Tranny Queer, Queers and Steers

The Artist D

I recently spent a week traveling through Texas. I stopped in many one horse towns with lots of people who have never seen the real world. (What is the real world? What isn’t real? Nothing. It’s all real for somebody.) While I was dressed down as my glamorous heavy metal self I still received plenty of side eyes and sneery lips. I don’t think the reaction would have been any different than if I was in a full length sequined gown and tiara. I’ve learned that people in these small towns often have a sixth sense when it comes to outsiders. They know when you’re not made of corn bread and sweet tea.

I am pretty sure that it wasn’t just all in my mind. As I traveled from the very southern tip of Texas up north beyond Dallas I could sense a complete change of character. People spoke to me more. They held doors open. They said “please” and “thank you.” They generally did not look like they were about to eat me.

My life is lived as an extraterrestrial adventurer. I am scientific in my thoughts. My feelings are not hurt. I do not become shy around hillbillies and haters. My only interest is why they think that. And as long as they do not physically harm me, then it’s nothing more than an anthropological expedition.

For instance, I sat next to some middle aged cowboys in a bar one night. They were discussing how homosexuals disgusted them. They seemed genuine about the entire conversation. It wasn’t a conversation of hate as much as it was a conversation about some kind of personal disgust. They spoke of it the way people speak of accidentally watching someone vomit.

It’s times like these that do not make me angry or upset. I become very curious about the situation. What was it that made them feel so disgusting? Did they accidentally witness two men having sex once? Did a couple of lesbians begin making out in front of them one day when they weren’t expecting it? Are they suffering from PTSD as they had an episode where their senses were unfairly accosted by a man covered in rainbow glitter wearing nothing but a Speedo? If the answer to any of these questions is “yes” then I’ve been hanging around all the wrong places and I need to hang out with these disgusted straight men. (Do you know how long I’ve wished to walk a public trail and accidentally bump into two naked lumberjacks having sex? This stuff just doesn’t happen outside of Redtube.)

It’s a big scary world out there if you don’t actually get out into it. Sometimes it’s more risky to not take a risk. I take it all in as I travel and listen to the conversations of places I would not normally find myself.  I think about the underbelly of things. We’re all afraid of the underbelly. It’s why they are building a wall. Yet it turns out that the underbelly is ourselves. We are them. They are us. The universe is I. When you are afraid (or disgusted, like some cowboys) you are actually afraid of yourself. Even if that gay guy is not you he is still part of you because you are both made of star dust.

I look at the large populations of people who are different than I am and I sometimes find myself to be nervous. I watch the bad drivers and the sneering tourists. I feel averse to it all. But I can’t help but keep remembering that they are me. We are all growing from the same tree. And when you start to understand this you will likely become even more disgusted, but then begin to learn what that all really means.

To be continued. . .

Tags: featured, observation, perception, theartistd, trannyqueer, true to yourself

Category: Transgender Body & Soul