Kendra Reviews: The Lonely, Uneducated, Backwoods Bigot

To begin with, to understand my problem you first must understand who I was as opposed to who I am.

Yes, I changed my name, burned my birth certificate and proudly proclaim the old me is dead, long gone. (And he would have been if I had not begun transition)

What that means is, at one point I was ready to put a loaded thirty-eight in my mouth and pull the trigger. Following me? Okay, the one thing I had going for me was that I was genetically predisposed to have muscles. No, I did not work out, they were just, well, there. Pair that with the fact I had no fear of death (ya know I was ready to end it all anyway) Well, I had no problems keeping men, even scary men, at arm’s length.

And then came the will to live, the fear of death and pain, oddly enough that happened right about the time I started hormone replacement therapy. Oh and if you did not know this before let me say that it absolutely devastates your muscles and after about 6 months I realized I was not the intimidating fearless man I was, in his place, well in his place stood an emotional, caring girl and…not so threatening.

Sadly that makes me somewhat of a target…No not for normal, everyday men, a target for sad, uneducated, backwoods bigots, especially the men that have no life.

You see those men are not merely looking for a target but more importantly they can be deadly.

About five years ago a man that I occasionally worked with joined me in my office. He decided to take a break from work and brag to me about his Neanderthal life and activities. And for some strange reason he took me as one of his own. (I could tell by his odd series of grunts and abdominal groans) And because he thought I was one of his kind he confessed his sins.

“I paid to get my wife from another country; they are so happy to have citizenship, it doesn’t matter if you slap them around a bit, they think they deserve it.” He said as he sat down next to me and then moved onto his next, even more racial rant.

Yes it made me sick to my stomach but keep in mind I was a miserable human being that was lost in my own worthless life so no, I did not report the assfuck, instead I just warned people when I thought I could get away with it, to stay away from him.

And karma has a way of turning around and biting you in your ass. Yes I take full responsibility for my actions.

Sunday, October 9th, 2016 the prehistoric beast returned; this time I looked much different than I had when he had last seen me.

“Hey Kenny, let me in the office for a second.” He said in a rather disturbing tone.

Yea, I know, my first mistake was opening the door. “Please don’t call me that, it’s not my name anymore.” I said as took a step inside the door, turned, got right in my face, eye to eye and said, “I need my work order Kenny.”

That was actually the first time that I had noticed he had about 6 inches and 80 pounds on me but still I held my ground. “That isn’t my name.” But his previous confessions was already coming back into my thoughts, this man had no problem admitting that he enjoyed slapping his wife around.

I knew then, if need be, I needed to back down, let the beast have his day. After he left I wrote a letter, mostly for myself but I wanted to document his actions just in case that I ended up dead with suspicious circumstances in the near future. So instead of recounting the incident in entirety, I proudly present for you… The letter.

Dear Mr. Lonely Tough boy:

I think some people, i.e. redneck ignorant hicks with barely enough intelligence to turn a wrench, think because I am a girl that I am easily intimidated. They are wrong.

First let me explain red neck, ignorant hick for a moment. They are the ones that knew me before I began transition, the ones that want to call me by a name that no longer exists, the ones that even after you ask them to stop they will get in your face and do it 9 more times (yes I counted) As if they are intimidating me, I am guessing he was surprised when I didn't take a step back.

He may think...no witnesses...Ha, I know you Mr. 86 IQ and from now on you can bet your house I will be recording everything you say to me. Yep, you know who you are, yea, the guy that needed to import his wife and then brag about slapping her around a little. Mr. Lonely, I still laugh about seeing your 60 year old ass at Cancun Cantina boozing it up checking out all the 20 year old girls, like they would have you, like they would say anything at all to you except "get away from me you creep."

Are you sad that I am happy, have friends? Does it make your lonely old ass frustrated that someone like me can have a life while you sit your ass at a club dreaming of one day having someone ANYONE that cares about you?

I want to give you a fair warning; I know you, I know your cowardly kind...yes I know I am a target for someone like you but I have fought my entire life just to survive, just to keep the gun out of my mouth and a piece of filth like you MR. LONELY wouldn't even make me break a sweat. Go ahead, risk your job, risk your retirement, risk the rest of the world knowing about how you slapped around your wife.

See Mr. Big man, you may have a problem calling me by my REAL name but I don't...please for the LOVE OF GOD give me a reason to tell the world YOUR REAL NAME

Signed Kendra Chelsea

Do I sound tough? Do you think it worked?

The problem was my words were no longer me; instead they were the words of a person that no longer existed they were ghostly fragments recalled out of desperation. Yes I stood my ground, looked him in the eyes and pretended like I had no fear.

And then I closed my computer, drove home, climbed into bed and cried my eyes out.

The moral of the story? A bit of a warning actually….

Karma can be a bitch and as bad as you think it is, never ignore a lonely, uneducated, backwoods bigot because in the end, you may be his next victim.

#work