel about it, what it means to me and maybe help some people understand what it is like to walk in my shoes.

Why Would I Want To Change My Name In The First Place?

Most of you grew-up with an image of yourself that was quite “set” in your mind as you were maturing. A boy knew he was a boy and a girl knew she was a girl. Boys knew that eventually they were going to go through puberty and things were going to change for them physically. Boys get stronger, grow facial hair and their voices deepen, among other things. Girls begin to develop hips, breasts and start having a period. Both sexes experience increased sexual urges brought on by puberty and changes in their raging hormones.

So what if you thought of yourself as more of a boy and you were trapped in a body that you didn’t identify with? How might this have changed your life and the way you viewed yourself? Let me say that I am not transexual and have no desire to be, but I am well aware that this was a conscious decision on my part; to not want to change my body. For one thing, I was able to adjust and come to terms with the body that I have. This is something that others cannot do and therefore they feel the need to transition. I do not feel the intense dysphoria that transexuals do, though I do honestly feel it from time to time. For me, having my breasts touched is intensely pleasurable. For a transexual, this will only remind them of how they dislike the body that they are in and often bring on a dysphoric reaction that can cause intense depression. I consider myself extremely lucky that I was able to learn to love myself.

Teenage years, on the other hand, were miserable for me. I felt like a boy but I had the body parts of a girl. As my body developed, I hated it. There are still days that I don’t feel entirely 100% comfortable in my skin…but I am still learning to love myself and accept that I am okay with me. During all this struggle that went on internally over my own identity, I also struggled with coming out of the closet and being openly gay. When I was 19, I came about as close to a nervous breakdown as I ever want to be. Everything felt out of control in my life and I really honestly hated myself. I wasn’t comfortable with “me” at all.

One Thing At A Time

I used to go to work by day and be something I wasn’t to friends and family. By night, I was out “cruising” gay bars, clubs and staying out all night. Slowly but surely, I was turning into an alcoholic and filling up with a rage inside for not being able to just “be” who I was and what I was. Getting drunk was the only thing that seemed to dull the sensations and bring me any laughter at all. When I looked in the mirror, I hated the person looking back at me. I loathed “her”. It was then that I decided that I had to come out of the closet and be openly gay. I was too miserable not to.

When I did come out, it was very difficult. I had friends stop speaking to me and my own parents actually didn’t talk to me, more than a few words at a time, for 2 full years. I hated God for putting me in a position of having to choose happiness or acceptance. I didn’t understand then that I could have both. It didn’t feel like I could and for many years, my plate was very full with just learning how to live with being gay. Unlike many gays and lesbians, I didn’t come out because I had a girlfriend at the time. I was quite alone and remained that way for another 4 years after I initially came out.

Evolving Into A Free Bird

I believe that human beings are constantly changing and growing. We learn new things, try new hobbies and realize as we grow older that there can be many facets to the most beautiful of stones. It took me a long time to get comfortable with who I was. I never realized I was butch until I was in my mid-thirties. This may come as a shock to some people, because I most likely always acted  like I was. I just didn’t realize that this was a differentiating quality in me. As I have grown older, my hair has progressively gotten shorter and shorter. I have found that men’s clothes are what attract me and make me feel comfortable. The scent of men’s cologne is what draws me and makes me feel like I smell good. In allowing myself to enjoy these things and celebrate them, I have also been able to embrace and love the more feminine side of my nature. For example, I like cooking, cleaning and being very domestic. I’ve been lucky to be able to integrate all these parts of my personalities into someone that I often just refer to as “more masculine of center”.

What Stops Me In My Tracks

Moving on in my life and finding happiness in my own skin was hard. It took me so many years to achieve what some people already have by the time they are 20 and take for granted. Still, there has been one piece of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit. I could be going about my own business and doing my own thing, quite happily in fact, when someone would say my name. My name brought my mood straight down to the ground. My given name, Dawn Renee Greer, may as well be the name of a complete stranger to me. It’s a pretty name, but it isn’t the name for me. I don’t identify with this feminine name that holds no significance to me whatsoever. I have actually found the name nauseating for a number of years. When I hear the name, it causes my stomach to lurch and my nerves to get prickly. I DO have dysphoria when it comes to my given name.

In trying to move forward with my life and progress, I decided that I’d choose a name that was better for me. This is a mental process that has been ongoing now for approximately 28 years, but only two years ago I began using the name Jesse.  It was a huge transformation for me. The very first time I asked someone to call me Jesse and they did, my body heard the name and I had a different reaction. I felt peaceful and instant relief. I knew I was on the right track.

Why “Jesse MacGregor-Jones“?

Recently someone said to me that they didn’t understand why I hadn’t made the name change legal yet and that me having two names was confusing. She stated that to her it was strange that I had just taken a name from out of the blue and decided to use it. I can understand that. What bothered me though, on a deeper level, was the comment that it seemed like I was running away from something or that I had something to hide. I’m going to address this because it occurs to me that if she thought it then others may think it and wonder too.

First of all, I am not running away from anything. I am running to me. I have nothing to hide and have been notorious my entire life for sharing too much information. Those of you who have known me for 30+ years feel free to jump in and comment on that point, because I know you want to. The stories you could tell about me would probably be pretty funny.

I chose the name I now use very carefully and for many reasons. While I didn’t feel connected to my first or middle names at all for my entire life, when my parents died I also felt a disconnect from my last name. My brothers and I stopped speaking and I didn’t feel any bonds to my family. Still, I feel a sense of gratitude to my parents for bringing me into this world. Therefore I chose MacGregor because it was the name that Greer evolved from. I’m very Scottish/Irish on my father’s side. My mother’s maiden name was Jones and I always felt it was sad women gave up their last names to marry. MacGregor-Jones is a tribute to my parents. They are here with me, in my heart, each and every day of my life. While they weren’t perfect in any way, I’ve forgiven them their faults and commend them for doing the best they could with a child like me, who should have come with a handbook.

For my first name, I wanted to have something that was more androgynous. I wanted something that “fit”. It was like trying on shoes and taking steps and saying, “Nope, not right.” One day, in working on my family tree, I realized that my grandmother’s name was Jessie and I really liked that. I made a slight change in spelling and suddenly, I had the perfect name. It has meaning to me. It feels like me. For the first time in my life, I smile when someone says my name. It tells a story in my heart and has a meaning that is deep and spiritual for me.

Finality 

I admit that I’ve done a lot of wandering in my life. Perhaps for a long time I was searching for things that I never realized were inside of me the whole time? Still, one of my favorite expressions has become the quote, “not all who wander are lost” – author unknown. I’ve never felt that I was lost or hopeless … merely evolving.  In my process of evolution, I am taking the next steps and embracing my new name in completeness. I’ll be filing the paperwork soon to request the legal name change. For a long time, I’ve been concerned with how others would accept it and I’ve been guilty of saying to people, “call me whatever you’re comfortable with.” To those people though, I’d really like to say that I know it is difficult to get used to, but I wish you’d give-up on calling me something that really doesn’t make me happy.

I know that I am far from finished with this journey we call life, but from here on out I’ll be living it as a person who feels whole and integrated. I hope that you can all understand. I hope that those of you who have traveled a similar journey find a reason to feel empowered enough to make your own choices for you. If you know someone who is GLBTQ and they have struggled with dysphoria of any sort, then I hope that this makes you think twice about judging them and that you try a little harder to understand that we are all human beings, we all walk our own path, shed our own tears and make our own way in this world. The thing that unites us is that we all seek to be accepted for who we are. Sometimes accepting ourselves is the hardest part of the journey?

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