Cis-perience: Chapter 7

“Hey, lady, is this your building or what?”

Kaylee had been so distracted, she’d lost track of the entire ride to her apartment. She’d spent the trip wrapped in Brandon’s arms in the back seat, but staring out the window at the buildings going by. Three times Brandon had asked ‘are you sure you’re okay? You seem really nervous’. She was shaking, to the point where it was noticeable by touching her arm. She told him she was just excited, but truthfully she really was terrified.

Kaylee had a step by step plan mapped out in her mind. Roxy and Risha were both out for the night, so she had the apartment to herself. Kaylee was infamous for over-planning things, especially when they made her nervous. Brandon had to find out completely on her terms; her safety depended on it.

“Yes, thank you,” she responded. They got out of the car and entered the building hand in hand. Her palms were wet and warm with sweat. She knew he could tell and hoped he still just chalked it up to excitement. They entered the elevator. The apartment was on the tenth floor. Kaylee wanted to push him against the wall and get the party started early, but the big reveal was only minutes away and she was just trying to keep herself from panicking.

The door opened to an empty hallway. Her unit was halfway down on the right. Kaylee could barely feel her legs beneath her. Ever the worrier, her mind envisioned every horrible way this could go. Would he yell? Would he try to get violent? Her plan accounted for all such scenarios, but she knew men put in this particular situation were highly unpredictable.

“This is me,” she said as they approached the door. She already had her key in hand. He lovingly kissed the back of her head as she slid the key into the lock. Kaylee paused and took a breath. He’s so wonderful. I hope he’s not about to leave me. “Give me just a second before you come in, okay?” she requested. “I gotta fix something before you see the place.”

“Just don’t be long,” he said with a smile.

With that, she slipped through the door and shut it behind her. Holding her breath, she turned the deadbolt, locking him out.

“Um…Kaylee?” she heard from the other side. “Did you just lock the door?”

“Can you hear me okay?” she asked. Her voice was cracking as the tears started. Holding back the panic was exhausting, and now that the time was here she couldn’t keep the wall up anymore.

“Yea, I can. What the fuck is this about? Are you crying?”

Kaylee leaned her back against the door. Her apartment was dark. A faint light from the hood over the stove shown like a beacon with no other lights to contend with it. She could see the twinkling of the Charlotte skyline out the window on the far wall. Her fists clenched and she took a deep breath. “Listen, Brandon. I like you a lot. Like…you have no goddamn idea how into you I am.”

“This is kind of a weird way of showing it.” It sounded like his confusion was turning to annoyance.

“Look, if this night is going where I feel like it’s going; where I really, really hope it’s going; there’s something about me you need to know.”

“And you have to tell me through a door?”

“It’s for my protection.”

“Your what?! Why would I hurt you?”

“It’s kinda a big deal and I don’t know how you’ll react.” Kaylee explained. A small tap echoed through the door. It sounded like he’d placed his palm on it.

He sighed, and there was a bit of a groan hidden inside it. “Kaylee. I really like you. I feel a strong connection between us. I can’t stop thinking about you. Whatever it is you’ve got going on in your life, I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t…”

“Brandon, I’m transgender!”

She just blurted it out, pushing the words as they stayed fearfully on the tip of her tongue like a skydiver with cold feet. Her revelation was followed by an eerie quiet, which amplified her pulse beating loudly in her head. Kaylee didn’t breath. She tried to imagine what kind of face he was making right then.

“What?!” Brandon finally said. He didn’t sound angry or enraged, but he was definitely confused.

Kaylee let out a long exhale. “I…I’m transgender.”

“Like…actually transgender?”

“Yes.”

“Like, you’re really a guy?”

Kaylee cringed. “Jesus Christ,” she whispered to herself.

“No, wait. I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry. I’m…I’m just kinda shocked, you know.” There was a pause.  “You’re really trans?!”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. Now the frustration was seeping over to her end of the conversation. He was making a sound like muffled laughter and it made her heart ache. Was he about to mock her like she and her friends did to that poor girl back at school?

“Holy shit…wow!” he said loudly. “I had…no fucking idea. Like, not a single clue.”

“Really?” she asked. A small smile cracked her tear-soaked face.

“Hell no.” He was laughing now, but it didn’t sound like he was mocking her. “I mean, you’re tall, and I thought you were a little stocky looking for a woman, but I never thought you were trans.”

“I’m hoping that was a compliment.”

“It’s at least meant that way.”

Kaylee took a moment to compose herself. There were several different emotions conflicting inside her mind, and she needed to focus. “Brandon, look, if you feel lied to or anything, I can’t say I blame you. I wanted to tell you, but…” The tears returned and she lost her composure. “You were just so cute, and you seemed so into me, and I’ve never had a straight guy look at me that way or treat me that way before. I didn’t want it to end. I still don’t want it to end.” She hung her head and slid down a little further against the door. “But, I understand if you do. If you want to walk away now, just go. I’ll never call you again.” She shut her eyes tight. “If you do, just know I’ll never forget you.”

There was another pause. Kaylee’s ears were on high alert, searching for any sounds from the other side of the door; footsteps, voices, anything. But there was only silence. The longer he waited, the more in pained her to know he was wrestling with the decision. It was so quiet, she heard the breath he took before finally speaking.

“Will you please open this door?”

“Are…are you staying?”

“Yes, Kaylee. Yes, I’m staying. But I’m tired of talking to a door when you’re sobbing on the other side and I really want to hold you.”

Kaylee rushed to her feet so fast she nearly tripped. It took four tries to grip the handle of the deadbolt and turn it again. Her fingers shook. Her breaths were deep and fast. The bolt clicked away and the doorknob turned beneath her hand. He was doing that part for her. She stepped back, letting the door open and the light from the hall fill the entryway.

Brandon rushed through the door and through his arms around her. Completely spent, Kaylee collapsed into him. She sobbed uncontrollably. Brandon held her up from beneath her arms, lowering the both of them down to their knees. He placed his left hand on her head and gently stroked her hair. “Hey…hey…it’s okay.”

“I…I was so scared to tell you!” she said through hysterical tears. “I didn’t know how you’d react or if you’d be angry or if you’d try to hurt me or…”

“Were you really worried about all that?” he asked, almost laughing.

Kaylee raised her head. Her cheeks was caked in mascara. “A part of me was, yes.”

“Well, I’m not going to do anything bad. I won’t say I’m not more than a little shocked and I definitely need a moment to process this, but don’t for a second think I’m going to hurt you or anything.”

Kaylee was so relieved that her tears turned to laughter. “How…how can you be this goddamn perfect? I mean, it shouldn’t be possible.”

He laughed with her. “Can we go sit down before we finish talking this out? I feel like we’re doing a tornado drill of something kneeling in the doorway like this.”

Kaylee stood and flipped on the lights. “Couch is that way. I need to go to the bathroom and compose myself first.”

Brandon gently kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be waiting.”

As Brandon plopped down on the couch, Kaylee retreated to the bathroom. Turning on the light blinded her temporarily, but muscle memory and a familiar lay of the land helped position her in front of the mirror. She was a mess, cheeked streaked with makeup and puffy, red eyes. Kaylee had spent a lot of time trying to determine how he would react to the news, but she never considered how she’d react to his reaction. She placed her hands on the counter and took a deep breath.

Time to get it together, Kaylee. He didn’t freak out, but that doesn’t mean he won’t need a lot of shit explained. You gotta get in there and clear the air. She pulled a makeup removing cloth from the dispenser and proceeded to wipe clean the disaster on her face. Once finished, she took a deep breath and shook out her arms. With a pivot of her feet and a turn of the knob, Kaylee reentered the living room.

Brandon was on the end of the couch, legs apart, arms limp at his sides, and head back. She could only imagine what was going through his head right now. “Are you okay now?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said softly with a smile.

His head popped up and his arms met on his lap. “Good, because I have a ton of questions.”

She laughed. “And you’ve more than earned a ton of answers.” She sat on the seat across from him. At first she thought about sitting next to him, but this conversation needed to be face to face. If the night continued its streak of good luck; cuddling, and hopefully more, would come later. She crossed her legs and put her hands on her knee. “Fire away.”

“Have you had surgery?”

His bluntness took her aback. She figured that would be one of the questions, but god if he wasn’t coming with an uppercut right after the bell. “Wow,” she started out. “Normally I decline to answer that but, seeing how I think we were both planning on fucking tonight…” She laughed and he didn’t, so she returned to a matter-of-fact tone. “No,” she said, half sounding defeated.

There was a small but noticeable cringe in his eyes. “So, that means you have a…a…”

“I do,” she said.

“Wow,” he whispered.

“I know it was the last thing you were expecting tonight…”

“Understatement of the year.”

“But, despite what chromosomes I have or how my genitals look, I promise you, I am a woman. I always have been.”

“That I don’t doubt,” he replied. His hands rubbed down his face before returning to his lap. “You look like one, and despite the bombshell you just dropped in my lap, I gotta say I still think you’re a pretty hot one.”

She smiled and looked away to hide her blushing cheeks.

“But that leads me to my next question: what have you had done? I mean, I doubt you’ve looked like that your whole life.”

Kaylee brushed her bangs out of her face. “I very much have not. Well, I’ve been on hormones over two years. That softened my skin and lightened my body hair.”

“Did it get rid of your beard?” He cringed again. She could see how awkward this was for him, but it made her all the happier that he was willingly pushing through it.

She shook her head. “No. Laser hair removal took care of that. I worked with a vocal coach to raise my voice, and the rest has just been diet and exercise.”

He looked puzzled. “Nothing else?”

“No.”

“Well, what about your…your…” Brandon put his hands out over his chest.

Kaylee laughed. “Oh no, no augmentation. These tits are all natural.”

“Really?”

“Yep; a result of hormones. Trust me, if I were buying them they wouldn’t be this small.”

Brandon leaned back and put his right arm on the back of the couch. “From what I can tell they look just fine.”

She blushed again. Her finger danced around her knee playfully. “You think so?”

“Well, I mean, I can’t tell with your shirt on.”

Her skin suddenly felt hot. Was he seriously flirting with her again? Could it all really be this easy? “Well,” she began as she slowly stood, “I can maybe do something about that.” Kaylee pulled her tank top over her head, revealing her bare stomach and lacy, black bra. She had a little belly to her, but wasn’t fat and had a nice figure; at least she thought so. From the look in his eyes, he agreed.

“Not bad, not bad. I still don’t have a clear picture though.”

Kaylee strutted towards him as she reached behind her back. Her fingers made quick work of her bra strap. The cups popped away and dangled from her shoulders. She lowered her arms, letting the bra come with them and expose her nipples. Her bra fell on the carpet and she stepped over it.

Brandon’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared. “See, they’re perfect.”

She felt her loins burning. Her leg muscles twitched, eager to straddle his lap and pick up where they’d left off earlier. She was right in front of him now, her shins on either side of his left knee. His eyes stayed fixed upon her had he undid the button of his pants and slid down the zipper. Kaylee bit her lip in eager anticipation.

“What do you have to show me next?” he asked in a seductive tone.

Kaylee unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. Her thumbs wrapped under the waist at her sides and started to push. She stopped a couple inches down and looked back at his eyes. “Are…are you sure.”

He nodded.

“Like…really sure?”

He smiled. “Show me.”

