T Party Friday

Friday I was trying a relaunch of my Sonia-owned t-girl social group. The night didn’t really go anywhere. Here’s the post-mortum.

Friday nights are known for Ashley and her Sisters of Boston. Ashley does *lots* of stuff right to get girls out and having fun every Friday night. Of course, she’s just one person, Sisters of Boston is what it is, and it’s not for everybody. Some people want or need something different. I would *love* to facilitate somehow, girls getting together in ways that work for them. With people they are comfortable with, in venues where they are comfortable, and so on. (Why I feel this urge, I don’t know…never mind.)

So last year at one point, I collected my ideas, scouted around on the web for a site, picked Yahoo’s upcoming.com, and invited a bunch of people I knew to join. Just a few did, like maybe one in ten of people I asked. Hmm, am I really that much of a non-friend to people? I think I am. My friendships are all so shallow.

Anyway, one of ideas for this group was that I wanted to encourage people to just pick activities that they would enjoy, rather than have the predetermined schedule of Sisters of Boston, or similar groups, for that matter. It didn’t work. Nobody participates a scrap online. Oh, I tried to set an example by announcing a couple of things that I was doing and inviting people to come, but I got one loyal friend to meet me for lunch in one case, and in another, got a much more loyal friend to steer a whole group to an evening event. But really, that was a venue that the group liked to go to anyway, and they went as themselves or as attendees of their previous event pretty much, I think, and not as attendees of my event.

There was a communication problem. Nobody says anything, but then, this stupid upcoming.com site has terrible communication facilities. It’s even hard for me to broadcast messages to my group. I blame things on upcoming.com and pick a new site. I’m inspired to do this when I get an invite from Daphne to join TransSpace, really just a user sub site of ning.com, which offers anyone to set up their own social networking site for free. It looks good and I jump in with both feet and set up a new group on this person’s transpeople-only social networking site. It goes better! I get some friends to join me and even post some interest in coming out to meet me on my first night. I’m optimistic. And then, nobody comes. Well, the truth is that I had Jessica and Stacy by my side, and also, that, I wasn’t a bit surprised that nobody else showed up.

Oh, I know, I shouldn’t sound so depressed. There, I just went and posted a happy wrap up post to TransSpace. Also posted there about RI Pride. That post coming up here soon….

Randolph Country Club

Of course I had a nice time once I finally got to RCC. As has happened in the past, forces conspired to get me there a little later than I would have liked. I foolishly didn’t bother to check the bus schedule and ended up waiting on the street at Ashmont for a full hour, for example. Arrived 11:15 maybe? So, it was okay really.

The was the first official roll call party after it had been closed for renovations, so we were all expecting a nice crowd. It wasn’t exactly a huge crowd, but lots of familiar and fun people came. Rachel, at RCC for her first time, and Wendy were the first I spotted when I walked in the door. I breezed by them, and also by Daphne and Erica, explaining that I had to get dressed. I’d learned that the route down to RCC on public transportation isn’t suitable for evening wear, so I was traveling in jeans and sneakers, but I carried a nice dress and heels in my bag. A few minutes in the ladies room downstairs, my bag stashed in the coat check room, and I was a happy girl. Oh, I’ll be sure to slight somebody by doing this, but I’ll try to name names here. I really enjoyed talking with Manny. He so sincerely listened and wanted to know all about my cancer. Gosh, what a sweetheart. He also bought me my only drink of the night, a non-alcoholic one as I’m starting to baby my liver in preparation for cancer treatments. Of course Vonnie was there and was her wonderful gracious self, asking about me and everything. Later in the evening I liked introducing Vonnie to Trista, who was there for the first time. Trista I had met long ago at Sisters of Boston but hadn’t seen since. She was being shy but looked great and I think she was enjoying just hanging out and watching. I complimented her appearance a couple of times, but bit my tongue to not point out the little things I noticed she had improved since that night at Sisters of Boston. I just didn’t know what was appropriate to say! You don’t talk about past mistakes, do you? The same thing happened with Lindsey. Her hair looked so much better than when I saw her the previous week at TCNE. What to say? Mm, who else? I also saw Shenna when I first walked in and waved at her from across the bar. She almost comically waved back verrrry slowly, probably trying to figure out who I was or if I was really waving at her. Annette, Tanya, Lisa were there. Paula was there for her first time. Melissa, I recognized from behind, but then couldn’t remember her name until I approached her and saw her face. So strange how memory works! Sadly, Lace couldn’t be there to dance. She had posted to FoRCC that something had come up, so I replied that I would dance for her. I ended up dancing with only one person though, a crackup of a dirty dancer whose name I can’t quite remember now. She was having the time of her life with the griding and gyrating. I danced a few dances with her but could only take so much. (lol) Ah, and Stephanie, who was being so very kind as to let me crash at her place afterwards so I could take the bus home in the morning. Bleh. I’ll have to update this when a group picture gets posted. That will surely jog my memory.

