I once had a friend who was brought up in a very conservative Jewish family. The minute he left high school, he became a Buddhist. His family imploded. I remember his mother coming over to our house and weeping so uncontrollably I thought she was having a small stroke. At one point she laid herself down on my mother’s linoleum kitchen floor and shook so badly, she scraped off a small lane of Mop and Glow. When I began my transition and had to tell my mother what was happening to me, and that I had always felt like this, and that in order for me not to go completely bonkers I had to start living my life the way I was meant to… Well, she wept uncontrollably as well. After a few stiff drinks and about 15 minutes of utter silence she said slowly:
‘You’re not going to start dressing like Lana Turner, are you?’
When I was 18-years-old, that was the last time I ever set foot into a men’s bathroom. Between you and me and the fence post, if you’ve never been in one, you’re missing nothing. Seeing as I’m now almost half a century old, and having seen the coming of home computers, glowing sneakers, boys wearing pants to their ankles, cell phones, CDs, and now this iPod thing (which is still a complete mystery to me), I’ve lived more of my life going to the women’s room than I have the men’s room. Which by and large, only means that I’m much more used to a towel lady.
This has nothing to do with me being braver than anyone, freer than anyone, or smarter than anyone. I didn’t begin to live my life this way because I wanted to prove a point. I did it because I didn’t want to die.
I knew that if I went to college like the rest of my family and began my journey as a young adult with everyone calling me ‘Scott,’ I’d finish the last suicide attempt and this time, I wouldn’t screw it up. Those pills would be flushed down by something much stronger than tap water. I had to do what I had to do. It wasn’t a decision. I need to make that clear. This seems to be a serious debate now what with some Evangelicals nipping at our rear ends with nasty signs and humungous Bibles preaching to us how much they love us but hate what we do. They seemed to have talked themselves into this nonsense that we chose to love who we love and that what we do in bed and with whom, defines us. I could go into why, but psychoanalyzing these people is not only draining, it’s redundant.
And now, the Transgender community is suffering. I don’t mean we’re suffering in the spiritual sense (although that’s true as well) but according to recent books and official articles by leading psychiatrists we’re ‘suffering from a disorder.’ There’s something terribly, terribly wrong with us. We seemed to have moved past the Gays and we’re now into the Trans community. Gays used to be thought of as clinically sick. Something to not only be frightened of, but to be cured. Now we know that’s nonsense, and we’re just furious at their sexual habits. So, the next natural step is to heap all of our fear and paranoia on the last of the Mohicans.
Us.
I’ve never cared for this ‘coming out’ phrase. It’s never made much sense to me. I never felt as though I was in something. I never felt trapped in anything. I never felt as if I was confined by walls of any kind. I’m in sympathy for those who do, and I respect their personal journey and it’s beautiful that we’ve found a piece of text that can join our causes in a common way, but it simply never applied to me.
For me, transition was just that: a journey. I walked, ran, jumped, skipped, slid, fell, tumbled, and dragged my feet through something that seemed not only impossible, but hurtful to me and everyone else around me. It wasn’t just about opening a door and letting the sunshine in. Coming out was never anything I really did.
Freedom isn’t a casual word. It’s not something I throw around. Our country has been obsessed lately with plastering this word on billboards and car bumpers and even assorted small children. It’s all about Freedom. But freedom isn’t a slogan. Whether it’s by bloodshed or by ease, the action is fierce. It isn’t easily gotten and it isn’t easily received. One person’s freedom is another person’s caution. And the longer one waits to find their voice, to step out of the darkness, to travel down the road less traveled, the harder it is to reconcile. Waiting solves nothing. Waiting begets waiting. The clock still ticks and time moves forward and if you’re waiting for someone to tell you it’s okay, you’ll be waiting until the Universe stops.
My community goes into retreat. We find our voice, and then change it because we don’t sound like we should — according to the rules. So we hide. We keep hiding until the right time. Until our parents pass away, until the government makes up its mind, until the gardener stops staring. So how are we supposed to stand up and be counted if most of us are sitting down waiting to be called?
I’m saying whether you call it Coming Out or Moving Forward, you’ve got to do something. If you ask most people, gay or straight: ‘When did you know what gender you were?’ They’ll most likely answer, since they were born. That’s true of most of us. Not all, but most.
Since we know that to be true of most of us, there’s no reason to wait to announce it to the world. There’s no reason not to do what you need to do in order to live the way you need to live. And as we all do that, the other people waiting to get the Big Okay Sign, will finally and ultimately take that huge, long breath they’ve held in for most of their lives. Everyone’s life starts before their first breath, so we might as well attach our truth to it as soon the air hits us. Otherwise, we’re trapped in a silence that year by year, bit by bit, and person by person becomes harder to break free of.
Power isn’t about brute strength, it’s about clear dreams. It’s about shouting our name from a roof top. It’s about knowing who we’ve always been and finding out what’s next. It’s about proclaiming. And that can’t be done in a minute. It can’t be done simply by coming out of something. We have go through something. We have to experience. We have to run, jump, and fly. And once we’re airborne, once we find our wings, and glide and tumble, and hurl toward the planet at an awesome speed, we can land. Some of us land softly, some us not. Because our job, after we find our voice, after we go like lightening, after we scream it loud to anyone within earshot, is to rev up so we can do it all over again. Life is about a series of Cliffs, and they need to be tackled at once. No more waiting. Do it now. And keep going, no one’s keeping score.
Oh, and my friend? The one that transitioned to Buddhism? He’s now a full-fledged atheist.