URNotAlone

The Problem of Passing Too Well

November 2nd, 2008 8:39 pm MST

Not too long ago, I had a new experience that I’d like to share with the group. I was invited to a party at a local club where there was a very mixed crowd. The crowd included people from different “alternative lifestyles,” including a few TG people. My friend who is a CD told me the time the party started, and she said that she’d be there around that time. I got there right around that time, and…. no friend. A call to her revealed that she had gotten a late start, and was probably 45minutes away. The club was not in the best part of town, and I was alone in the parking lot, dressed to the nines. I decided that going into the club alone was probably the safest thing.

Once inside the club, I was greeted warmly by the people at the door, but I suddenly came to the realization that there was almost no one there. The only other person there was a not too bad looking guy. As I walked into the room, he smiled at me and came over to say hi. We began to talk and chatted for a while as other people began to fill the room. My friend finally got there, and she began to talk to various people around the room. I ask my new gentleman friend if he wanted to meet my friend, and I began circulate, meeting various people.

            As I began to talk to various couples, it began to dawn on me that no one…. NO ONE…. knew I was trans. I got asked if the guy I was with and I were married. We told them that we had just met. I got asked if I had any kids. I answered no. And so the night went on. To put it bluntly it was a wonderful feeling. To be accepted as woman without question was inconceivable. I knew I passed most of the time, but this was something new. At one point, I began to talk to a couple who were swingers. The woman in the couple told me how pretty I was, and began to flirt with me. When she saw that I was a little uncomfortable, she asked me if her flirting was making me feel ill at ease. I told her that it didn’t, and that I was bi.  Suddenly she really became interested. The man that I had started the night with was also watching our interaction with intense interest.

As her interaction with me began to progress towards something more then just flirting, I reached a point where I thought, “I have to tell her.” When I told her, she was shocked. She said to me, “Wow, I can’t believe it. You really fooled me.” In the next several minutes, that word “fooled” and its many derivations was used over and over again, and the implication was not a positive one. I tried to explain to her that my intention was not to deceive her, but to simply express who I was. She was still cordial to me, but the friendly and playful way she had received me had turned to a cool air of tolerance. The same was true for her husband, and the man who a few moments ago had been confused as my husband. After a few minutes, I excused myself saying I had to use the bathroom. I didn’t return. I wondered to myself if perhaps the only way not to “fool” others was to walk around the club with a sign around my neck saying, “Beware, Tranny.” Needless to say, I was a little hurt.

As I moved about the club, I talked with various people. The way they related to me and certain things they said showed that they believed me to be a genetic woman. While this still continued to be affirming, the spell had been broken. I wasn’t a genetic woman. I was a tranny. My earlier interaction also made me a little paranoid about the guys that came up to hit on me. Anyone who got a little “touchy-feely” with me was greeted with the warning, “before you go any further, I need to tell you something.” I found out that maybe I wasn’t so paranoid after all. I swear to God that some of the guys reacted like I had told them I had the plague. Not everyone reacted that way, however. One very handsome man who was thin with salt and pepper hair approached me, put his arm on my shoulder, and asked me if I minded him touching me. I responded that I didn’t but….. well you know the rest. His reaction was wonderful. He said, “Wow…. really? I wouldn’t have known.” His arm didn’t budge from its place on my shoulder; that is until it slid down to my waist. He followed up with, “You’re still beautiful.” We spent some time together, and I found him to be a very caring and loving. Silly me though I didn’t get his number. Sometimes even a redhead can do blond things.

As I reflected on my experience at the club, I was struck by something. This was my first social venture out of the gay ghetto. By this I do not mean going out to stores, restaurants, or doing the things that people do in their lives. I’ve done that a lot. I mean this is the first time I’ve been out in a club, bar, or social occasion where people didn’t know up front that I was a transsexual. Or to put it more plainly, this was the first time I let myself be exposed to men or women that might find me attractive, yet didn’t know I was a transsexual. That milestone was bittersweet. For one brief moment I touched something I desired immensely, to be completely accepted as a woman. Furthermore it showed that I held some appeal to men that weren’t “tranny chasers.” Yet, this experience also showed the stark reality that transgendered people face. Something that I’d heard other people express, but had not experienced myself to a great extent. That reality is that transgendered people are faced with a catch-22. If they are out as transsexuals, people look at them as unnatural, and will not see them as true women. If they hide their transsexuality, then they are viewed as dishonest and deceitful. What’s a girl to do? Or more to the point, what is this girl to do? That I haven’t quite figured out yet, but I guess I’m going to have to.