The restroom post

Saturday morning after Sisters, I logged in to Yahoo and resigned from Sisters of Boston.

Shocking, I know.  Well, it was shocking to most who knew me as one of the forces involved in forming Sisters of Boston over a year ago, as one of the charter co-moderators, and as an energetic smiling face for, er, well, several months anyway, before I kind of dropped out of sight.  Shocking because I resigned pretty much without notice.  I had grumbled to a couple of close friends, but that was about it.  I suspect it was much less shocking than it could have been, given that I hadn’t been seen in seven months.  I was, in fact, fading from relevance to some extent.  My resignation had nothing to do with my life problems, however.  Rather, it was in protest of the restroom situation at the hotel restaurant where Sisters of Boston meets.

Ashley, our group leader, had explained the policies and their evolution at great length.  In short, they are hideously discriminatory, but then hey, there are no laws in Woburn, Massachusetts that protect transgenders from discrimination.  So I was expecting discrimination.  When I finally got to see the policies in action, what I experienced was outrageous harassment.  Here’s my account:

Jean arrived, I started crying with happiness to see her, makeup was running in my eyes, and I turned to LiLLi and asked her if she would help me find the restroom.  She hesitated for a split second, probably knowing that this might not be pretty, and said sure, let’s go.  We walked out of the restaurant into a hallway of the hotel, and around the corner to the front desk, all per policy.  At the front desk, we had to ask to be let into the exercise room, so that we could use the restroom there.  Policy is that transwomen are not allowed in the public men’s or women’s rooms–we have to use the the facilities in the exercise room, which of course requires an entry key, which the hotel does not give us.  When LiLLi and I approached the front desk, the person working there nervously looked away from us and looked for the second person working there.  LiLLi indicated that we would like to be let in the exercise room, the desk clerk said something to the second desk clerk, he glanced at us nervously and disappeared around the corner as the first desk clerk shuffled papers in front of her.  Just then a family walked in the front desk of the hotel, wheeling suitcases behind them.  “Hello!” the desk clerk called to them, smiling.  “Can I help you?”  “We would like to check in.”  “Of course!  Do you have reservations?…”  LiLLi, seeing what was coming, interjected, repeating that we we needed to use the facilities.  “Oh, you’ll just have to wait!” the desk clerk answered with annoyance in her voice, waving her hand at us and looking intently at her computer now.  We stared in disbelief.  The family turned slowly and stared at us.  We stared back.  After a moment, the second clerk returned and was ambushed by the first clerk.  “Can you, um…” she said, thrusting the key card at him.  He took it and walked to the end of the front desk, across the width of the hallway, and opened the door for us.  Yes, that’s where the exercise room was, practically arms reach from this woman refusing to help us.  The exercise room, once we were inside, was packed with a group of young teens, playing on the treadmills and exercise bikes, and basically hanging out.  LiLLi and I began jabbering as I walked into the restroom and began washing my eyes at the sink.  She stood just outside the doorway though, faithfully honoring Ashley’s policy of only one person in the restroom at a time,  When I had dried my eyes, LiLLi took her turn in the restroom, as I waited outside in the exercise room.  I looked at the kids.  They looked at me.  Luckily, these happened to be relatively young teens, and well behaved at that.  They could have just as easily been older, ruder, or rowdier teens.  Later, I talked to a number of the girls (Sisters of Boston, that is) who told me that they won’t use the restroom there.  Instead, they make sure they pee before going to Sisters, and try not to drink anything while they are there.

So here’s my take on it:

Separate but equal facilities:  Discrimination

Being forced to ask each time you need to use the facilities?  Harassment

Disparaging looks from the desk clerks?  Harassment

The desk clerks balking at opening the door for us?  Harassment

Being forced to stand and wait when the door was at arms reach, when there were two desk clerks, when there were no hotel guests in sight when we first walked up, and when we were asking to PEE?  Harassment

Being forced to stand before the hotel guests as they gawked:  Harassment

Being forced to navigate a gauntlet of teenagers:  Harassment

Feeling so cowed that you take measures to ensure that you will never have pee at this location?  Harassment.

