On the Up and Up (When it comes to being out and out)

I haven’t written much here in a while, and there have been some major things happening. Most importantly, I quit my job and moved into the city. And, along with the moving and the job quitting, I decided – as I wrote about a few months ago – that being stealth about my trans status (aka keeping it secret) and being closeted about dating men – had to come to an end.

 

The first weekend I moved into the city, it was pride weekend, and without hesitation I jumped right into the opportunity to shake off the stealth and underground life. I volunteered with a trans* organization (where I didn’t know anyone) to put on an event for the trans community and our allies. It had been awhile since I had been around people who I instantly admired and respected the way I did the folks from this organization. I had fun volunteering with them before the event and made a new friend during the event (who was also volunteering). Once things got going, I saw some old friends, met some trans men friends I’d only talked to online and even spotted my Ex (an ally to the community), who I’ve lived in fear of running into for eight years! Of course I ran away, but at least I didn’t turn into stone or die on the spot or something.

 

I fell in love so instantly with this group and the work that they are doing that I also walked with them at the big city-wide pride parade. This turned out to be one of the most amazing experiences of my entire life. To walk with just a handful of other trans people (some who are obviously, visibly trans and do not care what others think of that) with the trans flag and transgender pride signs — in front of 100,000 people (many shouting and cheering for us), on a road lined with rainbow confetti — was like soul medicine. Not like a pat on the back that yay, I’m personally trans, and people are happy for me, but more because I could see all these faces as we passed… these little 15-year-olds whose genders were indeterminable underneath their bright blue or yellow or neon green hair, standing in little pockets… people who looked like old butch lesbians quietly saluting us… people who looked like gay men in eye shadow whistling and shouting, shirtless guys, their scars sharp in the sunlight, waving…drag queens, and couples who appeared straight but, when you looked again, realized they were both wearing dresses… we were such a scrappy, small little group but “our people” were suddenly everywhere. They weren’t walking with us, but we were walking for them. Pictures came back from the day and I am smiling in every single one, even the ones when I didn’t know a picture was being taken.

 

In the last few weeks since moving to the city, I’ve managed to cross paths with more amazing people, who I truly respect and admire, than I think I did all of last year. I think this has a lot to do with not being silent anymore about who I am, and who my people are. While the decision to be stealth is a personal one, and I respect that, for me, its time has come to an end — without regret. There is too much work to be done for fear (and shame) to be in the drivers’ seats anymore – being “normal” had its turn, but now it is time to actually inhabit this thing called my life.