Journal
August 5, 2020
Natalie wishes there were shortcuts in her transition. She’s just coming out of the awkward “man in drag” phase. Her hair is getting longer. She’s starting to almost pass, but she’s still clockable. Her shoulders are broad. She still has face stubble. Her bald spot is almost gone, though.
I wish there were shortcuts, too, shortcuts that cost less money and skipped all the pain of puberty (emotionally, my grown-ass spouse is basically now a 14-year-old girl), the awkwardness of clockability, and the confusion that rattles around in my mind daily. Who is this new person in my bed? Why does she look so much like my mother? Did I marry my friggin’ mother? Lord help me!
“Did I marry my friggin’ mother? Lord help me!”
I wish there were a shortcut to the happy ending, an ending where Natalie and I present as a quirky old lesbian couple. A couple of eccentric artist women who tend to flowers and sit on the deck playing music and smoking weed. I wish there were a shortcut to a world that is more accepting of people like Natalie, the transfemme sweetheart troubador, and more accepting of people like me, the weirdo bisexual gender queer writing professor who harbors strange ideas about peace and love and acceptance.
Ten Questions People Now Ask Me:
- Don’t you like penises?
- Is he going to cut off his penis?
- Is she having surgery?
- Is she going to like men now?
- Does this make you a lesbian?
- How are YOU doing?
- Are you worried about violence?
- Does she need clothes?
- Is there anything I can do?
- What are Natalie’s pronouns?
Non 