Before the world is split into multi-dimensional matrix – we begin with a simple pronoun.
Him or Her? He or She?
Are you a man or a woman? Can you imagine fitting into both, or fitting into neither? Or the very worst- being trapped inside the wrong body?
This following confession might sound wrong, but I pride myself on my collection of friends – my best friend is a mirror image of myself, family/background/etc, however she reeks of Type-A/Responsible, whereas I’m guilty of type Late/Laidback… One of my oldest amigos is gay, there is the wonderful woman who is a compassionate shoulder, and she is a lesbian, I have plethora of African-American, Chinese, Hispanic, black, you name the race- you’ll find it. Jewish, Christian, Muslim… Wheel chair bound and the most successful writer, I have the most loyal friend who has Asperser’s and he is a genius, a deaf friend whose photography is drop-dead gorgeous. A blind guy who’ll become a politician… A sensitive woman who opened my eyes up to autism, there are the young, the insane, artistic, logical, vagabonds, recovering drunks, overachievers, philanthropic and some a bit selfish – the accountants, the writers, the entrepreneurs, sports-nuts, or scholars. Each character plays a pivotal role in my life – they have challenged me to believe two things:
1. At inception we’re all the same – it’s after that the changes begin to determine who we will become.
2. There is nothing fabulous about not being special.
But in my life, and in my entire repertoire of relationships, I’m yet to trip across a transvestite.
Okay, and that term, well let’s stop beating around the obvious… is painfully an enigma, the three syllables are difficult to say, only because I’ve never been able to tie a personality, a character, a photograph or a friend to the title. It’s beyond my normal comfort zone, Friday nights and editorial meetings, classes and travels… I’m yet to meet someone who has the obstacle, nearly debilitating obstacle – reconcile your body with your brain.
But then again, each of us have methods in which to blend in with the masses, become one in a homogeneous sea of humanity.
And Michelle has done that with such grace. A thick mane of curly red hair, tall with a pink shirt and jeans- her puppy is calm and not annoying and nuts like the majority of the yappy dogs. Michelle tells me that her dog likes me, which is unusual since he doesn’t like most strangers, which is flattering, since I have an affinity for all things canine.
She moved to Denver on a whim two weeks ago after an explosive epiphany in Miami. A right-hand-man for Madonna, Paula Abdul and others, in LA…Michael moved to Miami where he decided to undergo irreversible procedures- invasive, a one-time choice, a decision forever. Michelle has been featured in documentaries, interviewed for features chronicling the lives of “transvestite.” And you’d never know by looking at her -
A man who decided to reconcile his body and brain – is now a woman, a happy, content, fulfilled and driven woman.
Poignant and empathetic, compassionate and kind, my heart reaches out to her – and my respect. I pray that she finds someone who sees her for exactly who she is –a durable, courageous, beautiful and accepting human.
Aside from giving me permission to write about her – she left me with a thought: “I love to hike… Life is one big mountain, we can all take various routes, different trails, see different things on the way up, but at the end, it’s the same view.”