Shame on those desk clerks.  Shame on Ashley for subjecting her Sisters of Boston to such humiliation.  Shame on everyone, everywhere who puts up with conditions such as these.

One last night with Sisters of Boston

Ok, so a quick check in my journal reveals that September 11 was the last time I appeared at Sisters of Boston. It’s an interesting numerological coincidence then, that it turned out to be the 11th of April, seven months later, when I reappeared. The first two of those seven months were spent with me simply burned out on making the two hour trek to the meeting location. The last five months I had other problems. All this time, I’d missed it. I’d missed meeting so many new girls, missed the fun of seeing their giddy excitement, missed the fun of going out dancing. So I was all ready to return. I just needed the courts to set me free. They did so Friday afternoon and I was in my groove again.

Home from work, I decided to go to Sisters dressed just in work clothes, but with a little makeup, with which I so rarely grace my coworkers these days. Knowing there would be dancing later, I packed a miniskirt and a barrette, and was out the door at 6pm. The Red Line and Orange Line were both miraculously waiting for me to step onto without breaking my stride and I got to Wellington in 40 minutes, with 20 minutes still to spare before the 7pm bus to Woburn. 40 more minutes later, it dropped me a block from the hotel where Sisters meets, and I walked in the door actually being the first Sister to arrive for the evening.

I was amused that as a supposed leader within this group, I had to stop at the hostess stand and explain that I was looking for Sisters of Boston, that it was my first time there, and so on. With a bit of nervousness (that I ignored at the moment) she said I could have a seat at the bar. “Do you serve food at the bar?” “Oh yes, of course.” “Wonderful” I looked happy to have things settled. She relaxed and smiled. At the bar, the two girls next to me looked so darned familiar! I hate it when that happens! I didn’t ask though. I got no look of recognition from them, so I just let it go. I ordered a rum and coke and pizza and sat and did my usual bar thing. Sometimes I would look up at the TVs, but really I didn’t care to watch whatever was there. Really, right in front of me was just mirror, rather than a TV. The mirror showed how meager my prospects were of blending at this place. Now, my sense was that it didn’t have anything to do with me being trans. Rather, I was very obviously a Cambridge-ite, far from Cambridge. Black hair, black cat eye glasses…

Omg! I hadn’t written yet about my new glasses. In a night of drunken confusion at the indescribably cluttered home where I live, my last pair of contacts got thrown out with the dishwater somehow. I was blind and forced to return to the optician and get new glasses. I got these really great (and really expensive ) cat eye frames that are very femmie, and also a little something like geek, punk, or retro, I don’t know what.

Where was I? Yes, hair, glasses, and hot pink and black layered tops. *sigh* So I exchanged polite smiles with people around me, listened obviously to stories told in voices loud enough to advertise that they were fair game for anyone who cared to listen, and that was about it. It was cool. It reminded me somewhat of the time that I waited alone for Danielle once at a TGIF. In both cases, it was obviously the local, after work crowd where lots of people knew each other. Don’t be an ass, and you’re welcome too no problems. Come again another time, learn the bartender’s name, chat a few people up, come again, and you’re a regular–no matter how you dress. Acceptance isn’t automatic in the ‘burbs, but it can be earned.

For tonight though, I was just waiting for friends. My pizza had just arrived when, watching in the bar mirror, I recognized Caroline walk in. She had no chance of recognizing the back of my head, but after getting settled in the bar area herself, getting something cold to drink, and unwinding a bit, she finally read me as trans and walked over to confirm her suspicions. Still not recognizing me, she guessed I must be the new girl expected to visit from Maine that night. “Hello, are you Paula?” “No,” I said, smiling ear to ear and standing up. At this point, I think words failed her as her eyes were telling her something she thought impossible. “Caroline!” I said, and gave her a big hug. We talked excitedly for a few minutes, and that kind of set the tone for the whole night. I got to see old friends Jackie, Deedee, Sally, LiLLi, Kristen, Steffanie, Mike, Jean, and of course Ashley. I got to meet this new Paula from Maine, and also Corrine, Holly, Madison, and Mitzzy, some of whom I knew of and had been dying to meet. Blame it on the soybeans, but when Jean walked in, I was so overcome with emotion that I started crying and couldn’t stop without going to the restroom.

