Black and White
Black and white is not me and never will be. These two poles do not exist within me but instead the rainbow does and always has. Life is not left on Franklin and right at 8th street. Instead life is take 15 steps from where you are standing and stop and then dig. When I start digging I am only guessing that I am at the right spot instead of where other people know where they are standing.
As I get up this morning out of bed I realize that today is another day that I get to dip into two different worlds while trying to pass in one and trying to escape the other. I walk over to my dresser and open a drawer and look inside. Boxers or women’s underwear, I have to decide on one or the other. The only problem is if I go with the boxers mom will raise hell that I am cross-dressing and will cram etiquette down my throat otherwise feminine etiquette. This is the problem of being trans. is having a mother who always wanted a princess of a daughter, but instead to her has a freak.
After putting on the boxers I glance over at the basket at the other side of the room where my shoes are as well as my back brace. Contrary to my parents’ belief I am binding my chest with this brace. Scritch, scratch the Velcro goes while I am unsticking it from each other so I can put it around my breasts that I so desperately wish would disappear. I pull both ends of the back brace and stick it in place so that it is snug. Then I pull the two other ends so that they are snug and all is complete. Binding one’s chest is not hard to do, but a back brace is not the best thing to use because it leaves marks on the body and leaves the skin quite irritated and the nipples so very sore.
I go to my closet where I have an array of clothes. There are the ones where my mother has insisted in buying me even though I tell her that she is throwing away her money. It is kind of frustrating because I will never wear these clothes but she insists in buying these 70 dollar dresses for me etc. Instead, I have to scrounge around money to buy dress shirts at Mervins and Target because my parents will have nothing to do with it.
Decisions I hate having to make on what I am going to wear in the morning. I partly hate it because of mom who is always is criticizing what I wear. I look at what is in the closet and find a shirt that is neutral in nature and put it on. I then go to my desk chair where I have a pair of pants hung over and grab them to put on. I find some socks out of a box near my bed and put them on as well as put on a pair of boots.
I go into the bathroom and look at my hair and realize that it needs to be cut. I also remember that I am going to have to argue with my mother once again and how I always have to go with what she says. I wish that wasn’t the case. I wish that I could have that crewcut without always having to go behind her back. On the other side my dad is all for it except he does not have any power in what is done. The only power that he has is that he is in the end is footing the bill. So far I have not figured out a way to get him to give me money for the haircut without letting my mom know. So this is another area where I have to scrounge up the money to have it done.
I walk out of the door on the way to the bus stop. Fear is plastered on my face, but then again it always is when I am out in public. The questions what will they think is always on my mind and will they say anything or will they leave me alone? I get off the bus and walk the few blocks that I have to go to the coffeehouse. It is a nice coffeehouse with a liberal group of people, but still I feel like an oddball.
The time comes that I need to go use the bathroom. Which one do I use? Do I go against of my heart and go use the women’s or do I go against public customs and use the men’s. It shouldn’t really matter but in this society it does and there is always the fear that is associated with it. I decide to go with my heart and go into the men’s. I start shaking while I turn the doorknob. What if I get raped or beaten all because I go in there? I force my way in there and look to see if there is anyone in there, and there is. There is a person who I perceive as a man in his 20s standing at a urinal. I keep on forcing myself in the direction of a stall that I see that is to the side and free. I am hoping that I am not seen, which I am not. There are days when I wander if I would be better off if I knew how to piss standing up. I am quite well aware that there is a web page dedicated to it and I have studied it, but I haven’t had the nerve to put it into practice. There is still the fear that mom would pick up on it as well as I would make a mess and would have to clean it up and not be able to clean it up with out my mom noticing that I made a mess.
I leave the stall and wash my hands and head out the door out into the rest of society. When turning the knob my hands shake in fear in what others will think when I come out from the bathroom. I realize that yes I could go into the women’s bathroom, but the women would freak. I am otherwise a bull dyke simple and that and that’s if I am lucky. They usually scream or give me weird looks and I know that I do not belong in there. There are also times when I decide that I am going to fuck with society and go into the women’s room in complete drag and see how they react.