Kaylee held her breath as her jeans slipped down to her thighs. The bulge under her red panties was in full view, and knowing that made her feel numb. She stayed locked on his gaze, trying to read his thoughts in his eyes as she lowered her pants to the floor and stepped out of them.

Brandon leaned back and cocked his head to the side. “Now…that is a woman.”

“God I want you to fuck me!” she declared through gritted teeth. Before he could answer, Kaylee pounced on him. Her legs straddled his lap as her hands pinned his shoulders back. Her desire was uncontrollable. Her hips grinded against his lap as her lips descended upon his neck. As she softly bit on his skin, his hands locked onto her hips. They moved in motion, rocking in a sultry rhythm that consumed her. Kaylee lost all control, giving in to every instruction her carnal desires gave her. She gasped for each breath as she moved on top of him.

It took her a moment to realize that his hands had fallen away. Then she noticed his hips had stopped moving. She sat back, putting her hands on his shoulders and giving him a puzzled look. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“You’re…you’re hard,” he said. There was no desire in his voice. He even averted his eyes when he spoke.

“Yea,” she said in confusion. “It does that when I’m hot and bothered.” That when the final clue clicked in her horny brain. “But…but you’re not.”

“Look, I’m trying, okay?” he said, almost begrudgingly; like he was doing something required rather than desired. “It’s just, something I gotta wrap my head around.”

Kaylee’s heart sank. She could feel tears again behind her eyes and she cursed herself. You stupid, fucking idiot. How could you be this dense? Did you really think he’d just magically be okay with all of this?! She fell off his lap and curled up on the other end of the couch. Her legs were tucked up into her stomach. She tried to hide herself; to hide her body; to hide that cursed thing between her legs. She thought back to earlier at his apartment, how his cock sprang to life after only a few kisses. Here she was, practically naked and throwing herself at him, and he didn’t want her.

Why would he want me?! Why would anyone want me?! I’m a freak!

“Kaylee”, he said as he re-zipped his pants. “I just need some time, and then maybe I’ll…”

“Please, just go,” she said meekly.

“You don’t have to…”

“Just go, please!” she begged. With her eyes shut and her face buried in the throw pillow, she didn’t see him stand. She didn’t see him walk softly back to the door. She didn’t see him turn the knob or open the door. But she did hear him mutter ‘I’m sorry’ before he shut it behind him.

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Cis-perience: Chapter 5

Kaylee grew up dreading clothes shopping. Since she was little, her mom always took her to the same store in the mall to get everything. Each year, before school started, she’d take Kaylee and her two brothers out to get them an all new wardrobe. Her brothers loved it, but it pained her every time. The men’s section of the store was in the back, meaning they had to walk through the dress section to get there. Strolling through rack after rack of dresses was torture. She’d keep glancing back, staring at the things she wanted but couldn’t have for as long as she could. To make it worse, her brothers would often make fun of some of the items they passed. Anything with a lot of color or frills was something to point and laugh at. She always had to join in, less her brothers call her a faggot again and start punching her in the arm whenever mom wasn’t looking.

Now, clothes shopping was practically a sport to her. She adored going out to splurge on a new dress or pair of shoes. Even looking for simple jeans and t-shirts was a joy when she didn’t have to find them in the men’s section. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Kaylee and Roxy emerged from the Macy’s entrance and into Northlake Mall. They each already had bags in hand and Kaylee had a smile on her face. Shopping was like therapy to her.

“You ready for lunch?” Kaylee asked.

“I think I could eat,” Roxy replied. Her voice seemed distant, altered by the weight of whatever was on her mind.

“You’ve been in a fog all morning,” Kaylee said with concern. “You okay?”

“I’m worried about what’s going to come of that fuck-nut in Taylorsville.”

Kaylee used her free hand to rub Roxy’s back. “I’m sure it will blow over.”

Roxy gave a sarcastic laugh. “Blow over? In North Carolina? HB2 was only a few years ago, hon. Don’t tell me you forgot that hell already.”

Stopping at a bench in the center of the walkway, Roxy took a seat and set down her bags. Kaylee sat next to her, crossing her legs and leaning back. She was wearing a pair of chunky heels and it felt good to get off her feet for a second. “You really think they’ll try something like that again after that shit show? I’m sure they don’t want to face a bunch of boycotts again.”

“This is different,” Roxy retorted. “Now they have an actual instance to point to.”

“He wasn’t trans!” Kaylee insisted. “He has a full beard for fuck’s sake. At no point did he ever claim to identify as female.”

Roxy shook her head. “Won’t matter. It’s someone with a penis harming a cis girl in a bathroom; everything they need is right there on a platter.”

“Speaking of bathrooms, I gotta pee,” Kaylee said. She loved hanging out with Roxy, but her friend was killing the mood and she wanted to change the subject before everything became all doom and gloom.

“I’ll hold it till the food court.”

Kaylee pointed. “But there’s a bathroom right there. The food court is a long way away.”

“It’s the only spot with a family bathroom.”

“What does that matter?”

Roxy tilted her head back and took a deep breath. “Look, Kaylee. I love you like a sister. You know that, right?”

“Yea.”

“You gotta pull your head out of your ass.”

Kaylee tilted her head. “Excuse me?”
“Your passing privilege is going to your head. Not all of us can just waltz in and out of the women’s room without causing a scene.”

“You pass just fine!” Kaylee insisted. “You look great!”

“You do remember that our cashier at Macy’s called me ‘sir’, right?”

Kaylee opened her mouth to speak, but she knew there was nothing to say back.

Roxy pulled a stick of gum out of her purse and unwrapped it. “Tell you what,” she said before popping the gum into her mouth. “See that group of boys over there?”

Kaylee looked up. There were three guys standing against the wall. They all appeared to be in their mid twenties. The trio was huddled together, talking and laughing about something she couldn’t determine. “Yea.”

“There’s a trash can on the other side of them. I’m going over there to throw this gum wrapper away. You watch them while I move. If you don’t see them stare at me, laugh at me, or anything like that, I’ll go to the bathroom with you. If they do, you gotta buy me lunch.”

Before Kaylee could respond, Roxy stood and made her way to the trash can. Kaylee sighed softly. The boys were looking at her before she was ten feet away. One put a hand over his mouth to hide his sudden outburst of laughter. The other two started whispering back and forth. Roxy walked past them, seemingly unphased, and tossed her gum wrapper in the trash. All three boys were laughing now, and it made Kaylee’s stomach turn. On her way back, Roxy was treated to one of them shouting ‘tranny freak’. Roxy sat back down, crossed her legs, and stared at Kaylee.

“I’ll have sushi,” Roxy said.

“Rox…” Kaylee said softly. “I… I…”

“You…you…need to check your privilege,” Roxy said sternly. “You may be trans, but you live in a different world from most of us. Stop assuming this is as easy for everyone because it is for you.” Kaylee felt like shit. She didn’t know what to say, but knew nothing she did say would be appropriate. Roxy put a hand on her knee. “Listen, despite what you just saw, I love myself,” Roxy assured. “I like my body, and I’ve got tons of cam followers that love it too. This ain’t about me wanting to look cis. I just want to be treated like I was.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kaylee said meekly.

Roxy smiled. “Don’t sweat it; I’m not. You think I give a flying fuck what those boys think? They wish they could have a girl like you or me, whether they know it or not. Now, go pee quick so I can have my sushi.”

Kaylee smiled. “I’ll hold it till we get to the food court.”

The two girls stood an tured. Kaylee had only taken a few steps before a familiar face emerged from the crowd ahead. “Holy shit!” she said softly but excitedly.

“What?” Roxy asked.

Kaylee pointed. “It’s Brandon!”

He noticed her the moment she pointed. Though at a distance, Kaylee could see the smile she loved so much lighting up his face. His steps quickened as he made his way toward them.

Roxy leaned on her back leg and her eyes went wide. “Girl, you said he was fine, you didn’t say he was that fine.”

“Well, fancy meeting you here!” Brandon said as he stopped just in front of them. Kaylee leaned forward and hugged him. They’d made out the night before, so a hug now didn’t seem too forward. He embraced her, and Kaylee enjoyed the gentle squeeze of his bicep on her back.

“I know, right?!” Kaylee replied. “What are you doing here?”

“My sister’s birthday is next week, so I’m just out gift shopping.”

“Nice! You know what you’re getting her?” Kaylee asked.

Brandon laughed. “Not a damn clue! I’m so bad at this.”

“Well…would you like some help?” Kaylee inquired with a smile.

“You would be a lifesaver,” he replied.

“Eh-hem,” Roxy said. Her fake throat clear wiped the flirty smile off Kaylee’s face.

“Oh, right. Sorry. Brandon, this is Roxy. She’s one of my roommates.”

“Ah, very nice to meet you,” Brandon said while extending his hand. Roxy placed her fingers on his palm. She always said firm handshakes were for dudes and lesbians.

“You as well,” Roxy said. “Kaylee has talked about you constantly.”

“Roxy!” Kaylee snapped.

Brandon chuckled. “All good things, I hope. Listen, I don’t want to be a third wheel here. If you two already had plans then…”

“Oh no,” Roxy insisted. “I’ve got some new equipment I need to set up for work anyway.”

“What do you do?”

“Um…my work is web-based,” Roxy half explained. “Let’s leave it at that for now.”

“Well, I just need to run to the bathroom,” Brandon said. His eyes turned to Kaylee. “Still be here when I get back?”

She smiled. “Absolutely.”

Brandon headed off for the bathrooms. The two girls watched him as he walked away.

“Yep, he thinks you’re cis,” Roxy said.

“You sure?”

Roxy nodded. “You could tell it in his look.”

“How did he look at me?”

Roxy rolled her eyes. “Not at you, honey; at me. His eyes said, ‘holy shit, that’s a tranny’ the second he saw me; meaning it’s surprising to him that you would be with me.”

“So, what should I do?” Kaylee asked.

Roxy turned and put a hand on her arm. “He seems sweet, but don’t let your guard down,” she suggested. “If you gotta tell him, make sure you’re in a safe place. Don’t be in close proximity and try not to be alone with him.”

Kaylee’s skin crawled. “You really think he’d react that badly?”

“Cis guys don’t like finding out the girls they wanna fuck used to be dudes. It, like, messes with them on a subconscious level. Guys are trained to think anything even a little gay makes them less of a man. If they think that’s questionable, they’ll resort to violence to prove their manhood again. It happened to a girl I know online.”

“Really?”

Roxy nodded. “She met a guy at a bar. One thing led to another and suddenly they’re making out in the alley behind the building. He reached down between her legs, found something he wasn’t expecting, and lost his shit.” Roxy looked her in the eyes. Her concern was palpable. “He knocked out three of her teeth and broke her nose. If someone hadn’t come running when she screamed, he probably would have killed her.”

Kaylee suddenly felt cold. Brandon was so sweet. It was hard to imagine him reacting like that, but she knew it was possible.

“Make a guy question his manhood, and he’ll become a completely different person.” Roxy said.

“You think I should back away?” Kaylee asked.

Roxy shook her head. “Just be careful and don’t do anything stupid.” Brandon was coming back now. Roxy gave Kaylee a hug. “You’ll be fine, honey. Just use your head.”

“See you at home,” Kaylee said.

“Nice to meet you!” Roxy said loudly to Brandon as he approached. They waved at each other and Roxy disappeared into the crowds of shoppers. “You still owe me a lunch, Kaylee!”

