Healthy lifestyle

A healthy lifestyle is one which helps to keep and improve people's health and well-being.Many governments and non-governmental organizations have made big efforts in healthy lifestyle and health promotion.

Mental Health

Mental health can be considered a very important factor of physical health for the effects it produces on bodily functions. This type of health concerns emotional and cognitive well-being or an absence of mental disorder.

Public health

Public health can be defined in a variety of ways. It can be presented as "the study of the physical, psychosocial and socio-cultural determinants of population health and actions to improve the health of the population.

Reproductive Health

For the UN, reproductive health is a right, like other human rights. This recent concept evokes the good transmission of the genetic heritage from one generation to the next.

Health

Health is a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being, and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.

Affichage des articles triés par pertinence pour la requête living. Trier par date Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles triés par pertinence pour la requête living. Trier par date Afficher tous les articles

dimanche 6 janvier 2019

Everything Parents Need to Know About Living and Last Wills and Why They're Important

No parent wants to pass on and leave a child behind. The mere thought of any terminal illness, sudden death, or fatal circumstance is heartbreaking for parents to imagine, let alone face as a reality - especially when your kids are still young. Still, these tragedies do happen. And no matter how uncomfortable it might be, it's important to have a plan for your health care, your children's future, and your family in the event something life-threatening happens. Fortunately, there's a way for parents to efficiently create a plan - in the form of a living will and a last will. We consulted Patra Sinner, attorney and board certified family law specialist at Sodoma Law, to fill parents in on what a living will and last will are, how to make create them, and why they're so important.

What's the Difference Between a Living Will and a Last Will?

Both a living will and last will are legal documents that guarantee a parent's wish and plan for themselves and their family in the event they must leave their spouse or children behind. "A living will is a legal document that expresses your wishes for medical treatment in the event you become terminal, or are in an unconscious state and unable to express those wishes at the time," Sinner explained to POPSUGAR. "A regular will primarily addresses the distribution of one's estate upon death and may be used to express wishes on certain matters, such as the desired guardian of children upon death." A living will deals with a parent's plan for their medical treatment when they can't speak for themselves, and a last will covers all the bases in regard to a parent's children, property, and assets once they're gone.

How Can Parents Make a Living Will and Last Will?

Creating a living will or last will requires a simple, multistep process, according to Sinner. After a parent figures out a game plan in regard to their wishes for both their living will and last will, they should contact a professional to get both started. "Speaking with an attorney who is knowledgeable about living wills in the parent's particular jurisdiction is the first recommended step," said Sinner. "Once the attorney has talked through various scenarios with the parent and has an understanding of their detailed wishes for treatment in the event of a terminal illness and/or becoming permanently unconscious, the attorney can create the parent's living will reflecting the same." Similarly, as far as last wills go, an attorney should be contacted as well - he or she can devise a last will legal document after confiding in a parent about what their plan is.

How Do Parents Benefit From Having a Living Will and Last Will?

Taking the time to speak with an attorney and construct a living will and a last will is very beneficial for parents. Having a last will is a concrete way for parents to control what happens to themselves, their children, their property, and their possessions once they've passed on. A living will has the advantage of a parent's peace of mind as well. "Even if there's been a discussion requiring a loved one to inform a medical professional to withhold or withdraw life-sustaining medical treatment, or there's no chance of improvement, it's often too difficult for a loved one to do on their own," continued Sinner. "The living will can prevent them from conveying that desire to medical professionals, because the living will does it for them and is an instrument that will speak for you as to those wishes."

mardi 11 avril 2017

6 Reasons a Cruise Ship Is the Best Retirement Option


Next time your parents go on a cruise, don't be surprised if they decide to stay on that ship forever. No longer just a fun vacation idea, cruise ships are increasingly becoming a viable residence option for retirees who prefer adventure at sea over retirement home living. Turns out, it's not always much more costly to live on a cruise ship than it is to stay in an assisted living facility - and you really can't beat the ever-changing views. Of course, there are many things to take into consideration with this idea, but here are a few upsides to cruising through your golden years.

Travel and New Experiences

Obviously, one key reason to spend retirement living full-time on a cruise ship is for the constantly changing scenery and the epic adventures in far-off lands. Traveling during retirement is a common goal, and living on a cruise ship affords retirees virtually endless opportunities for learning new things and having unusual experiences.

Food and Lodging

Say farewell to a big ol' house making constant demands on your time, energy, and wallet. Cruise life includes a private cabin of your own - complete with housekeeping - and an array of dining options. Plus, some cruise lines allow long-term guests to keep personal items and decor in their rooms, so it feels more like home.

Assistance and Amenities

For retirees who need little to no ongoing physical or medical assistance, residing on a cruise ship offers many perks that trump other living arrangements. When she was in her 80s, Bea Muller lived aboard the now-retired Queen Elizabeth 2 and she extolled the many virtues of cruise life: "I've got full-time maid service, great dining rooms, doctors, medical center" - where she volunteered - "a spa, beauty salon, computer center, entertainment, cultural activities and, best of all, dancing and bridge."

New People All the Time

Feelings of isolation and loneliness can find you anywhere, but when you live on a boat teeming with new people, at least there is always the possibility of interesting conversation, friendship, or even a romantic meet-cute. What's more, not everyone on board is of retirement age, meaning you'll experience a rich variety of perspectives from people of different ages and backgrounds.

Financially Sound

Choosing a cruise ship over a retirement home won't necessarily save you money, though according to one 2004 study, living on a cruise ship only cost approximately $2,000 more annually than staying in an assisted living facility. Rising prices over the years, however, have led some people to debunk this theory, indicating that the financial strain of living on a cruise ship is greater than originally believed. Still, the trend towards spending retirement on the sea has clearly opened up a porthole of opportunity for cruise companies to directly target the retirement-age set. See, for example, Cruise Retirement and The World.

Entertainment

Many assisted living facilities and retirement homes have entertainment options for residents, but there probably isn't an improvised murder mystery and a Broadway revue and a magic show and a ballroom dance event all in one week. Bon voyage, indeed.

jeudi 20 juillet 2017

6 Reasons a Cruise Ship Is the Best Retirement Option


Next time your parents go on a cruise, don't be surprised if they decide to stay on that ship forever. No longer just a fun vacation idea, cruise ships are increasingly becoming a viable residence option for retirees who prefer adventure at sea over retirement home living. Turns out, it's not always much more costly to live on a cruise ship than it is to stay in an assisted living facility - and you really can't beat the ever-changing views. Of course, there are many things to take into consideration with this idea, but here are a few upsides to cruising through your golden years.

Travel and New Experiences

Obviously, one key reason to spend retirement living full-time on a cruise ship is for the constantly changing scenery and the epic adventures in far-off lands. Traveling during retirement is a common goal, and living on a cruise ship affords retirees virtually endless opportunities for learning new things and having unusual experiences.

Food and Lodging

Say farewell to a big ol' house making constant demands on your time, energy, and wallet. Cruise life includes a private cabin of your own - complete with housekeeping - and an array of dining options. Plus, some cruise lines allow long-term guests to keep personal items and decor in their rooms, so it feels more like home.

Assistance and Amenities

For retirees who need little to no ongoing physical or medical assistance, residing on a cruise ship offers many perks that trump other living arrangements. When she was in her 80s, Bea Muller lived aboard the now-retired Queen Elizabeth 2 and she extolled the many virtues of cruise life: "I've got full-time maid service, great dining rooms, doctors, medical center" - where she volunteered - "a spa, beauty salon, computer center, entertainment, cultural activities and, best of all, dancing and bridge."

New People All the Time

Feelings of isolation and loneliness can find you anywhere, but when you live on a boat teeming with new people, at least there is always the possibility of interesting conversation, friendship, or even a romantic meet-cute. What's more, not everyone on board is of retirement age, meaning you'll experience a rich variety of perspectives from people of different ages and backgrounds.

Financially Sound

Choosing a cruise ship over a retirement home won't necessarily save you money, though according to one 2004 study, living on a cruise ship only cost approximately $2,000 more annually than staying in an assisted living facility. Rising prices over the years, however, have led some people to debunk this theory, indicating that the financial strain of living on a cruise ship is greater than originally believed. Still, the trend towards spending retirement on the sea has clearly opened up a porthole of opportunity for cruise companies to directly target the retirement-age set. See, for example, Cruise Retirement and The World.

