I’m distressed that there were so many NC legislators obsessed with people pissing that they could pass the “Bathroom Bill” in one day.
My Experience with Trans People is pretty damned limited and I have more stories than almost anyone else i know.
35 years ago, after a burlesque show in New Orleans, despite my attempts to wave her off, my date accepted the suggestion that we head down the street to an after-hours bar with some of the performers. Now mind you, I’d just seen the sexiest strip routine of my limited experience [strip clubs have always escaped me] including the finale where the performer pulled her dick out from wherever she had it tucked and wagged it at us all. We have a few more cocktails and my friend says “I just realized I may be the only woman here” and some sweet young thing next to her at the bar quips “You may be the only woman here born with a pussy”.
30 some years ago, at the end of my drinking, there was a bar that had live music starting at 11-, that I habituated. There was someone there who may or may not have been transgender; my friends certainly thought that she was a he. By that time of night I was 3 sheets to the wind and ready to add a little cosmic dissonance to the world so I would ask her to dance; what did I care? Actually I did care as it drove my macho little buddies nuts.
Maybe 20 years ago, on a scorching day, I’m waiting for an architect on a corner of what used to be a notorious neighborhood which was quickly gentrifying. I kid you not- The Meat Packing District. I’m standing on the corner and this guy, I’d seen around before, is flouncing towards us in a lovely sundress with matching parasol and fuck-me pumps. Actually kind of charging as he had a body that any 165 # wrestler would be proud of. So I make some off-color quip to the little Russian junior engineer whose waiting with me; maybe I said 1’here’s your date”. He turns red, I laugh and then our friend is right up on top of us berating me. “Listen motherfucker, anyone one who looks like you has no business, and I mean no business (look at that gut) making any fucking fun of anyone” It’s game time in one of New York’s roughest neighborhoods, but I’ve been around so I come back with “Your right, your absolutely right. I used to be a swinging dick and look at me now; a fat white man in a suit. What the fuck happened to me?” My buddy steps back, twirls her parasol and says “Well now sugar, how long ago were you a swinging dick? I’m thinking maybe I can help you get some of that back.” Chucks me on the shoulder and walks away as I’m putting my hands up in the Football TD sign.
Five years ago I worked with an Italian guy, short, hairy and bald. We’re still friends, not a guy I’d want to move a refrigerator with but he was ok. Somehow we get to talking about proms and he asks “Have you ever seen my prom picture? I’ll email it.” I open the mail and there is a picture of a cute little dark-haired girl with a big polish looking dude sporting a mullet. I don’t spend too much time on it, I’m thinking maybe he was making a mullet joke. An hour or so later he sends another email “I’m the one in the dress.” Again, game, set match.
This year I’m talking to a friend who’s obviously upset and is reaching out to me, I guess, because I have a gay sibling. She had dropped her daughter off at college, the girl had come home for Thanksgiving and then kind of fallen off the radar. So my 6th grade sweetheart heads down south to see what’s going on and discovers that her daughter is on the way to being her son. Honestly, I laughed and said maybe my kids aren’t such a pain in the ass. I told her about Justin above and how he seems to be pretty well-adjusted for a neurotic writer. We’re talking about a young adult I’ve known and seen around town for 20 something years- hadn’t seen her smile in at least 10. A month or two later I ran into him and his father at the diner. For the first time I can recall he wasn’t in some kind of Goth self-torture rictus ball but standing up tall and smiling.
In the wild and wooly 70s and 80s it was not uncommon for women to get tired of the lady’s room line and crash the men’s room in bars, particularly C&W bars. Depending on how many stalls there were it was not that uncommon to see women drop their drawers, jump up and piss in the sink too- they may still do it, I just haven’t been to many bars for the past 30 years. Lately I’ve seen women crash the men’s room at concerts and sporting events- but I haven’t seen any piss in the sink.
So in 40 plus years of seeing men and women share public restrooms I’ve never seen a rape and any man who chooses to bitch about it gets booed down pretty quickly by the other men.
And then there’s the meme thing running around the Internet- which basically says I’d be a lot more concerned about the longest-serving Republican speaker of the house being in the same restroom as my son than I am about a man who was born with a vagina.