Now that I’m almost a year into fixing my credit, I’m starting to get a lot of offers for credit. Well sort of. Most of the loans in being offered are really absurd; a loan for $1000 that will cost $500?! I’ve also received a lot of credit card applications. Many of these offers say “pre-approved” or “prescreened.” I’m finding that what that means is that they’ve realized my credit is improving, but this doesn’t mean they’ll approve me. First National Bank of Omaha sent me this kind of offer. I had a discussion with FNBO here.
Chase Bank has sent me these kind of offers too, and they denied me as well. This isn’t some random act. I’ve never received these types of solicitation before my credit repair efforts, so I KNOW it’s not some random event. When I contacted customer service, they apologized but didn’t really offer give any signals that they would change the way they send out offers. This annoys me to no end. If you send me offers that look as if it’s been looked over when it’s not, that’s misleading. Not only that, but every credit inquiry has an impact on my credit rating. So it’s not only a waste of my time, but a negative to my effort to repair my credit.
That being said, there’s not a lot I can do about it. Well, there’s not a lot I can do, save one thing. I’ve decided that even if it costs me over the long run, I’m going to be brand loyal to those that sent me offers and came through for me (namely Capital One and American Express). I know that my credit will get better over time. I’ve had my credit rating increase around 70 points in a year, and I plan on keeping up my monthly pay-offs of my credit cards. Even if they’d offer me an interest free credit card, I won’t bite. The only way I can protest this type of business practice is to reward those that don’t do it with my business, and refuse business with those who do. It’s something small, but it’s what I CAN do.
Wading through all the comments on Facebook about Renee Zellweger’s “new look” have made me think a lot about a common thread between abortion rights, trans bodies, and body modification through surgery. The common issue is between them all is bodily autonomy, the right to make choices about what happens to you your own body.
“But she looked good/better/different before the surgery!”
“She looks ok, but I think she was more attractive as a guy!”
According to who? I’m kind of dumbfounded when someone agrees a woman should have the right to choose what do concerning an unplanned pregnancy, but will comment on a person’s choice for elective body modifications. Why is that ok? It seems to me that it’s Feminism 101 to say that women should have the right of bodily autonomy.
I find celebrity culture to be a tad bit creepy. People will comment freely about a woman’s body as if it’s something of theirs to critique? It’s objectification at its highest level. They probably wouldn’t appreciate the same level of critique of their mother, sister, or partner’s bodies, but they seem to feel they have a right to comment on the body of someone they’ve never met and don’t know? How far is this from the religious fundamentalist (or TERF) who will say:
“The writers of Scripture viewed any attempts at overriding one’s birth-sex as abhorrent, a sacrilege against the structures of maleness or femaleness created by God, and ultimately a rebellion against the Creator who made our bodies,”
The underlying theme is the same, regardless of who it’s coming from. It’s an assertion of ownership, outside of one’s own body. It’s an assertion that bodily autonomy is harmful, and that any change to the “natural body” is mutilation:
“Now one of the things I find puzzling about it is that, when I look at the House of Lords debate on this legislation, those I agree with most are the radical right. Particularly the person I find that I agree with most, in here, and I’m not sure he will be pleased to find this, is Norman Tebbitt… Tebbitt also says that the savage mutilation of transgenderism, we would say if it was taking place in other cultures apart from the culture of Britain, was a harmful cultural practice, and how come we’re not recognising that in the British Isles. So he makes all of these arguments from the radical right, which is quite embarrassing to me, but I have to say, so called progressive and left people are not recognising the human rights violations of transgenderism or how crazy the legislation is. – Sheila Jeffreys
My belief (regardless of if we’re talking about trans people, sex workers, Renee Zellweger, or someone who is pregnant) that it is “my body, my choice.” The right to make choices about your body is a basic, fundamental human right.
When I was married, I had the car (the car loan), the house payment (the mortgage), and the credit cards. We spent all we made, and put a lot of things we needed on credit. So much so that even though we were making close to $80k together, we were living paycheck to paycheck (in 1996).
After the marriage fell apart, I really stopped caring about ever having credit again. If I got a medical bill that I didn’t feel like paying, I didn’t. I felt like I would never buy another house, so what was the point? I didn’t (and still don’t) ever want another car payment. I had a bad taste in my mouth from years of living paycheck to paycheck. So my debts grew here and there due to petty co-pays or old cable bills. I never wanted to be on that credit merry-go-round again.