Entertainment

Many assisted living facilities and retirement homes have entertainment options for residents, but there probably isn't an improvised murder mystery and a Broadway revue and a magic show and a ballroom dance event all in one week. Bon voyage, indeed.

samedi 20 mai 2017

6 Reasons a Cruise Ship Is the Best Retirement Option


Next time your parents go on a cruise, don't be surprised if they decide to stay on that ship forever. No longer just a fun vacation idea, cruise ships are increasingly becoming a viable residence option for retirees who prefer adventure at sea over retirement home living. Turns out, it's not always much more costly to live on a cruise ship than it is to stay in an assisted living facility - and you really can't beat the ever-changing views. Of course, there are many things to take into consideration with this idea, but here are a few upsides to cruising through your golden years.

Travel and New Experiences

Obviously, one key reason to spend retirement living full-time on a cruise ship is for the constantly changing scenery and the epic adventures in far-off lands. Traveling during retirement is a common goal, and living on a cruise ship affords retirees virtually endless opportunities for learning new things and having unusual experiences.

Food and Lodging

Say farewell to a big ol' house making constant demands on your time, energy, and wallet. Cruise life includes a private cabin of your own - complete with housekeeping - and an array of dining options. Plus, some cruise lines allow long-term guests to keep personal items and decor in their rooms, so it feels more like home.

Assistance and Amenities

For retirees who need little to no ongoing physical or medical assistance, residing on a cruise ship offers many perks that trump other living arrangements. When she was in her 80s, Bea Muller lived aboard the now-retired Queen Elizabeth 2 and she extolled the many virtues of cruise life: "I've got full-time maid service, great dining rooms, doctors, medical center" - where she volunteered - "a spa, beauty salon, computer center, entertainment, cultural activities and, best of all, dancing and bridge."

New People All the Time

Feelings of isolation and loneliness can find you anywhere, but when you live on a boat teeming with new people, at least there is always the possibility of interesting conversation, friendship, or even a romantic meet-cute. What's more, not everyone on board is of retirement age, meaning you'll experience a rich variety of perspectives from people of different ages and backgrounds.

Financially Sound

Choosing a cruise ship over a retirement home won't necessarily save you money, though according to one 2004 study, living on a cruise ship only cost approximately $2,000 more annually than staying in an assisted living facility. Rising prices over the years, however, have led some people to debunk this theory, indicating that the financial strain of living on a cruise ship is greater than originally believed. Still, the trend towards spending retirement on the sea has clearly opened up a porthole of opportunity for cruise companies to directly target the retirement-age set. See, for example, Cruise Retirement and The World.

Entertainment

Many assisted living facilities and retirement homes have entertainment options for residents, but there probably isn't an improvised murder mystery and a Broadway revue and a magic show and a ballroom dance event all in one week. Bon voyage, indeed.

dimanche 16 avril 2017

6 Reasons a Cruise Ship Is the Best Retirement Option


Next time your parents go on a cruise, don't be surprised if they decide to stay on that ship forever. No longer just a fun vacation idea, cruise ships are increasingly becoming a viable residence option for retirees who prefer adventure at sea over retirement home living. Turns out, it's not always much more costly to live on a cruise ship than it is to stay in an assisted living facility - and you really can't beat the ever-changing views. Of course, there are many things to take into consideration with this idea, but here are a few upsides to cruising through your golden years.

Travel and New Experiences

Obviously, one key reason to spend retirement living full-time on a cruise ship is for the constantly changing scenery and the epic adventures in far-off lands. Traveling during retirement is a common goal, and living on a cruise ship affords retirees virtually endless opportunities for learning new things and having unusual experiences.

Food and Lodging

Say farewell to a big ol' house making constant demands on your time, energy, and wallet. Cruise life includes a private cabin of your own - complete with housekeeping - and an array of dining options. Plus, some cruise lines allow long-term guests to keep personal items and decor in their rooms, so it feels more like home.

Assistance and Amenities

For retirees who need little to no ongoing physical or medical assistance, residing on a cruise ship offers many perks that trump other living arrangements. When she was in her 80s, Bea Muller lived aboard the now-retired Queen Elizabeth 2 and she extolled the many virtues of cruise life: "I've got full-time maid service, great dining rooms, doctors, medical center" - where she volunteered - "a spa, beauty salon, computer center, entertainment, cultural activities and, best of all, dancing and bridge."

New People All the Time

Feelings of isolation and loneliness can find you anywhere, but when you live on a boat teeming with new people, at least there is always the possibility of interesting conversation, friendship, or even a romantic meet-cute. What's more, not everyone on board is of retirement age, meaning you'll experience a rich variety of perspectives from people of different ages and backgrounds.

Financially Sound

Choosing a cruise ship over a retirement home won't necessarily save you money, though according to one 2004 study, living on a cruise ship only cost approximately $2,000 more annually than staying in an assisted living facility. Rising prices over the years, however, have led some people to debunk this theory, indicating that the financial strain of living on a cruise ship is greater than originally believed. Still, the trend towards spending retirement on the sea has clearly opened up a porthole of opportunity for cruise companies to directly target the retirement-age set. See, for example, Cruise Retirement and The World.

Entertainment

Many assisted living facilities and retirement homes have entertainment options for residents, but there probably isn't an improvised murder mystery and a Broadway revue and a magic show and a ballroom dance event all in one week. Bon voyage, indeed.

samedi 15 avril 2017

6 Reasons a Cruise Ship Is the Best Retirement Option


Next time your parents go on a cruise, don't be surprised if they decide to stay on that ship forever. No longer just a fun vacation idea, cruise ships are increasingly becoming a viable residence option for retirees who prefer adventure at sea over retirement home living. Turns out, it's not always much more costly to live on a cruise ship than it is to stay in an assisted living facility - and you really can't beat the ever-changing views. Of course, there are many things to take into consideration with this idea, but here are a few upsides to cruising through your golden years.

Travel and New Experiences

Obviously, one key reason to spend retirement living full-time on a cruise ship is for the constantly changing scenery and the epic adventures in far-off lands. Traveling during retirement is a common goal, and living on a cruise ship affords retirees virtually endless opportunities for learning new things and having unusual experiences.

Food and Lodging

Say farewell to a big ol' house making constant demands on your time, energy, and wallet. Cruise life includes a private cabin of your own - complete with housekeeping - and an array of dining options. Plus, some cruise lines allow long-term guests to keep personal items and decor in their rooms, so it feels more like home.

Assistance and Amenities

For retirees who need little to no ongoing physical or medical assistance, residing on a cruise ship offers many perks that trump other living arrangements. When she was in her 80s, Bea Muller lived aboard the now-retired Queen Elizabeth 2 and she extolled the many virtues of cruise life: "I've got full-time maid service, great dining rooms, doctors, medical center" - where she volunteered - "a spa, beauty salon, computer center, entertainment, cultural activities and, best of all, dancing and bridge."

New People All the Time

Feelings of isolation and loneliness can find you anywhere, but when you live on a boat teeming with new people, at least there is always the possibility of interesting conversation, friendship, or even a romantic meet-cute. What's more, not everyone on board is of retirement age, meaning you'll experience a rich variety of perspectives from people of different ages and backgrounds.

Financially Sound

Choosing a cruise ship over a retirement home won't necessarily save you money, though according to one 2004 study, living on a cruise ship only cost approximately $2,000 more annually than staying in an assisted living facility. Rising prices over the years, however, have led some people to debunk this theory, indicating that the financial strain of living on a cruise ship is greater than originally believed. Still, the trend towards spending retirement on the sea has clearly opened up a porthole of opportunity for cruise companies to directly target the retirement-age set. See, for example, Cruise Retirement and The World.

Entertainment

Many assisted living facilities and retirement homes have entertainment options for residents, but there probably isn't an improvised murder mystery and a Broadway revue and a magic show and a ballroom dance event all in one week. Bon voyage, indeed.

lundi 28 août 2017

5 Things Your SO Wishes You Knew About Moving Into a Tiny Space Together

There are lots of benefits to living in a small space. Let's see: it's easier to maintain, there are cheaper utility bills, there's less temptation to accumulate clutter . . . as you can imagine, the list could go on. But to keep your attention, I'll cut it right there.