“What was that about?” he asked.

“Inside joke,” Kaylee lied.

“So…um…can I ask you a question?” Brandon asked.

“Sure.”

“Your friend Roxy. Is she…like…transgender?”

Kaylee’s pulse quickened. Her knuckles turned white against the handles of the Macy’s bag she was holding. “I’m…not sure if it’s right for me to talk about that,” she replied. It wasn’t her place to out Roxy, but she obviously wasn’t keeping a big secret by not.

“Hey, no judgement here,” Brandon continued. “That’s super brave of her to be out like that.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I knew a trans girl in college and she was really cool. This state has put them all through a lot of shit.”

Kaylee’s body remained still, but in her mind, she was jumping up and down and singing. She at least knew now he was cool with trans people. A part of her wanted to go ahead and tell him now, but a small sliver of sense held her tongue. After all, her mother used to say she was ‘okay’ with trans people too, until it was her kid. When son Kyle sat her down and told her she was really Kaylee, suddenly being trans was a lot less cool.

“That’s really great of you,” Kaylee said warmly. “So, where do you want to start?”

Brandon shrugged.

“What kind of stuff does your sister like?”

“Um…clothes?”

Kaylee slapped her forehead in an overly dramatic gesture. “What’s her style?”

He shrugged.

“Ug, boys,” she said with a laugh. “Show me some pictures of her. Does she have a Facebook?”

“Yea, sure.” Brandon retrieved his phone from the pocket of his jeans.  His thumbs swiped across the screen, searching for the right page. “You have a Facebook?” he asked while staring at the screen.

“I do,” she replied, “but I’m barely ever on there.” She averted her eyes, not wanting him to see in her face that she was lying. Barely a day past that she wasn’t posting to Facebook, and it was usually selfies. But her online presence held more than a few giveaway regarding her trans status, so best to keep him away for now.

“I probably use it more than I should,” he said. “Here she is.” Brandon held out the phone to let Kaylee study the picture.

“Okay; she’s got kind of a boho-chic thing going for her.”

“A what?”

“Boho-chic.”

Brandon laughed. “Gesundheit.”

Now Kaylee was laughing too. God, how she loved his sense of humor. “I’m going to have to teach you everything,” she said. “Follow me. I know just the store.” Kaylee paused when she felt Brandon’s hand slip into hers. It startled her. Kaylee whipped her head back to face him and his eyes grew wide.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I didn’t know if that would be too forward or not but, after our kiss last night…I…”

She smiled warmly and gave his hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry so much,” she said. “If this wasn’t obvious, I’m, like, seriously into you.”

He blushed. “The feelings mutual.” Hand in hand, the two made their way through the crowded mall. “Oh, I was going to ask you something,” he said after playfully slapping his forehead.

Kaylee gave him a puzzled look.

“My roommate and I are throwing a little party for the disk team; just something fun to do since they’re rescheduling our match. Did you want to go?”

“Where is it?”

“At our apartment.”

At those words, Kaylee’s conscious was kidnapped and replaced by the voice of Roxy. Assuming the new position, Roxy reminded her that a strange apartment full of jocks is likely the last place a trans woman should be going. There were a thousand ways it could go wrong, and most of them involved one of his friends clocking her and spilling the beans. Guys finding out they want to fuck a trans girl was one thing, but for the revelation to come while surrounded by ‘the bros’ would be a recipe for disaster. Roxy was loud, but not loud enough to override her fluttering heart as she squeezed Brandon’s hand. All of her risky decisions so far had paid off. Why not roll the dice again?

“Sounds like fun,” she said with a smile.

“I’ll pick you up.”

Dan Forest And Poorly Disguised Bigotry

There’s an old adage that, if you’re going to say something, you should at least have the guts to say it to my face. Take, for example, the KKK and Neo-nazi groups staging violent demonstrations across the nation. They hate minorities and want nothing but harm for minority communities, but they at least admit that up front. I rarely hear a skinhead beat around the bush when talking about the rights of black people or the ludicrous notion of “white genocide.” With these deplorable monsters, you know exactly what you’re getting at face value.

Other hateful people aren’t so subtle. Some will even try to spin their bigotry as something positive. And no one is better at doing that than politicians. Pissing on your face and trying to convince you it’s raining is practically an art form for some elected officials. Here in North Carolina, we were recently blessed to have a blatant example of this terrible practice. Lieutenant Governor Dan Forest released a statement a few days ago in response to Governor Cooper’s executive order guaranteeing protections for state employed transgender people (it was about other stuff too, but that’s the main point for the purposes of this post). His full statement is below:

For Immediate Release: Lt. Gov. Dan Forest’s Response to Gov. Cooper’s Executive Order

Governor Cooper’s Executive Order once again opens the bathroom stall for those who would seek to do women and children harm while falsely claiming they are transgender. While I take at face value the Governor’s intent to help transgender people use the bathroom of their identity, his order creates a legal loophole that will be exploited by non-transgender pedophiles, stalkers and perverts. All bathrooms at state rest areas, parks and museums will now be fertile ground for sexual deviants who will falsely claim to be transgender to gain protected access to our women and children.  

Is your skin crawling too?

I’ve dealt with a lot of different kinds of transphobia. Many times it’s blatant and obvious. When I get called sick, mentally ill, psychotic, confused, sinful, etc., it is by people who wear their trans hate on their sleeve. This statement represents the more sly, subtle form of transphobia. First off, you’ll notice he says “I take at face value the Governor’s intent to help transgender people use the bathroom of their identity.” He doesn’t try to invalidate the identities of transgender people and seems to indicate that Forest believes transgender people are indeed who we say we are (imagine that!).

However, the rest of the statement divulges into one of the most textbook examples of fear-mongering and outright lying I’ve seen from a politician in recent time. Consider the notion that, with these protections in place, “sexual deviants…will falsely claim to be transgender to gain protected access to our women and children.” This just flat out does not happen; at least not with any kind of regularity that it could be considered a present danger. You’re more likely to die being crushed under a vending machine than you are attacked by someone “pretending” to be transgender. It’s practically a made-up crime.

Speaking of crime; this argument, as well as any other argument I’ve ever heard against letting trans people just pee in peace, completely overlooks one big issue: molestation and sexual assault are already crimes! It doesn’t matter if you’re in the men’s room, the women’s room, in a car, at the office, at home, a movie theater…anywhere! Assault is against the law. If someone “pretends” to be trans to go into the bathroom and assaults someone, they’re still committing a crime whether trans people are allowed in there or not.

This is just trying to spin your bigotry as a positive, pure and simple. And just look at the language he uses! “All bathrooms at state rest areas, parks and museums will now be fertile ground for sexual deviants.” Talk about fear mongering! He’s ignoring the fact that trans protections are already in place in other parts of the country and they’re not experiencing anything even close to this. Forest is crying wolf; making up a boogieman that doesn’t exist. He needs something to scare people with so they won’t think rationally about the issue. Trans people are harmless. I won’t say it’s never happened that a trans person did something bad in a restroom. But if we’re going to throw up single instances as proof that there’s a bigger problem in need of solving, then I’m free to bring about gun control by sighting the mass shootings that happen every single goddamn day in this nation. You can’t use one logic for something you hate and then use another for something you don’t.

I’m sick of hearing that my safety and dignity have to be compromised so people who don’t want to understand me don’t have to think about me. Being “weirded out” by trans people isn’t an excuse to kick us out of anything. And for god sake, stop dressing this all up as a means of protecting cis women and girls. It’s all a farce with you. How many women had to come out against the likes of Harvey Weinstein and Bill Cosby before the public started to believe them? We both know that if a man went into a restroom and molested a cis woman, they would ask what she did to coerce him.

Dan Forest, you are a bigot, and it’s clear in every hate-filled word you write. In case you happen to be reading this, I dare you to speak to me face-to-face. I want you to tell me to my face why my safety isn’t important. Explain to me why I have to be put in danger because cis women must be protected from a phantom threat you made up to stir the public. Or, better yet, just have the spine to admit that it’s all just because you hate me and others like me. You’re no different than the monsters marching in Charlottesville or burning crosses in the middle of the night; you just express your bigotry in more subtle ways.

Mr. Governor, How Long Must Trans People Wait for Liberty?

Yesterday it was announced that Roy Cooper, governor of the great okay flawed disgraceful state of North Carolina was signing an executive order that makes it illegal to discriminate against LGBT people in government employment. It also bars the state from contracting with any business or organization that discriminates against LGBT people. It’s a bold move, especially given the current political climate of NC. The heavily Republican controlled general assembly has his office so locked up that he basically can’t do anything. I’ve lost count how many of his vetoes have been overridden just this year.

So, once again, my home state is going to be talking a lot about transgender people. The order applies to all LGBT people, but the focus for most queer opposition these days has been on the transgender community, so that’s going to get the bulk of the attention in all this. I have a lot of feelings about this as well as a lot of information that I think needs to be worked through a filter or two. In this post I’ll be both defending Cooper as well as raking him over the coals. I will not, however, be praising him at any point. This new development hasn’t removed him from my shit list.

First off, I need to address the people decrying that this order doesn’t do nearly enough. Why only protect government employees? Why not extend that protection to all LGBT people, regardless of where they work? Well, because he can’t. Executive orders aren’t all that powerful. Cooper can protect government office workers because they all technically fall under the executive branch of government, which therefor makes him their boss. This is very much a case of doing what you can with what you have. I originally turned my nose up at this part because, as far as I know, this is already the case. After the national shit-show started over the passage of HB2, then governor McCrory tried to save face by passing essentially the same thing. His order also stated that government employees who were LGBT would be protected from discrimination. It was a pretty empty gesture though, since the law still made it illegal for transgender people to use public facilities in state-owned buildings. Basically, you couldn’t be fired for being trans, just as long as you never had to pee while at work.

It’s the second part of this order that’s really new. Baring the state from contracting with anti-LGBT groups is a big step. Ironically, it basically makes one of the most hated parts of the Charlotte transgender protection ordinance a statewide policy. That’s good, and serves as a nice middle finger to the Republicans who hated the Charlotte ordinance so bad they wrote the cancerous HB2 to begin with. Cooper had mentioned right after the passage of HB142 DietHB2 that he would be passing some sort of LGBT protection order. There’s been nothing but silence on the matter for months, leading me to think he honestly just tossed the idea once the public ire died down. That’s the one good mark I’ll give him here; at least he came through on his word…this time.

What I want to stress though is that, in my mind at least, this does not exonerate Cooper from signing HB142 in the first place. For those who don’t know, 142 was the replacement to HB2 that basically repealed the bill but barred local governments from passing any kind of non-discrimination laws until the year 2020. It was passed because the NCAA was threatening to take NC off the list of potential championship hosts for the next ten or so years if they didn’t repeal HB2 by their arbitrary deadline. 142 is how they did that. It was signed into law by Cooper after receiving support from enough Democrat senators to get it through the GA. One of those senators was Terry Van Duyn of Asheville, and I had the pleasure of getting to say to her face that it was a load of crap and that I’d lost respect for her.

After 142 became law, the Democrats (Cooper included) who backed it trotted out a synchronized song and dance about how it was only a first step, and that they would keep fighting for transgender equality. It was a message that went over with trans people as well as a cow gets over a ten foot wall, and I was definitely part of that group. It was a load of crap, so much so in fact that it’s the reason I’m still not forgiving him, even after this new executive order. Why, you ask?

