Diversity Rules Magazine

6 Diversity Rules Magazine November 2017 Epiphany - Con't from page 5 dislike for transgenders comes in to play is to me just like the old saying " same script different cast." Most- people do not understand transsexualism or the trans- sexual experience. It's one thing to sleep with the same sex but to totally not identify and change your sex completely is something that unless it's your experi- ence you'll never truly understand it. With that being said trans people are not only outsiders to the hetero- community but in most cases the gay community also. Most thrown away by their family and not fully accepted by the community their sup- posed to find refuge in. Its like this your born in a male body and your brain, spirit, and every fiber in your being tells you you are a heterosexual woman. e het- erosexual community tells you that you are a man, you are gay, and that behavior is not welcomed in their community. So you go to the gay community who tells you you are not a real woman let alone a heterosexual one. ey shun you or keep you at bay because you aren't a " man " ei- ther, I mean even the drag queens take their dresses off and present themselves a males. For you to really think in your mind that you are a woman must mean something isn't quite right with you mentally and who wants that around. So what do you do? You do what you have to do to survive. Some steal. Some run scams. Some sell their bodies to the men that fetishize them. To cope with such a grim existence some self medicate be it drugs , alcohol , or both. is cycle of the trans experience hasn't changed. is was the image of trans-people that my father was subjected to while back east living it up in his own truth. en to turn around and have your own child tell you she one of those "things" you've only seen negative images of . Hell no not on his watch. I always felt more tolerated than loved as a child. Not to say my parents didn't love me. ey didn't understand me or what i was going through. ey didn't like the be- havior so they kinda dealt with me with a long handle spoon. e more i told them i was a girl. the more they told me i was not.i was a boy. Which would only cause me to act even more feminine to get my point across. My mom worked two jobs so from 8 years old I was staying home alone. I was a self sufficient, mature, and very intelligent kid I could cook, knew not to open the door, and had an obscene amount of time with my ex-model mothers wardrobe. By 11 I was dress- ing in my truth full time (which wasn't allowed in my mother's house) and running away from home to be meon the regular basis. I was numb to my dad and his feelings even though now I know deep down they were rooted in love. I mean I grew up in a time when they were killing trans people for sport, even being creative about it and no one cared. Still I felt if you can't ac- cept me then I want nothing to do with you. I'd run away. He'd find me. Beat me. As soon as I caught him or my mom with their guard down I'd run away again. e difference between him and my mom is she got so used to it she didn't bother to look. She'd just file a runaway report and wait for me to be picked up by the police. She'd pick me up drive off and ask "Are you going to stop dressing like that and be the son I gave birth to?" I would look at her and re- ply "no I'm not. You didnt have a son you had a daughter." She'd reply, "Well where do you want me to drop you off because I'm the only woman in my house." By this time we were a comfort- able distance from juvinile hall and still in the city. So I'd reply "you can let me out here" and leave. She would go on her way, call the police and my dad and wait until she had to pick me up again. Not my dad though since he was in the life he knew all the spots to go to to find me. So even though I'd ran away I would never hang out on the streets at night out of fear of my dad finding me. By 15 my father had returned to live in Missouri. I was told he had cancer. Either way I never returned to my mother's house and since my father and I were essentially in the same community. I dodged him at all cost, seeing as I knew every time our paths crossed I would get a beating. By 17 I was leaving town for good and my father and I agreed to meet up and say our goodbyes. We sat on my great grandmother's porch and remi- nisced about the good times (our relationship didn't get volatile until I hit puberty. Even more so after I officially left home), my future plans, and his life les- sons. I felt like I was the apple of my dad's eye again, even though I was dressed in my truth. Like maybe there was a chance for us. e time had come for us to say goodbye and my dad kissed me and gave me the biggest tightest hug then he said to me "Don't do this." I stood there looking confused he went on to say "If you're gay I can help you with that. You can live with me and I can navigate you through this life but not that." I responded, " I'm not gay. I'm a girl and this is me." He barked back, "Not my son. ose people are sick in the head, you'll never be anything to anyone. Photo Credit: Scott Kirby

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