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Dec. 10th, 2011 01:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolariSo. Yesterday was a big day for me. Despite living as a woman since 1998, yesterday was my first family event as a woman. Thirteen years secluded away in Pennsylvania, Washington, and various towns around Texas. There were a few reasons I never came out.
One was an agreement that I wouldn't come out to the family until after my grandmother died. She was ill when I made that agreement, but held on for almost ten years after that.
Secondly, there was an incident when I was about nine, where I was beaten up by a cousin for (1) not being Man Enough and (2) not being Mexican enough. I've seen the cousin once since. I worried that, with how traditional our family was, and that fag-bashing was common in Mexican families, that the beat-down was going to come up more than a few times if I came out.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
As I've written recently, coming out to the family didn't just go off without a hitch, it's been a wild and woolly rollercoaster ride of euphoria. EVERYONE'S been awesomely supportive.
It came as a shock when mom suggested I extend my stay a few days and stay for her Christmas party. And even moreso when I was invited to the party my father's side was having. Ho boy.
But, I was gonna do this. I'd just recently gone to Christmas in Comfort as a woman with my parents, and despite calling me my wrong name, it went beautifully. But this, this would be three million of my closest family members (we're a gigantic family), all seeing me for the first time.
Seriously, though, it'd be about twenty of my mom's relatives coming, from about five of the families. Twenty chances to blow a first impression. To say I wasn't nervous would be an understatement. What would I wear? How would I look? Would some people not know about my transition? Would I be stupid? Silly? Would I upset people?
To say I wasn't nervous would be a lie. In fact, I took an extended four mile walk before the party to think it over and calm myself. It didn't really work - playing chicken with your emotions is never a calming activity. In the end, I just kinda realized - you've faced worse in your life. Many of the folks coming already know and were supportive. They had my back if anyone gave me grief.
I got back home a little late, jumped in the shower and cleaned myself up. I began getting dressed when the first doorbell rang. Crap. I wanted to be dressed and mingling before anyone showed up. So I hustled and slapped on everything when I heard mom talking to whoever had shown up that I was a woman now. It was a couple of cousins who hadn't been told until that moment.
Crap crap crap. HUSTLE, JENN, HUSTLE.
I was dressed, had some foundation makeup on and was putting on powder to hide my "mask" when suddenly, I heard "JENNNNNNIFERRRRR!!! CAN WE COME UP AND SEE YOU?!?!?!" And a sudden stampede towards my room.
First Impression: Transgender person looking in the mirror putting on makeup. Also known as Transgender Cliche #1.
There was obviously a little shock between my two cousins, but it quickly faded. Hugs, hellos, and reintroductions came up...and it was like I never left. They were happy to see me. In a dress and makeup as much as in my old jeans and sneakers uniform. I went downstairs with them, and proceeded to have a gay old time (pun intended).
More and more cousins and aunts and uncles came in, slowly filtering in. Some had talked to me already, some hadn't. Some of the men held their hands out to shake mine, like I was still a guy. I took their hands femininely, and, if they hugged other girls in the party, pulled them in for a hug. Despite some obvious shock here and there, no one seemed squeamish, upset, or unhappy.
And EVERYONE used my new name. Including my mom. WHICH BLEW MY MIND. I really did win that one, didn't I? After so many years.
Anyways, we all had dinner, small talk was exchanged, and the party split into two groups. The boys telling stories in the den, and the girls in the living room having the white elephant party. There was another gift exchange game, and then some mingling...
...and I was there with the girls of my family. No one felt awkward. No one felt I shouldn't have been there. I wasn't singling myself out as an outsider.
I was one of the girls of my family.
I did it. I freakin' did it. I jumped the formerly-thought-to-be-unjumpable gender line in my family. Pardon my French, but OH MY FREAKIN' GOTT IN HIMMEL, I did it.
In "Closetspace" and the upcoming "Girl in the Mirror" there are bits in there where I (or in CS's case, Carrie) talk about "craving" feminine communication. Women do not talk about things like men. And among men, I found it kind of boring. Nothing personal against the male sex, but I always felt like I just wasn't getting the full translation of what I was hearing. Like my dictionary wasn't complete.
I crave feminine communication, which seems, to me, deeper. There are emotions there, and intuitions and an undercurrent of communication on top of whatever you're talking about. I get this with my female friends (it's most powerful with Steph), but I'd never been in a position to get that within family.
That night, I got a ton of it. Especially with my cousin Marlina, who I had a good long talk with. There were a lot of things we talked about, but it was one of the things she mentioned about accepting my transition that made me think.
"I said my goodbyes to [oldname], since he's gone now. But now I have a new cousin, and a second god-sister!"
Something I often heard from my mother was that she had to say goodbye to the old me. And it felt alien to me. I'm right here. I'm the same person I was fifteen years ago, I never left.
But...you know...here I was. Reaccepted into the family as a woman. After years of assimilating into women's society. Thousands of hormone pills changing my body to the closest it can be to a woman's. Fights and activism to not be rejected. To not be killed, or have my fellow sisters killed.
I wasn't the same person I was even just ten years ago. And it finally dawned on me that my parents had to say goodbye to the old me. And that's why they pushed against this so so so much until recently, when it was apparent the old me was really truly gone
The party ended, everyone was happy, my parents were good, and asked to make sure I was okay. I was more than okay. I was ecstatic. Buzzing. Even my cousins mentioned I was happier, more vibrant and outgoing.