Because it should never have happened in the first place.

Remember, LGBT people aren’t a federally protected class. When you tell local governments they can’t pass non-discrimination laws, LGBT (and especially T) is really the only group you’re screwing over. And don’t forget, 142 was passed to save basketball games! Yes, there’s a lot of revenue on the line there, but since when is their a monetary value on the safety and security of a group of human beings? I’m transgender and luckily work for a company that respects my gender identity. What if tomorrow we get a new CEO and they don’t like trans people? They could call me into the office and fire me on the spot, and there’d be nothing I could do about it. That’s a fear I have to live with. That’s a fear the family I provide for has to live with. And Roy Cooper signed a law which told me it’s better for me to keep suffering through that for another 3 years than for the state to lose some basketball games. You know what message that sends? That tells me I’m not completely a person. That tells me my rights, my dignity, my safety, and my basic humanity aren’t as important as they are for other people. Can you imagine if the same kind of law was passed about a religion, or a race? There would be sustained public rage. No amount of money is worth leaving them out in the cold, but that apparently doesn’t apply to transgender people.

So that’s my take. Is this a good order? Yes. Does it forgive Roy Cooper for betraying the transgender community? No. It doesn’t matter that he’s fighting for our rights now, because he already demonstrated that our rights were only worthy of the ‘when I can get around to it’ pile. We’ve already been shown that we’re just talking points to him instead of actual people, and I for one am sick of being treated that way. I won’t be happy getting something just because I rarely get anything. I’m just as much a person as cisgender people are, and I refuse to be seen any differently. So go ahead and call your order a step in the right direction. It doesn’t matter how many steps you’ve taken if you waited in the blocks when the race first started. I am not something for you to just get around to when it’s convenient for you.

I don’t appreciate having to wait to be a person.

Cis-perience: Chapter 4

“Risha, I’m getting ready to get into the elevator. I’ll need to call you back.”

Kaylee knew that excuse wouldn’t work, but she really needed to get her off the phone. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to fill her roommate in on all the details of last night’s date, but much of the conversation wasn’t appropriate to have it in a crowded office building. Risha had a commanding voice normally, but excitement amplified it considerably. With how loudly she was coming through the phone, it was like she had it set to speaker.

“You can not leave me hanging like this!” Risha insisted. “I need details!”

“If you wanted that so bad you shouldn’t have spent the night at Lauren’s place.”

“Girl, you know I ain’t gonna pass up a chance for me and my girl to…”

“Gotta go, bye!” Kaylee said before quickly hanging up the phone. People in the lobby were already starting to look at her, and she didn’t need Risha to blurt out the details of Lauren sitting on her face last night. She loved Risha like a sister, and often was jealous of her brave, proud demeanor. But it was time to go to work. The gossip hour would have to wait until this evening.

Kaylee loved going to work. She’d spent her young life in the backwoods of the Appalachian mountains, dreaming of having a posh life in the city. The bright lights striped across the ceiling reflected off the glossy, beige floor. The clicks of dress heels and polished men’s shoes echoed off the brown and silver walls like she was in a cathedral. A large, flat TV hung on the wall just before the row of four elevators. Upon the screen, Rachel Maddow recounted the top stories of the day. Finely dressed business men and women crisscrossed the lobby while talking on cellphones or sat upon benches along the wall with computers in their laps. It all coalesced into a snapshot of big-city life, and even though she’d called it home for almost three years now, it always felt as it did on day one.

The elevator doors opened as she approached them. Others waiting had already pressed the call button, but it added to the overall feeling of the universe just falling into place for her. She barely felt her feet on the ground because, to her, it felt like she was walking on clouds. Her mind was locked on that kiss. Her skin still tingled from being pressed against the stubble on Brandon’s face. She remembered the feel of his hands on her hips. No matter how things went with him from now on, she hoped it would never tarnish that moment they’d shared. He still didn’t know she was trans, and if things were to continue he’d eventually have to know, but for now she was living her own metropolitan fairytale.

The polished, silver doors closed and the elevator took off. She spent the ride looking at her reflection in them, though she ignored the fact that she was the tallest person in the elevator. Kaylee was a vision in her cream colored, flowy dress pants and silky, short-sleeved black blouse. Her black pumps raised her another inch off the ground, but she was addicted to the way they clicked on the linoleum floor when she walked. She was the image of a woman with success, a woman with looks, and now a woman with a hot guy yearning for her.

If only she could’ve been a woman with a vagina; then she’d have it made.

Kaylee got off on the 17th floor. The offices for DCS was at the end of the hallway. Double glass doors with the company logo emblazoned across them awaited her at the end of the tan carpeted corridor. Kaylee pulled on the long, stainless handle and made her way into the office.

“Hello, Kaylee,” the receptionist said with a smile. She was a portly, pale woman with short, curly brown and silver hair. Her thick-rimmed glasses were suspended by a chain of large, obviously fake “diamonds’.

“Good morning, Madison,” Kaylee replied with a smile. She heard a few more hellos on her way to her desk. She shared a block of cubicles with three other people. She was grateful to have made it to this point in her career, but her eye was always on one of the private offices along the walls with a 17th floor view of uptown Charlotte. Years ago she was amazed they even let her stay on after coming out to human resources; today she was hungry for a promotion.

She set her stuff on the desk as her phone buzzed in her purse. She fished it out and tapped the screen. REMINDER: Staff Meeting – 15 Minutes. She didn’t really need the reminder since it was how every Friday morning started off, but she never bothered to delete it.

“So, how is Kaylee this morning?” a voice asked from her left.

She smiled as she turned. The man at the desk next to her was rather short, with olive skin and overly-gelled short black hair. He was sharply dressed, too, with a freshly pressed pair of black pants and royal blue shirt. His tie was silky and solid black, done up at the collar with a fancy knot that looked like a flower.

“I’m wonderful!” Kaylee exclaimed. “How is Bashir?”

“Bashir leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling. “Just living the dream, like every other day,” he replied sarcastically.

Kaylee sat in her seat and pulled up her email client. After sifting through a few messages, she noticed Bashir’s eyes focused on her. “Something up?” she asked.

“Was about to ask you that,” he answered. “Curious to know why you’re grinning so much.”

“Well,” Kaylee said as she pushed her rolling chair away from the desk. “I had a date last night.”

“Did you now?” Bashir said. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Guy or girl?”

“Guy.”

“Hot?”

Kaylee gave an exaggerated laugh. “As fuck.”

Bashir rubbed his hands together eagerly. “I need pictures.”

The request gave Kaylee pause. “Um…I actually don’t have any.”

Leaning back again, Bashir put up his hands. “Well, as you Americans say: pics or it didn’t happen. Just pull up his Facebook.”

Kaylee grabbed her phone. “I’ll have to find him.”

“You went out with this guy and didn’t already friend him?”
“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Kaylee paused as she typed his name into the Facebook search box. His profile was the first result. She smiled as she beheld a picture of him in baggy blue shorts and a white tank top. He was outdoors with a group of guys. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes. He was just so dreamy. “Because he doesn’t know I’m trans yet.”

Bashir’s eyes opened wide. He slid his chair around his desk and into her cubicle. “You mean he couldn’t tell?”
Kaylee raised an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks,” she said sarcastically.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bashir corrected. “But you didn’t tell him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why should I have to?”

“Well, don’t you think he has a right to know if he’s dating you? Maybe he’s not into trans women.”

Kaylee closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “If he’s into women, then trans or cis shouldn’t matter.”

Bashir smirked. “Well, we both know we don’t live in ‘Should-land’.”

“Here’s his picture,” Kaylee said as she turned the phone to him. The conversation was starting to piss her off and she hoped this would stop the uncomfortable turn things were taking.

“Damn, he is cute!” Bashir exclaimed.

“I know, right?!”

“Send him a friend request.”

Kaylee siged. “I told you, I’m not ready for that.”

“Because he’ll find out you’re trans if he stalks your page?”

“Yes.”

Bashir rolled back to his desk. “So it’s no big deal to not tell him, but it is a big deal that he not find out? Don’t you think that’s a bit hypocritical?”

“Fuck you!” Kaylee said louder than the meant to. A couple eyes in the neighboring cubicles turned to them, but soon went back to their computer screens.

“Look, honey,” Bashir started. “You know I love you. You know I support your and I will personally be cheering for you two to fall madly in love and for him to have a huge cock you get to ride into next week.”

Kaylee snickered.

“But if it’s not important for him to know you’re trans, then it can’t be important to keep it from him.” There was a pause. Clicking keys and ringing phones were the only sounds in the open office space. Bashir turned back to his keyboard. “I only say it because I love you, girl.”

Kaylee just sat there. She felt deflated. If Risha were there, Bashir would be getting an ear-full about trans women being just as valid as cis women and that she had a right to privacy. Risha had a much stronger spirit than she did. Kaylee knew it was right, but she did feel like a hypocrite. Thoughts of how Brandon would react if he found out kept popping up in her mind, and she tried her best to push them away. She didn’t want to face them, not yet. She was enjoying her chance to feel like it wasn’t something she had to worry about.

“We gotta get to the boardroom,” Kaylee said softly.

With her laptop under her arm and a coffee cup in her free hand, Kaylee pushed through the glass door on the far wall and stepped into the boardroom. Easily the largest room in the office space, it had eight foot tall windows across the entire wall. The full beauty of the uptown Charlotte skyline served as the backdrop of each day’s business. The table at the center of the room was roughly twenty feet long with a sleek, black, polished surface. A microphone and wall outlet was built in at every seating spot along the table. A projector sat suspended from a beam in the ceiling, casting the image of the DCS logo onto a white backdrop on the wall.

Kaylee took her seat and set her stuff on the table. She took a deep breath as she unlocked the screen on her laptop. Don’t let him kill your high, Kaylee. When her desktop came up it was all set to go. The data from her meeting at the airport was front and center.

“Good morning, everyone,” said a commanding voice from the door. Donald Reed, or ‘Don’, was a middle-aged man with a golden tan and most of his hair gone. He sported a thick moustache and small set of reading glasses. A gray and white suit covered his tall, chubby body. “I trust everyone is ready to get started.

“Yes sir,” said all in attendance, Kaylee included. She took a sip of her coffee.

Don took a seat near the end closest to the screen. “First things first. I need an update on where we are with the Barren Industries account. Kyle, you’re up.

Kaylee took a long, deep breath and closed her eyes.

“Er, sorry,” Don corrected. “Kaylee.”

“Thank you,” Kaylee said as she stood. Almost two years to the day and he still fucks that up sometimes. “I spent about two hours with Mr. Barren yesterday and took him to dinner. He had very few concerns and I’ve already emailed those out to everyone. He’s ready to see the full presentation before he flies back out on Tuesday.”

“Is he staying all weekend just to wait on us?” A woman at the far end of the table asked.

Kaylee shook her head. “His daughter lives in Matthews, so he’s visiting her.”

“Excellent work, Kaylee,” Don said with a smile.

