On November 14, 2002, I picked up my little travel bag, overstuffed with dresses, skirts, shoes, shoes and more shoes, and headed off to Hollywood to push my transgender experience to new boundaries. It’s not that I haven’t been in the mainstream many times before; the circumstances in this case were just different.
When I think about it, most times Brianna steps out into the mainstream on her own terms, but on her own turf – and it is usually only for a night or two. Yes, I did spend 10 days on Fire Island last summer, but out there everything and anything is accepted as run-of-the-mill – so a transgender person is nothing new to them.
The trip proved to be interesting from the start. As I waited to check in, the woman at the counter said, “Can I help you, miss?” The interesting part was that I chose to travel as a guy, wearing flat shoes, hip-hugger jeans, and a sleeveless turtleneck sweater with a long sweater jacket over it. After all, my passport was male, so why look for trouble? I chuckled but thought nothing of it. When I got to the counter, she realized, most likely from my voice and lack of breasts, that I was in fact a guy. She was very polite and took it in stride, complimenting me on my long, French-tipped, manicured nails.
I got to the airport very early and had to wait around for a while, so I had a bite to eat, read the paper, and drank some coffee, a lot of coffee. Afterward, I made a pit stop in the men’s room several times over the next hour. As I was walking out, several guys were on their way in. They suddenly stopped, rather embarrassed, and said, “Oh, I’m sorry,” as they double-checked the sign on the door. As I passed them, they realized their error and continued inside. This happened on both trips to the men’s room, and I noticed I was confusing people throughout the day.
It must be true what they say: if you play it down, you become much more passable. Granted, girl mode for me is no makeup or breasts; other than that, there is not much change.
When I arrived in Hollywood, I checked into the Roosevelt Hotel, across from Mann’s Chinese Theater – only a few blocks from where I had lived 20 years or so earlier. For the next three days I attended a poets convention with about 2000 members in attendance. On my first day, I wore a jeans skirt and a cami top with high-heeled sandals (which, in retrospect, was a little Julia Roberts a/k/a pretty woman-ish, before she cleaned up). I checked into the convention around 11:00 AM at another hotel a few blocks away. A lot of people were in line to check in and pick up their badges, and I had the chance to interact with a few people. So far, so good; no one had a bad word to say. I was primed and ready to defend myself, verbally or physically – but neither was necessary.
When I picked up my badge and the event schedule, I was slated to speak at 12:30 that same day, less than one hour from now. I didn’t have time to change, which is why I was dressed so casually in the pictures. I had met Gina almost immediately after checking in at registration, and we became quick friends. She never mentioned my gender or gender presentation, and neither did I.
After reading my poem, most of the room knew I was transgender, because before reading it I told them so that I could explain the poem and circumstances of what they were about to hear. I had several poems that I considered reading, but in the end could not pass up the opportunity of reading “Broken Spirit” to give the mainstream a little glimpse of some of the internal struggles from one transgender perspective.
When I took the podium, the room was silent, and I thought I was about to go down in flames. But after I finished, the applause was overwhelming and nearly moved me to tears. I never expected such a positive reaction. I truly thought I would be defending the TG’s right to exist at all amidst what appeared to be a rather conservative religious group of people. In fact, people got up from their chairs to approach me to make their appreciation known.
What was odd to me, however, was that since I had arrived, NO ONE, and I mean no one, had mentioned, criticized, or discussed my gender at all. Even in TG-friendly environments back in NYC, people approached me all the time, asking if they could make an inquiry about this or that.
That night was the opening-night festivities, including a sit-down dinner, a show by the Platters,
and a midnight dance party. I never expected so many people (1700-2000 in all), and I only tried to find Gina for a few minutes before I looked for a table with an open seat. I figured I’d meet some new people. When I found a table with an open seat, the six people there seemed welcoming enough, except for one girl who seemed uncomfortable that I was there. At first I thought she was transgender, and I was afraid I would give her away. She really should have been born a drag queen – with all the glitter and glitz she had on, and not coordinated very well at that. Everyone else at the table was generally friendly. Two women were mother and daughter-in-law from Tennessee and Georgia, respectively, and the other three were husband, wife, and father-in-law, all from Michigan.
Shortly after I sat down, I caught the wife out of the corner of my eye explaining to her husband that she was pretty sure I was a guy, but no one brought it up, and neither did I. The father, a good-looking man in his early 50s, sat to my right and couldn’t have been nicer – offering me wine and desserts. His son and daughter-in-law were pleasant as well, and we all shared some laughs. Another girl joined us shortly thereafter, from Utah, and it was very pleasant.
After the show, I went outside for some air and heard a voice call out to me, “Brianna, over here,” and I turned to see two young girls sitting with a guy – they all appeared to be in their late 20s or so. I walked over, and they introduced themselves: Tasha and Raquel, who were both from Georgia. Tasha said she’d noticed me earlier in the day and thought I had great legs. Of course she knew I was a guy, but never mentioned it except once later in the night when we were all singing around a piano in the hotel lobby.
Regarding my gender, the next few days I continued to be unquestioned – except for a few looks from a few guys, and an older woman who wanted me to find god.
The next day I caught up with the crew from GIRL TALK Magazine at a trade show, also in Hollywood, where the magazine had a table.
It was great fun. Gina Lance I finally met finally in person after working online and by phone going on two years. Our cast of characters included many of the columnists, as well as some of the cover girls.
And of course, after the event we went for dinner and I Gina and I had time to linger, chat, drink and laugh then to a club.
On my return home, I again traveled in guy mode only to turn heads exiting the men’s room again. As I boarded the plane, I handed in my boarding pass and showed my passport. I took a few steps away when the ticket girl shouted, “Miss, miss.” Puzzled, I turned to have her tell me that I had three items (my carry-on bag, my Gucci purse, and a large trophy) and was only allowed two. “Did you actually READ my passport?” I asked. I told her I would consolidate the purse into my carry-on, to which she replied, “Thank you, miss.” Go figure 🙂