The tricky part to calling teeny-tiny spaces home, however, is the actual "living" aspect, especially when sharing these cramped quarters with someone else. I don't know about you, but when I first moved into a 400-square-foot studio with my significant other, so many skeptical thoughts rippled through my mind. As enthused as I was for this new chapter together, the lack of space had me worried, to say the least. Yet after much trial and error, my then-boyfriend-now-husband and I were able to uncover quite a few tips for making our itty-bitty apartment feel like home, all while preserving our relationship. What a relief, right?

So if you're about to move in with a new roommate or soulmate, go ahead and shed that weighing layer of anxiety, because here are five surprisingly simple tricks for making even the tiniest of spaces work.

1. Avoid mixed-messaging spaces

When I first entered college, my mom emphasized the importance of creating an oasis out of my dorm room. She encouraged my roommate and me to allow this room to serve as a place to find refuge after a long, tiring day, not be a multifunctional space where we lived, ate, worked, and slept. In doing so, our minds would understand and accept it was time to rest when entering that particular room.

After implementing this concept, we both found it to be extremely helpful and abided by this rule of thumb all throughout our college years of living together. Even today, my husband and I follow this piece of advice. By defining what purpose each area serves in our current one-room studio - i.e. the table is for eating, the bed is for sleeping (not working!), etc. - our minds aren't battling over what to do where and can then find relaxation much easier.

2. Expand your living room to outside

One of the key tricks my husband and I have uncovered for small-space living is to expand the "living" to outside the apartment. And by this, I mean eat dinner in a nearby park. Have happy hour on your stoop. (I can't begin to tell you how enjoyable a glass of wine is on a fire escape.) Catch up with friends as you discover hidden gems peppered throughout your neighborhood. Don't be afraid to stretch your living room beyond the physical four walls of your space. Chances are your neighbors are doing the exact same thing. Or at least, they should be!

3. Be transparent

No matter who you are sharing your space with, clear communication should always be your number one priority. As amazing as it would be for your roommate/soulmate to also be a mind reader, chances are he or she is probably not. That said, don't be afraid to drop your personal guardrails and become vulnerable. Trust me, you'll need to! By vocalizing your wants and needs upfront through open and honest communication, you both will have a better understanding of each other's expectations and can prevent a whole lot of unnecessary headaches and confusion.

4. Live by the powerful words of Aretha Franklin

I think you know where I'm going with this tip. Oh yes, r-e-s-p-e-c-t! In a small space, this tiny word can have so much power. When you are mindful of each other's boundaries and personal space - or lack thereof - you inadvertently create more room for good vibes and positivity and less for conflict. Just as with open communication, respect is the ultimate gateway for a happier home.

5. Embrace the coziness

At the end of the day, no matter how small the square footage might be that you're sharing, it's just a number. And you can either approach that number with excitement or dread. So why not embrace the coziness and enjoy it? See your space for what it is: your home. And not only your home, but your partner's home, too. When you think of it with that mindset, I guarantee you'll love every inch of your mini casa and be even more appreciative of the person you're able to share it with.

mercredi 16 août 2017

5 Brilliant Tips For Sharing Teeny-Tiny Spaces​

There are lots of benefits to living in a small space. Let's see: it's easier to maintain, there are cheaper utility bills, there's less temptation to accumulate clutter . . . as you can imagine, the list could go on. But to keep your attention, I'll cut it right there.

The tricky part to calling teeny-tiny spaces home, however, is the actual "living" aspect, especially when sharing these cramped quarters with someone else. I don't know about you, but when I first moved into a 400-square-foot studio with my significant other, so many skeptical thoughts rippled through my mind. As enthused as I was for this new chapter together, the lack of space had me worried, to say the least. Yet after much trial and error, my then-boyfriend-now-husband and I were able to uncover quite a few tips for making our itty-bitty apartment feel like home, all while preserving our relationship. What a relief, right?

So if you're about to move in with a new roommate or soulmate, go ahead and shed that weighing layer of anxiety, because here are five surprisingly simple tricks for making even the tiniest of spaces work.

1. Avoid mixed-messaging spaces

When I first entered college, my mom emphasized the importance of creating an oasis out of my dorm room. She encouraged my roommate and me to allow this room to serve as a place to find refuge after a long, tiring day, not be a multifunctional space where we lived, ate, worked, and slept. In doing so, our minds would understand and accept it was time to rest when entering that particular room.

After implementing this concept, we both found it to be extremely helpful and abided by this rule of thumb all throughout our college years of living together. Even today, my husband and I follow this piece of advice. By defining what purpose each area serves in our current one-room studio - i.e. the table is for eating, the bed is for sleeping (not working!), etc. - our minds aren't battling over what to do where and can then find relaxation much easier.

2. Expand your living room to outside

One of the key tricks my husband and I have uncovered for small-space living is to expand the "living" to outside the apartment. And by this, I mean eat dinner in a nearby park. Have happy hour on your stoop. (I can't begin to tell you how enjoyable a glass of wine is on a fire escape.) Catch up with friends as you discover hidden gems peppered throughout your neighborhood. Don't be afraid to stretch your living room beyond the physical four walls of your space. Chances are your neighbors are doing the exact same thing. Or at least, they should be!

3. Be transparent

No matter who you are sharing your space with, clear communication should always be your number one priority. As amazing as it would be for your roommate/soulmate to also be a mind reader, chances are he or she is probably not. That said, don't be afraid to drop your personal guardrails and become vulnerable. Trust me, you'll need to! By vocalizing your wants and needs upfront through open and honest communication, you both will have a better understanding of each other's expectations and can prevent a whole lot of unnecessary headaches and confusion.

4. Live by the powerful words of Aretha Franklin

I think you know where I'm going with this tip. Oh yes, r-e-s-p-e-c-t! In a small space, this tiny word can have so much power. When you are mindful of each other's boundaries and personal space - or lack thereof - you inadvertently create more room for good vibes and positivity and less for conflict. Just as with open communication, respect is the ultimate gateway for a happier home.

5. Embrace the coziness

At the end of the day, no matter how small the square footage might be that you're sharing, it's just a number. And you can either approach that number with excitement or dread. So why not embrace the coziness and enjoy it? See your space for what it is: your home. And not only your home, but your partner's home, too. When you think of it with that mindset, I guarantee you'll love every inch of your mini casa and be even more appreciative of the person you're able to share it with.

jeudi 28 septembre 2017

I Gave Up Living "Stealth" as a Trans Woman, and I'm Never Looking Back

Rain Valdez is an actress, model, writer, and producer

I was afraid for the longest time. I never wanted to admit that I was a trans woman. I had my own internal transphobia. In fact, when I encounter new people and the subject of my trans identity comes up, usually the first question they ask is, "When did you know you were trans?" Well, that's the thing. I didn't know I was trans.

I knew at a very young age, around 5, that I was a girl. Trans was not even in my vocabulary. When I made the decision to transition, I was in my teens, and I packed my bags and moved away to Los Angeles. Since no one knew who I was, my past or my family, it was easy for me to start a new life. In a way, I lived in the fairy tale that I always dreamed of. City life, great friends, cool job, and a loving boyfriend. To live my life as a woman was all that I ever wanted, and I achieved it successfully. In the trans community, we call this living "stealth." Because I look a certain way, I "pass" and have the privilege to disclose as very little as I want. So for many years, I hid my gender history from friends, colleagues, and my entire network here in this new city.

I realized that I was preventing myself from connecting deeply with the people that I loved.
After living like this for more than 10 years, some things started to no longer sit well with me. It happened the most in the moments when I would hang out with my girlfriends. We would start talking about high school crushes or childhood games we used to play. I would avoid delving into any details because I didn't want to reveal that I had a very different upbringing than they did. Or when my boyfriend at the time would ask to see a childhood photo of me but I didn't have anything to show. I had trashed most of all the old photos I had, because I was ashamed of how I used to be. In those moments, I would hide by revising the past a little. If that felt too hard to do, then I would try to change the subject. Eventually, I realized that I was preventing myself from connecting deeply with the people that I loved. And If I truly love them, shouldn't I give them the consideration of knowing who I truly am?

