For the gIRLs who see me as Sarah

For Imogen, Lee, Jodie and a pair of Jackie’s

Photo by Chris on Unsplash

For many trans women, life online is relatively uncomplicated. But the thought of presenting oneself before the eyes of the public in real life (IRL), moving from virtual to actual, can raise the level of anxiety exponentially. The act of simply leaving one’s front door is often a fraught and daunting prospect.

Not only is there a need to manage anxiety from within regarding appearance, but also legitimate concerns of how we may be perceived by the eyes of strangers. It seems hardly anyone is completely ambivalent toward trans people these days.

Nonetheless, I have made it my practice to put up with the uncertainty, the nerves and the rest of the hoopla to be visible. I understand some people may feel nervous approaching me. I get it, I’m older, I look different… I am different.

But I’m also the same, and a smile often thaws the chill and if I’m lucky, the doors to interaction will spring open.

The simple exchanges I describe in the following lines were significant. They marked the difference between being seen as my authentic self, or feeling like someone passing through strange and vaguely hostile territory.

Touch wood, this approach hasn’t let me down yet. Following are sketches of five kind and lovely gIRLs and how we met.

Imogen

I met Imogen at a concert, like me, she had come alone. As we waited for some less mobile folks to take their seats, she smiled and made eye contact. I noticed long hair, a waistcoat and some cool glasses.

‘Where are you sitting?’ She asked. ‘Oh, over there,’ I waved, vaguely indicating a spot a few rows in front. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I hope you enjoy the concert.’ ‘Thanks.’

At interval I left to buy a glass of wine, as I came back to my seat, our eyes met once again, as though she was wanting to speak. ‘How did you enjoy that?’ I inquired. ‘Very much,’ she answered. The first half had been amazing, the chamber orchestra had moved around the stage while playing a piece inspired by The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. ‘I can’t believe they made the sounds of a ship at sea,’ she continued. ‘Yes amazing, I wonder how they convinced an orchestra to move around mid piece.’

We had a lovely conversation about the concert, then moved on to small aspects of our lives. Like me she had lived abroad for many years. It’s amazing how one can traverse the broad outlines of a life in a few minutes. As they rang the bells for the second half to commence she smiled and held out a hand, ‘My name is Imogen.’

Lee

I felt someone touch me on the arm, and as I turned around, amongst the electric blue lights and thump of the dance music, I saw a blonde haired woman, dressed in black leather smiling at me.

‘You look great,’ she shouted. ‘Thanks so much,’ I replied smiling. I was pretty happy with my outfit. Some wine coloured palazzo pants and a tight semi see-through white top. My new hoops dangled from my ears. ‘Do you enjoy dance parties?’ I nodded, then confessed, ‘I think so, but this only my first.’ ‘What!’ she exclaimed in mock amazement, ‘I’ve been coming to these since I was nineteen, I’m Lee.’ She then introduced me to her companion, Jenny.

And just like that I wasn’t alone any longer. It’s a little unnerving going alone into a large room full of thumping music and people dancing. After introductions, we danced a little, then had more drinks as we chatted, we moved to see another DJ, all the while danced and danced. It was the best. I came hoping to get lost, but I was found instead. Thanks Lee.

Jodie

Jodie is the wonderful librarian I wrote about in a piece last month.

[embed]A Trans Woman in a Library Books an Unexpected Compliment Or, Please Don’t Say I’m Bravemedium.com

Yesterday I had to go back to the library, and pick up some books I had ordered for a queer book club I’ve joined. I noticed her chatting to some new library members. She gave me a cheery wave as she recognised me.

‘Hello again,’ she said, walking over. ‘Hi,’ I answered, ‘It’s Sarah.’ I couldn’t recall whether we had exchanged first names at our initial conversation. ‘That’s right… Sarah,’ she said warmly shaking my hand. ‘I couldn’t recall your name, but remembered that lovely perfume you were wearing.’ ‘Thanks,’ I smiled. ‘I wanted to tell you I bought a bottle of it.’ ‘Do you love it?’ ‘I do, it’s wonderful’, she answered, ‘I even bought another bottle for my sister.’ ‘Goodness, I should be asking for a commission.’ She laughed, throwing her head back in delight. ‘And look at you,’ she continued, ‘another lovely outfit.’ ‘Thank you.’ I’m getting my hair done tomorrow, we girls have to take care of ourselves don’t we, Sarah.’ We do Jodie, and you are the best.

Jackie 1

We met at the ballet, simultaneously ordering drinks, she grigio, me chardonnay. Alcohol really is a social lubricant. She looked directly across at me and smiled. ‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Hi.’ ‘What brings you here tonight?’ ‘I had to drop my Dad off in town, and while he’s at dinner I thought I’d come to the ballet. What about you, do you enjoy dance?’ ‘I like opera, but I enjoy the music of the composer who wrote this ballet, so I thought I’d come down and check it out.’ ‘Oh, do you live nearby?’ ‘Yes, about twenty minutes from here.’ ‘I wish I loved closer to the city, but I’m up at Newport.’ Newport. It was the suburb that had been my home when I was married. ‘Oh I know that area pretty well.’ She laughed and asked about the places I’d lived. ‘If you wanted to be closer to the city, have you thought about moving?’ I asked. ‘I work as a nurse at the local hospital,’ she answered, I nodded, and we chatted for a few more minutes, before saying goodbye and leaving to find our seats.

After the performance, we unexpectedly exited at the same time and found ourselves shoulder to shoulder amidst the departing crowds walking toward the quay. We picked up our conversation and chatted for another ten minutes before she left to pick up her father.

Such a nice moment. I’ve been hoping I might run into Jackie again sometime, we’ll see if the fates agree.

Jackie 2

She’s slim, has a lovely head full of tousled blonde grey hair, bright blue eyes and a warm smile. Jackie was the person who rescued me during a tough outing a few months ago. I remain very grateful to her.

[embed]When She Said ‘Can I Help You?’ She Actually Meant It medium.com

In the five months since I wrote that piece, I’ve become a loyal shopper at her clothes store and sometimes just pop in to say hi. While few of her staff are a little more reserved with me, each time I visit she accords me the same friendly courtesy as when we met.

‘Hi again.’ ‘That colour really suits you,’ she says looking at my dark crimson top as I inquire about a scarf. ‘Thanks Jackie, as I recall you recommended it.’ She smiles and shrugs, ‘Well, it looks great on you.’ ‘Thanks and I wear the pants all the time. I just wish I could lose my tummy.’ ‘Oh that,’ she laughs, ‘We’re all a work in progress.’ ‘I know, some of us more than others.’ She laughs again, ‘Funny lady, you should pop in next week, we’ll have some new colours coming out for winter.’ I shall.

I know these are not friendships, just people connecting with a stranger in a generous and respectful manner.

However these friendly interactions dwell in my mind. They offer me small moments of hope for myself, that this life I chose might be doable. They are reminder I will not always be treated as a stranger, and how some folks out there are kind and open minded.

It’s comforting to believe there are people outside of a few close friends and family who accept me as Sarah, and their kind words make a world of difference.