Robyn – Page 4

The Election

In the run up to the 2016 Election I was one of millions confident that Mrs. Clinton would win. I could not believe otherwise. This is what I posted on election Day in the Pantsuit Nation group.

After many years of internal resistance I made the decision to transition genders this year at the age of 47. It’s been a difficult year for my family and I and while I am happy in my body and in my world for the first time in forever, life is uncertain and the future looks daunting.

I will vote for a woman President one month before my official name and gender change.

I do this in the East Bay of Northern California, where things are not perfect, but where I am legally protected from discrimination in the workplace, in housing, other public accommodations and certainly in the damn public restroom. Obviously, my tribe in other parts of the country are under siege and we will be among the first to suffer should this democracy fall into the hands of demagogues. Certainly, appointing liberal justices to the Supreme Court is alarmingly important to me.

Further, the recent increased visibility of trans people is in part fueled by Obamacare provisions that make life saving medicine and medical care for trans people easier to get and more affordable.

We are here and more are coming and we could use your help and support.

President Hillary Clinton’s success is vital for our very existence. Full stop.

I’ve been with her since they came after her for not baking cookies and I’ve watched in admiration as she has withstood all of their attacks and come out smiling and fighting and I cheer as she continually hands them their lunch.

Thank you for all of your stories and the hope you are giving all of us. This group has been one of the best things to come from this election.

Alas, I have no pants suit! You’ll forgive me, I’ve still got a lot of shopping yet to do.

Updating: I feel like I woke up this morning with two million new close friends. To step away from a lifetime of male privilege and ask to join a sisterhood in some ways feels like the height of hubris. I’ve learned from you all my life and I’m gratified by the welcome. I know we will dance in the streets tonite!

Alas, it was not to be. I posted again the next day.

Yesterday I posted in this group in hope, optimism and a sense of shared purpose and destiny. To have that vanish so completely and be replaced by everything we all feel is truly beyond words.

I am transgender and I will not belabor my own fears today or the impact on my trans sisters and brothers, nor my Cis sisters, not my Muslim, Latino, sisters and brothers. We spoke so much about that leading up to yesterday and those arguments did not persuade a shocking number of people. All we can do now is hunker down and prepare to defend ourselves, families and communities and never give up our vision for America.

My first impulse was to stop transition for my family’s sake. My son….my young, sensitive, artistic little Jewish boy whom I must care for and protect…must he also live in this world with a transgender parent?

The joy and optimism that I began my transition with seems unsustainable today.

But being yourself and speaking your truth cannot stop when times get hard. Maybe that is when it matters most.

I took America at it’s word that I was free to be myself.

I will hold her to it.

Beverly Hills

Today I am in Beverly Hills visiting family. This is an interesting place to be a newly transitioning trans-woman. Even the loveliest cisgendered women can feel intimidated here in comparison with it’s flawless, high-priced examples of conventional beauty that populate the place. I noticed I got “clocked” here faster and more openly than at home. I noticed several people blatantly look me up and down, head to toe, a few smirks, and I caught one dude laughing to his friend before he noticed me looking at him.

You know what’s remarkable about this? How little I care.

It’s one of the things I feared most. How would I handle the self-consciousness and the awareness that others might be judging me? Would I be able to feel those feelings without giving in to it and attacking myself with self-loathing. I’ve had my moments, to be sure, but to my surprise…I’m mostly cool.

I have, as the kids say, no more fucks to give.

I’m really glad to be myself today, I’m glad to be strolling through beautiful Beverly Hills with my son on a gorgeous sunny day. I’m glad to be having lunch with family that loves and supports me. And I’m very grateful for the surprisingly large number of people who were kind and gracious to me today, who went out of their way to call me ma’am and to correct their pronouns.

Trans March 2106

I participated in Trans March for the first time ever—and just a few weeks after coming out. I went with someone who has been
a loyal and supportive friend since we met in a support group months ago. Transition is not easy, and it shouldn’t be done alone.