After this epiphany, I got myself into therapy and I attended a support group at the LGBT center. I also started working on the show Transparent. The creators and producers of the the show, Jill Soloway, Zackary Drucker, and Rhys Ernst, gave me the opportunity to be 100 percent my authentic self in a professional working environment. For the first time in my life, I was living out loud and proud as as a trans woman. I came out to my friends and loved ones, and they were all very supportive. I learned a language that gave me a voice, which I used to articulate my story and advocate for my community. I am very proud to be a part of show that treats me like family and allows me the space to flourish creatively. As an actress and aspiring writer/director, I felt like my career was on the rise, which is not an easy feeling to get to in this industry. My short film Ryans is a success and continues to have a life of its own. And I started booking more acting gigs. I also have a new short film coming out this Summer.

But things started to change after the November 2016 election and Donald Trump got into office. I started to get a sinking feeling. It would come when I read on the news that another trans sister of color had been murdered. I felt it after the shooting in Orlando, which happened one day before LA Pride. My Transparent family and I were scheduled be on a float to celebrate. That feeling surmounted to an unbearable pain of loss and fear. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was being attacked personally. That my family - my community - was in danger of losing everything our transcestors worked so hard for. In addition to that, I was still auditioning for roles that continued to tokenize trans people.

Suddenly, I felt powerless.

I was in my third year of working on Transparent, and I was considering quitting. Not just the job itself, but I was considering quitting being an out and proud trans leader, which some people in my community consider me to be. I was considering going back to living stealth. I started to feel the weight that many of my brothers and sisters have felt for a very long time. Living in stealth was a time when I didn't feel targeted. A time where I was marginalized just as an Asian-American woman and not an Asian-American trans woman. To go back to that meant that I would feel somewhat safe again. Less targeted, less attacked, but also less "woke." Did I really want to go back to being ignorant?

"I'm not here to be your token."
I started to watch Gavin Grimm, who's become the revolutionary of a new generation. To see him speak so articulately, at such a young age, with such passion and dignity was the light at the end of the tunnel for me. I saw my soul, my mind, and all of my feelings in him. I even saw that strength which I thought I was losing. Then, I booked the role of Coco on the TV Land series Lopez, a role that every trans actress I knew in town auditioned for. That was the light shining through. As Coco, I got to say on national television, "I'm not here to be your token." A line that speaks volumes for me and my community. It fueled me. After playing that role and working on Transparent for three years and after several articles written about my short film Ryans, I realized I was stamping myself as trans, and there was no way I could go back to living stealth. It was no longer an option.

You can google my name and the first stamp you would see is "Transgender actress Rain Valdez." Then I realized that Gavin Grimm has also gone too far to ever consider living stealth. If he ever wanted to, he would have to go the lengths of changing his name and appearance and possibly moving to a different country. And if this was a conversation I was having with him, we would both laugh because that's something we would never do.

My years living stealth were a privilege. Safety and ignorance is a privilege. If not everyone in my community can have that choice, then why should I? This is the moment I felt proudest as an out trans woman. The moment I realized I can never go back because of the stamps I've been creating for myself. Instead of fear or disappointment, it gave me peace to know that there can no longer be room in my heart and soul for my own internal transphobia. There's no more room for hesitation when it comes to my part in our fight for equality. Going stealth would not solve anything, at least not for me.

I can finally move on and leave those years behind me. I can be the strength and voice my community (and this Hollywood industry) needs me to be. Whether it's through our art, or storytelling, or political advocacy, we will overcome. And when we do, we will find a future where the violence against trans women is significantly reduced and our homeless youth - about 40 percent of which identify as LGBTQ - has a place of love and shelter, and the men who love us privately will be professing and confessing their love for us on the mountain tops. They can throw as many opposing laws against us now, but really they're just giving us more obstacles to master. We have more patience than you can ever imagine, and because we've always existed and will continue to exist, we will master these obstacles. Just like we always have before.

lundi 25 septembre 2017

I Gave Up Living "Stealth" as a Trans Woman, and I'm Never Looking Back

Rain Valdez is an actress, model, writer, and producer

I was afraid for the longest time. I never wanted to admit that I was a trans woman. I had my own internal transphobia. In fact, when I encounter new people and the subject of my trans identity comes up, usually the first question they ask is, "When did you know you were trans?" Well, that's the thing. I didn't know I was trans.

I knew at a very young age, around 5, that I was a girl. Trans was not even in my vocabulary. When I made the decision to transition, I was in my teens, and I packed my bags and moved away to Los Angeles. Since no one knew who I was, my past or my family, it was easy for me to start a new life. In a way, I lived in the fairy tale that I always dreamed of. City life, great friends, cool job, and a loving boyfriend. To live my life as a woman was all that I ever wanted, and I achieved it successfully. In the trans community, we call this living "stealth." Because I look a certain way, I "pass" and have the privilege to disclose as very little as I want. So for many years, I hid my gender history from friends, colleagues, and my entire network here in this new city.

I realized that I was preventing myself from connecting deeply with the people that I loved.
After living like this for more than 10 years, some things started to no longer sit well with me. It happened the most in the moments when I would hang out with my girlfriends. We would start talking about high school crushes or childhood games we used to play. I would avoid delving into any details because I didn't want to reveal that I had a very different upbringing than they did. Or when my boyfriend at the time would ask to see a childhood photo of me but I didn't have anything to show. I had trashed most of all the old photos I had, because I was ashamed of how I used to be. In those moments, I would hide by revising the past a little. If that felt too hard to do, then I would try to change the subject. Eventually, I realized that I was preventing myself from connecting deeply with the people that I loved. And If I truly love them, shouldn't I give them the consideration of knowing who I truly am?

After this epiphany, I got myself into therapy and I attended a support group at the LGBT center. I also started working on the show Transparent. The creators and producers of the the show, Jill Soloway, Zackary Drucker, and Rhys Ernst, gave me the opportunity to be 100 percent my authentic self in a professional working environment. For the first time in my life, I was living out loud and proud as as a trans woman. I came out to my friends and loved ones, and they were all very supportive. I learned a language that gave me a voice, which I used to articulate my story and advocate for my community. I am very proud to be a part of show that treats me like family and allows me the space to flourish creatively. As an actress and aspiring writer/director, I felt like my career was on the rise, which is not an easy feeling to get to in this industry. My short film Ryans is a success and continues to have a life of its own. And I started booking more acting gigs. I also have a new short film coming out this Summer.

But things started to change after the November 2016 election and Donald Trump got into office. I started to get a sinking feeling. It would come when I read on the news that another trans sister of color had been murdered. I felt it after the shooting in Orlando, which happened one day before LA Pride. My Transparent family and I were scheduled be on a float to celebrate. That feeling surmounted to an unbearable pain of loss and fear. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was being attacked personally. That my family - my community - was in danger of losing everything our transcestors worked so hard for. In addition to that, I was still auditioning for roles that continued to tokenize trans people.

Suddenly, I felt powerless.

I was in my third year of working on Transparent, and I was considering quitting. Not just the job itself, but I was considering quitting being an out and proud trans leader, which some people in my community consider me to be. I was considering going back to living stealth. I started to feel the weight that many of my brothers and sisters have felt for a very long time. Living in stealth was a time when I didn't feel targeted. A time where I was marginalized just as an Asian-American woman and not an Asian-American trans woman. To go back to that meant that I would feel somewhat safe again. Less targeted, less attacked, but also less "woke." Did I really want to go back to being ignorant?

"I'm not here to be your token."
I started to watch Gavin Grimm, who's become the revolutionary of a new generation. To see him speak so articulately, at such a young age, with such passion and dignity was the light at the end of the tunnel for me. I saw my soul, my mind, and all of my feelings in him. I even saw that strength which I thought I was losing. Then, I booked the role of Coco on the TV Land series Lopez, a role that every trans actress I knew in town auditioned for. That was the light shining through. As Coco, I got to say on national television, "I'm not here to be your token." A line that speaks volumes for me and my community. It fueled me. After playing that role and working on Transparent for three years and after several articles written about my short film Ryans, I realized I was stamping myself as trans, and there was no way I could go back to living stealth. It was no longer an option.

You can google my name and the first stamp you would see is "Transgender actress Rain Valdez." Then I realized that Gavin Grimm has also gone too far to ever consider living stealth. If he ever wanted to, he would have to go the lengths of changing his name and appearance and possibly moving to a different country. And if this was a conversation I was having with him, we would both laugh because that's something we would never do.

