On The Horizon…Hair
So, back to my memoirs. Well, after the initial dismissal of the possibility that I might be transgendered or transsexual or whatever (back then I had no idea why there were so many terms), I went back to my usual flamboyantly perky self, partly because it was in my personality…and partly because I wanted acceptance and if I was more of a character than a real person, I felt it would garner me that quicker. At the time I was going to community college and also lending my services as a work study student to a manic depressive drama professor…who was a republican to boot! Oh the horrors…actually she wasn’t that bad, and that’s something I want to touch on. Being trans has taught me many things in life, but one of the most important lessons learned is that we should not close ourselves off in cocoons of self-imposed mistrust and segregation from people who don’t fit the right labels for us. I still fall into the trap of thinking all Christians and Republicans and WASPS are out to get me…but I’ve found that some of the most caring family and friends in my life have been Christians, Republicans and WASPS…they’re just a little misinformed, which is annoying but if we explain things and really have the patience to see things from their point of view and calmly explain why and how they’re flawed, great strides can be made.
Ok, forgive me, if something comes into my head I have to repeat it, but anyway…I was 17. And although I loved college life and hanging out with all my newfound neo-hippie lesbian friends, I felt like I wanted to do more…to stretch myself if you will. So…another chance meeting at my aunt’s house brought me in touch with her husband’s cousin, a retired hair-stylist and salon owner. For the sake of having a name, let’s call her “Barbara,” or “Babs” for short. So, Babs was and is a very nice lady, but she’s one of those people I mentioned earlier who are quite flawed in their thinking. Not to the point where she thinks people like me should just stop where they are, drop to their knees and stroke out…but she has a very one-dimensional idea of what being trans, or gay for that matter means. She thinks being gay (and at that point, that’s what she and most everyone assumed I was, including myself) automatically gives you hair-styling, fashion design and make-up application genes in your DNA and that everything you say is unbelievably funny…even if it’s like, “I gotta take a leak, see you in a few, Barbara,” or “Could you pass that napkin Barbara?” Hysterical. Not really. But anyway, this is what she is and the way she thinks, and despite my prodding she’s a tough nut to crack. Plus, every time I see her we’re always drinking so, really how serious a conversation can we possibly have? Either way she somehow convinced me that I would excel in hair design. Having smuggled some Pinot Grigio from my auntie’s fridge made me even more impressionable than I was and I thought, “Hey why not? Maybe it’s my calling.”
So I went to hair school….and hated it! But that’s a tale for next time.
Posted on May 20, 2011, in Ongoing Memoirs and tagged bisexual, coaching, gay, inspirational, lesbian, lgbtq, pride, queer, self-help, trans, transgender, transgendered, transsexual. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.