What a sexy image! Down Deborah, down, down, down. Into ...?
Maybe into the deep, dark depths of the psyche, from whence sex comes. All that screaming and writhing that sensible and composed people do when the lights are off. My sexuality comes from there and my gender identity comes from there. Whooh!
We've all got psyches like that. Let no one kid themselves that they haven't. No transwoman is a respectable, composed, upright female citizen inside the body of a respectable, composed, upright but disturbed man. The relation between the outer and the inner has to be via the dark depths. That is where inner women are formed, not in classrooms or community halls.
Whoa! Those depths are a-callin' me, and Miss Deborah is a-slidin' down into them. This isn't just sexy this is meaningful, this is important. I have been reading Viktor Frankl's Man's Search For Meaning. Am I finding mine in Deborah's descent?
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