My years living stealth were a privilege. Safety and ignorance is a privilege. If not everyone in my community can have that choice, then why should I? This is the moment I felt proudest as an out trans woman. The moment I realized I can never go back because of the stamps I've been creating for myself. Instead of fear or disappointment, it gave me peace to know that there can no longer be room in my heart and soul for my own internal transphobia. There's no more room for hesitation when it comes to my part in our fight for equality. Going stealth would not solve anything, at least not for me.

I can finally move on and leave those years behind me. I can be the strength and voice my community (and this Hollywood industry) needs me to be. Whether it's through our art, or storytelling, or political advocacy, we will overcome. And when we do, we will find a future where the violence against trans women is significantly reduced and our homeless youth - about 40 percent of which identify as LGBTQ - has a place of love and shelter, and the men who love us privately will be professing and confessing their love for us on the mountain tops. They can throw as many opposing laws against us now, but really they're just giving us more obstacles to master. We have more patience than you can ever imagine, and because we've always existed and will continue to exist, we will master these obstacles. Just like we always have before.

lundi 2 octobre 2017

I Gave Up Living "Stealth" as a Trans Woman, and I'm Never Looking Back

Rain Valdez is an actress, model, writer, and producer

I was afraid for the longest time. I never wanted to admit that I was a trans woman. I had my own internal transphobia. In fact, when I encounter new people and the subject of my trans identity comes up, usually the first question they ask is, "When did you know you were trans?" Well, that's the thing. I didn't know I was trans.

I knew at a very young age, around 5, that I was a girl. Trans was not even in my vocabulary. When I made the decision to transition, I was in my teens, and I packed my bags and moved away to Los Angeles. Since no one knew who I was, my past or my family, it was easy for me to start a new life. In a way, I lived in the fairy tale that I always dreamed of. City life, great friends, cool job, and a loving boyfriend. To live my life as a woman was all that I ever wanted, and I achieved it successfully. In the trans community, we call this living "stealth." Because I look a certain way, I "pass" and have the privilege to disclose as very little as I want. So for many years, I hid my gender history from friends, colleagues, and my entire network here in this new city.

I realized that I was preventing myself from connecting deeply with the people that I loved.
After living like this for more than 10 years, some things started to no longer sit well with me. It happened the most in the moments when I would hang out with my girlfriends. We would start talking about high school crushes or childhood games we used to play. I would avoid delving into any details because I didn't want to reveal that I had a very different upbringing than they did. Or when my boyfriend at the time would ask to see a childhood photo of me but I didn't have anything to show. I had trashed most of all the old photos I had, because I was ashamed of how I used to be. In those moments, I would hide by revising the past a little. If that felt too hard to do, then I would try to change the subject. Eventually, I realized that I was preventing myself from connecting deeply with the people that I loved. And If I truly love them, shouldn't I give them the consideration of knowing who I truly am?

After this epiphany, I got myself into therapy and I attended a support group at the LGBT center. I also started working on the show Transparent. The creators and producers of the the show, Jill Soloway, Zackary Drucker, and Rhys Ernst, gave me the opportunity to be 100 percent my authentic self in a professional working environment. For the first time in my life, I was living out loud and proud as as a trans woman. I came out to my friends and loved ones, and they were all very supportive. I learned a language that gave me a voice, which I used to articulate my story and advocate for my community. I am very proud to be a part of show that treats me like family and allows me the space to flourish creatively. As an actress and aspiring writer/director, I felt like my career was on the rise, which is not an easy feeling to get to in this industry. My short film Ryans is a success and continues to have a life of its own. And I started booking more acting gigs. I also have a new short film coming out this Summer.

But things started to change after the November 2016 election and Donald Trump got into office. I started to get a sinking feeling. It would come when I read on the news that another trans sister of color had been murdered. I felt it after the shooting in Orlando, which happened one day before LA Pride. My Transparent family and I were scheduled be on a float to celebrate. That feeling surmounted to an unbearable pain of loss and fear. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was being attacked personally. That my family - my community - was in danger of losing everything our transcestors worked so hard for. In addition to that, I was still auditioning for roles that continued to tokenize trans people.

Suddenly, I felt powerless.

I was in my third year of working on Transparent, and I was considering quitting. Not just the job itself, but I was considering quitting being an out and proud trans leader, which some people in my community consider me to be. I was considering going back to living stealth. I started to feel the weight that many of my brothers and sisters have felt for a very long time. Living in stealth was a time when I didn't feel targeted. A time where I was marginalized just as an Asian-American woman and not an Asian-American trans woman. To go back to that meant that I would feel somewhat safe again. Less targeted, less attacked, but also less "woke." Did I really want to go back to being ignorant?

"I'm not here to be your token."
I started to watch Gavin Grimm, who's become the revolutionary of a new generation. To see him speak so articulately, at such a young age, with such passion and dignity was the light at the end of the tunnel for me. I saw my soul, my mind, and all of my feelings in him. I even saw that strength which I thought I was losing. Then, I booked the role of Coco on the TV Land series Lopez, a role that every trans actress I knew in town auditioned for. That was the light shining through. As Coco, I got to say on national television, "I'm not here to be your token." A line that speaks volumes for me and my community. It fueled me. After playing that role and working on Transparent for three years and after several articles written about my short film Ryans, I realized I was stamping myself as trans, and there was no way I could go back to living stealth. It was no longer an option.

You can google my name and the first stamp you would see is "Transgender actress Rain Valdez." Then I realized that Gavin Grimm has also gone too far to ever consider living stealth. If he ever wanted to, he would have to go the lengths of changing his name and appearance and possibly moving to a different country. And if this was a conversation I was having with him, we would both laugh because that's something we would never do.

My years living stealth were a privilege. Safety and ignorance is a privilege. If not everyone in my community can have that choice, then why should I? This is the moment I felt proudest as an out trans woman. The moment I realized I can never go back because of the stamps I've been creating for myself. Instead of fear or disappointment, it gave me peace to know that there can no longer be room in my heart and soul for my own internal transphobia. There's no more room for hesitation when it comes to my part in our fight for equality. Going stealth would not solve anything, at least not for me.

I can finally move on and leave those years behind me. I can be the strength and voice my community (and this Hollywood industry) needs me to be. Whether it's through our art, or storytelling, or political advocacy, we will overcome. And when we do, we will find a future where the violence against trans women is significantly reduced and our homeless youth - about 40 percent of which identify as LGBTQ - has a place of love and shelter, and the men who love us privately will be professing and confessing their love for us on the mountain tops. They can throw as many opposing laws against us now, but really they're just giving us more obstacles to master. We have more patience than you can ever imagine, and because we've always existed and will continue to exist, we will master these obstacles. Just like we always have before.

jeudi 15 juin 2017

I Gave Up Living "Stealth" as a Trans Woman, and I'm Never Looking Back

Rain Valdez is an actress, model, writer, and producer

I was afraid for the longest time. I never wanted to admit that I was a trans woman. I had my own internal transphobia. In fact, when I encounter new people and the subject of my trans identity comes up, usually the first question they ask is, "When did you know you were trans?" Well, that's the thing. I didn't know I was trans.

I knew at a very young age, around 5, that I was a girl. Trans was not even in my vocabulary. When I made the decision to transition, I was in my teens, and I packed my bags and moved away to Los Angeles. Since no one knew who I was, my past or my family, it was easy for me to start a new life. In a way, I lived in the fairy tale that I always dreamed of. City life, great friends, cool job, and a loving boyfriend. To live my life as a woman was all that I ever wanted, and I achieved it successfully. In the trans community, we call this living "stealth." Because I look a certain way, I "pass" and have the privilege to disclose as very little as I want. So for many years, I hid my gender history from friends, colleagues, and my entire network here in this new city.

I realized that I was preventing myself from connecting deeply with the people that I loved.
After living like this for more than 10 years, some things started to no longer sit well with me. It happened the most in the moments when I would hang out with my girlfriends. We would start talking about high school crushes or childhood games we used to play. I would avoid delving into any details because I didn't want to reveal that I had a very different upbringing than they did. Or when my boyfriend at the time would ask to see a childhood photo of me but I didn't have anything to show. I had trashed most of all the old photos I had, because I was ashamed of how I used to be. In those moments, I would hide by revising the past a little. If that felt too hard to do, then I would try to change the subject. Eventually, I realized that I was preventing myself from connecting deeply with the people that I loved. And If I truly love them, shouldn't I give them the consideration of knowing who I truly am?