“Thank you, sir.” Kaylee’s phone screen lit up. She knew to keep it on silent during meetings, or else Don would have scolded her for the distraction. She glanced down. It was a text from Roxy. Could my roommates please wait till five to beg me for gossip? She slid the phone under the table and pulled up the message: ‘hon u c this? There was a link attached. She glanced up. Don was talking to Josh about financials, which had nothing to do with her. Convinced she wouldn’t be needed for a moment, Kaylee clicked open the link.

It was a CNN article. First she saw a mug shot of a large, white male with no hair and a thick beard. The title popped up next, and she immediately saw why Roxy had sent it to her. NORTH CAROLINA MAN CHARGED WITH MOLESTING TEEN GIRL IN WOMEN’S RESTROOM. Her stomach turned. Her mind filled in much of the story with just the image and the title, but she read on anyway.

‘TAYLORSVILLE-NC: A 40 year old man from Alexander County has been charged with following a teenage woman into the women’s restroom at the Taylorsville Walmart and exposing himself to her. Authorities were alerted to the Walmart at 5:40pm on Friday evening. After being shouted out of the restroom by the victim and several other women, the man continued to shop in the store. Store management followed him until police arrived, at which point he was arrested for indecent exposure.’

Kaylee gritted her teeth. She could already hear the comments people would make against trans people because of this. The state had infamously dealt with transgender bathroom issues in the past, and it was still a hot-button issue. The thought of reading any more made her nauseous.

“Kaylee!” Don said loudly.

Her boss shouting shook her from her thoughts. She looked up. All eyes were upon her. “Yes?”

“Something taking your attention away from this meeting?” Don asked sternly.

“I…uh…got a news alert on my phone,” she answered, only half lying.

“Anything important?” Don asked. “Anything we should be worried about?”

Kaylee sighed as she gazed out the window. The sky was getting cloudy, and the regular reflections of sunlight in the adjacent buildings was fading. “I really hope not.”

Cis-perience: Chapter 3

It was a miracle Kaylee hadn’t wrecked her car on her way to Dos Amigos restaurant. Not only was she nervously shaking, but her eyes constantly left the road to check her reflection in the visor mirror. It wasn’t for vanities sake, though she was often prone to it. It had been nearly a year since the last time she was on a date, and she’d never dated a guy while presenting authentically. The only boys she’d ever been out with were gay. This was something different. Not only was Brandon straight, she supposed, but he also seemed to think she was cisgender. That prospect was exciting, but also terrifying.

Kaylee would be the first to admit she had a lot of things going for her prior to transition. Even before she took her first Estradiol pill she looked pretty feminine. Her skin was fair with very little body hair. Her adam’s apple barely showed. Hormones served more as icing on the cake rather than a dramatic transformation.

Still, that didn’t mean she was without masculine features, the most glaring of which being her height. She hated standing in groups, especially with cis women. Even in flats she towered over most of them. Kaylee always felt like she stuck out figuratively, but standing half a foot taller than most other women made it literal as well.

The parking lot was packed as she pulled in. After turning the key and shutting off the engine, she found herself frozen in place. Her heart raced. It had been a while since she experienced this, but she recognized the feeling. In her early days of transition, going into a crowded place was always nerve wracking. There were always eyes on her, whispers started flying after she passed people by. It had been months since she felt a room staring at her. Sure, the occasional person clocked her and made for an uncomfortable moment, but then it would pass and life would resume.

It was strange to be this nervous about going into a restaurant again. It wasn’t that she thought everyone would tell she was trans, but the thought of sitting with a guy she didn’t know and convincing him for an entire evening was terrifying. Her fingers played with the hem of her pleated, black skirt. She figured it was too dressy for this kind of date, but Lauren had been so eager to dress her up. Truthfully, seeing herself in the mirror on her closet door boosted her confidence. Kaylee had legs for days. They were one of her best features. Some cute flats and a flowy white shirt with drop shoulders rounded out the look. In the bedroom mirror she’d seen a confident, sexy woman.

Now, she saw a guy in a skirt.

She was two parking rows from the door. There was a trio of guys smoking just outside. She cringed, not liking the idea of having to walk through them. Maybe she would just wait for them to go back inside. This lack of confidence was so unlike her, but this was unlike anything she’d experienced before. The door opened and a hetero couple exited with their leftovers in styrofoam containers. A hand caught the door before it shut, and Kaylee saw Brandon’s head poking out to survey the parking lot.

“Oh, shit!” she said to herself. He was already here. Was his hotel close by? How eager was he to see her? Her hands shook in her lap. Closing her eyes, Kaylee took a couple of deep breaths. “You’ve got this,” she whispered. “You’re confident and he’s really into you. Don’t wimp out now.” She reached for the handle and opened the door. The air was hot and muggy after the storm and she could already smell grilled chicken and peppers wafting from the restaurant. She was careful to keep her legs closed as she stood, knowing her Corolla was pretty low to the ground for a 6 foot woman to be getting out of in a thigh-length skirt.

He was waving at her before she even shut the door. Even in the dim streetlights, she could see that cute smile on his face. It made her relax a little. He looked so genuinely happy to see her. She smiled and wiggled her fingers. He was wearing a polo shirt, dark blue jeans and brown shoes. He was more dressed up to see her than he was to get on an airplane.

Kaylee took small steps across the parking lot. One thing she’d learned in transition was to shorten her stride; it made her look more feminine. The three smoking guys were looking up now and she felt a lump in her throat. There were only two reasons she ever got stared at: either someone thought she was hot or they could tell she was trans. Kaylee tried to keep her attention on Brandon. If she’d been clocked by the guys, she’d find out regardless of whether or not she watched them.

“Don’t you look amazing,” Brandon said with a big grin. Kaylee melted. His voice entranced her, and she caught his eyes scanning her hungrily. She knew she was blushing, and a moment later she knew he could tell.

“Thank you,” she replied. “I hope I’m not too dressy.”

“Not at all. Let’s go get a table.”

The restaurant was noisy. An amalgam of indiscernible conversations were accentuated by the crackling of sizzling fajitas and clinking glasses. The air was alive with the smells of meats and spices. They were led to a table on the far wall. Kaylee was relieved to be sitting again. Standing in a room where most were seated meant lots of eyes on her, and that’s exactly what she didn’t want. She was glad to be with a guy taller than her, but the waiter was only about five foot eight, and she felt like she towered over him.

Brandon sat across from her. The waiter put a basket of chips and bowl of salsa on the table before asking for drink orders.

“Can I see a beer list?” Kaylee asked. Whenever she talked she tightened her throat and put extra air behind her words to raise the pitch of her voice. It was second nature to her now, but in situations like this, where passing felt of dire importance, she put a lot more conscious effort into making it sound as convincing as possible.

“Si, senorita,” he said before stepping back to the server station. Kaylee let out a sigh of relief. Senorita: a female pronoun. It was always reassuring to hear them. The waiter returned with the list and handed it to her.

“Um…I’ll have a Stella, please,” Kaylee requested.

“Same for me,” Brandon said. “You know good beer,” he said with a grin. “Definitely off to a good start.”

Kaylee was a bit of a beer enthusiast, but truthfully she just knew she wouldn’t get through this without a little booze. “Sorry your match got rained out,” she said.

“It happens,” Brandon replied.  There will be other matches.”

“I just hate to think you flew all this way for nothing. They should at least reschedule.”

“Flew?” Brandon said with a puzzled look.

Kaylee grabbed a chip and dipped it into the salsa. “Flew? As in flew into town for the meet?” Was she not making sense?

Brandon’s eyes went wide and he laughed. “Oh! Oh, you thought I… Now that is funny!”

“Am I missing something?”

“You thought I was at the airport because I got off a plane. I was picking up another player.”

“What?!” Kaylee asked with more surprise than she wanted to show.

“Yea, I live in Belmont.”

Kaylee felt a cold sweat on the back of her neck. He was local. Belmont was about twenty minutes away. She cursed her stupidity. Why didn’t she ask where he was from back at the airport? This changed everything. No longer was this definitely a one-time thing. His interest wasn’t passing. It was going to be challenging enough keeping up the cisgender charade for one evening. There was no way this could be any more than that.

“You okay?” he asked.

She’d been staring off into space, leaving a chip half submerged in the salsa. Her other hand was rubbing her knee, something she was prone to do when scared. Keep cool, Kaylee. Don’t let this trip you up. “Yea, just a pleasant surprise,” she answered. “Here I thought you were some mysterious stranger from out of town.”

“Well, I can play that part if you’d prefer,” he said with a coy grin.

Kaylee couldn’t help but smile again. Christ, he was so charming. And that smile of his drove her wild. He still hadn’t shaved since this morning, and she was dying to run her hands across his cheeks.

“I’m sure that sounded stupid,” he admitted.

“Oh no,” Kaylee insisted. “I actually thought it was kind of cute.”

“Can I be honest with you?” he said after a pause.

Kaylee took a sip of her beer. A ring of lipstick stained the rim of the bottle. “Absolutely.”

“I’m actually really nervous and afraid I’m trying too hard and it’s coming across either desperate or dorky.”

“Why would you say that?” Kaylee had to admit, his vulnerability was keeping her distracted from her own worries.

“I’m never this forward with, you know, asking out someone out that I just met.”

“Well, that begs the question then: why me?”

“I…I don’t know. I came out of a nasty breakup a few months ago; last girlfriend cheated on me.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“I’m just happy it’s over. The more I look back the more I realize how bad she was for me. You struck up a conversation with me at the airport and seemed like you were into me.”

Kaylee lowered her head. “Was I that obvious?”

“Yes, and I mean that as a compliment,” he insisted. “I’m thick as cement so otherwise I’d have never picked up on it. Girls aren’t usually as forward as you.”

“Still a compliment?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll admit, this isn’t common for me either,” Kaylee said after taking another sip of beer. “It’s been years since I’ve been on a date.”

“So why did you roll the dice with me?”

Kaylee stared off into space for a moment. “We’ll, for starters, I thought you were really cute.” No sense in being shy if he’s being this open with me. Maybe he’d be okay with me being trans. He certainly does seem the open minded type.

“Is that so?” He asked playfully.

“Yea, and I’ve got to say, you flirting with me was a big confidence booster. I’m really not used to guys looking at me like that?”

“Why? Are they intimidated by a tall woman?”

Kaylee’s eyes darted from side to side as she picked up her beer. “Sure, we’ll say it’s that.”

“No worries,” he said reassuringly. “I have a cousin about your height and she has exactly the same problem you do.”

I doubt it.

The waiter returned to take their orders. Kaylee was starting to feel relaxed and that worried her. The conversation went on long after their plates were cleared. She was sure she was boring him as she talked about her job, but his interest never seemed to wane. Meeting new people was something Kaylee always enjoyed; there was always so much to learn. Brandon worked at his dad’s clothing store and was set to manage a second location they were preparing to open next year. They specialized in outdoors apparel and gear. He looked like a man who liked to get out in the woods, another thing that made him just her type.

“That’s great you have such a good relationship with your parents,” Kaylee said.

“I’m guessing that means you don’t?” Brandon questioned.

“Not exactly.”

“May I ask why?”

Kaylee sighed. “Not on the first date. You gotta get to at least level two to unlock that door.”

Ha laughed. “I take it you’re a gamer nerd then?”

“Oh, yea!” she said enthusiastically.

“What’s your system?”

“PS4”

“Oh no!” Brandon said with cheesy dramatic emphasis. “I play on Xbox! There’s no hope for us now, for we are on on opposite sides of the war!”