I’ll save my restroom rant for a separate post and mention that we went from Tony Pilla’s to Pearl, for the lesbian dance club experience that apparently the girls are addicted to now. Riding in Deedee’s car on the way over, I peeled off my pink and black tops and replaced only the black one, pulled my hair back neatly with the large barrette, replaced my ankle-length denim skirt with a mini with outdoorsy-inspired details, and took off my goofy striped toe socks. I’d gone from geek girl to urban club girl in a few minutes. Deedee hardly batted an eye. She’d seen my Sisters Friday routine many times before.

At Pearl, sadly, I didn’t recognize anyone I knew (other than Sisters, of course.) I’d been away too long Dancing was fun though, as usual. I felt very out of practice and awkward on the floor, and I couldn’t dance for more than one or two songs at a time with my breathing problems, but that was no problem with this group. I especially liked dancing with Madison, who, very high on gender euphoria, smiles ear to ear the whole time. Nn, also at Pearl, a girl named Sarah (I think) visiting from Germany(!) caught up with us. I had fun dancing with her as well. Gosh, so young and pretty, and having such a hard time understanding anything I said!

I danced until 1:30, then left the group to go catch up with Deedee at RISE. On the way I stopped for food at 7 Eleven and had much of it to finish yet when I arrived at RISE. I stood on the street and people watched. A group of four guys and one girl was also hanging out on the sidewalk outside RISE. One started in my direction and the others grabbed him and pulled him back, saying things like “uh uh, just let it go.” We all watched with amusement as some people went inside to find out what the place was all about came scurrying right back out. Done with my dinner, I walked around the corner to drop my trash in a bin, walked right through the middle of group outside the door, and disappeared inside. “Hi, I’ve been away for a while…” “You certainly have!” the doorman said. “…and my membership has long expired…” I started to explain. He already had a guest ticket in his hand. “Oh thank you!” I exclaimed, and scampered up the stairs, imagining puzzlement of the group outside that I didn’t come back out. Inside, I did find Deedee before long. Also saw Mandy, but as Deedee explained, most other faces I would have known from last year had moved on and were gone from RISE. The group from outside showed up before long. The guy that had started toward me on the sidewalk watched me dance and the expression on his face said “huh, I guess you do belong.” Deedee and I danced, talked, and were both tired relatively early. I think we left about 4:00.

Sure was good to be back.

Oh, just go buy a black skirt

Friday was a milestone night. Trina from Arizona was coming to see me, go to Sisters with me, and spend the night. I can’t resist retelling the story of Trina here.

It was the last week in July last year. Two weeks earlier I had been to GNO for the first time. I went with Jessica, and while we arrived just about the time the party was breaking up to go into Boston, I had seen the cross dressers from across the bar, talked with Krys Ann, and was now crazy curious about cross dressing. I was at GNO this night on my own, early this time, to have time to actually talk with the cross dressers and figure out if they were crazy or like normal people or what. This night when my mission was to meet some real live cross dressers, Trina was in Boston on business and looking for fellow CDs to hang out with and perhaps show her how they have fun in Boston. Trina and I then, being both eager and unfamiliar with the GNO routine, were at the hotel bar long before anyone else. I um…(sorry Trina!)…read her pretty easily and sat down next to her to strike up a conversation. This alone time gave us a chance to trade stories and get to know each other a little bit. This had to be a huge help for me to have the ice already be broken by the time others began arriving.

