Hetih's Haven

A book editor, TV addict, and musical theatre geek.
Living in Jakarta, Indonesia.
E-mail:
hetih.rusli(at)gramediapublishers.com

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afterellen:

Martine Rothblatt rocks the cover of “New York Magazine”

This week’s New York magazine’s cover story focuses on the extraordinary life of multimillionaire, Martine Rothblatt and her wife, Bina. Rothblatt, who is currently the CEO of United Therapeutics, and founder of Sirius Radio, transitioned from male to female back in the mid-1990s. According to Lisa Miller of New York Magazine:

Martine prefers not to limit herself to available words: She’s suggested using “Pn.,” for “person,” in place of “Mr.” and “Ms.,” and “spice” to mean husband or wife. But “trans” is a prefix she likes a lot, for it contains her self-image as an explorer who crosses barriers into strange new lands. (When she feels a connection to a new acquaintance, she says that she “transcends.”) And these days Martine sees herself less as transgender and more as what is known as transhumanist, a particular kind of futurist who believes that technology can liberate humans from the limits of their biology—including infertility, cancer, and disease, but also, incredibly, death.

Martine and her wife Bina have been together for over three decades, and Bina doesn’t seem preoccupied with labels herself.

“Bina Aspen, the woman who married Martine 33 years ago, when Martine was a man, and remains her devoted wife, calls herself not straight or gay but “Martine-sexual”—as in the only person she wants to have sex with is Martine.”

One heart is not connected to another through harmony alone. They are, instead, linked deeply through their wounds. Pain linked to pain, fragility to fragility. There is no silence without a cry of grief, no forgiveness without bloodshed, no acceptance without a passage through acute loss. That is what lies at the root of true harmony.
Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage (via larmoyante)

Close close all night
the lovers keep.
They turn together
in their sleep,

close as two pages
in a book
that read each other
in the dark.

Each knows all
the other knows,
learned by heart
from head to toes.

Untitled poem from Elizabeth Bishop