Kaylee doubled over laughing. Her elbows slid across the table, taking her hands well past the long empty chip bowl. “Fear not! I will forsake the rivalries of gaming factions to be with you.”

Her eyes were down when she felt Brandon’s hands wrap around hers. He was warm, but Kaylee’s hands were usually cold. There was a slight roughness to his skin. She gasped a little as the touch took her breath away. Her head darted up, letting her lock eyes with him. He had the look of a man who knew he had gambled by touching her hand and was waiting to see if the dice landed in his favor. When she squeezed back, she could tell he knew they had.

She didn’t want it to end. Other patrons had come in, ate, and left as they continued to sit there and talk. Two hours had past before Kaylee could blink. It wasn’t just that she was enjoying herself, though she most certainly was. Kaylee couldn’t help but worry that this would be their one and only date. He was clearly into her and she wanted him so bad she couldn’t stand it, but he still seemed convinced she was cisgender. Thinking he was from out of town had made coming here easier. If a definite goodbye was understood to be inevitable, she wouldn’t have to worry about getting this attached. All night she’d been wanting to not leave, and now she wanted him to never let go of her hand.

They paid for their meal and stepped back out into the muggy Charlotte night air. Restaurant chatter was replaced by honking horns and distant sirens. He walked her to her car, keeping his fingers wrapped in hers for every step. When they reached the driver door they stood face to face. Neither of them seemed to know how the next moment should go, but their hands were still interlocked and Kaylee wanted not to let go.

“So, what are the chances of me getting to level two?” he asked.

Inside, Kaylee was screaming. He was just perfect. If she were cis, this would have been the biggest no brainer in history. But she wasn’t, and she was the only one who knew that. Everything that had happened tonight, every magical moment, was built on an unstable foundation. Caution told her to say no, or at least to say she’d call him later so she could make decisions in a more rational mindset.

But there was another voice, a voice that had been quietly whispering in the back of her mind but now insisted on shouting. Fuck caution! Fuck depriving myself because I’m not cis! I deserve romance! I deserve to date a hot guy! Stop overthinking this and just enjoy your cis-perience as long as you can!

She leaned in and planted her lips on his. She’d been staring at them all night, watching them move with each word he said, wondering what kissing him would be like. Kaylee closed her eyes as her heart raced. Her soul demanded this moment of absolute selfishness and was relishing in it. Brandon’s hand slipped from hers and for a moment she worried she’d moved too fast. But when she felt his palms squeezing her waist she reached heaven. Kaylee didn’t know how long the kiss actually lasted, but it could have gone until dawn and not been long enough. When they finally parted, she sat in her dark car and watched him walk away.

“What the fuck am I going to do?”

Take a Knee to Take a Stand

A few months ago I went to a town hall meeting. It was hosted by the Republican congressman from the district next to mine (the one from my district is even worse). It was a packed house, with attendance seeming to fall close to even along party lines. Before the meeting began, the crowd was asked to stand and face the flag to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Everyone stood and turned towards the front-left corner of the large room where the flag was erected and chanted in unison.

I did not participate. As everyone else stood and recited, I remained in my seat and silent. From what I could tell, I was the only person in attendance to do so. I was honestly afraid I was going to catch a lot of hate for it, but my silent protest seemed to go largely unnoticed. Of course, I’m just some woman from Podunk, North Carolina. I’m not on any big stage or under any bright spotlight to where all eyes are upon me. The football players in the NFL however, are.

A year or so ago, San Francisco quarterback Colin Kapernick began a silent protest where, during the pre-game National Anthem, he knelt instead of standing (previously he sat). There was a public outcry as people demanded he stand for the Anthem, saying his actions disrespected America and the military. The turmoil ultimately concluded in his football career ending long before it should have. However, this year dozens of NFL players (as well as players in other sports) have followed his example. They kneel, they lock arms, sometimes they just stay in the locker room. Their protest has nothing to do with the armed forces. No, it was to draw attention to the epidemic of police brutality against African American men in America. Across the country, black men (and some women) are being gunned down during stops for minor infractions or even when they’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. These poor souls have lost their lives due to police racism. To make matters worse, the deceased often get no justice as the officers committing the crimes aren’t even charged. It’s disgusting, it’s unjust, and it absolutely needs to stop.

I join these people in solidarity. Their cause is just and their method is sound. I personally have not stood for the Anthem or the Pledge in at least a couple of years now.  What they’re speaking out about, what they’re drawing attention to, desperately needs to be a part of the cultural conversation right now. Of course, those who are decrying the action keep changing the subject. “How dare you disrespect the troops!” they yell, as if that had anything to do with their protest. “Find a more appropriate way to protest!” they whine, as if they’d be satisfied with any outcome other than black men going back to quietly doing what they’re told. And when they see me participating, it turns to, “why are you kneeling; you’re white!”.

First and foremost, I kneel because I agree with the message. The cause of equal justice for black Americans would be won by now if white people would lend their voices. For as much as I talk about transgender struggles on this blog (we’re getting to that, by the way), I’ll be the first to tell you that I unfairly enjoy an exorbitant amount of white privilege. I don’t experience fear when interacting with the police. I’ve never had my job application passed by because I had a “black sounding” name. I’ve never been labeled a thug. I’ve never worried that the legal system would impose on my a ludicrous penalty for a small infraction.  I’ve never had someone be afraid to sit near me or to walk past me on the street. That’s not my world, and it’s not fair that it’s theirs. Because of that, I kneel during the National Anthem.

But that’s not the only reason…

Before I keep going, I want to make one thing abundantly clear: when talking about National Anthem protests, the conversation needs to first and foremost be about the mistreatment of African Americans in our society, if it’s about anything else at all. That is the focus. It is where the spotlight must shine. I’m close to 800 words in now before even mentioning anything other than that and that’s very much on purpose. Black lives matter, and I’ll shout it anywhere, anytime. But I kneel for another reason, too. For as much as I enjoy white privilege, it can’t be denied that the United States has been really shitty when it comes to the treatment of transgender people and it’s only gotten worse in the years since marriage equality was finally legalized (that’s a tease for a future post).

In just the last year, the Justice Department has removed bathroom protections for transgender students. In just the last month or two, President Fuhrer Trump has tried to ban transgender people from serving in the military and Nikki Haley voted in the United Nations not to ban countries from executing gay people. In just the last week, Jeff Sessions announced that Title VII would no longer protect transgender people from workplace discrimination. We’ve fought bathroom bill after goddamn bathroom bill in states all over the country. America is trying very hard to make transgender people go away, and you wonder why I won’t respect a song honoring America?

You really think I’m going to be thankful for my freedom under these circumstances? You really expect me to stand up for a nation that keeps trying to kick me down? Hell no! I will not show this flag, this song, and certainly not this country that kind of respect; it hasn’t earned it. Let’s face a cold, hard truth: America is an embarrassment. I don’t even fly the American Flag outside of my house anymore. The last time I took it down because there was a storm coming I couldn’t stomach the thought of putting it back up. When I look at the Stars and Stripes, all I think about is the injustice, the intolerance, the bigotry, and the ignorance-worshiping nationalism it truly represents. When I see “Old Glory”, I think about all the times I’ve had to call my elected officials and beg them not to either kick me out of the bathroom or take away my healthcare. When I hear the National Anthem, I here a chorus of voices calling me a “freak”, a “monster”, a “deviant”, a “sinner”, and a “pervert”. I feel no pride in America, and I won’t pretend to.

Now, if you’re getting all red in the face while reading this and thinking ‘well just move if you hate America so much!’, this next part’s for you. I’m not going to do that. See, for as much as I consider America as a whole a dark spot on the world these days, there are plenty of Americans I’m rather fond of. There are wonderful people in my community, people who represent love, compassion, understanding, tolerance, and unity. I’m proud of my life and the things I’ve accomplished. I’m proud of my family. These are all things I’ve earned, not because of the promise of America, but in spite of what this nation has tried to keep me from. I will fight to see this nation transformed into what it has the potential to be. I will work tirelessly to ensure the promise of safety and prosperity is fulfilled for everyone. When we achieve that kind of America, then I will stand up with my hand over my heart and sing, “Oh say can you see…”

The Skirt: A #HoldOntoTheLight Story

This is a story about a skirt. Well, kind of. The skirt plays a big role, but it’s really about a girl trying to exist in a world not built for her. It’s a story about accepting who you are and not being afraid to let others see you as well. It’s a story about being transgender.

You’ll hear a lot of transgender people say they “knew since they were little” that they’d been assigned the wrong gender at birth. I’m not one of them. My story doesn’t fit the Hallmark movie aesthetic, but that doesn’t make it any less valid. I can remember as far back as Kindergarten wishing I could be a girl, but I didn’t grow up wanting to change my gender (mostly because I didn’t even know that was an option in the late 80’s to early 90’s). I knew I was more comfortable around girls. I knew I liked “girl stuff” as much as I liked “boy stuff”, but I wasn’t allowed to. I knew being in groups of men always made me feel uneasy.

It wasn’t until my early twenties that body dysphoria (feeling that your body doesn’t match who you are inside) hit me like a truck. This was when I first started hearing about transgender even being a thing. This is where the skirt comes in. I was walking alone down the streets of downtown Boone, North Carolina (was going to Appalachian State at the time; GO MOUNTAINEERS!). There was this cute little hippie clothing store with stuff in the window that caught my eye. Stuff I could never wear, of course. But I still liked to look at it and imagine getting to wear it.

Finding a surge of bravery, I went into the shop and started browsing. There was no one in there save for the the lady behind the counter. But she greeted me with a smile. I perused the clothes on the racks, liking a lot of what I saw. I came to a skirt that caught my attention. It was an ankle-length and flowy with a bohemian-chic vibe that just clicked with me. The girl at the counter wasn’t giving me weird looks for browsing the skirts, so I pushed my luck and asked to try it on. She let me in the changing room and I tried on the skirt. I loved the look of it. I loved the feel of it. I loved seeing it on my body (even though I hated my body).

I bought it. She rang me up and I went back home with my new skirt. I was so proud of myself; I’d done something girls were allowed to do. Something as mundane as buying a skirt is like climbing a mountain when society tells you you’re not allowed to do it. Any time I was just hanging around the house, I wore my skirt. I never left the house with it on. After all, that would be just asking for trouble. It made me want more feminine experiences. I bought some more clothes; a blouse here, a pair of jeans there. A few things of makeup found their way into my collection too. I opened up new online accounts with a female name. The anonymity of the web allowed me to be me without the shackles of my body hiding my true identity. With each step I grew more brazen. Each new milestone brought a sense of accomplishment, but also a hunger for more. I knew I wanted to transition, to live as the woman I actually was.

But a journey can only be easy for so long, and before long I hit a wall. Up until now, authentic gender expression was an occasional fling. Any further down the path would mean crossing the threshold into permanency. I wanted it…Christ how I wanted it, but beyond that wall was an uncaring world ready to push back. I could never come out at work or to my parents. In my time online with other trans people I’d heard horror stories of unemployment and homelessness. Post after post told of family who’d cast them out or spouses who’d abandoned them. I knew my parents would never accept me and that coming out would be an undue hardship on my then girlfriend (now wife) whom I deeply loved. It just wasn’t possible, wasn’t meant to be.