I’d love to know what her initial take on me was. I really think that she read me as TS at first glance. Anyway, over the course of the night, she put one of her bracelets on me, used female pronouns on me, and basically gave me my first rush of gender euphoria. By the end of the night, my fate was sealed. I was going to be a girl. Over the next *week*, I did everything: bought my first makeup, wig, purse, heels, outfit, jewelry, and picked a name. Trina was instrumental not only in transforming me that Friday night in July, but also in providing emotional support during this frenzied week. After my first attempt at shopping for an outfit ended in total failure, with me unable to imagine myself in anything, and therefore paralyzed from even trying anything on, Trina’s advice (by email from Arizona now) was “Oh, just go buy a black skirt!” “Right, right” I thought, my panic dissipating, “just go buy a black skirt.” And I did. I went back out the next night, tried shopping again, and with the panic gone, was able try on a number of things, and pick out a complete outfit–yes, that included a black skirt. The rest is history, mostly preserved in my journal here on the internet.

Here, over a year later, Trina was finally getting to meet me as Sonia for the first time. The night was wonderful and magical, just perfect. I was most happy that Trina got a rich sample of my world. She called on the cell phone when she was a few blocks away and I ran to the end of the street to meet her. I recognized the car from her description and held out my arms in “come hug me” position to get her to stop. She said later her first thought was, “what is that pretty girl doing on the side of the street doing?” just before realizing, “oh that’s Sonia!” We drove two block to the metered parking lot, walked back to my place to change, walked to the Square for dinner. I loved going out in public with Trina because she was right with me on choices of places to go. Of course she wanted to go to places that weren’t hostile toward TGs, but she trusted me when I said we could go anywhere in Davis Square, and was happy to go to ordinary places. We ate at Antonnio’s, the very nice Italian place that’s right there in the square. I’d have to go back and read my journal, but I think I ate there once by myself as Sonia when I was very new. It would have been one of my early experiments in acceptance. I vaguely remembered that it went well so I thought that the place was a good choice. Another choice I offered was (La Spina) where, I explained, the manager knew me and would be happy to see me. Trina didn’t come right out and say it, but I think she was thinking it would be more interesting to go to a place without such a crutch of predetermined acceptance. Of course we were accepted, and dinner was wonderful.

At Sisters, Trina was amazing with her instant rapport with girls. She talked at length with Danielle (satin blouse Danielle) and came away with amazing stories. She talked with Steffi and came away with very personal information that I don’t think Steffi had even told me. Everybody loved her. I was so happy and proud to be there with her. Ah, it’s unrelated to this story of Trina, but while I’m at Sisters, I have to note that Deedee looked really really good that night. Great colors in her clothes, good makeup, a happy smile. Ah, but she’s in love… Anyway, Trina and I opted out of dancing with the girls and we headed back toward my place. Actually to the Alewife garage and then on the subway one stop to Davis Square. Trina has wanted the experience of riding the subway, so this was cool to give her just a little taste of it. Nothing scary, as it was the last train and I think we had the car to ourselves, but still, part of the experience of Sonia’s world.

Trina also wanted one more drink before going home. She first had in mind a bar with a pool table, but I didn’t know how to deliver that off of the top of my head, and I don’t play pool much anyway, so we settled on a Davis Square Bar. Again following the principle of going to places without guaranteed acceptance, we went to Orleans. I explained that I had been there just a few times but was no regular, that it was a fairly classy place with a fairly young crowd. Well it turned out to be not quite the unknown I promised. I think the bouncer recognized me and waved us right in, as he was checking IDs for other people. The bartender recognized me for sure, welcoming me with a big smile, and a “hey! how are you?” Oops, I guess people remember me. Anyway, Trina needed to pee. I reassured her that she was welcome to use the ladies room, sent her off in that direction, and got us drinks from the bar. We sat and sipped and people watched the crowd of college kids and again, it was another perfect little slice of Sonia’s world.

Home finally, we made good on promises we had been making each other for over a year, and then slept really really well.

