I think I have mentioned before that I have come to have something of a compulsion for watching documentaries. I guess it helps me take the edge off somehow. In the beginning, I started watching true crime and survival stories, and I definitely had the thought in mind “If they can survive that, I can survive this.” Now I seem to just be going through HBO and Netflix’s playlist and I freely admit I have watched a ton of crap amidst some very good ones. (Feel free to ask for recommendations.)
Last weekend I watched “Valentine Road” on HBO, which was very moving but has led to a variety of irrational thoughts and strange fantasies on my part. You may have heard in the news a few years ago (more than a decade now) of the California middle school student who shot and murdered a transgendered kid. This documentary told the whole story. The victim was an 8th grade kid in the foster/shelter network who wore girl’s clothes and make-up and was clearly in the process of transitioning and trying out a new female identity. It’s painful to see how the school administration (mis)handled it, with a “behavior plan” for the victim and lots of blaming the victim for “bullying” or harassing classmates or disrupting class (by simply dressing up, by expressing feelings of attraction to boys, or by just maintaining their preferred gender identity.) Ultimately, another eighth grader who was apparently a budding neo-nazi as well as deeply screwed-up, and of course homophic, shot to death Larry/LaTonya/Laticia in the middle of computer class. Of course, the icing on the cake of horribleness is that the county prosecutor then goes after the 14 year-old shooter determined to try him as an adult and put him away for life.
In my weird grief-informed fantasies this week, Larry/Latonya/Laticia is living with us as a foster child. LLL can go to 8th Grade at my daughter’s middle school, which was very supportive of transgendered kids and quirky and special needs kids in general. Certainly LLL will have an appropriate IEP, if necessary, because I will be there to make sure it gets done. We can use the same lawyer we used for Sarah. I will raise hell if there is any sort of attempt to accuse LLL of “disturbing” other children or staff, or to victim blame LLL. And, since LLL is a tiny and petite kid for 13, LLL can probably wear a lot of Sarah’s clothes if LLL wants to. LLL can also experiment with my make-up and jewelry, since I never wear any anymore. I will also have the fun of shopping for clothes for LLL once I know LLL’s tastes and sizes. Right now their taste seems to run to high heels and stretch polyester judging from the documentary, but maybe LLL just needs a mom to help work on a daytime look for school that’s fun and feminine but not totally over the top.
As you can see, I’ve pretty much lost all self-control. And since LLL is, in fact, dead, they won’t be moving in with us any time soon.
I guess this fantasy fulfills my wish to be a mother again, to take care of someone, to protect them, accept them, help them, and to do justice for them, all the things that I think a parent should be and do.
For those of you who are probably asking the obvious questions, we have no other children, and we are too old to have more naturally (or with medical intervention). I was 41 when I got pregnant with Sarah, and although it was an easy conception and pregnancy, I wouldn’t go through the newborn stage again, ever, for anything. We have talked about having an older foster child, perhaps a special needs foster child, or doing some kind of respite care for special needs families, but I don’t think we’re ready. The only child we really want right now, despite my needy fantasies, is Sarah.
The First Year Without Sarah 