My dress turned out to be a smash. People wanted to know where I got it and I said it was just a used hand-me-down from a friend, which was true, but I think not the best answer. Really it was a Jasmine Sola, which meant that it had contemporary sexy styling, and yes, I have to say, did look great. It was a deep purple color which played well with my black hair and pale skin. I loved looking at myself in the mirror in the ladies room, and also in the mirror wall on the dance floor when I was dancing. I wore it with my gold 2 1/2″ heels that I got for the play last month, a purple hair clip, and then just my silver bracelet and bronze watch that I wear every day. I also wore a floral scarf around my neck to somewhat cover my tracheostomy. The scarf did the trick well. A number of people indicated that they didn’t realize what I had under it.

At Stephanie’s place, we found April patiently waiting in the driveway. Poor thing said she had been there for about an hour. She was also hungry, suggested IHOP, and Stephanie and I agreed immediately. I was the pig there, ordering a huge omelet, pancakes, and a fancy soda drink. I learned just today from a doctor that the steroid I’m on for radiation treatments is a strong appetite stimulant. Well, that explained things! I’ll have to try to compensate…grrr. April, in contrast, ate like a sparrow. She’s been losing weight well and noticeably. I commented to Stephanie, then later April bragged about the waist measurement of her new pants. Of course I praised her for her health.

The trip home the next morning was interesting because it included a ride on the Mattapan trolley, which I had never even seen. I found interesting history at railroad.net and world.nycsubway.org. The ride was smooth, quiet, pleasant, comfortable, and scenic.

Last Dance

Slept very late Saturday, woke up, and it was time to start getting ready to go to Randolph Country Club. Incorrigible, aren’t I? A message on the answering machine from Daphne asked me to call. I know she had hoped to take me home with her after she got off work. I had promised to call and let her know and I hadn’t called. It was about 6pm when I called her back. I was done and ready to walk out the door. She was explaining that she had to fix some dinner, then get ready. Her second preference was that I ride with Stephanie, so I promised to call Stephanie. I got her on the phone grocery shopping, saying that she would be home in half an hour to fix dinner and get ready to go out. I thanked her, but made it clear that I was headed straight to the club on my own.

Getting there was relatively uneventful, but I did get some negative attention on the train ride toward Ashmont. A group of teenagers was delirious with laughter. I got the idea that they generally found something funny to laugh about on their way home, and today it was simply my presence that was providing a good part of their amusement. A couple of guys felt the need to look tough in the face of this outing of a tranny and one of them threw a punch in the air as walked by me to get off of the train, saying “fucking dude!” That was the end of that, but it left me thinking of the nonsense in his exclamation. I imagined a little scene where he said that without running away and I came back with “dude? are you fucking blind?” “You see this guy here?” as I gesture to the tough looking guy next to me, “This is a dude. Now, you see the difference?” “Dude,” pointing to him. “Tranny,” gesturing to myself. Now you wanna tell this guy to his face that you think he’s the same as me? Let me step aside first.” *sigh* Imagination is fun. With the cowardly hater off the train, attention turned to a guy rapping at the far end of the car. He was up for a battle but with no one on the train stepping up to contest him, he was just targeting riders at random. I was watching him of course. He hadn’t seen me. The big guy next to me offered me reassurance, “He’s harmless, he’s just an artist.” “Yeah, and he’s got no competition here” I added, paying respect to the rapper.

Around 8:30, I was, in fact, the first t-girl to arrive at RCC. Yeah, for once I was there early and would have lots of time to visit. I sat at the bar with the crowd of regulars for not long at all before the first girls showed up, the “New York” girls, (although they’re not all from New York) Paige, Katie, Katie, and Brit. After wandering around a bit, we settled at table. I had forgotten Brit, but she remembered me. Paige had forgotten me, but I remembered her. That kind of thing is all fine and understandable when you just meet briefly at these things. These four are young and pretty and have dazzling wit. I, *sigh*, don’t quite fit in with them, but they were happy to adopt me for a bit. And a bit is all it was before girls I knew better started streaming in the door. One surprise was Terri. I thought she was in Florida. Another very nice surprise was Jean. I kept up then, for most of the night, noticing each girl that came in and making some time to talk with her. One, Gina, turned out to be at RCC for the first time. I called Vonnie over to meet her and the two of them had a nice long conversation. Vonnie also told me all about the RCC Halloween party and I confessed to her where I was over Halloween. I think Stephanie got there 10ish, and Daphne 11ish. One girl I was very glad to meet and talk to for a bit was Lace. I explained to her amusement my theory of how she was my great aunt because she had been dressing and coming to parties like this so much longer than me. I also found her later on the dance floor by herself and I dance for a few minutes with her. Mm, experience shows. Her movement is beautifully fluid. I so wish I could do that. The night before at Rumor, one of the girls was even trying to coach me at one point, modeling movements and grabbing my hips to show me how I should be moving. *sigh* Now see? That’s the way to learn. No inhibition, just practice, practice, practice. I bought one drink for myself. Jean bought me one, and, was that all? Someone else might have bought me one but I can’t remember. I think Wendy offered but then didn’t. I did ask Wendy for a ride home though, and she obliged. My head was clear enough that I was remembering that I needed to be back at my office by noon in case the girl from the co-op was going to call me back. We kind of took the long way back before dropping me off at Alewife. At Wendy’s place, she offered…Champagne! She popped the cork, we drank and talked and finished the bottle and slept very well. At the train station finally, she pushed some money into my hand. I sincerely tried to decline, but she insisted. I love my friends. They’re keeping me alive right now.