And I still don’t plan on it. But I healed my life. Healing my bad credit was one of those parts. Repairing my credit isn’t going to happen overnight, but I’m getting there:
I’m up almost 70 points (via TransUnion) in a little over a year. I started out with a PNC secure credit card (PNC is my oldest bank account). They don’t even offer it on the PNC website, so I had to go into the closest branch and apply inside the bank. Basically I saved up $300 dollars and went in and got a credit card with a $300 dollar limit that was secured with my own money. With the PNC card, I used it for things I already planned on purchasing and I always pay if off at the end of the month.
The next stop in my credit repairing journey was Fingerhut. A lot of people will complain that their products are overpriced (a brand new Samsung Galaxy Note 3 is over twice the retail price) and that they sell cheap items. I was looking for a couple air purifiers at my local Bed Bath and Beyond (BB&B) store, but decided to buy them with Fingerhut instead. They were priced (when shipping was included) about $30 over what I would have bought them for in BB&B, but I’m trying to repair my credit. Repairing your credit doesn’t happen overnight. You’re not going to get the best items at the cheapest prices. I don’t buy mobile phones from them, and I don’t buy things there that I didn’t plan on purchasing anyway. The initial payment was $33 dollars a month, but I paid this amount every Friday.
“These people are addicted to credit, and banks are pushing it,” said Charles Juntikka, a bankruptcy lawyer in Manhattan.”
One of these lenders issued me my first unsecured card, and they did take a chance with me. But I’m not addicted to credit, and I’m not some undisciplined child. If someone is “addicted” to food, you don’t blame chefs or grocery stores. If you’re addicted, you get treatment. You learn. You grow. You repair.
For me, things are getting better. I’m slowly paying all my debts off. I’m almost debt free. I don’t buy on credit what I can’t afford with my debit card. I pay my balances off at the end of the month on time. There are no easy answers. No easy fixes. My big secret is time, disciplined spending habits, and consistent payments.
I think this repair has taught me a lot about life in general. There’s generally no quick fix in life, but you can fix things over time if you’re consistent.
My mind has been in a million different places today. I read this thoughtful post by a doctor about a patient that committed suicide. I saw this today on dying with dignity:
I come at this from the perspective of a medical professional that has seen death and dying up close and personal for almost thirty years. I come at this from the place of a person with a history of persona trauma and loss. I come at this from the perspective of an atheist. I come at this from the perspective of someone that researches the deaths of trans people across the world for the Remembering our Dead/Transgender Day of Remembrance project. I come at this from having partners who struggle with mental illness. From each one of these perspectives, I see life and death up close. I often see conflicting messages when seeing the suffering, the pain, and the joy of living.
When I saw Brittney’s story and I read the doctor’s words about the suicide of a 50-year-old man with a history of depression, I saw a similar story. I saw a story of two people dealing with a life-threatening illness. I saw a story of two people taking control of their life, destiny, and pain.
I think about every person I’ve ever treated as a medical professional that was at their life’s end. So many times, what I end up seeing is suffering. Needless suffering. Terminally ill patients with families that just can’t let go of their loved ones. I’ve had to perform scans on those patients. Patients who cried during the procedures cried out that they just wanted to die. They are the patients who have feeding tubes. The patients who have lived years, sometimes a quarter of a century, living in a bed. I’ve gone home, just put my face in my hands, and cried because of those patients. From that perspective, I’m like close to 80% of doctors that would avoid chemotherapy for aggressive forms of cancer that have little hope of a cure. I understand the rational choice not to suffer needlessly and have control over your life up until the end of it. I’m an atheist, but the needless suffering I’ve seen has made me see it as a kind of “hell on earth.” I don’t want that for myself.
From my trauma, I can understand losing hope. 12 years ago, I lost the ability to see my daughter and be a part of her life because of who I am. For almost 6 years, I suffered from situational depression because of this. Most recently, I’m about 6 months out from ending a relationship. I mourn that.
Being visibly trans isn’t the easiest path in life, either. At times it weighs on my life like a heavy anchor. It limits my job choices, income, and many other aspects of my life. Parts of my trans life history have been so damaging, so brutal, and honestly… so unnecessary. When news broke of Kate von Roeder’s very public suicide, I commented at the time that I think anyone that’s visibly trans can understand why she took her own life. I looked at her letter and can honestly say that I understand why she did it. Some may say that makes me unstable or depressed, but I think of the words of comedian Marc Maron:
“If somebody comes up to you and says ‘you might be clinically depressed’, you should probably say ‘thank you! That means I’m awake.’ Is there any indication I shouldn’t be depressed? Are you living on the same planet as I am? Do you ever think that depression might be the reasonable human response to the crap we’re going through as a species?”