After this epiphany, I got myself into therapy and I attended a support group at the LGBT center. I also started working on the show Transparent. The creators and producers of the the show, Jill Soloway, Zackary Drucker, and Rhys Ernst, gave me the opportunity to be 100 percent my authentic self in a professional working environment. For the first time in my life, I was living out loud and proud as as a trans woman. I came out to my friends and loved ones, and they were all very supportive. I learned a language that gave me a voice, which I used to articulate my story and advocate for my community. I am very proud to be a part of show that treats me like family and allows me the space to flourish creatively. As an actress and aspiring writer/director, I felt like my career was on the rise, which is not an easy feeling to get to in this industry. My short film Ryans is a success and continues to have a life of its own. And I started booking more acting gigs. I also have a new short film coming out this Summer.

But things started to change after the November 2016 election and Donald Trump got into office. I started to get a sinking feeling. It would come when I read on the news that another trans sister of color had been murdered. I felt it after the shooting in Orlando, which happened one day before LA Pride. My Transparent family and I were scheduled be on a float to celebrate. That feeling surmounted to an unbearable pain of loss and fear. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was being attacked personally. That my family - my community - was in danger of losing everything our transcestors worked so hard for. In addition to that, I was still auditioning for roles that continued to tokenize trans people.

Suddenly, I felt powerless.

I was in my third year of working on Transparent, and I was considering quitting. Not just the job itself, but I was considering quitting being an out and proud trans leader, which some people in my community consider me to be. I was considering going back to living stealth. I started to feel the weight that many of my brothers and sisters have felt for a very long time. Living in stealth was a time when I didn't feel targeted. A time where I was marginalized just as an Asian-American woman and not an Asian-American trans woman. To go back to that meant that I would feel somewhat safe again. Less targeted, less attacked, but also less "woke." Did I really want to go back to being ignorant?

"I'm not here to be your token."
I started to watch Gavin Grimm, who's become the revolutionary of a new generation. To see him speak so articulately, at such a young age, with such passion and dignity was the light at the end of the tunnel for me. I saw my soul, my mind, and all of my feelings in him. I even saw that strength which I thought I was losing. Then, I booked the role of Coco on the TV Land series Lopez, a role that every trans actress I knew in town auditioned for. That was the light shining through. As Coco, I got to say on national television, "I'm not here to be your token." A line that speaks volumes for me and my community. It fueled me. After playing that role and working on Transparent for three years and after several articles written about my short film Ryans, I realized I was stamping myself as trans, and there was no way I could go back to living stealth. It was no longer an option.

You can google my name and the first stamp you would see is "Transgender actress Rain Valdez." Then I realized that Gavin Grimm has also gone too far to ever consider living stealth. If he ever wanted to, he would have to go the lengths of changing his name and appearance and possibly moving to a different country. And if this was a conversation I was having with him, we would both laugh because that's something we would never do.

My years living stealth were a privilege. Safety and ignorance is a privilege. If not everyone in my community can have that choice, then why should I? This is the moment I felt proudest as an out trans woman. The moment I realized I can never go back because of the stamps I've been creating for myself. Instead of fear or disappointment, it gave me peace to know that there can no longer be room in my heart and soul for my own internal transphobia. There's no more room for hesitation when it comes to my part in our fight for equality. Going stealth would not solve anything, at least not for me.

I can finally move on and leave those years behind me. I can be the strength and voice my community (and this Hollywood industry) needs me to be. Whether it's through our art, or storytelling, or political advocacy, we will overcome. And when we do, we will find a future where the violence against trans women is significantly reduced and our homeless youth - about 40 percent of which identify as LGBTQ - has a place of love and shelter, and the men who love us privately will be professing and confessing their love for us on the mountain tops. They can throw as many opposing laws against us now, but really they're just giving us more obstacles to master. We have more patience than you can ever imagine, and because we've always existed and will continue to exist, we will master these obstacles. Just like we always have before.

mercredi 14 juin 2017

I Gave Up Living "Stealth" as a Trans Woman, and I'm Never Looking Back

Rain Valdez is an actress, model, writer, and producer

I was afraid for the longest time. I never wanted to admit that I was a trans woman. I had my own internal transphobia. In fact, when I encounter new people and the subject of my trans identity comes up, usually the first question they ask is, "When did you know you were trans?" Well, that's the thing. I didn't know I was trans.

I knew at a very young age, around 5, that I was a girl. Trans was not even in my vocabulary. When I made the decision to transition, I was in my teens, and I packed my bags and moved away to Los Angeles. Since no one knew who I was, my past or my family, it was easy for me to start a new life. In a way, I lived in the fairy tale that I always dreamed of. City life, great friends, cool job, and a loving boyfriend. To live my life as a woman was all that I ever wanted, and I achieved it successfully. In the trans community, we call this living "stealth." Because I look a certain way, I "pass" and have the privilege to disclose as very little as I want. So for many years, I hid my gender history from friends, colleagues, and my entire network here in this new city.

I realized that I was preventing myself from connecting deeply with the people that I loved.
After living like this for more than 10 years, some things started to no longer sit well with me. It happened the most in the moments when I would hang out with my girlfriends. We would start talking about high school crushes or childhood games we used to play. I would avoid delving into any details because I didn't want to reveal that I had a very different upbringing than they did. Or when my boyfriend at the time would ask to see a childhood photo of me but I didn't have anything to show. I had trashed most of all the old photos I had, because I was ashamed of how I used to be. In those moments, I would hide by revising the past a little. If that felt too hard to do, then I would try to change the subject. Eventually, I realized that I was preventing myself from connecting deeply with the people that I loved. And If I truly love them, shouldn't I give them the consideration of knowing who I truly am?

After this epiphany, I got myself into therapy and I attended a support group at the LGBT center. I also started working on the show Transparent. The creators and producers of the the show, Jill Soloway, Zackary Drucker, and Rhys Ernst, gave me the opportunity to be 100 percent my authentic self in a professional working environment. For the first time in my life, I was living out loud and proud as as a trans woman. I came out to my friends and loved ones, and they were all very supportive. I learned a language that gave me a voice, which I used to articulate my story and advocate for my community. I am very proud to be a part of show that treats me like family and allows me the space to flourish creatively. As an actress and aspiring writer/director, I felt like my career was on the rise, which is not an easy feeling to get to in this industry. My short film Ryans is a success and continues to have a life of its own. And I started booking more acting gigs. I also have a new short film coming out this Summer.

But things started to change after the November 2016 election and Donald Trump got into office. I started to get a sinking feeling. It would come when I read on the news that another trans sister of color had been murdered. I felt it after the shooting in Orlando, which happened one day before LA Pride. My Transparent family and I were scheduled be on a float to celebrate. That feeling surmounted to an unbearable pain of loss and fear. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was being attacked personally. That my family - my community - was in danger of losing everything our transcestors worked so hard for. In addition to that, I was still auditioning for roles that continued to tokenize trans people.

Suddenly, I felt powerless.

I was in my third year of working on Transparent, and I was considering quitting. Not just the job itself, but I was considering quitting being an out and proud trans leader, which some people in my community consider me to be. I was considering going back to living stealth. I started to feel the weight that many of my brothers and sisters have felt for a very long time. Living in stealth was a time when I didn't feel targeted. A time where I was marginalized just as an Asian-American woman and not an Asian-American trans woman. To go back to that meant that I would feel somewhat safe again. Less targeted, less attacked, but also less "woke." Did I really want to go back to being ignorant?

"I'm not here to be your token."
I started to watch Gavin Grimm, who's become the revolutionary of a new generation. To see him speak so articulately, at such a young age, with such passion and dignity was the light at the end of the tunnel for me. I saw my soul, my mind, and all of my feelings in him. I even saw that strength which I thought I was losing. Then, I booked the role of Coco on the TV Land series Lopez, a role that every trans actress I knew in town auditioned for. That was the light shining through. As Coco, I got to say on national television, "I'm not here to be your token." A line that speaks volumes for me and my community. It fueled me. After playing that role and working on Transparent for three years and after several articles written about my short film Ryans, I realized I was stamping myself as trans, and there was no way I could go back to living stealth. It was no longer an option.