All at once I declared that it was over. I deleted my online accounts and committed myself to living as a man. I let my facial hair grow out and got my hair cut short again. My circle of friends became people who represented what I thought a man should be. More and more I tried to take on the persona of a “manly man”. I became the person society wanted me to be, or at least I pretended to. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t me. I didn’t want to be that person, and the constant pretending left me horribly depressed. I went through a purge. Everything feminine I’d acquired either went in the trash or was donated to charity. Everything except that skirt. I couldn’t bring myself to part with it. I held it balled up in my fist over the give-away box on the floor. I’d stare at it, contemplating the decision, but ultimately conceded to bury it in the back of my closet (a fitting metaphor).

Friends and family could always tell. “What’s wrong, Joe?” they’d ask. “Are you okay?” I’d lie and say I was tired, or had work stuff on my mind. But it was a constant thing. I didn’t want to see friends, or if I did go out with people I spent the whole time just wanting to go home and be alone. A shower became my favorite part of the day. It was the only place I was guaranteed to be alone. It was where I didn’t have to hold my face a certain way, where no one would know I was crying.

It would eventually become too much to bear and I’d try again. When you deprive yourself completely, previous progress can feel new again. The skirt was the first thing to come back out. Wearing it around the house again was a great release. Putting on makeup when no one else was home felt validating. Of course, like before, it was never enough, and I’d crave a fuller feminine experience. When I’d come again to the same wall, the purge would begin again. The cycle always came to the same point of me trying to get rid of the skirt. I tried to make myself. I’d toss it in the giveaway box only to pull it out again before taking it to the donation center. I was absolutely certain I’d never transition, never live as myself. Still, giving up that skirt was letting go of the last shred of hope, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Even when I was at my lowest, even when I was trying so hard to be a man because that’s what was expected of me, I took solace in knowing that skirt was tucked away at the back of the closet. It was my tiny little hope that maybe, just maybe, someday I’d get to live as myself. It was my tiny little light in an endless darkness, and I couldn’t bring myself to let it go.

This cycle went on for nearly a decade. Each time my depression got worse. I’d contemplated suicide before, but it reached a point of taking over my thoughts. Every waking moment, my mind was filled with scenarios. How would I do it? Where would I do it? What note would I leave? What would my family do without me (we had a child by this point)? When you catch yourself on your insurance company’s website researching whether or not they will pay out for a suicide, you know you’ve hit the bottom.

I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t start the cycle again because by now I knew exactly where it would lead. There were only two options left to me: live authentically or finally give into the dark voices and check out. My wife and I had a long talk about it and she gave me her support to finally transition. It was time to stop the cycle and break free.

The journey began again, but this time I smashed through the walls. I took steps there was no coming back from. Coming out at work was terrifying, but I was thankfully allowed to transition and keep my job (very lucky). Telling my parents was the hardest part. Nothing upends a seemingly functional family quite like a gender dysphoria admission. Truthfully, we’re still picking up the pieces. Still, I got through it. It was one of the hardest walls for me to punch through, and now it’s behind me.

Before long I was waking up and going to bed every day as Faith. There was no more pretending, no more assuming the role of the man everyone thought I was. It was liberating. My depression and anxiety lessened. My suicidal thoughts evaporated. I enjoyed time with friends again, going from a somber recluce to a social butterfly in a matter of months. And even though our relationship remains a little shaky, my dad told me I was smiling more authentically than he’d seen me do in years.

There were many milestones along the way. I started hormones. I had my facial hair removed with laser treatments. I gave away all of my boy clothes to make room for my new wardrobe that slowly took over my closet. Back in March of 2017, I took my last trip to the courthouse where the Clerk of Court handed me a piece of paper declaring that Faith was now my legal name. On that final leg of the journey, I wore my old green skirt. For years I’d wandered in darkness, absolutely certain that there was no hope for me out there. There was no better, no happiness, no fulfillment. Still, I’d held onto that skirt for so many years, letting it represent the tiniest little bit of ‘maybe’ I could cling to. Maybe one day it will happen. Maybe one day I’ll get to live as myself. Maybe one day I won’t have to hurt anymore. Well, maybe had finally come to pass, and it was only fitting that I wear that skirt as I achieved what I’d been so sure was impossible.

So I say to you, find something that keeps your hope alive. It can be something small: a picture, a piece of clothing, a note, anything. As long as it represents to you the notion that the darkness doesn’t have to last forever. Keep that hope close, never let it go. Never allow yourself to abandon it. My skirt always reminded me of how I felt when I bought it. I wanted to feel like that every day. That skirt kept the memory alive, the memory kept the dream alive, and the dream finally changed my life.

Hold onto your hope. Hold onto that one thing that reminds you it’s not forever, that you can get through it as long as you don’t give up. When you hold onto the light, it will eventually drive out the darkness.

Cis-perience – Chapter 1

                The first thing she noticed was his ‘Bernie 2016’ shirt. The terminal of Charlotte-Douglas airport was usually a parade of blazers, ties, pant-suits, and pencil-thin skirts. Shiny shoes clicking against the polished floor was a common background noise, but his worn-out sandals didn’t make a sound. A pair of brown cargo shorts exposed his hairy legs from the knees down. He was a strange sight, and it was enough to distract her from the colorful graphs and blocks of numbers splayed across her laptop screen.

                She was sitting at a table on the very edge of the terminal McDonald’s. Steam billowed from the opening atop her coffee cup, giving her small space a sweet aroma to work with. He was tall, easily six-foot-three, and that made him just her type. At six-one herself, Kaylee was used to being taller than most of the guys in her life. She liked guys she could feel more petite standing next to.

                He turned a few feet away and made his way to the counter. That’s when Kaylee realized she was staring. Her eyes darted back to her screen, letting it act as a wall between them. The client would be landing any minute and she’d need to have her key figures committed to memory. The current tab showed predictions of future changes to productivity ratios, which was the client’s focus.

                Movement to her left caught her eye. He was sitting down at the table next to her. The guy was just so tall; how could she not notice? He had a stocky build and tan skin. A thick goatee surrounded his mouth, with 2-day old stubble across the rest of his face. His black hair was pulled back in a man-bun. He had such an earthy vibe to him and she loved it.

                Then his eyes moved towards her.

                She was staring, and now he’d noticed. Kaylee needed a reason. With a big smile, she half-lifted her fist. “Feel the Bern,” she said with a laugh.

                He chuckled. With only a laugh she could discern he had a pretty low voice. His teeth were as white as the empty cells of the spreadsheet she was ignoring. “He so would have won,” he said.

                “Can’t argue there,” Kaylee replied.

                “Where you headed?” he asked.

                “Oh, nowhere,” she replied. “I live in Charlotte. I’m just waiting for my client to land.”

                “Well doesn’t that sound all big and important,” he replied with playful sarcasm. “You look dressed to change the world anyway.” Kaylee had on a white blouse tucked into a slate-gray skirt that went down to her knees. A pair of tan stockings followed the rest of the way down to her black pumps. She was dressed much like the rest of the business drones rolling their laptop bags up and down the reflective floor.

                “And you look dressed for a frat party,” she replied. Was that rude or playful? I hope he thought it was funny. Please find it funny.

                He laughed, and she stopped herself from audibly sighing. “I ain’t exactly Fortune 500, am I?”

                “You seem more the free spirit. What brings you here?”

                “Disk golf tournament.”

                Kaylee raised her eyebrows and blinked a few times. “What is that?”

                His jaw and eyes opened wide. “Only the fastest growing sport in America!”

                She laughed. “That doesn’t tell me much.”

                “Okay, so you’re out on a field with a disk, and it’s kind of like a Frisbee,” he starts. His sudden excitement at getting to explain his hobby was hilarious. The boy hadn’t even touched his food yet, but his body turned towards her and his hands gestured vigorously as he talked. “You use the disk just like you would a golf ball in a golf game. At the other end of the field is this big fountain-looking thing with chains on it. You gotta throw the disk so it gets caught in the chains.”

                “…fascinating.”

                “I promise, it’s fun.”

                Kaylee panicked a little. He was turning back to his food. She didn’t want the conversation to be over yet. “So, what’s your name?”

                She’d caught him mid-bite on his burger. He held a finger up while trying to chew a little faster. “Brandon,” he said after swallowing.

                “I’m Kaylee,” she replied while extending her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

                He took her hand delicately, and it gave her a shiver up her arm. His hands were rough, perhaps disk golf built up calluses on your fingers. “That’s a pretty name.”

                Kaylee thought she was going to melt. His voice was so smooth as he complimented her name. His smile had changed, less jolly and coyer, like he liked what he was seeing. “Um…thank you,” she replied. Fuck! That probably sounded condescending! I’m blowing this!

“So, what do you do, Kaylee, what with your laptop and fancy clothes?”

                “I’m an IT Solutions Integration Consultant.”

                He was silent for a moment. “Okay, at least with disk golf you can get an idea of what it is from putting the two words together. What the hell is a…a…” He laughed and popped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Shit, I can’t even remember it now.”

                “IT Solutions Integration Consultant.”

                “Yea, that. What is an IT…Solutions…whatever?”

                “Well, basically I show companies how much better they’d run with state-of-the-art computers, help them set them up, and then follow up months later to prove I was right.”

                “And have you ever been wrong?”

                “Hu?”

                “You know; like have you ever told some company these new computers would make everything better and it turned out they didn’t?”

                Kaylee folded her arms smugly. “Not yet.”

                Brandon raised his paper McDonald’s cup as though making a toast. “Well then, here’s to being good at what you do.”

                Kaylee toasted him with her coffee. The steam no longer rose from the opening. It was getting cold because she was ignoring it, much like her spreadsheet and her soon approaching client. “Are you going to be here for a few minutes?” she asked.

                “I don’t eat too fast, so yea. Why?”

                “I need to go to the bathroom. Would you watch my stuff while I’m gone?”

                Brandon popped a couple of fries into his mouth. “You bet,” he replied without swallowing first.

                “Thanks.” Kaylee stood. She watched his eyes as she moved, hoping to see them following her. Brandon stuck his straw into his mouth, but still let his eyes follow her as she made her way back across the terminal hallway. The bathroom was right across from the restaurant. Kaylee ducked around the white tile wall. A row of mirrors and sinks stretched out to her right with a series of stall doors to her left.

A click echoed off the walls as the far stall door opened. An older woman with silver hair and thick glasses emerged and Kaylee held her breath. This wasn’t an uncommon scenario for her, and luckily it was rare for things to end badly, especially these days. To her relief, the woman just smiled and made her way to the nearest sink, allowing Kaylee to slip into the now vacant stall.

She closed the door, pulled down her panties, and after checking to make sure the seat was clean, sat down. She might have been neglecting her coffee when Brandon showed up, but he hadn’t been there for the first two cups she sucked down on the way to the airport. Her eyes rolled back and a smile crossed her face as she did her business, but it was more than just the bladder relief making her so happy. Her hands gripped her knees as a shiver of excitement ran up her back.

“I don’t think he knows I’m transgender,” she whispered softly.

As Kaylee cleaned up, a chorus of chatter echoed in the bathroom. At least four women had entered, and she could tell they were gathered around the sinks. The girls discussed routine positions and music selections. Must be a cheerleader troupe traveling to a meet. She lingered for a while as they talked. Kaylee never liked emerging into a crowded bathroom. It meant too many eyes on her, too many people who might figure out she wasn’t cis.