I’m not saying I want to kill myself. I’ve thought about it, and every time I do it comes back to the same question:
“Do I want to relieve myself of pain, more than I want to live?”
The answer to that question has been a consistent no. As complex as life is right now and unsure of my future, I still find joy and wonder in life. I still want more. I still want to be here and see how this all plays out. Doing the TDoR list, I see (sometimes graphically so) trans women losing their life because they are trans. The pain I feel from my life experience is tempered with the knowledge that my privilege (class, race, geography) allows me not to feel as much pain as many others do.
I’m glad I’m here, and I’m glad I’m alive right now. Though my pain may last, I acknowledge that it will lessen over time. That there will be a day sometime in the future when I’ll yearn for today, for more time, for one more chance at living, but tomorrow won’t come. I’m hopeful I’ll have a choice of when and if enough is enough when the answer to the question above is that the pain is too much. Personal autonomy/agency is a gift that many people don’t receive.
I took this blog offline for a while and I’ve deleted a lot of the posts that don’t make sense being here, but I still feel the need to write. I look back over my writing and my life and see and feel where I was at the time.
In this life I’ve experienced a lot of pain, heartache, and disappointment. But I’ve also loved, and been loved in return. That’s probably the one thing in life that I value most. Being loved, and loving others, is really the only thing that I find has any lasting value. Even if friendships fade, the memories are something I treasure. Someone recently said to me:
“I loved reading your story. You have had a lot more passionate romance in your life than I have.”
I never really considered it before, but it’s true. I’ve had some really painful times of late but as much as I’ve been hurting, I don’t regret the love and the passion. I can honestly say if I died tomorrow, I’d be happy with the life I’ve lived. I’ve been in very low places, but the question always comes back to
“do I want to walk into oblivion, to rid myself of this pain?”
The answer has been a consistent no. So I march forward. I know where I’ve been, but I’m not sure where the future will take me. But I’m grateful for today, for now, for this.
Tonight is an anniversary for me as well as Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving 2003 was one of the lowest points in my life. I had recently moved to Washington DC and had a one bedroom apartment that was baren. It had a bed (from the previous owner), a small kitchen table, and that was all for furniture. The previous year had seen me lose visitation to both my son and my daughter because I was trans. I was in a new city with very few friends. I had no one that I considered close enough to spend Thanksgiving day with. So I filled my day with laundry and prepped for my daily trans talk show. Somewhere in the middle of that I had a breakdown. I was crying, depressed, and really didn’t want to live anymore. Life without my children was something I could barely tolerate. The only thing that kept me alive was the memory of how I felt about my dad killing himself (he drank himself to death when I was 11). I thought my kids would rather have a transsexual father that they didn’t see than a dead one. In the pain of that moment I tried to find something to be thankful for. That day I wrote one of my first blog posts on Blogger.com. I said:
Thankful
Kids, today is Thanksgiving, and by all rights, I have very little to be thankful for. I dont see you anymore, and I speak to you rarely. One thing I am thankful for is your existance. I hope someday that you can understand how hurt I am, and how much I do love you. I am a piece of trash that some want to throw away and act as if I don’t exist. I am, and will always be, your Dad.
I made it through that day and continued to struggle with depression and daily existence. But life did slowly get better (2004, 2008). Like a coronary artery bypass, the scars from my past won’t ever disappear. But I have healed.
Many things were the same today as they were on that day in 2003. I was alone, I didn’t have my kids with me, and I spent the day trying to avoid “Thanksgiving”. But it’s no 2003. I have so much to be grateful for. I have a wonderful life here in Madison. I have people here I consider family, an amazing job with fantastic coworkers, and an amazing son back in Indianapolis that is following his dream.
I am thankful every day for the people in my life. And I’m grateful that you are here to read this. I am blessed.
Growing up in a super dysfunctional household, I had very little in the way of nurturing. Between working full time and regularly engaging in marital battles, my mom had little quality time with us kids. I spent a lot of time with my maternal grandmother and grandfather (who we affectionately called “Granny” and “Poppy”). Pop was a very mean man. I can remember times he would come home for supper, and if Granny didn’t have the food on the table, he’d call her every expletive in the book (with “bitch” in 1st place). Granny often took to vent with me, telling me stories of how he’d been mean to her (especially the story of her catching him cheating).
He was also one of the most racist men I’ve ever known. I can remember him yelling at the TV and turning it off when Emmanuel Lewis came on television, grumbling about how “the n****rs were taking over the world.” From what my mom has told me, he also was probably in the Klu Klux Klan. There were so many dark sides to my Poppy; it would be easy to hate him.