The next morning I wanted breakfast before sending Trina off. We walked out the door before choosing a destination and I started enumerating choices. “Just up the street is a quaint, almost girly, little breakfast cafe…” “Perfect” Trina said, “I don’t need to hear the other choices.” And perfect it was. She was struck by how “New England” Renee’s was. A little independent mom and pop type place, with local art on the walls, a worn wooden floor and so on. She had gone in the place saying that she really wasn’t a breakfast person, and ended up ordering a big wonderful breakfast and then carrying on about how good each little part of it was. I escorted her on the T back to the Alewife lot, we picked up her car and she dropped me off at my house, and we kissed good bye. Omg, what a great visit.

Pure Sisters

Friday at Sisters, Ashley was full of excitement over the First Event Fashion Show. That was a bit tedious, then finally I had the chance to chat with new girls Lilli and Josie. Lilli was particularly appreciative of having someone to talk to. When Ashley was asking who wanted to go dancing, I said my only excuse was that I had no money in my pocket. At that point Lilli handed me a twenty and insisted that I go.

We went to Pure again and again it was a cool scene. Josie drove, and it was just three of us at first, Josie, Ashley, and myself, although Ashley was talking to people on the phone who were planning on joining us there. The three of us set up camp at the corner of the bar, ordered drinks, Ashley ran off to dance when the DJ played her favorite song. I hung out with Josie, although conversation was all but impossible with the noise there. I went outside at one point to check phone messages, and there walking up the sidewalk was an easily readable t-girl, dressed in pretty ordinary jeans and top, and walking with a rather masculine gait. I watched her thinking I could catch her eye, but she passed the club without looking at me or anyone standing around outside. She paused and looked back over her shoulder, and around the corner came a guy in a suit. They made eye contact, and continued on up the street in formation. Hmm, sex work, I suppose. Back inside, I ran into (f)Emily near the front door and she ran to me and threw her arms around me. Startled, I stepped backwards, banging my head against a door frame or something. Then she was gone. Sheesh. Plopped back down next to Josie, I spotted Sarah, the girl I had danced with last time I was here! She came over and said hi and introduced me to the friend she was with and talked for a bit. I was starting to feel like I belonged.

A little later I was on the dance floor and a girl came and said hello and that she knew me from Gender Crash. Crap, I walk around in such a daze. I didn’t recognize her at all. Anyway, her name was Lindsey. We danced a little bit, I think, and then another came and wanted to dance. Very cute, very young. Omg, how does this happen to me? I asked her name. Cindy. And I tried to be polite and let her drift away to dance with others. Nope, she liked me. We danced a bunch more. She liked pretty suggestive dancing too, so we were grinding a bit, touching a bit. I was being all self-conscious about what I might feel like to her. I’m a guy dancing with a girl in a lesbian club. Lump in pants? Nope, not there, even with the grinding. Sorry, just doesn’t happen with me on the dance floor at age 46. But my hands and fingers though, surely were unmistakably masculine. Testosterone and dancing had to have my muscles feeling very firm. I was trying to have a soft touch, but not sure how well I was doing at it. I was holding her hips, her waist, her hands, touching her collar bone. I’m really afraid my touch felt like a guy’s touch.

While dancing, I also spotted Lisa, TS Lisa that I first met at Laura’s party. We exchanged waves and smiles but that was all. I was a little busy dancing with Cindy, but also Lisa looked like she was looking for dance partners, and I imagined she wasn’t looking for someone like me. Am I too humble? She’s young, pretty, a TS on hormones, and at a lesbian dance club, apparently by herself. I really doubt her first pick of dance partners would be someone like me. I was kind of afraid of approaching her, for a few reasons, I guess. Sure, I didn’t want to interfere with her plans for the evening, but I especially didn’t want to out her, or make her easier to read just by standing next to her. Well, those were my excuses. Truth is, I’ve always been shy to the point of intimidation by young pretty girls. I was when I was young and growing up as a boy, I still was when I was a middle aged man, and I’m afraid I still kind of have that reaction.

