See... what had happened was...

Happy Sunday everyone! Or, rather... happy whatever day it is when you are reading this entry! Thank you for waiting patiently for me to add something so that I could fulfill my promise to make my blog site worth reading. I know many of you were sitting with bated breath... 😉

Tonight, I would like to touch on something that I had mentioned a few weeks ago and simply haven't gotten around to discussing. 

Over the past few years, especially since I "came out" publicly this time last year, several people have asked me some pretty hard-hitting and thought-provoking questions regarding my transition. Now, before I dive into anything too deep, please keep a couple of things in mind:

• I am not going to answer those questions right here and now in this particular blog entry. I am, however going to create a separate page on my blog site to specifically address these questions... and more. I will send out a notice and a link for those who are interested.

• While I am pretty open, approachable, and transparent regarding my transition, not all trans individuals are the same. All of us have our own stories and our own experiences; not all of them are subject to public view and/or scrutiny. As for me, I do expect a certain degree of respect and decorum should you decide to strike up a conversation with me about it. I am cognizant that, while it is not a new topic in the world today, it is relatively new to and misunderstood by a lot of people, perhaps even you. With that in mind, I am much more forgiving if I sense that you truly mean no disrespect. But if you act like an asshat and reek of blatant idiocy, I will grind your ass into fairy dust and sprinkle you over a field of fresh donkey dung. 

As a precursor to the ensuing page referenced above, please indulge me while I share a little bit about my transition and how it all began. Oh, and just so you know, I am in the process of writing a book to be named and released hopefully later this year. But I digress...

My transition began roughly thirty years ago, although it had been building for years prior, unbeknownst to me. My mother and I had moved around quite a bit during my early childhood years. Florida, Colorado, Texas, and Oklahoma had all been home to us for some stretch of time prior to our settling in Nashville, Tennessee when I was around 7 or 8 years old. All throughout my elementary school years and into my stint as a junior high school student, I had always sensed that there was something a little off or different about me. Being so young, I was unwise to the world and lacked knowledge of anything related to the LGBT+ phenomena. 

I had an affinity for My Little Pony and My Little Mermaid and can remember playing with both in the tub. I would exit the school bus in the afternoons and rush inside to prepare a sandwich or a bowl of cereal to eat while watching Wonder Woman on television. Afterward, I would grab a pair of panty hose from my Mom's dresser to wear as long hair, a pair of boots from my sister's closet - the closest I could get to those glorious red and white striped beauties worn by Lynda Carter, and a pair of Wonder Woman Underoos that my cooler-than-hell mother was open-minded enough to buy me for my birthday. I even scored a cardboard tiara from the back of a cereal box and made magic bracelets out of toilet paper rolls. And let me tell you, no rotten bad guy stood a chance against me as I jumped from the couch to the love seat and spun my ass in circles to transform into the most badass superhero on Earth! Even then, it was obvious that I was destined to exercise the full potential of my right-brain Pisces mind.

I always felt more connected to girls. I deviated toward them in school and even chose to hang out with my female family members over the males. My cousins were my safe haven most of the time; I have always felt closer to them than anyone else in the family even when we didn't talk or hang out for what seemed like forever. But it was in junior high when the first domino toppled, triggering a whole intricate and messy trail of pieces that would somehow form the beginning of a whole new life for me. I was sitting at my desk in 7th grade Spanish class and happened to notice one of my male classmates walking across the room to the pencil sharpener. Something about him captured my attention and sent me into a daze; I couldn't take my eyes off of him. It was the strangest feeling, and yet I didn't question it until I snapped out of it and noticed that a couple of girls sitting next to me had seen this transpire and began to gasp and giggle. Within hours, word had spread through the school like a Santa Ana brush fire that Danny Helton was a fag.

What?! What is a fag? And why am I the laughing stock of the school all of a sudden? I'm not "gay;" I am just now finding out what that even means AND I still like girls, so this makes absolutely no sense to me. But then, if this is true, why am I finding myself entranced by a boy? 

I mean, am I gay?

This ran through my head for days, maybe weeks. And the rumor followed me all the way through the remainder of junior high and into high school. By then, I still had not discussed it with anyone and I still had no answers. Only feelings. For girls.

And boys.

I spent most of my high school prison term dating girls simply to combat the rumors that I was gay. But in my defense, I truly did have an attraction to females although I had no idea at the time that being bisexual was a thing. My best friend at the time had spent the night one night and I confessed to him that I thought that I might be gay and explained to him that it still made no sense to me, in addition to my confusion as to my feeling like I didn't feel comfortable in my body. Something wasn't right and I couldn't pinpoint what it was. He told me that he thought I was just going through a phase and that I would grow out of it. From that night forward, things between us were never the same. He stopped hanging out at school and stopped coming over to my house. He told his mother what I had said; she then began to lie to me about him "not being home" when I would call or stop by his house. After his father died in a freak accident, I tried to be there for him. But he shut me out and his mother told him that she didn't want him hanging out with me any more.

I had no one to talk to about all of this. I don't even know if he told any of our mutual friends about any of it, to be honest. But I was going steady with one of them - a girl - soon after this took place. I don't know if she knows what I am about to share next. But, I lost my virginity to her just one week before I lost my virginity to my first male sexual encounter. He was not a high school classmate; he was a cashier at Malone's Market a mile from where I lived, and he was a beautiful 23-year old George Michael doppelgänger. He swore me to secrecy because the possible ramifications of our age difference and also because he was secretly dating a member of a well-known Christian music group. But we were together multiple times, the first being a pivotal moment in my life. Thirty years later, I can still see his face. I can still hear his voice. I can still smell his cologne. And I can still remember the hurt and confusion I felt when he quit his job and stopped calling me.