You can google my name and the first stamp you would see is "Transgender actress Rain Valdez." Then I realized that Gavin Grimm has also gone too far to ever consider living stealth. If he ever wanted to, he would have to go the lengths of changing his name and appearance and possibly moving to a different country. And if this was a conversation I was having with him, we would both laugh because that's something we would never do.

My years living stealth were a privilege. Safety and ignorance is a privilege. If not everyone in my community can have that choice, then why should I? This is the moment I felt proudest as an out trans woman. The moment I realized I can never go back because of the stamps I've been creating for myself. Instead of fear or disappointment, it gave me peace to know that there can no longer be room in my heart and soul for my own internal transphobia. There's no more room for hesitation when it comes to my part in our fight for equality. Going stealth would not solve anything, at least not for me.

I can finally move on and leave those years behind me. I can be the strength and voice my community (and this Hollywood industry) needs me to be. Whether it's through our art, or storytelling, or political advocacy, we will overcome. And when we do, we will find a future where the violence against trans women is significantly reduced and our homeless youth - about 40 percent of which identify as LGBTQ - has a place of love and shelter, and the men who love us privately will be professing and confessing their love for us on the mountain tops. They can throw as many opposing laws against us now, but really they're just giving us more obstacles to master. We have more patience than you can ever imagine, and because we've always existed and will continue to exist, we will master these obstacles. Just like we always have before.

I Gave Up Living "Stealth" as a Trans Woman, and I'm Never Looking Back

Rain Valdez is an actress, model, writer, and producer

I was afraid for the longest time. I never wanted to admit that I was a trans woman. I had my own internal transphobia. In fact, when I encounter new people and the subject of my trans identity comes up, usually the first question they ask is, "When did you know you were trans?" Well, that's the thing. I didn't know I was trans.

I knew at a very young age, around 5, that I was a girl. Trans was not even in my vocabulary. When I made the decision to transition, I was in my teens, and I packed my bags and moved away to Los Angeles. Since no one knew who I was, my past or my family, it was easy for me to start a new life. In a way, I lived in the fairy tale that I always dreamed of. City life, great friends, cool job, and a loving boyfriend. To live my life as a woman was all that I ever wanted, and I achieved it successfully. In the trans community, we call this living "stealth." Because I look a certain way, I "pass" and have the privilege to disclose as very little as I want. So for many years, I hid my gender history from friends, colleagues, and my entire network here in this new city.

I realized that I was preventing myself from connecting deeply with the people that I loved.
After living like this for more than 10 years, some things started to no longer sit well with me. It happened the most in the moments when I would hang out with my girlfriends. We would start talking about high school crushes or childhood games we used to play. I would avoid delving into any details because I didn't want to reveal that I had a very different upbringing than they did. Or when my boyfriend at the time would ask to see a childhood photo of me but I didn't have anything to show. I had trashed most of all the old photos I had, because I was ashamed of how I used to be. In those moments, I would hide by revising the past a little. If that felt too hard to do, then I would try to change the subject. Eventually, I realized that I was preventing myself from connecting deeply with the people that I loved. And If I truly love them, shouldn't I give them the consideration of knowing who I truly am?

After this epiphany, I got myself into therapy and I attended a support group at the LGBT center. I also started working on the show Transparent. The creators and producers of the the show, Jill Soloway, Zackary Drucker, and Rhys Ernst, gave me the opportunity to be 100 percent my authentic self in a professional working environment. For the first time in my life, I was living out loud and proud as as a trans woman. I came out to my friends and loved ones, and they were all very supportive. I learned a language that gave me a voice, which I used to articulate my story and advocate for my community. I am very proud to be a part of show that treats me like family and allows me the space to flourish creatively. As an actress and aspiring writer/director, I felt like my career was on the rise, which is not an easy feeling to get to in this industry. My short film Ryans is a success and continues to have a life of its own. And I started booking more acting gigs. I also have a new short film coming out this Summer.

But things started to change after the November 2016 election and Donald Trump got into office. I started to get a sinking feeling. It would come when I read on the news that another trans sister of color had been murdered. I felt it after the shooting in Orlando, which happened one day before LA Pride. My Transparent family and I were scheduled be on a float to celebrate. That feeling surmounted to an unbearable pain of loss and fear. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was being attacked personally. That my family - my community - was in danger of losing everything our transcestors worked so hard for. In addition to that, I was still auditioning for roles that continued to tokenize trans people.

Suddenly, I felt powerless.

I was in my third year of working on Transparent, and I was considering quitting. Not just the job itself, but I was considering quitting being an out and proud trans leader, which some people in my community consider me to be. I was considering going back to living stealth. I started to feel the weight that many of my brothers and sisters have felt for a very long time. Living in stealth was a time when I didn't feel targeted. A time where I was marginalized just as an Asian-American woman and not an Asian-American trans woman. To go back to that meant that I would feel somewhat safe again. Less targeted, less attacked, but also less "woke." Did I really want to go back to being ignorant?

"I'm not here to be your token."
I started to watch Gavin Grimm, who's become the revolutionary of a new generation. To see him speak so articulately, at such a young age, with such passion and dignity was the light at the end of the tunnel for me. I saw my soul, my mind, and all of my feelings in him. I even saw that strength which I thought I was losing. Then, I booked the role of Coco on the TV Land series Lopez, a role that every trans actress I knew in town auditioned for. That was the light shining through. As Coco, I got to say on national television, "I'm not here to be your token." A line that speaks volumes for me and my community. It fueled me. After playing that role and working on Transparent for three years and after several articles written about my short film Ryans, I realized I was stamping myself as trans, and there was no way I could go back to living stealth. It was no longer an option.

You can google my name and the first stamp you would see is "Transgender actress Rain Valdez." Then I realized that Gavin Grimm has also gone too far to ever consider living stealth. If he ever wanted to, he would have to go the lengths of changing his name and appearance and possibly moving to a different country. And if this was a conversation I was having with him, we would both laugh because that's something we would never do.

My years living stealth were a privilege. Safety and ignorance is a privilege. If not everyone in my community can have that choice, then why should I? This is the moment I felt proudest as an out trans woman. The moment I realized I can never go back because of the stamps I've been creating for myself. Instead of fear or disappointment, it gave me peace to know that there can no longer be room in my heart and soul for my own internal transphobia. There's no more room for hesitation when it comes to my part in our fight for equality. Going stealth would not solve anything, at least not for me.

I can finally move on and leave those years behind me. I can be the strength and voice my community (and this Hollywood industry) needs me to be. Whether it's through our art, or storytelling, or political advocacy, we will overcome. And when we do, we will find a future where the violence against trans women is significantly reduced and our homeless youth - about 40 percent of which identify as LGBTQ - has a place of love and shelter, and the men who love us privately will be professing and confessing their love for us on the mountain tops. They can throw as many opposing laws against us now, but really they're just giving us more obstacles to master. We have more patience than you can ever imagine, and because we've always existed and will continue to exist, we will master these obstacles. Just like we always have before.

I Gave Up Living "Stealth" as a Trans Woman, and I'm Never Looking Back

Rain Valdez is an actress, model, writer, and producer

I was afraid for the longest time. I never wanted to admit that I was a trans woman. I had my own internal transphobia. In fact, when I encounter new people and the subject of my trans identity comes up, usually the first question they ask is, "When did you know you were trans?" Well, that's the thing. I didn't know I was trans.

I knew at a very young age, around 5, that I was a girl. Trans was not even in my vocabulary. When I made the decision to transition, I was in my teens, and I packed my bags and moved away to Los Angeles. Since no one knew who I was, my past or my family, it was easy for me to start a new life. In a way, I lived in the fairy tale that I always dreamed of. City life, great friends, cool job, and a loving boyfriend. To live my life as a woman was all that I ever wanted, and I achieved it successfully. In the trans community, we call this living "stealth." Because I look a certain way, I "pass" and have the privilege to disclose as very little as I want. So for many years, I hid my gender history from friends, colleagues, and my entire network here in this new city.