But I don’t. While I saw all the ugliness, I saw a side of him that made me love him. More than any person in my young life, he nurtured me. He would often spend time with me one on one, offering me a father figure rarely present at home. I can remember many trips he and I took to White Castle just to hang out and talk. When I would complain about how my parents treated me (a difference in how my parents treated me and my brother, Granny and Poppy both acknowledged), Poppy would tell me not to mind that. He would enthusiastically comfort me, saying, “you are smart, and you are going to do amazing things with your life”. That may not sound very profound, but those words coming from Poppy were. Those words have echoed in the back of my mind for the past 35 or so years, giving me strength.
Pop taught me that people aren’t one dimensional. While he was incredibly hateful to Granny, he was a loving and nurturing man to me. The duality of his life has made me look at people differently. Being a liberal Democrat on a Facebook account full of Indiana Republicans (mostly my Alumni from Southport High School), this skill has come in handy. I’ve been able to become good friends with people that are my ideological opposite. Poppy taught me to see the humanity in all people, and life taught me what Bernard Meltzer knew:
“If you have learned how to disagree without being disagreeable, then you have discovered the secret of getting along — whether it be business, family relations, or life itself.”
*edit*
I wrote this post in 2010. Eleven years has given me a lot of time to reflect on this. It’s still true, mostly. But most of those people from high school I’m no longer friends with.
I learned most of this navigating (and finally ending) my relationship with my mother. I don’t have to agree with someone 100% to understand them, but I have some non-negotiable boundaries. I won’t allow space in my life for people who:
don’t supporI basic human rights
try to continue to gaslight me or want to debate my existence as a trans person:
won’t own up to their mistakes/dishonesty
I understand the bigotry and narcissism that might drive someone to make this kind of statement on social media, but I don’t have to accept that kind of toxicity in my life. That will get you a block on social media and in life.
I can love the part of the person that wasn’t toxic, that nurtured me and allowed me to grow into the person I am, without having to accept that person into my life now.
Understanding the nature of human beings is pretty key in understanding and dealing with people in your life. People aren’t all bad or all good. I can understand what drove Poppy to be the person he was without agreeing with or accepting his toxicity.
When Poppy was six years old, his mother, Bessie, died of tuberculosis. A year later, his father married Pearl. His stepmother (Pearl) told him never to mention his mother (Bessie) ever again, that “she was his mother now”. My step-dad (Russell) died when I was 11 (I thought he was my biological father until I found my bio dad a few years ago). And that messed me up for decades. That kind of trauma impacts your development as a person. Trauma is passed down like a virus, and it mutates. Poppy passed down his trauma to his kids through who he was. They impacted their kids too. It’s not shocking that between his three kids, there are 8 marriages and a lot of mental illness.
I considered changing the title of this post to “My Klansman Poppy Taught Me How To Love Understand Republicans”, but you can’t strikethrough a title. Also, I love the part of the man that nurtured me while despising the toxicity that dominated his life.
A friend of mine moved to Indianapolis, Indiana from New York because in his words, “Indianapolis feels like home.” As someone that’s always hated living in Indianapolis, I couldn’t understand how someone would WANT to move there. There are people I miss in Indianapolis, but I don’t miss the place itself. A year ago I moved to Wisconsin to be near my best friend. I now know what Danni was talking about. I’ve never felt this at home.
Home is where a light is left on until you get home.
Home is morning tea with your best friend.
Home is not locational, it is emotional.
Home is the place where you are loved.
For now, Middleton, Wisconsin is my home and I’m grateful.
I’ve always found great joy in music, but there are few songs that impact me to such an extent that I cry the first time I hear them. Tonight I heard the following song did:
All That We Let In – Indigo Girls
“Dust in our eyes our own boots kicked up
Heartsick we nursed along the way we picked up
You may not see it when it’s sticking to your skin
But we’re better off for all that we let in
Lost friends and loved ones much too young
So much promises and work left undone
When all that guards us is a single center line
And the brutal crossing over when it’s time
Oooooooo
(I don’t know where it all begins)
Oooooooo
(And I don’t know where it all will end)
Oooooooo
(We’re better off for all that we let in)
One day those toughies will be withered up and bent
The father son the holy warriors and the president
With glory days of put up dukes for all the world to see
Beaten into submission in the name of the free Read more »
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Uncategorized | Marti Abernathey October 25, 2014 | 
Comments Off on Giving Banks Credit 