A couple of months later, I met the man who would change the course of my life in the most profound and monumental ways. William Bart Harrison. I first saw him while riding around with a gay friend from high school. He was walking toward downtown Nashville just north of the James Robertson Parkway bridge. He had a blonde pageboy haircut and was wearing pink running shorts, a white muscle shirt that was slit on the sides, and he was carrying a khaki messenger bag. My friend and I were both intrigued and pulled over to ask if he needed a ride. After some small talk and flirty smiles, we pulled up to his destination. He handed me his phone number and exited the vehicle.

I came out to my Mom as "gay" a few days later, although it was she who helped me understand what "bisexual" meant. She also informed me that the entire family had known that I was "going to turn out gay" long before I knew. She didn't even blink an eye. I have spent years being grateful for her reaction (or lack thereof) because so many teens are blacklisted from their families or thrown into conversion therapy after coming out. But my Mom was pretty cool about it, as was the rest of my family. Well, mostly. Without too much detail, my Mom soon moved out of our home and into my grandparents' house a couple of blocks away to help take care of them. This left me, my sister, and her three kids (my two younger nieces and my younger nephew) living in a two-bedroom duplex. And then, Bart moved in with us. It was also around this time that my sperm donor (he doesn't deserve to be called a father) decided to reach out and reconnect. After finding out that I was bisexual and living with a man, he pretty much disowned me. But again, I digress...

By this time, high school life had become almost unbearable. Between the barrage of anti-gay slurs and threats of violence, I was losing all hope of a normal life therein. My grades were suffering, my teachers were watching me struggle and didn't know how to help, and it was difficult at best to form allegiances with anyone who could help me navigate safely. After being hit in the back of the head by a black gang member yielding a combination lock inside of a sock while walking through the hallway, I made the decision to quit school and pursue my GED. It was no longer just about rumors. I was literally fearing for my safety, and no guidance counselor could protect me. So, I quit during the second semester of my senior year and began working full-time to help pay the bills at home. 

Cut to Halloween of that year. Bart had told me that he had already known what he was planning to do for his costume while I found myself still struggling to come up with one of my own. But it wasn't until he stepped into the bathroom as Bart and stepped out an hour-and-a-half later as Barbara D'Angelo that I found my world SHAKEN. 

To the CORE. 

Immediately, I had decided that I wanted to do the same. So, I borrowed a friend's prom dress, and then bought a wig, a pair of shoes, and a handful of drug store makeup and arranged to switch roles at work for the night to accommodate my attire. It was fun, scary, and liberating all at the same time.

But the best was still yet to come.

Bart shared with me that he had been moonlighting as a drag queen (i.e., performer) a few nights per week at a local show bar. As I was seventeen at the time, it was questionable as to whether or not I would be able to get in to see this for myself. All I knew was that I was intrigued beyond imagination and was determined to go and observe, risks be damned. So, he took me with him one night and asked the owner if it would be okay for me to sit in as long as I didn't drink. It was a risk that the owner wasn't completely akin to assume. But he let me stay with the understanding that Bart was responsible for any potential fallout.

Bart gave me a tour, which included a peek backstage where all of the performers were getting dressed. I was in complete awe of the entire experience as I shook the hands of all the people to whom I was being introduced. Seeing all of the costumes... the makeup... the wigs... the mirrors and lights. It was a whole new world and I was living for it. 

And then... it happened. 

The moment my life changed. Literally... changed. Forever.

There she was, standing in front of me. The first trans woman I had ever met.

Miss Christian Paige.

She was so beautiful. So statuesque. So focused, and yet so kind and welcoming. I remember having so many questions and yet being so stunned that I was unable to speak. Once I got past the disbelief and was able to talk to her, it was like the universe just opened up and answered every question I had ever had about myself, even the ones I never even knew I needed to ask. It was so surreal and even a bit overwhelming. But in that moment, I knew that I had finally found myself. I finally knew who I was and what path I was meant to take.

Everything. Made. Fucking. Sense.

I made sense.

So, with the help of a few other trans women I had met in the scene, I began taking estrogen under the table and performing in shows around town. After a year or so, it became increasingly difficult to hide the physical changes that were taking place with my body. I made the decision to tell my mom that I no longer identified as gay, but instead identified as trans and was transitioning to live authentically as female. Her first words to me were, and I quote, "Well, I'm not surprised. I mean, isn't that the most logical next step?" 

Again, I had my mother's full support. It was such a beautiful moment, knowing that I was finally free to be me and open about it with my family. I then attended a few appointments with a psychiatrist who cleared me for the transition. She then referred me to an endocrinologist who prescribed the official (safely regulated) hormone regimen. I then approached my GM at work (Target, by the way... this was 1991) who arranged for me to transition on the job without discrimination from management or crew.

In 1992, I went to court to legally change my name.

I could go on and on. But this is the end of the beginning, and much more condensed after several edits. But, now you know the official story of how my transition began. Feel free to leave any questions or comments, but keep them respectful. They are reviewed before they are posted; I will respond to them as soon as possible.

Thank you for spending some time with me.

💓 T

46 years

16 years