Things are winding down here. I’m figuring out how to put myself away and go back to supression totale.
I haven’t achived what I wanted to achieve, that moving past my own barrage of bruises, my own shawl of scars that would let me engage life again and take the bangs and bumps. I’m still desperately off the grid and abysmally lonely.
What I have missed is smiling. Someone who wanted to smile at me, yes, but more than that, someone who wanted me to smile at them for a while. Pretty seems beyond me, attractive seems way too complicated and sweet seems completely invisible.
I heard a radio show with the amazing Veronica Klaus who talked about the challenge for every tranny, those moments when people need to figure it out, to try to understand how they feel and make up their mind about how they should feel. TBB is pleased because she is one of the girls where she is working now, and that feels good to her, even if she knows that when the women bond over what assholes men are, she can’t just easily agree. There is a distance.
Sweet, nice people want to make me feel welcome. But accepting the edge, finding it sharp and alluring? Not so much. Distance is distance.
Workshop Participant: “You are so courageous!”
Kate Bornstein: “Thanks. But you you think I am pretty?