I always hated going downtown. For reasons I can\u2019t understand, people just seemed to get meaner the closer to our town\u2019s center they are. Ironically, this is also where the seat of our local government resides. I always wondered if those two truths are related. Still, I always try to rise above my environment, mostly out of self-defense. Life is hard enough, especially in my case, without having to subject one\u2019s self to the foul moods of others. In any event, I had important business to tend to. After a nearly three year\u2019s wait, I was off to the Department of Motor Vehicles to amend my driver\u2019s license. I was so excited to think that the document would finally announce to the world who I really was, Jennifer Simmons, a thirty-something year old woman. I could feel myself wanting to giggle at the thought of never having to hear or speak the name of the man many people still thought of me as.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked both ways down the corridor of the seven-story municipal building as I pressed the button for the elevator. The fact that the tallest building in our town was dedicated to the function of government business offers a metaphor about freedom that is lost on most people, I\u2019m sure. As the doors to the elevator opened, I was happy that I was alone. I wasn\u2019t fond of elevators to begin with because of my claustrophobia, and the notion of being in such a confined space with a stranger was none too comforting, either. Since I first came out, I had come to realize that there were people who hated me simply for being honest with myself about who I am. I always wanted to tell people like that that they were always welcome to be who they really were, but usually opted for the safer option of keeping my mouth shut.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDing\u201d went the chime in the elevator. We stopped at the second floor. As memory served, civil court was on that level of the building.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cPlease don\u2019t let it be anyone mean<\/em>\u201d I thought to myself, almost saying the words aloud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The man who stepped into the elevator was very nearly the exact opposite of what I would have preferred. He wore high top sneakers with the laces undone, acid washed jeans that weren\u2019t really pulled up to their intended place on his body, and a hoodie. The fact that the man had an obvious neck tattoo added to my initial perception of him as well. That he had tattoos wasn\u2019t really the issue, given I had a few myself, but there was something about a neck tattoo that seemed to push the line of taste a bit too far for me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m going down. Fuck this place\u201d the said with an obvious tone of anger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n To look at, most people just assumed I was who I appeared to be, an average looking woman. That is, until I spoke. Two years of voice coaching and I still had not been able to contrive a believable woman\u2019s voice. Wishing to not draw attention to an aspect of myself that shouldn\u2019t have mattered to begin with, I simply pressed the button to the first floor, then smiled politely at the man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The elevator continued upwards once the doors were closed again. With a gentle surge, we started going upward towards my destination, the fourth floor. Suddenly, there was a flicker of the small light in the elevator, then the sound of silence. I felt my heart race in an instant, trying to understand what had just happened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou gotta be shittin\u2019 me\u201d the man said in sort of an angry sigh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Once again I made eye contact as to ask a question, not daring to use my voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPower outage\u201d he said after a moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My heart raced within me. I had learned to avoid unsafe situations, knowing there are many people who simply are not ok with my being transgender. Being locked in a stuck elevator with a man with a neck tattoo who had obviously had a bad day in court seemed a recipe for disaster.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPlease don\u2019t talk to me<\/em>\u201d my mind shouted, afraid to reveal my secret with my voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I noticed the man sort of glance at me out of the corner of my eye in a way men do with other women. Part of me liked the way it made me feel, but another part of me refused to see his inadvertent gesture as anything but another reason for my anxiety to grow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMy name is Jamal\u201d he said in a very matter-of-fact way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My mind did not miss the irony of the situation. Had we been in a night club, his willingness to glance me over then offer his name would have gone a long way to making me smile, yet now, under the present circumstances, his words caused nothing but concern. Still, I had to make a decision. Would I be better off letting my voice betray me, or would I be better off keeping my secret, only to appear rude. I took a long, slow breath, then made my decision.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMy name is Jennifer\u201d I said, trying to remember every lesson I had learned from my voice therapist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I could tell from the long moment of silence that my lessons had not been enough to keep my secret from the man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAre you\u2026?\u201d the man answered, seemingly not sure of what word to use.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I wasn\u2019t sure if his ignorance was a good thing or bad thing, given the circumstances. There was nothing I could do if the man had a problem with me, that much was sure. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m transgender\u201d I nodded, deciding to meet my fate head on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLike, all the way?\u201d the man continued.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I found the question rude, yet I sensed from his tone that the man didn\u2019t intend it to be. I knew the rush of adrenaline I had felt moments before wouldn\u2019t last forever, so I decided to do what I could before my chemically induced bravery wore off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI really am a woman. I\u2019ve been in transition for three years. My\u2026 well\u2026 they\u2019re real, if that\u2019s what you mean\u201d I said, timidly looking at my own chest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLook, I\u2019m not trying to be fucked up here, but I\u2019ve never really talked to someone like you, and it ain\u2019t like we\u2019re going anywhere\u201d the man shrugged.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI haven\u2019t had my last surgery yet\u201d I offered, something I normally wouldn\u2019t discuss with a stranger. There seemed to be something about the man\u2019s honesty that made me feel comfortable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGotcha. Shame\u201d he shrugged.<\/p>\n\n\n\n His words confused me in a way I simply couldn\u2019t decipher. A voice in the back of my mind screamed at me to end the conversation, but there was another part of me that found something unexpected. What had the man meant? Now it was I that dared a glace at the man in a new way. I suppose he was handsome, in spite of his neck tattoo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d<\/em> I asked myself in my mind, nearly saying the words out loud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I took a deep breath, then once again decided to risk turning the moment sour with my words.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m not sure how you mean that\u201d I asked, trying to not sound aggressive at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I sensed that the man was now the one feeling a bit uncomfortable, which sort of surprised me. I watched as he seemed to have a conversation in his own head. After a long moment, he finally continued.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI just mean that you make a pretty woman\u201d he finally admitted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I could feel the skin in my cheeks go warm. I had been called pretty many times, mostly by people who meant the gesture to make me feel good about myself, but this man, he offered the compliment in the sincerest of ways. The man seemed more attractive to me in that moment than any I had ever met since coming out. I waited a moment to see if my sudden surge of emotions would settle down before continuing the conversation. Finally, I decided to feel the waters a bit more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cUntil I get that resolved I ignore that part of me\u201d I offered, trying to use a tone that came across as delicate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Suddenly, the lights of the elevator flickered again. We both knew the moment was over. I decided to yield to desperation before pressing the buttons on the elevator to continue our journey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMaybe we could continue this conversation sometime?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The man took a deep breath, then nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI guess if my neck tattoo doesn\u2019t bother you, then I shouldn\u2019t let that bother me\u201d he smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I got my new driver\u2019s license that day, and I got to see the rest of the man\u2019s tattoos later that week. It\u2019s funny how things turn out sometimes. I know one thing, I\u2019ll never judge a person for something so petty as a neck tattoo ever again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I always hated going downtown. For reasons I can\u2019t understand, people just seemed to get meaner the closer to our town\u2019s center they are. Ironically, this is also where the seat of our local government resides. I always wondered if those two truths are related. Still, I always try to rise above my environment, mostly […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-85","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/dryadsystems.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/85","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/dryadsystems.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/dryadsystems.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dryadsystems.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dryadsystems.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=85"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/dryadsystems.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/85\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":86,"href":"https:\/\/dryadsystems.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/85\/revisions\/86"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/dryadsystems.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=85"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dryadsystems.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=85"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dryadsystems.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=85"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}