Masks

Believe it or not, I’m actually very shy. I always have been. Being bullied from a young age will do that. I stayed as quiet as I could in class, and generally avoided people with whom I wasn’t close.

That started to change a little in high school when I was hired at Burger King. Thanks to my dear departed friend Chuck, who extended his hand, I began to come out from behind the walls I built. It helped that, at BK, I had to wear a silly uniform. It was butt ugly- brown red and orange. It was like I could be someone just a little different when wearing it, especially since, at first, I didn’t know most of the crew.

It was the same after I graduated college. In late 1989, after leaving teaching, I was among the first hired for T.G.I. Fridays at King of Prussia mall. There, I had to wear the red and white stripes, a hat, and “flair.” Yes, Office Space nailed that spot on. However, at that point, I figured that if I was going to earn money at the job, I’d have to stand out. So I adopted a “persona”– the happy, goofy, stupid hat wearing Lance. Putting on the stripes was like putting on a clown suit — it allowed me to be someone else. Even then, I referred to the uniform as “clown suit.” I could play the fool and not care. When not working, I was an absolutely miserable, drunken SOB. It let a side of me come out that I (and those who I let in) knew: bad puns, goofy sense of humor, sometimes a bit too cutting.

I’ve always loved Halloween, because that one night a year, I could wear a mask and be whatever I wanted. . . to a point. That was until Halloween 2008, when all the defenses crumbled. My female self would no longer be denied.

“Sophie” was a mask. One weekend a month, I could let a side of me emerge that I’d hidden a long time. Was she different than him? Yes, at first. We had hard drinking in common, but aside from that, I felt. . . more at peace while dressed as a woman. To “become” Sophie, I wore a corset, hip pads, breast forms (or the infamous breasts from the UK), a wig, and usually was made over by a professional- most often the incredible Amanda Richards. If one could put Sophie in a room with Lance, and you didn’t know who I was, you couldn’t tell they were the same person. My body language was more relaxed. I could let go the tension.

At the Empire Conference as well as Beauty at the Beach, I did a stand-up comedy routine. By that time, my training as a teacher prepared me for speaking to groups, but this was different — I was doing this as Sophie. However, I did this as “costume” Sophie — wearing something ridiculous.

I’ve done four plays since transition. In three of them, I wore a costume and was able to play the fool. Costume as a mask: permission to be someone else entirely.

I was discussing this very topic with someone who is still closeted. She asked me how different Sophie is from Lance. I thought, well, there’s Sophie, the Truth; “Sophie” the crossdresser; then there was Lance. Then it hit me “like I was shot… like I was shot with a diamond… a diamond bullet right through my forehead” that…

Lance was a costume — a Mask.

Lance was, while me, still just a construct of what I thought everyone expected me to be — as a guy. The people I loved, especially my Wife, saw who I really was behind that mask, but not. . . everything. Not until March 2014, when I began living my Truth.

That’s when I discovered how few could accept the person under the mask. Like the Phantom of the Opera, I scared people away. The people I’ve met since then, who never knew Him, they have seen me as close to “raw” as possible. There are parts of me that I’ll never let out; Same as everyone else.

Truth is rarely pleasant, and most people prefer the lie — prefer the costume. So do I, on Halloween. I’m still learning about who I am. 53-years-old, and in many ways still a child. That’s the curse of mid-life transition, as well as the blessing. I’ll never stop learning.

(If you know the quote I used, tip of the hat to you!)

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Tags: closeted, featured, Identity, Transgender

Category: Transgender Body & Soul