I WAS A TEENAGE JERRY SPRINGER GUEST!!

By  Ina Shook
 

Well not really.  But I could have been.  Perhaps I even should have
been.

 Picture it:  A striking young, passable Pre-Op TS girl, 21 years three
days and two hours old gets hired on the spot(!) at a friendly
neighborhood gentleman’s club.  Undetected by even the management,  she
undulates across the tiny center stage, learning to bump and grind her
way through the fall semester of her Senior Year in College (No small
dreams, this kid).

Wow!  This job is so unbelievably easy it’s almost addictive.  Three hard
years of panicky, poverty filled transition are finally paying off.
Isn’t she lovely?(???)

Soon she attracts a semi-loyal following of drunkards who love beer,
hanging out with the boys, and stuffing fives into the panties of pretty
young ladies.  Oh yes, and they really really LOVE the new girl.  If only
they knew&ldots; (heheheh&ldots;)

It’s the kind of powder keg Springer dreams are made of.  But this little
girlie isn’t about to let any audience in on her "Shocking Secret."  Not
here.

Now that I have your attention, let me introduce you to a radical new
concept: A Transsexual Person’s right to Privacy.

And Hey!   What do you know?  Look what’s on the other side of that same
coin!! It’s a Transsexual Person’s right to exist in Public. (Hmmm&ldots; this
is getting complicated).

Of course when there are rights, there are *responsibilities.*  We’ve all
heard the line on the talk shows:  "But LaQueesha, didn’t your boyfriend
have a RIGHT to know you were a GUY before you slept together?"

Well, No.  He did not.

Huh???  What kind of blasphemy is this?  Of COURSE he has the right to
know!  Look at her!!  She obviously TRICKED him!!! Who wants to go to bed
with some transie and not know about it first off?

Well, apparently LaQueesha’s ex-boyfriend does. And so does the society
that made him.  But let’s not have a collective heartattack   Let me
explain myself, and a few other things from the "other" side.

*YOUR BODY ISN’T ANYBODY ELSE’S BUSINESS*

LaQueesha, sweetie, I have some dire advice for you:  You don’t owe it to
anybody to confess your secrets.  Nobody is ENTITLED to know your body or
gender or the history of either.  That’s your business and yours alone to
share or not share.  But PLEEEZ Sistah!!  Use some *COMMON SENSE* when
getting intimate with other people!

And I mean with ignorant people who won’t understand the truth you have
to share.  Violent people who will KILL you if they get a chance, just
because they don’t know how else to cope with your reality. According to
them, you shouldn’t exist. They will KILL you for ruining their sweet
illusions.

LaQueesha, you owe it to yourself to give a DAMN about your OWN SAFETY.
Don’t put yourself in harm’s way.  You aren’t being "real" by playing
with fire.

Okay, girl&ldots; now you know you can "get away with it." You pass.  Men and
whoever else desire you as a woman.  Hooray for validation!!

&ldots;So WHAT??

Not letting people know you’re TS in sexual situations isn’t going to
make your transsexual history go away.  It’s part of you, and as precious
as any jewelry.  Don’t wear your diamonds in dark alleys.  And don’t cast
your pearls before swine.

And as for LaQueesha’s ex-boyfriend, I see you sulking over there!  How
could she do this to you?  She "tricked" you, she should have said
something.  Now you look like some kind of pervert&ldots;!!!

GET OVER YOURSELF.   It stands to reason that you already knew you were
against dating transsexuals waaaay before you ever met sweet LaQueesha.
Why didn’t YOU do the investigative work here?  Why is it HER job to know
and cater to the things YOU don’t like in a romantic partner?  Why are
YOU entitled to jump in bed with virtual strangers and then assume they
aren’t the kind of stranger you despise ?  Are all the cute transies
supposed to stay huddled up somewhere under a big rock out of your sight
forever and ever?

What’s so wrong with her anyway?  Obviously you didn’t know she was a
"freak." She certainly didn’t look like one.  And apparently that’s all
you need  before you jump in the sack.  What’s the problem?  What’s so
different about her now?

Whatever it is, it’s certainly not self-evident, or you would have known
to punch her in the mouth ahead of time, (instead of kissing her lips
soooo tenderly).

Like the lady on the Suave commercial says: If YOU can’t tell the
difference, why should WE?

Or is that just it right there?  That you wish we would just SHUT UP? Not
talk about it.  That way you can have sexual access to anybody that looks
good to you and not have to think about whether they are transie or not?
Is THAT it?

Don’t worry, Mister. Whatever.  You are still entitled to your opinion.
You don’t have to want LaQueesha.   And if LaQueesha ever works up a
little self-esteem, she’ll see that she doesn’t want YOU either.

But, Sir,  if you are going to actively hate and scorn transsexuals, it’s
up to YOU to know who and what you’re dealing with in the first place.
We’re not going to let "unspoken codes of conduct" do your excluding for
you anymore.

The New Millenium is upon us.  Let’s make it one of personal
accountability for all our own  inactions.

I have this crazy idea that we all need to start treating the
GenderQueer like they (we) actually exist, and moreover not just to trick
and make fools of polite(?) society. We have VALUE.  And we have a right
to the validity of being open in public and without being pointed,
stared, laughed or shot at.  Passable or not.

Nontheless, I think it’s high time that we queerfolk stop using Passing
as a way to get approval.  Approval from each other, from ourselves, and
from people who hate and fear us anyway.  It’s a shallow goal, and losing
battle.  Hiding in plain sight is a neat trick. But then what?  We’ll
never be "real" living just for that.

At the same time I think we need to choose our battles wisely.  You can’t
get anything done shouting your Queernessfrom the rooftops 24/7.
There’s a thing called a Life you need to get.  It involves contributing
to and participating in a larger society that doesn’t revolve around your
insecurities.  It involves making honest, intimate connections with other
people who will not abuse you.

It’s hard work.  But honest work usually is&ldots;.

Oh, by now you’re probably wondering what happened to the girl at the
strip joint.  Never you fear, for she was *lucky*.  The money was good,
but she got very very tired of it very fast.  Tired of waiting for the
bouncers to actually admonish the handsy-er clientele.  Tired of the
constant pressure to go in for harlotry after hours.  And of the harsh
reality that even if she had wanted to do that, she would’ve ended up in
a world of trouble (or dead) should the "truth" be revealed.

And then there were the very jealous and competitive *other* dancers
(non-transies every last one of them) always stealing her clothes and
pushing needles into her lipsticks, fast on the heels of a "rumor" and
then figuring out the "truth" anyway.

And last and not at all least,  that one bouncer who had what he called a
"big crush" on her&ldots; the one who sort of bragged about doing half a year
in prison for beating some "fucking faggot" into a two week coma. Maybe
she was going to end up in that world of trouble after all&ldots;.

So she quit.  Made tracks.  Sorry folks.  No chairs picked up and thrown.
 No hairpulling and wigs flying off.  She was never one for hand to hand
combat.

On the brighter side, there was still her SRS next semester, followed by
a tidy little graduation, and then off into the "Real World."  Now THAT’S
validation.  Right?(???)

Ah well&ldots; that’s a whole ‘nother show.  Oprah perhaps.
 
 

****