It was years later, long after the woman in the elevator, when I grasped in a conscious way, and finally, the simple fact of the man who murdered my grandfather. I am a survivor of domestic violence. The man meant to harm his estranged wife. My grandfather and I were collateral damage.
It was years later, long after the woman in the elevator, when I grasped in a conscious way, and finally, the simple fact of the man who murdered my grandfather.
I drink a second mouthful, in which I find nothing more than in the first, a third, which gives me rather less than the second. It is time to stop; the potion is losing its magic. It is plain that the object of my quest, the truth, lies not in the cup but in myself. The tea has called up in me, but does not itself understand, and can only repeat indefinitely with a gradual loss of strength, the same testimony; which I, too, cannot interpret, though I hope at least to be able to call upon the tea for it again and to find it there presently, intact and at my disposal, for my final enlightenment. I put down my cup and examine my own mind. It is for it to discover the truth. But how? What an abyss of uncertainty whenever the mind feels that some part of it has strayed beyond its own borders; when it, the seeker, is at once the dark region through which it must go seeking, where all its equipment will avail it nothing. Seek? More than that: create. It is face to face with something which does not so far exist, to which it alone can give reality and substance, which it alone can bring into the light of day.
Random Acts of Kindness in a Pink, Ruffled Shirt is another excerpt in my memoir. To read other excerpts, please go here.
_________________________
I arrived at the Judge’s chambers wearing my J Crew flat front pants and a very special item picked out at a vintage shop with the help of my friend M.: a 1970s, pink ruffled tuxedo shirt with black piping. The shirt signified all things changing in my life: my friendships, my life, my body. The shirt also signified a kind of balls out, all in attitude I now no longer possess. Today I would arrive at a judge’s chambers in a suit. But then I needed to expose myself and hide myself. The shirt functioned both as an armor and a revelation.
The shirt I now see was also a kind of dare. Like, I dare you to be nice to me. Becauseas I moved forward with the physical changes I desired I had prepared myself to lose everything: my home, my family, my then friends. Everything.
I had not expected to receive kindness. Rejecting myself for as long as I could remember, I had not planned on easy acceptance from others. How could I expect from others what I had been unable to give to myself?
No, I had not expected to receive kindness, and not from strangers.
There I was sitting in the chambers, waiting for my name to be called. Two lawyers got called before me. Then a white woman says, “In the matter of the name change of ——,” so I stand and enter the area in front of the judge. He looks up, stunned, as I recall, and says, “Are you ——?”
“I am.”
“—, Please administer the oath to this young man.”
After swearing to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, the Judge goes:
“Why are you here today?”
I go: “IamafemaletomaletranssexualandIamheretodaytochangemynamefrombirthnametomynewname.”
I recall he kind of bobbed his head like WTF but he would not have thought WTF since that is a blogging term and blogs didn’t really exist back then. But he sure appears amazed.
Then he goes:
“Are you sure this is the best thing for you?”
I go:
“It is.”
Then he goes:
“Then I see no reason to deny this request.” He then signs some papers, the papers, actually, the ones granting a legal change of name, and says
“I wish you the best of luck, sir.”