In the past several years I’ve had that “Me too, me too” feeling in the back of my head when I encountered trans people, and I’ve been struck lately by how much they ARE my tribe, even when we don’t have anything in common other than our gender identity. I may not always LIKE them, but I always LOVE them, if that makes sense.

I’ve been in a few protest marches in my day, and I admit I always feel awkward as a protester, but this was different. I was the nice white lady in the big pink hat and was very aware of my privilege. I was marching with trans people of color who are fighting for justice, for freedom from police violence and discrimination, for jobs, for housing, for basic health care. I was marching with wonderfully militant gender queers who seemingly have to do daily battle with transphobia and the threat of violence.

The march ended on Turk street at the former site of the 1966 Compton’s Cafeteria riot when the drag queens and trans sex workers of the day fought back against police brutality. It used to be illegal to even be a cross dresser, you know.

I shook hands with Miss Major Griffin-Gracy who was one of the trans women of color who led the Stonewall riots. She’s been getting long overdue recognition thanks to a new documentary and I was honored to meet her.

They are all freedom fighters and American heroes, the same as any solider, maybe braver. For decades they’ve been getting their skulls cracked and worse for demanding a better world. All people benefit from that, in my opinion.

This thing I am doing is not easy. It’s incredibly hard and scary sometimes, but I have so many advantages it’s humbling. The people who fought the fight before me have my respect and gratitude. I hope I can be useful going forward.

But that’s the end of Pride festivities for my weekend. Too hot and too many people for me. Happy Pride. Be fearless.

Coming out on Facebook

My coming out on Facebook went really well. A huge outpouring of love and support. A lot of attention, which in my case, was pretty fun. To finally be seen–really seen…No more assumptions based on who they thought they knew or what I was presenting. The real deal now.

It’s part of the coming out process now: How and when to deal with your social media neighborhood. Being in the closet was especially irritating when I used social media. You are participating in this whole world without sharing how you REALLY feel. Gay marriage comes along and at best you are an “ally”. Some big story is happening about trans people, some Caitlyn story or a bathroom bill. You might address it as a citizen, as an ally, as a liberal-minded person, but you can’t speak to it from your real authority. In my case, I didn’t speak it at all. I had to take a break from Facebook until my family and I were ready to come out because I couldn’t bear to censor myself anymore.

It’s awesome to be out for me. I’m lucky to have the community I do, in the place where I live, in the time we are in.

Red Car Crash

I made this painting during early recovery.When I used to speak at Overeater’s Anonymous meetings I would use a metaphor of a sports car to describe being skinny and beautiful. After being a chubby kid with a homely sense of self image I suddenly had this skinny gorgeous body. It was like being a teenager with a new license and a sports car. Too much, too fast. I promptly wrapped it around a tree and burst into flames. Or burst into fat, more like it. And then I was in hell.

The lyrics are from the musical Hedwig and the Angry Inch. I’m certainly not the first trans person to find intense meaning in those songs, and I’ll accept being so “on the nose”.

Forgive me for I did not know
For I was just a boy
And you were so much more
Than any God could ever plan
More than a woman or a man
And now I understand how much I took from you

redcar

forgive

My Kid

People always ask how my son is doing with this transition. My wife and I have strong feelings that it’s not your place to ask. The implication that we are harming him is implicit in the question.

In general, experts say kids will be fine. They are more accepting than most. There is no reason to think that my transition damages him.

There is much more that could be said here, but for now, just know that we are a family that loves and cares for each other. My dedication to him has not changed one bit. To the contrary, I am called upon to be an even better parent now.

Homozone 5

Homozone5 #1

When I first encountered drag queens I immediately thought of them as super heroes. Statuesque, larger than life, colorfully dressed for battle of one kind or another. I wanted a way to fit in the queer culture of San Francisco in the early 1990s, to contribute my talents to the cause. I was not inspired to lip-synch or do Judy Garland numbers. I wanted to draw!

