Lou Sullivan Quotes

The mind of the transsexual cannot be changed

My opened shirt blew in the wind — The sun tanning my stomach — Feeling lean and alive and beautiful — Saying I am a man — Saying I love men.

How strange it seems that education, in practice, so often means suppression: that instead of leading the mind outward to the light of day it crowds things in upon it that darken and weary it.

But I haven't a lover, and one who may materialize between now and then may not be close enough to my heart to merit those last moments with me.
How do I want to die?

I challenge any person who will not admit this in themselves, such as “the woman who relies on a closet full of funny, expensive clothing or makeup and lacquered hairdos”, because I could never be that...that which I was supposed to be...and I refuse to be identified with a woman like that. I CAN’T BE! My older sister is inferior to a transvestite becuz she can’t relax, she’s trying so hard to deny her inner humanity and free-ness, to bottle up any susceptibility to feelings—while a transvestite at the very least, admits to himself his inner life and feelings, and, at the most, if he comes out, he’s left wide open for rejection by family and friends, physical harm, denial of use of public and private facilities, easy prey for others to try and fuck his head over by saying he’s sick, etc.,—all for the sake of relaxing with themselves, being free and open and alive. You ask him to come alive to the world so the world can kill him.

Is sex reassignment surgery moral/right? ''If a patient came to you and wanted you to remove his normal left eye or his right hand,
would you do that, just because he asked you to?''
A patient who comes in with such a request is, on the face of it, acutely psychotic. Transsexuals are not psychotic. Further, transsexuals do not want a useful organ removed, reducing their efficiency; but they want a more or less (to them) useless sexual
equipment altered so that a more or less useful (to them) equipment will result.

I wanna look like what I am but don't know what someone like me looks like. I mean, when people look at me I want them to think — there's one of those people that reasons, that is a philosopher, that has their own interpretation of happiness. That's what I am.

I don't even know if there was anyone that's ever felt as I do.. how they coped, what they did...how do I find out what someone like me does?

A big fear of mine is that I will die before the gender professionals acknowledge that someone like me exists, and then I really won't exist to prove them wrong.

Mom said I could maybe have a Beatles haircut before the last day of school.

Paul-

Ringo-

Paul-

Ringo they keep bouncing around my head. Model yourself on them and you'll have no worries. Paul! I love the name. Such a beautiful sound to the ear. Ringo! Such an adorable boy. So sweet and modest. So bouncy. Know that I love you and I'm not crazy. This is a love so strong and real. Oh, love me too, anyone.

"I finally said, "Let's put it this way: I'd rather lose you than stop my shots.""You mean that chemical is more important to you than I am?""No, I am more important to me than you are.

It really hasn't hit me that I am about to die. I see the grief around me, but inside I feel serene and a certain kind of peace. My whole life I've wanted to be a gay man and it's kind of an honor to die from the gay men's disease.

I just don’t think I write enough on how much I enjoy life lately. This change, this SEX CHANGE that is supposed to be so weird, has in reality made me feel LESS weird. I can relax + laugh + not THINK before I say or do something + it all comes out right + I’m relaxed
+ I think, “My God, if they only knew…

The reason “FAGS” have deep and painful personality problems is cuz people like you “realize (!) they are neurotic and isolating.” And then you ask them to mold their own lives! The people in Rechy have a hell of a lot more will than any straight—the will to say fuck you to all the assholes who hate them so intensely, to say fuck you to the world of people who think they’re sick and say fuck you, I’m ME . . . a lot more will than anyone else. But you say they just “seem generally to react resentfully to situations rather than mold their own lives.” Where do you mold a life for yourself when all you do is battle oppressions day in and day out? Where does a black begin to mold his own life when he’s alone among 200 KKKs, or a woman in a room with 50 men gawking at her tits and ass. They start at the bottom, that’s where!! They band together and say fuck you everybody this is me and I’m good.

Dear Diary,
I wish I had a boy to take me skating and to talk to. But I'm too young. I wish I'd grow up. This year I'm counting on my period. Well good night! I hope we become good friends.