Missing Persons

Missing Persons, circa 1982. (Great eyes!)

Despite being predominantly a fan of classic hard rock and heavy metal, I freely admit to having a soft spot for good, 1980s synth-pop. When it was done well, the mix of rock guitar and synthesizer that began in the mid-‘70s and arguably reached its zenith in the early ‘80s was very enjoyable, creating a lush and ethereal sound still worth hearing. (Think of then-MTV favorites like I Ran by A Flock of Seagulls, or Girls On Film by Duran Duran.)

One of the more successful examples of this genre was the 1982 album Spring Session M by Missing Persons. (Alert readers will notice that the album title is an anagram of the group name.) This album produced several lasting staples, including Words, Walking in L.A. and Destination Unknown — each providing its own creative commentary on the many ways to experience isolation in contemporary North American suburbia.

My own personal favorite from this collection is the often overlooked U.S. Drag, which in addition to a creative rhythm and melody also features fun lyrics of unintentional interest to TGForum readers, e.g. “You can feel it closing in on you, but there’s not much you can do / It’s not a thing that you can put your finger on, but you’ll know when it’s gone”. Such musical styles provide a refreshing change – as well as a break from the decibel level — in between binging on the likes of Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, AC/DC and Van Halen.

Like many groups from the era, Missing Persons still performs today, albeit with a musical chairs lineup; the only current member from their 1980s heyday is lead vocalist Dale Bozzio. (Seems as if the band presently has some missing persons of its own.)

While enjoying this song recently, I thought of the many people who have, in a figurative sense, gone missing over the past few years. Between professional colleagues who retired early, neighbors who permanently relocated to more temperate climes, medical practices that have lost many of their patients for a variety of reasons, friends who are no longer involved in certain activities, or simply the normal turnover of life, we can all look around us and identify some of the souls that we no longer see anymore. The void and disruption created by such departures has often been awkward and painful.

This led me to wonder: How many of us in the transgender demographic are “missing”, in the sense of simply not being visible? Some reasons for this are completely justifiable. If being visible includes a real possibility of exposing oneself and/or those close to you to danger, then one should certainly exercise caution. Similarly, if one is still learning how to conduct oneself responsibly, or has unrealistic expectations of what being “out” means, then one is not ready for public visibility.

We are a small community, after all, and the actions and impressions made by each one of us have significant ripple effects on all of us, for good or ill. Certainly, in such a context it is better to be invisible and make no impression at all— rather than be visible inappropriately, and make a poor impression that the rest of us may well struggle to reverse. The extreme examples can be counted on to receive maximum visibility in celebrity-driven American culture. (As the song refrain ironically goes, “There ain’t no drag like the U.S. drag”.)

But entertainers, politicians and social commentators simply pander to the least common denominator, or just throw something out there to see if it will stick. They are generally quite happy to use anyone and anything, if it will make them famous. Thankfully, they are not representative of the average person, transgender or otherwise. I personally am unimpressed by how visibly we may be represented in such worlds. I would much rather see more of us in everyday environments, interacting confidently with the public at large.

I recently spent a mild winter weekend in Annapolis, visiting the charming small town, enjoying its historic architecture and leisurely meandering its streets. While the Maryland state capitol grounds showed a few residual signs from 2020, these were happily absent in the rest of the town, not to mention from the campus of the United States Naval Academy. During my stay, I walked several neighborhoods, visited many shops, attended Mass in a beautiful neo-Gothic church, enjoyed dinner at a local oyster bar, and toured the Academy itself, after clearing a campus security checkpoint (manned on this occasion by two armed female cadets).

At all times, I was treated courteously and respectfully. My pink Fair Isle tunic sweater, black leggings, stylish leather handbag and comfortable walking shoes drew no extra attention from passersby, other than to draw a polite compliment on one occasion from a fellow restaurant patron. Annapolis admittedly does have an artsy scene, but even this is tasteful compared to what can be observed in larger cities; aside from my lack of a second X chromosome, nothing about me would have dramatically stood out compared to any other lady in town.

Despite being a lifelong resident of the northeastern United States, my tastes, personality and outlook on life are probably more aligned with the mid-Atlantic and near southeast (e.g. Delmarva and the Carolinas). Things are warmer down there, in every way. I’ve found that meeting people halfway, and showing manners, common courtesy, and a lack of entitlement will go far — even in a region where transgender individuals may not be as routinely visible as in colder, bluer America. Hopefully I have helped to set a positive precedent down there in my prior visits.

So when it comes to presenting yourself in public, please don’t go missing! Think of ways in which you can safely and confidently put your best (stylish) foot forward. Not to have you out with us, responsibly enjoying what life has to offer, would truly be a drag. Let’s see you sometime!

Tags: featured, opinion, Out & About

Category: Transgender Opinion