I started drawing drag and gender bending superheroes and rediscovered my love for illustration along the way. Working on this book inspired my return to art school where I completed a degree in illustration and went on to a decent career as an artist in the animation industry.

I had been a wanna-be comic book artist my whole life and had spent my teen years steeped in 80s X-Men comics and their epic battle as an oppressed minority in a world that hates mutants.

I had a great deal of anxiety about joining the queer movement and I poured that anxiety into a comic book about a dystopian future world where a team of drag queens and transsexuals in a queer ghetto fought against a homophobic totalitarian system. It was occasionally fun, energetically drawn, very wordy, violently dramatic and politically paranoid. I loved the characters and am amazed to this day by the amount of time and energy I put into the 3 issues I completed before abandoning the project to focus on school and the struggles of my life. I feel like I let my characters down, I wanted to do so much more with them.

Homozone 5 became a guarded secret along with the rest of my past, probably less from shame about sexuality and gender identity than shame over the artwork and writing “not being good enough” for the horrible critic that lives in my head.

The first issue is online at Homozone5.com, here are a few sample pages….

Coming out Week

I came out to my business networking group last week via email and today was my first meeting in person as Robyn. I went in face, natural hair and my heeled boots. New cute jacket that has a little of the Banana Republic flair I’ve always enjoyed.

It was a phenomenal experience. Everyone was so happy for me. One of my dude friends, a sports loving beer drinking British tradesman, said it was wonderful to see me smiling like that.

I have not been smiling much at these meetings. Getting up and selling myself as a business person was never easy, and I think it was because I just wasn’t being myself. I didn’t like who I was selling.

Plus, the stress I had been under with my marriage crumbling and all of the fears about being openly trans and the consequences I might face….I was scared.

It felt nice to finally be here on the other side of all that and not feel scared.

I created a new business card and took them to the meeting. Wonderful to see my name in huge red letters. My previous card you actually had to work to find my name, I so wanted to not be seen.

I’m excited about being in business. I’m thrilled to be Robyn again and to take that energy and bring it to the world and my clients. I have an urgency, yes, because life is expensive and getting more so. I have responsibilities to fulfill and in some ways that’s going to be harder than ever.

In other ways it will be much easier now that I am happy and free to be myself.

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I went pretty subtle. Very light makeup. I’m not trying to look “like a woman”. This isn’t an act or a costume. I’m trying to look like me as I understand me. I think I will look increasingly more like a woman with time and practice and shopping, but I’m not stalling or hiding, waiting until my presentation is perfect to come out and live my life. It starts today. All of the surface stuff will work itself out. In the meantime I am visibly trans, or gender-queer or whatever. I am asking for female pronouns, I am using the name I want to use and I feel really good in what I am wearing.

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I just feel like Robyn again, and that is a glorious feeling for me. Carrying that into the world with spirit and confidence as way more important than the right dress or a stuffed bra. Be who you are and the world will follow.

scott0317

2002: After a 175 pound weight loss. I’m feeling amazing. My life has been saved. I have come back from morbid obesity and am full of optimism and love for myself. I am sober and “wholesome”. I am exploring my sexuality a lot, but gender not at all, which I now consider to be a crucial mistake, because for me they do work together to make the whole. Or perhaps I do consider it, but I’m insisting that I can be a man. At least give it a good try. I hadn’t ever really tried. I went from boy to girl to monster. Now I will be a man. Not a woman. That, I don’t even consider it an option. “That was cute when I was 22”, I always dismiss it with a sneer. My body is wrecked from being obese. Sagging loose flesh that I will surgically correct, but I’m still left with scars and flab that bothers me. The notion of being sexy and feminine is inconceivable to me. I won’t entertain the question.

A Short Story About A Long Trip

robyn001 In 1991 I was a pretty young transvestite and wanna-be drag queen in San Francisco, exploring my gender and sexuality. I called myself Robyn. I was very happily “out”, I had lots of fabulous friends and support in the queer community, but also had a punishing, self-destructive, and addictive side that eventually won out. Continue reading “A Short Story About A Long Trip”