She felt nervous. Brandon was still watching her stuff. What if he was getting aggravated? What if he needed to get going? What if he didn’t want to talk anymore when she got back? Hey, Kaylee, you also have a client arriving any second who might not want you hiding in the bathroom either. Their topics change but their feet don’t move. Kaylee sighed as she realized they’d be in there a while. She’d have to move through them on her way out. She stood, pulled her panties up, and opened the door.

The cluster of teenagers looked at her, but she didn’t look back, only keeping their forms in her peripheral vision as she moved. She was a full foot taller than most of them. Kaylee forwent washing her hands, not wanting to give them the chance to study the six-one trans woman who just came out of the stall. Kaylee slipped back around the dividing wall and into the busy terminal. She breathed a sigh of relief; glad it was over.

To her added joy, Brandon was still there. His burger sat half-eaten in the paper box with his fries dumped in the lid. He was leaned back in his chair, legs wide apart with his left foot tapping against the floor. He saw her emerge and smiled, seeming genuinely happy to see her again. Kaylee pulled her seat out and sat back down. The screen on her laptop had timed out and gone blank, but the small lights on the side still flickered.

“While you were gone some businessy guy came looking for you,” he said.

Kaylee’s eyes went wide and she gasped. “Where did he go?!” She was sure the clients plane hadn’t landed yet.

“He stormed off that way,” Brandon answered while pointing. “Kept shouting something about you being late.”

“Oh no!” Kaylee panicked. “I have to…!”

Brandon laughed full and deep. His left hand slapped his knee. “Just kidding! Wow, you are really tense.”

Kaylee exhaled and slumped back in her chair. “You’re an ass!” she said playfully.

“I got to play a joke on you,” he said with a grin. “Consider it my reward for watching your stuff.”

“Well, I hope you got what you wanted out of it.”

“I did,” he replied. “You’re kinda cute when you look surprised.”

She knew she was blushing. Oh, how she didn’t want to be blushing. Her cheeks felt hot and instinct told her to turn away, but the action only made it more noticeable. Though his mouth was half-full of French fries, Brandon pointed and laughed. “Ah! But you’re even cuter when you’re embarrassed!”

“Stop it,” she said playfully. She absolutely didn’t want him to actually stop. He was flirting with her; a cis, supposedly straight guy was flirting with her. It was a new experience for sure. She’d been hit on in the past, but only by gay guys in queer bars thinking she was a drag queen or assholes with a trans fetish. More than once she’d been asked by some douchebag to show him her “lady dick”, and it repulsed her. This felt genuine. This felt like a dream, and she didn’t want it to end.

“You…you think I’m cute?” she asked. Jesus Christ, I sound like a fucking teenager! I should go back in the bathroom and talk about cheerleading with those kids at the sink.

“Am I being too forward?” he asked. “All joking aside, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh no…I’m just…honestly not used to being flirted with.” Did I really just say that? “I mean, if that’s what you were doing.”

He gave a coy smile. “I guess I was, though I can’t believe you don’t get it often. Is it because you’re like, really tall?”

She’d tried to take sip of coffee then; it was only lukewarm by now. The mention of her height almost made her choke on it. She set the cup back down in time to see his brow raise.

“Shit, that was probably rude.”

“No, it’s fine.” In truth, it was fine. It was an excuse she could roll with without exposing her transition. “I’ve always been the tall girl in every group. But hey, it means I can reach everything in my kitchen!”

He laughed, and it made her laugh. Lost in the moment, she almost didn’t notice her phone buzzing in her purse. She pulled it out and tapped the fingerprint print reader. When the screen lit up, she saw a text that read, ‘Getting off plane now.’ Her client had landed. It was time to get back to work.

“By the look in your eyes that duty calling,” Brandon said.

“Yea,” she said with a defeated sigh. “I really enjoyed talking to you.”

“Well, I’d love to keep in touch,” he said. Her heart soared. He had a genuine interest in her. Her trembling fingers fished around in her purse for the packet of business cards. She slid one out and gave it to him.

“Here’s my info,” she said.

“Jesus, so professional.” Brandon studied the card with exaggerated fascination, as if it were an alien artifact. “I don’t have anything this fancy, but I can scribble my number on a napkin.”

She laughed again. “Just text me at that number. That will be fine.”

He grinned. The fluorescent lighting in the ceiling reflected off his green eyes, and it made her shiver all over again. “I’ll definitely do that.” He stood and collected his trash together on the tray. “Very nice to meet you, Kaylee.” He took her hand again and shook it gently.

“You as well, Brandon. Good luck in your disk golf tournament. I’m sure you’ll get lots of…points? Do you get points in this game or…?

He laughed a little. “I’ll text you the Wikipedia link on it. That will be your homework.” At that, they parted ways. Kaylee tucked her laptop under her arm and headed back into the terminal. She saw dozens of people emerging from gate 14, where her client’s plane had landed. Kaylee felt like she was walking on a cloud. A surge of newfound confidence powered her every step. As a balding, portly man in a black suit and green tie emerged from the gate, she met him by the information desk with her hand confidently outstretched.

“Mr. Barren?” she asked.

“That’s me,” the man replied.

“My name is Kaylee Burgess,” she said in an authoritative yet welcoming tone. “I’m here to welcome Barren Industries to the Digital Corporate Solutions family.”

Transgender: The Eternal Cycle of Pretending

How good of an impression can you do of yourself?

Go on and try. See how good of a you, you can do. Think you can make it convincing? You probably think I’m talking crazy, right? You think there’s no such thing as doing an impression of yourself. After all, if you’re doing anything, it’s as yourself, right? Well, I can do one, and after years of practice I’d say I’m getting pretty good at it. As a transgender woman, I do an impression of myself every time I interact with someone. It’s an exhausting and mentally taxing thing to maintain, but for transgender women it can be a necessity.

This probably sound counter-intuitive to the pro-trans arguments you’ve heard before. But Faith, I thought the whole point of coming out as transgender is to not be pretending to be someone else? Well, that’s not what I said. I spent years pretending to be some guy named Joe. What no one wants to talk about is how coming out of the closet doesn’t mean you stop pretending, just that the way you have to pretend changes.

Let me explain. If I’ve ever talked to you on the street or on the phone, you heard me doing an impression of my own voice. See, unless I’m home alone or it’s just me and my partner, I don’t talk without first tightening my throat and putting extra air behind the words to raise the pitch of my voice. I’ve gotten really good at it over the years, to the point where it doesn’t take nearly as much physical and mental effort as it used to. But it’s still a conscious step I have to take between thought and speech. Here’s the point I’m trying to make with that: the voice I’m producing when I take those steps is my voice (or at least as close to it as I’m capable of). The much deeper, baritone-range voice that naturally comes out of my throat isn’t my voice. I don’t identify with it. It sounds foreign to me. That’s what dysphoria is all about: what you see in the mirror or hear when you speak doesn’t match your identity.

What’s the point I’m making in all this? Well, just imagine going through your entire day every day consciously doing a voice that doesn’t naturally come out of your throat. That can seriously mess you up, and it’s something I always think about when some troll on the internet posts juvenile, anti-trans statements like “you can’t change biology”, or “you’ll always physically be a man.” Their 4th grade understanding of biology and psychology aside, they’re somewhat right. Nothing is ever going to change my chromosomes. If I want to keep producing a voice that matches my identity I’ll have to consciously make the effort each time.

The entirety of the transgender experience is about pretending; you’re either pretending to be something you’re not on the inside or trying to look like something you are on the outside. Take makeup for example. Ask just about any trans woman and she’ll tell you that makeup is more than just a fun accent to your look, its a camouflage necessary for survival. This can be especially true if you’ve not been able to get your facial hair removed. I still remember how freeing it was to reach a point where I felt comfortable going out without makeup again. When I first transitioned, I did full-face makeup no matter where I was going or what I was doing (and let me tell you, that gets expensive!). It took a lot of time and energy, but I didn’t have a choice. Makeup is something our society codes as feminine, so having it all over your face gives you one more layer of protection between you and some transphobe being able to tell you’re not cisgender.

It’s not just makeup either. I know a lot of cis women who like to wear jeans and a hoodie when they run errands or are just hanging out with friends. Sounds simple, right? Not when you’re transgender. Androgyny can be terrifying when you’re trans (unless you don’t identify as a binary gender in which case it’s awesome). It means pulling back from the extremes of gender expression and making yourself more susceptible to being misgendered. Even if I just wear jeans and a t-shirt when going out, I make sure the shirt is tight enough to show what little breast growth I’ve managed thanks to the hormones I take. Boobies mean female. Boobies mean I get called ma’am by strangers and can safely use the bathroom. Boobies mean no one thinks I’m a man.

These are all just aesthetic choices made before I leave the house, but they all mean something much deeper when you’re transgender. I love girls clothes and makeup, but it takes some of the fun away when they move from indulged interest to survival necessity. What about days I would just like to wear a hoodie and no makeup? If I’m getting dressed up when I don’t feel like it, aren’t I still, in some way, living as someone I’m not? And remember, this is just talking about how other people see me; we haven’t scratched how it affects me personally. I still have some of my old boys clothes buried deep in my closet (which makes for an apt metaphor: i.e. it’s HIS turn to hide back there). The very thought of ever putting them on terrifies me. It’s not that I think it will take my identity away, but that it will keep me from seeing myself as a woman in the mirror. Androgynous clothing messes with my dysphoria enough, so putting on on actual “boy” clothes would be almost catastrophic for my mental state. I’ve worked very hard on my appearance, and each time I look in the mirror I see more of Faith and less of Joe. Between hormones, laser hair removal, diet, and exercise, I’ve spent months crafting my body to as close a representation of my inner self as I can. But the confidence I’ve built as a result is fragile, and I worry that wearing or doing anything masculine will destroy it.

Here’s the point I’m making in all of that: I don’t hate boy’s clothes. In fact, now that I’m not forced to wear them all the time, I’ve grown a new appreciation for some of them. There are times I think it would be fun to put on a shirt and tie again. Does that make me not transgender? No. Does that make me less of a woman? Hell no. There are plenty of cisgender women out there who like to wear boy clothes sometimes, be they formal or casual. It doesn’t take away from their identity and it doesn’t take away from mine. My problem is this: if I put on a suit and look in the mirror, will I see a woman wearing it or a man? That’s what scares me. That’s what keeps those clothes at the back of the closet. That’s what makes me keep “pretending”.

I don’t have a general poignant statement to make in all of this. Sometimes this blog is just a space for me to get my feelings out of my own head. If you’re trans and know what these feelings are like, it can be nice to hear someone else speak to the same experiences. If you’re cis, I hope this gives you at least a little insight into what it’s like to have dysphoria. Strictly speaking, pretending never goes away when you’re transgender, just the manner in which you pretend changes. I’d much rather change my outside to match my inside than go on acting like I’m really the boy the world always saw me as, but that doesn’t make it easy. That doesn’t take away the constant effort it takes to maintain that image.

So, if you open your mouth to speak and hear your own voice come out, congratulations. Cherish the synchronization between mind and body you’ve been blessed with. When you look in the mirror and see yourself, enjoy it. If you’ve never once had to wonder if the stranger you’re talking to is seeing you for you and not the person you’re trying to convince them you’re not, I envy you.