I realized that I was preventing myself from connecting deeply with the people that I loved.
After living like this for more than 10 years, some things started to no longer sit well with me. It happened the most in the moments when I would hang out with my girlfriends. We would start talking about high school crushes or childhood games we used to play. I would avoid delving into any details because I didn't want to reveal that I had a very different upbringing than they did. Or when my boyfriend at the time would ask to see a childhood photo of me but I didn't have anything to show. I had trashed most of all the old photos I had, because I was ashamed of how I used to be. In those moments, I would hide by revising the past a little. If that felt too hard to do, then I would try to change the subject. Eventually, I realized that I was preventing myself from connecting deeply with the people that I loved. And If I truly love them, shouldn't I give them the consideration of knowing who I truly am?

After this epiphany, I got myself into therapy and I attended a support group at the LGBT center. I also started working on the show Transparent. The creators and producers of the the show, Jill Soloway, Zackary Drucker, and Rhys Ernst, gave me the opportunity to be 100 percent my authentic self in a professional working environment. For the first time in my life, I was living out loud and proud as as a trans woman. I came out to my friends and loved ones, and they were all very supportive. I learned a language that gave me a voice, which I used to articulate my story and advocate for my community. I am very proud to be a part of show that treats me like family and allows me the space to flourish creatively. As an actress and aspiring writer/director, I felt like my career was on the rise, which is not an easy feeling to get to in this industry. My short film Ryans is a success and continues to have a life of its own. And I started booking more acting gigs. I also have a new short film coming out this Summer.

But things started to change after the November 2016 election and Donald Trump got into office. I started to get a sinking feeling. It would come when I read on the news that another trans sister of color had been murdered. I felt it after the shooting in Orlando, which happened one day before LA Pride. My Transparent family and I were scheduled be on a float to celebrate. That feeling surmounted to an unbearable pain of loss and fear. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was being attacked personally. That my family - my community - was in danger of losing everything our transcestors worked so hard for. In addition to that, I was still auditioning for roles that continued to tokenize trans people.

Suddenly, I felt powerless.

I was in my third year of working on Transparent, and I was considering quitting. Not just the job itself, but I was considering quitting being an out and proud trans leader, which some people in my community consider me to be. I was considering going back to living stealth. I started to feel the weight that many of my brothers and sisters have felt for a very long time. Living in stealth was a time when I didn't feel targeted. A time where I was marginalized just as an Asian-American woman and not an Asian-American trans woman. To go back to that meant that I would feel somewhat safe again. Less targeted, less attacked, but also less "woke." Did I really want to go back to being ignorant?

"I'm not here to be your token."
I started to watch Gavin Grimm, who's become the revolutionary of a new generation. To see him speak so articulately, at such a young age, with such passion and dignity was the light at the end of the tunnel for me. I saw my soul, my mind, and all of my feelings in him. I even saw that strength which I thought I was losing. Then, I booked the role of Coco on the TV Land series Lopez, a role that every trans actress I knew in town auditioned for. That was the light shining through. As Coco, I got to say on national television, "I'm not here to be your token." A line that speaks volumes for me and my community. It fueled me. After playing that role and working on Transparent for three years and after several articles written about my short film Ryans, I realized I was stamping myself as trans, and there was no way I could go back to living stealth. It was no longer an option.

You can google my name and the first stamp you would see is "Transgender actress Rain Valdez." Then I realized that Gavin Grimm has also gone too far to ever consider living stealth. If he ever wanted to, he would have to go the lengths of changing his name and appearance and possibly moving to a different country. And if this was a conversation I was having with him, we would both laugh because that's something we would never do.

My years living stealth were a privilege. Safety and ignorance is a privilege. If not everyone in my community can have that choice, then why should I? This is the moment I felt proudest as an out trans woman. The moment I realized I can never go back because of the stamps I've been creating for myself. Instead of fear or disappointment, it gave me peace to know that there can no longer be room in my heart and soul for my own internal transphobia. There's no more room for hesitation when it comes to my part in our fight for equality. Going stealth would not solve anything, at least not for me.

I can finally move on and leave those years behind me. I can be the strength and voice my community (and this Hollywood industry) needs me to be. Whether it's through our art, or storytelling, or political advocacy, we will overcome. And when we do, we will find a future where the violence against trans women is significantly reduced and our homeless youth - about 40 percent of which identify as LGBTQ - has a place of love and shelter, and the men who love us privately will be professing and confessing their love for us on the mountain tops. They can throw as many opposing laws against us now, but really they're just giving us more obstacles to master. We have more patience than you can ever imagine, and because we've always existed and will continue to exist, we will master these obstacles. Just like we always have before.

mercredi 11 janvier 2017

My Mom Lives Upstairs: How 3 Generations Came Together Under 1 Roof

If you had told me three years ago that my mother would be living on the second floor of the duplex my husband and I owned, I would have called you crazy. At the very least, I would have served you with a healthy dose of side-eye, which is what I gave my realtor when he tried to show my mom a condo three blocks from our house. The thought of having her within a three-minute walk seemed too close for maintaining a healthy relationship.

That was then.

Now, with a toddler who is swiftly approaching the terrible twos, I am grateful for her proximity and how it has strengthened our relationship.

Shortly after my mom moved into her condo, which was then a satisfactory mile-and-a-half away, I became pregnant with my son. When I went back to work, she was there as our "granny nanny." Leaving my little one for eight hours was a challenge I wasn't quite prepared for, but luckily I knew that my son was in the hands of someone who loved him. I got to watch as my mom blossomed into a grandmother.

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That first year wasn't without its hiccups and challenges. Since my husband and I were already using her energy during the day, we were hesitant to ask for any additional babysitting. It became clear that one of the hardest parts of her helping us was the constant back and forth between the two apartments, especially over the Winter. When the couple who rented our spare upstairs apartment decided to move out, our family talked about my mom becoming the new tenant.

Of course, we had our reservations. The last thing I wanted was to feel like I was 15 again.
I had grown used to the freedom of adulthood. If I decided to spend all day in my pajamas or I went out late with my girlfriends, I needed to know that my mom would refrain from judgment. Even though I keep a fairly clean house, she's still cleaner than I am. Sometimes she'll straighten up toys or fold laundry and I have to tell myself that she's doing it to be helpful, not because she thinks I can't maintain my home. I can't be a sensitive teenager with every perceived slight.

For this situation to work, we had to think of it as two homes under one roof, not one big house. Setting boundaries, such as knocking or texting before the other person came over, were imperative. Babysitting requests would be given with as much notice as possible and would be limited to two hours. The biggest rule that we both agreed to is that each person has the right to say "no." If she doesn't want to babysit, she can say no. If we just want a quiet family dinner, we have the right to say no. Neither one of us wants the other to feel obligated to do anything, since obligation can so often lead to resentment.

Through being honest about our fears and coming up with some solutions, we've created a living situation that works for us. One major adjustment we made was that my mom would stop being the primary caretaker during the workday. Taking care of a large and rambunctious toddler became a little too much for her on a regular basis. With the knowledge that she would move in upstairs, I felt comfortable taking time off of work to be with my son. I've become a stay-at-home mom, which has helped alleviate the pressure on my husband, who works from home, and on my mom, who now gets to just be Grandma. With her living upstairs, there are benefits I had never thought of when she had her own place. At least once a day I'll look at my son and ask if he wants to see Grandma, and with breakneck speed he'll run for the door and happy scream until he's climbed the stairs to her place. These short, sometimes just-20-minute visits give us a chance to catch up, while my son gets a change of scenery. We all play with toys, read books, and talk about our day as a family.

Her living so close has allowed us to develop what we call "nanny camming," where she puts him on the video monitor while he's sleeping. These nanny-camming events allow her to stay in the comfort of her apartment while my son is safely monitored from his own room, and for his mommy and daddy to have some time to themselves to take a walk or go on an actual date. Additionally, since she is just a text away, she's also there for those times when I just need a 30-minute break to think, unpack the groceries, or be alone.

This situation works because we each have our own space and that autonomy would be jeopardized were we living in the same apartment.

Although she is closer than I had ever imagined her being, I still don't think either of us would be comfortable living in the same home together. By maintaining space, respecting boundaries, and listening to each other, I can honestly say I've never regretted the decision to have my mom come to live above me.

Having a kid changed my perspective on a lot of things, which was to be expected. I was not prepared to become one of those people who brags about living close to their parents, but here I am: proud that my son gets to say his grandma lives upstairs and for me to acknowledge that my mom and I are closer in more ways than one and closer than ever before.