DeLine - Show trans

Copyright 2014, Elliott DeLine.

AllRights Reserved

A Nonfiction Novel By Elliott DeLine

PREFACE:

This preface was originallytyped on my phone and scribbled in my personal journal while I satin a Santa Cruz cafe. I've been out west for about two months now,and today is my last day before I fly out of San Francisco and backto Syracuse, New York. My laptop has been busted for about a week,but today I went with my housemate Lucas to San Jose State, whereI'm using a library computer. I've finally got a keyboard in frontof me. I've been going insane. Never has it been clearer to me howmuch I rely on writing for my sanity and on technology to be awriter. At the same time, writing the majority of this by hand gaveme time to take pause in a way that was very soothing and useful tomy purposes. As I find myself venturing into more personalterritory, without the veil of fiction, I need to be careful not tobe too impulsive. Not just for my own sake, but that of my readersas well. I want to avoid over-sharing and stick to that which Ifeel may be relevant to strangers. At the same time, I am seeking anew freedom from self-censorship and shame. You can only writeabout secrecy for so long eventually you've got to write aboutthe secrets. It is my hope that perhaps people who are harbouringsimilar secrets will breathe a sigh of relief in knowing it isn'tjust them. But as I am one of these people, I also anxiously tearat my hair, wondering, absurdly, if it is in fact justme.

I've never hesitated to beblunt about most things. I never have succumbed to a fear of whatthe cis or trans public may think of my writing, and for this I'vesometimes been criticized. For instance, in 2011, some feared mytongue-in-cheek essay in The New YorkTimes would be misunderstood. There arethings I have written and completely meant at the time, only toquestion later on. That's how it goes. I'm not concerned aboutit.

However, there are twothings about which I've always felt the need to be coy: mysexuality and my loved ones. These are of course interrelated. Andyet I find myself driven to write about both lately. This trip tothe San Francisco Bay Area provided me with some challenges thatmade me re-examine my ethics as a writer, as well as myresponsibility to friends, to other trans people, to myself and tomy artistic visions. My nonfiction writing especially, thoughunpublished, has caused rifts in my personal life. Fictionalcharacters based on people are one thing, and that's lost me afriend or two. But nonfiction writing is razor-sharp. If someonefeels you got them wrong...or worse, right...

It's still something I'm trying to figureout.

But as far as writing about sex, I believe Iam ready to take some risks. I fear most that I will hurt myfamily. In fact, if you are my family, I can't help but ask youtalk to me before reading the following novel or really anythingI've written, ever. But I can't control that. And well, if youhaven't disowned me by now...

Despite my anxieties, upon returning toSyracuse, I feel more assured in my work as a writer and dare I say oh god, do I really dare say? my work as a reluctant activist.Other people may not quite see what I'm doing. But I think, lookingback, it will be coherent. And if nothing else, perhaps I validatedsome very lovely human beings, "with loves and hates and passionsjust like mine."

In short: You can't pleaseeveryone, so you might as well please yourself. You can't speak thetruth, so you might as well speak your truth, and accept, soonerrather than later, that it's going to be a lonely ride.

I dragged Gabe to the local gay bar indowntown Syracuse. There was a triad of them: Trexx, Rain andTwist. Gabe hates bars, and so do I, but we had to do something,didnt we? We were both depressed beyond belief, stuck living withour parents, and besides, it was New Years Eve. At the time, Gabewas sleeping with some pudgy (allegedly smelly) kid whom he calledPasty.

Why Pasty? I had asked.

Cuz the muthafuckaspasty!

Gabe seemed to hate him. They had argued onthe phone most of our drive. Pasty didnt like that his boyfriendwas going out to a gay bar with another man on New Years Eve. Gabetried to explain that we were practically brothers, and had knownone another since the eighth grade. But that only seemed to makematters worse.

In a last ditch effort, I told himyoure trans, Gabe said as we walked down the sidewalk, closinghis phone.

Why? I asked, hiking up the collarof my black pea coat. In the winter, Gabe and I often matched, inour black pea coats, dark, slim-fit jeans, and blackboots.

I thought it would get him off myback. Im sorry. You know I dont discriminate, but I figured itwould shut him up for good.

I smirked. Okay. I understand.Whatever.

Outside the bar, I saw a man waving. Ididnt remember his name, but he always wore a baseball cap. Hecalled me Harry Potter. Several of them do. That or Justin Beiber.I have a remarkable ability to morph into pop culture icons. Hewould assure me not all older men are creeps, rub my back, tell meI was a good kid for staying in school. He bought me Yuenglings,lit my cigarettes... He reminded me of an uncle I never had. Acreepy uncle who was trying to get into my pants, but you take whatyou can get at times like this.

Harry Potter! Baseball Cap yelled,grinning, So good to see you man! He was dressed in a tuxedo, butstill wearing that awful baseball cap. We embraced. I dont knowwhy.

Happy New Year, I said. Nice suit.It really wasnt remarkable, but it seemed the appropriate thing tosay.

Thanks!

This is my friend Gabe.

Baseball Cap shook Gabes hand but didntreally seem to care, because because Gabe is Filipino. Most menaround here arent into Asians. Baseball Cap looked perplexed fora second. Perhaps he expected Gabes name to be Chang or something.He then moved his eyes back to my Anglo-Irish features. There areno Filipinos in Harry Potter, as far as I know. No transsexualseither, but my pretend gay uncle didnt yet know that about me.Sure, I was too fem for a lot of gay guys taste, but I didnt wearmy main disclaimer on my face. Gabe sometimes resented me for that.I could feel it.

Hey, come here, Baseball Cap said,putting his arm around my shoulder. In case I dont see you againtonight, heres some cash. He pressed two twenties forcefully inmy palm. Have a great night, okay? Heres a pack of cigarettestoo. Seriously, have a great night. Youre young, you gotta enjoyit while you can. Dance, have fun, live a little for once! Youdeserve it.

OK, I said. Thanks.

YOLO!

Right.

Gabe sighed as we walk away. Becareful

I am.

Ew. Hes pointing you out topeople!

He is?

Yeah, to those dragqueens.

I looked over my shoulder. I recognized oneof the drag queens as someone I had once drunkenly told I wastrans. She was black, stocky, shorter than the others, with a tightblack dress and high heels. Her make-up and hair were lessoutrageous than the others. Maybe she was a trans woman. I wonderedif she remembered I was transgender and if she would tell BaseballCap. I didnt much care. It would make things more interesting. Whoknows- sometimes it even made me more desirable.