At my office around 11:30 Sunday, there was no word about a phone call. I waited. I sat around all afternoon and went home in the evening all sad and depressed.

Daphne love

Saturday, December 1. I had agreed to meet Daphne and spend some time with her over the weekend. She had left a phone message on Stacy’s machine that she was working Saturday and should be free shortly after 2pm. I woke at 9am, again at 10:30, and was up at 11:00. Stacy fed me a pear and cooked rice cereal with banana. Dressed and went into the office, which is complimenting Stacy’s place nicely as part of my temporary home. I checked emails and stuff, then showered and put on clean clothes, and packed the last several days worth of dirty clothes to take to Daphne’s. I had some time for people watching while I waited for Daphne to get off work. South Station was crazy with special holiday attractions so it was entertaining. Daphne finally appeared. Home in Attleboro, she fixed a wonderful dinner of stir fry chicken and vegetables on rice, and cranberry sauce left over from Thanksgiving. Coffee, computer, TV, bed. Nice to get away. Nice to see Daphne after so long.

Sunday, December 2. I couldn’t stay in bed in the morning. I was up starting laundry, washing my wig, playing on the computer more. Daphne fixed us a nice breakfast of eggs, bacon, and hash browns. I did a bunch more cleaning during the day. Toward evening, I fixed myself a little snack of salad and bread, not wanting to go too long between lunch and dinner. Daphne was hungry before long herself, and whipped up another great meal: steak, potatoes, onion soup, salad, and cranberries on ice cream. We watched more TV and then I used the tub for a long and luxurious bubble bath.

Defying the heteronormative memeplex

Tuesday, November 6. [A week had passed in pain. Continued explanation of the neck pain, and a note that this was the first day the pain had lessened enough to let me sleep.]

Excitement for the last week was Jessica and Stacy visiting, getting a card from Al and Kuan-Chung, getting to shave, and finding out that I might get out next week, at 23 days rather than at 35. They told the story of tracking me down in jail. The whole sequence of events wasn’t completely clear to me, but they mentioned talking to Al, Deedee, and Daphne. They promised to return on Thursday eventing, which would be really nice.

I learned from Stacy that the captain on duty had strongly advised them against visiting dressed as women for future visits. I think his justification was to avoid embarrassing me. Then after they left, the captain gave me a similar warning. He fumbled for words, kind of searching for diplomatic way of expressing things, finally saying that he didn’t want there to be “problems” for me. Ugh, wish I could write more now but my neck is cramping again.

Here’s what I wrote in a letter to Stacy:

About coming to visit male mode, I feel pretty strongly that you shouldn’t. Coming male mode would be marginalizing yourselves. It wouldn’t be just a concession to any individuals here at the jail, but would be a concession to the heteronormative memeplex that would deny us first class citizenship. I’d be disappointed to see you male mode. And you know, I told you that I went to court male mode, but absolutely the only reason was to not complicate matters by forcing the judge to wonder if it was a bizarre stunt intended to manipulate or distract from the legal issues. As soon as it was over, I really wished I was en femme just so everyone would have seen the person I really am, and so I could have seen how they would deal with me at the jail. Also, while I dressed male mode to face the judge, I’ve come to the courthouse on other days as Sonia and had no problems whatsoever working with any of the court workers. I showed them my drab ID and they didn’t even raise an eyebrow.

It’s not surprising though, that the officer you talked to tried to discourage you from coming as yourselves. My perception, after observing a number of the correction officers over ten days now, is that as a group, they are far more homophobic than the general population. Jokes about gays are told they way fifth grade school boys would tell them, with giggles about the taboo. Jokes, really almost all comments, about women are viciously misogynistic. I don’t get this same feeling from the inmates. Their attitudes about women and gays seem to to be pretty close to those of the general population–the population you as a transwoman deal with every day.