I slept good that night as a woman of my family. Just thinking that makes me giddy.
Tomorrow - round two. Dad's side of the family.
One was an agreement that I wouldn't come out to the family until after my grandmother died. She was ill when I made that agreement, but held on for almost ten years after that.
Secondly, there was an incident when I was about nine, where I was beaten up by a cousin for (1) not being Man Enough and (2) not being Mexican enough. I've seen the cousin once since. I worried that, with how traditional our family was, and that fag-bashing was common in Mexican families, that the beat-down was going to come up more than a few times if I came out.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
As I've written recently, coming out to the family didn't just go off without a hitch, it's been a wild and woolly rollercoaster ride of euphoria. EVERYONE'S been awesomely supportive.
It came as a shock when mom suggested I extend my stay a few days and stay for her Christmas party. And even moreso when I was invited to the party my father's side was having. Ho boy.
But, I was gonna do this. I'd just recently gone to Christmas in Comfort as a woman with my parents, and despite calling me my wrong name, it went beautifully. But this, this would be three million of my closest family members (we're a gigantic family), all seeing me for the first time.
Seriously, though, it'd be about twenty of my mom's relatives coming, from about five of the families. Twenty chances to blow a first impression. To say I wasn't nervous would be an understatement. What would I wear? How would I look? Would some people not know about my transition? Would I be stupid? Silly? Would I upset people?
To say I wasn't nervous would be a lie. In fact, I took an extended four mile walk before the party to think it over and calm myself. It didn't really work - playing chicken with your emotions is never a calming activity. In the end, I just kinda realized - you've faced worse in your life. Many of the folks coming already know and were supportive. They had my back if anyone gave me grief.
I got back home a little late, jumped in the shower and cleaned myself up. I began getting dressed when the first doorbell rang. Crap. I wanted to be dressed and mingling before anyone showed up. So I hustled and slapped on everything when I heard mom talking to whoever had shown up that I was a woman now. It was a couple of cousins who hadn't been told until that moment.
Crap crap crap. HUSTLE, JENN, HUSTLE.
I was dressed, had some foundation makeup on and was putting on powder to hide my "mask" when suddenly, I heard "JENNNNNNIFERRRRR!!! CAN WE COME UP AND SEE YOU?!?!?!" And a sudden stampede towards my room.
First Impression: Transgender person looking in the mirror putting on makeup. Also known as Transgender Cliche #1.
There was obviously a little shock between my two cousins, but it quickly faded. Hugs, hellos, and reintroductions came up...and it was like I never left. They were happy to see me. In a dress and makeup as much as in my old jeans and sneakers uniform. I went downstairs with them, and proceeded to have a gay old time (pun intended).
More and more cousins and aunts and uncles came in, slowly filtering in. Some had talked to me already, some hadn't. Some of the men held their hands out to shake mine, like I was still a guy. I took their hands femininely, and, if they hugged other girls in the party, pulled them in for a hug. Despite some obvious shock here and there, no one seemed squeamish, upset, or unhappy.
And EVERYONE used my new name. Including my mom. WHICH BLEW MY MIND. I really did win that one, didn't I? After so many years.
Anyways, we all had dinner, small talk was exchanged, and the party split into two groups. The boys telling stories in the den, and the girls in the living room having the white elephant party. There was another gift exchange game, and then some mingling...
...and I was there with the girls of my family. No one felt awkward. No one felt I shouldn't have been there. I wasn't singling myself out as an outsider.
I was one of the girls of my family.
I did it. I freakin' did it. I jumped the formerly-thought-to-be-unjumpable gender line in my family. Pardon my French, but OH MY FREAKIN' GOTT IN HIMMEL, I did it.
In "Closetspace" and the upcoming "Girl in the Mirror" there are bits in there where I (or in CS's case, Carrie) talk about "craving" feminine communication. Women do not talk about things like men. And among men, I found it kind of boring. Nothing personal against the male sex, but I always felt like I just wasn't getting the full translation of what I was hearing. Like my dictionary wasn't complete.
I crave feminine communication, which seems, to me, deeper. There are emotions there, and intuitions and an undercurrent of communication on top of whatever you're talking about. I get this with my female friends (it's most powerful with Steph), but I'd never been in a position to get that within family.
That night, I got a ton of it. Especially with my cousin Marlina, who I had a good long talk with. There were a lot of things we talked about, but it was one of the things she mentioned about accepting my transition that made me think.
"I said my goodbyes to [oldname], since he's gone now. But now I have a new cousin, and a second god-sister!"
Something I often heard from my mother was that she had to say goodbye to the old me. And it felt alien to me. I'm right here. I'm the same person I was fifteen years ago, I never left.
But...you know...here I was. Reaccepted into the family as a woman. After years of assimilating into women's society. Thousands of hormone pills changing my body to the closest it can be to a woman's. Fights and activism to not be rejected. To not be killed, or have my fellow sisters killed.
I wasn't the same person I was even just ten years ago. And it finally dawned on me that my parents had to say goodbye to the old me. And that's why they pushed against this so so so much until recently, when it was apparent the old me was really truly gone
The party ended, everyone was happy, my parents were good, and asked to make sure I was okay. I was more than okay. I was ecstatic. Buzzing. Even my cousins mentioned I was happier, more vibrant and outgoing.
I slept good that night as a woman of my family. Just thinking that makes me giddy.
Tomorrow - round two. Dad's side of the family.
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Date: 2011-12-10 03:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-10 06:34 pm (UTC)