Can we just agree that defining who is female is stupid?

OK, so Semanya Caster is a really good athlete, and she's boyish looking, some would say. This must mean that she is somehow not a woman, according to the athletics officials.

What they mean is, not woman enough. Gender is not this or that. It is a continuum, like everything in nature. Who gets to decide where on that continuum "female" begins? Is female about chromosomes? Is it hormones? Is it physical structure?

I don't see anyone testing male athletes to see if they have an unfair advantage because their bodies produce more testosterone. Maybe they are too "male."

What if she has a chromosomal variation? She should never compete? How silly. Every world class athlete has some kind of variation that makes him/her great, even if it's just uncommon devotion to training. I just keep thinking of Kurt Vonnegut's "Harrison Bergeron," where we're all handicapped like race horses to be exactly the same.


Donating a kidney has left me a little obsessed with the whole "people are dropping dead for no good reason when there are plenty of extra kidneys in the world" issue, and rather than go on about that here, I started KidneyMama.com, so catch my kidney news and rants over there.


I Kidney New York

I Kidney New YorkAll of my expenses to donate a kidney were paid. All of my recipient's expenses were not. So he and I put together a little website over here at http://www.kidneytransplantationnation.com/ to retire said debt.

Soon, he'll be holding 50/50 raffles through the National Transplant Assistance Fund (still working out some code issues there), and there is also a link on the left of the page to make a direct, tax-deductible donation to his fundraising effort.


Passion or fear?

During my recent surgi-cation in NYC, D made the comment that she thinks that people are either motivated by passion or by fear. So smart, that D.

I am finding the fear-motivated people really tiresome lately, from the medical people who needed to try to discourage me from saving a man's life (I related a lot to this woman's story) to the marketers who just emailed me saying that my employees could be using Twitter instead of working right now!

Unclench and get out of my way, people. ;^)



Just discovered Tattoosday. What a great concept. He photographs and interviews people about their tattoos. And yes, I am tattoo shopping. I'm thinking a tree of life. Nothing too big this time. Those things hurt!



A three syllable f*ck for the city of Fort Worth. Below is my note to the town's fathers and motherf*ckers regarding this little fiasco:

It is apparently true that those who do not study history are destined to repeat it. I'm very sad to see that the police in Fort Worth re-enacted Stonewall on its 40th anniversary.

It seems very thoughtless to send police to conduct an "inspection" in a gay bar during a celebration of an end to police harassment of gay people, even if the police do *not* then beat the patrons. I've also never seen uniformed officers conduct bar inspections, but maybe that is just how you do it in Texas.

I have to add that if every woman who was ever touched by a man in a bar put the man in a coma ... there wouldn't be too many men left. I'm not saying that people can put their hands on each other like that -- they shouldn't. But it's not a death penalty offense. Women in that position just say, "Hey, stop it!" Perhaps ask your officers to try that instead?

Nothing says 'get well soon' like a steel-belted radial

Thanks to everyone who supported me through my adventures in Kidneyland. I had a ball, and I'm finally able to slip on a pair of pants again.

The knitting circle got me a get well soon tire, since my car developed a flat while I was away. Much more practical than flowers, esp. since I was barely in the hospital. And so hilarious, as get-well gifts go. There was talk of coating it in glitter and writing "Get Well Soon" in chalk, but cooler heads prevailed.

The man who got my kidney is doing fantastically well. I went home after one day, and he went home a few days after that, peeing like a racehorse, in the words of his surgeon.

So I'm home, with a bit of a cold, enjoying my coffee and writing thank-you notes. Thank you!