Two of the four people that Ashley talked to on the phone showed up. They were a Stephanie from out of town, and FAB Natasha, who had just done Stephanie’s makeover. Stephanie looked a bit familiar but I was assured that was impossible. Natasha looked a bit familiar and I learned I had most likely seen her at First Event. I was shocked the next day to look at the Photobucket pictures of Stephanie from the night before. Her makeup looked absolutely awful in photographs. It looked hideously too light, and full of plain-as-day application streaks. I’m just positive that it didn’t look anything like that in real life. In real life, I thought the makeup looked beautiful, exactly what you would want from a professional makeover. Somehow the camera flash must have been particularly cruel to her. Gosh, if I were Natasha I would have been horrified.

Sonia rides the T

Friday I tried to reproduce my record quick route to Sisters but failed miserably. The bus arrived at the orange line station just as the train was leaving, and the orange line runs so infrequently, that by the time the next train came, I had missed the bus for the third leg of the journey. I skipped Sisters and just went home.

Wendy birthday party

Sisters on Friday was a good one. I left home at 7:30, caught the 90 bus, the orange line, the 137 bus, in quick succession and was making record time. Not wanting to walk the last leg, I started calling people at random to see who could pick me up. Dina. She was just leaving her house to pick up Danielle. Negotiated in a flurry of phone conversations, Wendy ended up picking up Danielle, Dina scooped up me, and we all arrived at the hotel by 9:00. The crowd turned out to be the biggest one since our opening night in January. One special attraction was that Wendy had invited people to come and share her birthday cake. The cake was fun, and furthering the reverse giving, Wendy also brought little presents for everybody. I got a little bottle of red nail polish. Girls kind of went in different directions at the end of the night and six of us stayed to close down the hotel bar. 11:30 they were kind of shooing us out, and Daphne and I drove home.

Just like a lesbian

Friday I wasn’t feeing like rushing after work. I took my time at home, and of course didn’t have time to get to the hotel for Sisters. Wanting to get out though, I went straight to the club they were going to after the hotel. This was Pure again, the same as last week. I got there at 10:30 and I think I was the first customer through the door. I was worried at first that maybe there was only a crowd last week because it was a special event and that this week the place would be dead. Worries were unfounded though, and by midnight the place was packed. Shortly after that my Sisters arrived and we had yet another fun evening of dancing.

A brilliant dress

Friday evening was Sisters and after the usual nice time at the hotel, things got wild crazy fun. Ashley asked people where they wanted to go after the hotel, and then declared that we were going to…someplace, I don’t remember where, but it was a straight club. Steffanie threw a little tantrum at this. She wasn’t comfortable at any straight club and said that she was going home instead. Ashley reconsidered and the next choice was Pure, a lesbian club. This turned out to be a perfect choice that made everyone happy. The club was lots of fun, there was dancing, girls, and queerness. One fun surprise was seeing some of the MFP girls there that I had met at the picnic. Coincidentally, I had worn my big floral print dress this night. It was popular at Sisters because apparently not many of them had seen that dress, but then it was wildly popular at Pure. Some girls had to compliment me on it, saying it was “brilliant” asking where I got it. Here, I messed up, I’m afraid. It actually came from the Goodwill Store, but I was too embarrassed to admit it. After repeatedly refusing to say where I got it, I finally said it was vintage, and they were happy with that. My gosh, I know there’s no shame in shopping at the Goodwill Store. I just, don’t know what came over me. I wish now that I had not only freely told them where it came from, but that I asked them exactly what they meant by “brilliant.” Maybe they liked it just because it was so feminine? Because it had so much motion on the dance floor? Because it covered my silicone assets so well? I dunno. After the dance club closed, I did something a little different and went with the girls to Bickfords. I hadn’t done this since my first time out last August. I got to see how Ashley’s group was a regular there, and also got to see a group of guys get thrown out of the restaurant for making rude remarks about us. The waitress was wonderfully protective of us! Dina had promised to give me a ride home after Bickfords, but it was so late and she was getting so tired that she invited me to just come to her place. I went, and wow was it nice. Dina’s beautiful, and has wonderful style and makeup skills, and one of my favorite parts of her is her soft girl skin. She uses a rotary epilator and I think maybe it does the trick.