Crash

The weekend after the aborted telescope run was spent in bed, in pain, stressing over this upcoming court date on Tuesday, and ignoring all calls and messages. In particular I’d been ignoring Daphne and Deedee for over a week now. I had confessed my legal problems to them and they were anxious for me to do something to deal with the problems. I had done nothing. I had nothing to tell them and I didn’t want to listen to them ask why and lecture me about doing something.

Tuesday morning came after yet another sleepless night. This would be my second court appearance since going full time last spring. The other court appearance had been my only day to dress male mode since. Since this case predates Sonia, since I’m still legally male, and since appearing en femme before a judge seemed an unnecessary distraction, I wanted to go male mode again. I really wanted to leave the house that way, but Al was piddling in the kitchen and there was no way around him. So, women’s ankle boots, women’s jeans, men’s button shirt, men’s sport coat, wig, and purse over my shoulder, and I popped out of my bedroom door, breezed by Al, tossing a “good morning” over my shoulder, and whisking out the front door without giving him a chance to answer. Somewhere along the way to the courthouse, I don’t remember where, I pulled off the wig, stowed it in a plastic bag in the purse, and transferred the purse from my shoulder to my hand.

The story of court is featureless and not worth telling. It ends with the judge saying “35 days.” I was going to jail.

Nose Dive

I was excited about those tickets I won at Gender Crash because they were to a Big Moves show and I just love those girls. Very sadly, I didn’t go to the show. I had kind of told Daphne about the tickets and I was hoping she would come with me, but I was in this “nose dive” of declining physical and mental health. I was stressing over an upcoming court date, over not going to see my therapist in a long time, and over avoiding making an appointment with an Ear Nose and Throat specialist. Dr. Breshel had referred me to this ENT because of breathing problems. For some reason, I’d been finding excuses to not make this appointment. A more disabling health problem I’d been having was muscles spasms in my neck and shoulders. These were getting worse, and as the night came up for the Big Moves show, I didn’t feel like doing anything but taking Ibuprofen and whimpering in bed.

About the same time, I also had three nights of telescope time scheduled. I worked the first night, then writhed in pain on the floor of my office for a few hours before going home. I made Tim finish the run for me. So, I’d been missing days of work because of this neck pain, I’d been using the excuse that I was observing for not showing up some of these days. At the same time my breathing problem was getting worse and worse. I’d all but lost my voice, and when the muscle spasms were at their worst, I would pant in pain and aggravate the breathing problem to the point where I would start to panic that I couldn’t get enough breath. Nothing I do makes sense, I know. I’m an idiot.

Rachel, Rachel

Friday, October 5, drinking with Jessica. Saturday, MFA with Deedee, TCNE, home with Daphne. Monday morning, home on early train with Daphne. Monday afternoon, nap. Evening, Diesel with Al and Kuan-Chung, movie, work at office.

[Note added January 6, 2008: The day at the MFA with Deedee was memorable. I had seen that there was a special exhibit of shoes and with Deedee's special interest in shoes, I emailed her right away and we made these plans to go see the exhibit. It was a fun, spontaneous thing to do.]

Thursday, October 11, I went to Gender Crash and posted this to Sisters of Boston:

Hi Lisa

I was there last night. Gender crash happens once a month and I’ve been going to most of them. It is fun, there’s lots going on there. Some of the performances last night were moving, some were hilarious. All of them were thought provoking. I saw people I knew, I met new people, I ate cookies, and best of all, I won free tickets to a show next week! Write me if you want to know more.

Sonia Kiss,
Socialata mothius

(The nick name was given to me by Rachel, after I called myself a “social moth” once.) Lisa did encourage me to tell a little more. Here are excerpts from my next post:

… Last night there were three trans girls sitting together. One I have met a few times and I know her name, one I recognized from other events but hadn’t learned her name yet, and one I didn’t recognize. They were all about the same age (at least a decade younger than me) and sat together. I assumed they all new each other and were friends. At intermission, I had other people I needed to talk to and didn’t find time to do more than smile at them. On the subway ride home though, the one of the three that I hadn’t recognized was sitting across from me. I was sitting next to a chatty gay guy but after a while I excused myself to go meet this girl. In talking to her, I found out that she had just arrived in Boston, didn’t know anyone, didn’t know those other girls she sat with, and didn’t talk to them or anyone else. I was the only person that talked to her, and here, not until the train ride home! […] I gave her a card with my name, phone number, and email. I hope I hear from her.

[One more note added January 8th: I never did hear from this girl, but I remember her name was Rachel. Why didn't I comment on this interesting coincidence in my post? When she told me her name was Rachel, I said "Oh, I have a good friend named Rachel!" And I shared a little bit about "my" Rachel. "She spells her name 'e-l'," I added, "'R-a-c-h-e-l." She looked up at me with a little bit of...alarm, maybe? "So do I" she said softly, watching for my reaction. "Cool!" I chirped, wrinkling my nose with the serendipity.]