I'm writing this post from a friend's apartment in Long Beach, California. Unfortunately, my internal clock hasn't quite matched up with the actual time here, which made me decide that it might be a good time to get some thoughts down on (virtual) paper. What's in Long Beach? Festival 8 - Phish's eighth music festival, and the first one they've held since reuniting this year. More on this:
That summer, they mounted their first two-day festival — The Clifford Ball — at a decommissioned Air Force base in Plattsburgh, New York. Between 70,000 and 80,000 people were in attendance; MTV was on-hand to document the experience. In Phish's own makeshift city, Great Northeast Productions created an amusement park, restaurants, a post office, playgrounds, arcades, and movie theaters. Aside from six "traditional" sets, the band rode a flatbed truck through the campground, serenading the audience at 3 a.m.[25] The concert's production company went on to host six more Phish festivals.
The Great Went, Phish's second large-scale festival, was held that summer at Loring Air Force Base in Limestone, Maine, just miles from the Canadian border. The official count for the show was an impressive 65,000 people, qualifying the festival to be the largest city in Maine.[27] For many fans however, the crowd felt larger. Band and audience collaborated yet again in a colossal work of art: individual pieces of art by fans were connected to a large piece of art by the band. A giant matchstick was lit, burning the resultant tower to the ground.[28]
For the Millennium Celebration, Phish traveled to the Big Cypress Indian Reservation in the Florida Everglades. Of the major New Year's Eve concerts around the globe — Sting, Barbra Streisand, Billy Joel — at 85,000, Phish had the largest attendance of any paid concert event that night.[31] During ABC's millennium coverage, Peter Jennings and World News Tonight reported on the massive audience and featured the band's performance of "Heavy Things". Called "Big Cypress", the enormous festival culminated with an extended seven-and-a-half hour set that began at midnight and ended at sunrise.
This is going to be my first Phish festival, and I can't wait. I love the music, I love the vibe around these sort of events, I love the fact that this will be on Halloween, and I love the fact that I'm in sunny California instead of freezing New England. More than anything else, this is the first time that I can remember that I really feel like I'm going on an adventure.
I don't have a clue what this weekend will bring. I do know that I'm more excited for this than for anything I've done in recent memory. I think my brain has always been wired to want to take in as many new experiences as possible, but self-doubt and a lack of confidence has always held me back. When I reread this blog to see what I was like in 2007 (or even worse, reread old emails to see what I was like in 2003), it dawns on me that I was incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of meeting new people, and not really self-aware enough to realize this.
Before transition, the problem was mostly apathy. I didn't particularly have any interest in doing typical guy stuff, and I didn't have any interest in dating or relationships, and I didn't really care about what type of guy I would grow up to be. It was a lot easier to lose myself in gaming, and to convince myself that if I became really good at winning, my self-esteem would increase. This never really happened, but it made a great distraction.
During transition, the problem was mostly fear. I couldn't get over the stigma of being transgendered, and spent any time out in public being afraid that people were snickering at me behind my back. I'd be shopping at the mall, realize I had to use the restroom, and actually drive home to use it because I was afraid that someone would call me out if they saw me in a womens' room. I was well aware of the fact that I had no idea how do basic things that most women know, like using makeup or wearing clothes that matched or talking to guys, and convinced myself that other people were as aware of these flaws as I was.
The only cure for fear was facing it, which I did. People talking behind my back? Yup, they probably are. I can't stop it, all I can do is decide how it's going to affect me. Don't know how to talk to guys? Well, hell, the only way I'm going to learn is to try. Feeling like a hot mess whenever I go out? Solicit feedback from others, even if it means my feelings might get hurt every once in awhile. Afraid that a guy will find out I'm transgendered and run away screaming/beat the tar out of me in a transphobic rage? Well hell, the only thing one can reliably do in this situation if they want to move forward is to learn how to read people and to figure out if it's worth bringing up at all, and to hone and trust my instincts so that the worst never happens (and so that I can handle it if it does).
In fact, these days people seem to think I'm going in the opposite direction - because facing my fears has resulted in a more confident me, I find myself wanting to push the boundaries even more, sometimes to the chagrin of those around me who don't think I worry enough about anything. Worrying got me nothing but wasted years, and I'm done with that. One of the last things my father said to me was that he wished I had come out sooner, because he felt like he had lost a lot of time being able to see me truly flourishing - I think about that almost every time I'm feeling sad or scared or overwhelmed, and it helps me see the bigger picture. I'm upset with myself that I let this irrational "my family is religious, what if they don't accept me?" crap take over my brain, because I think the reward was well worth the risk. I wish it didn't take me years to realize this.
So here I am in California, with a very small amount of people that I actually know. There's the friend I'm staying with tonight (who sadly can't attend the festival), a girl I've been talking to online for a few months (who found this blog and was really supportive), and a guy from Boston who I've talked to a few brief times. There are some people from online forums who I sorta-kinda know and will likely meet up with - if we click, great, and if not, no worries. But this is going to be a 3-day Halloween party with ~40,000 people in it; the whole idea is to socialize on the basis that we're all experiencing this amazing thing together. Unlike with gaming, there is no competitive aspect to bring out the worst in people; unlike with transitioning, I don't feel like I'm completely out of my comfort zone.
In two hours, I'm taking a cab to the airport and then a shuttle towards the site. And from there on, what happens this weekend is completely up to me. That feeling - the sort of freedom of being in control of my life - is what I think I've been chasing all these years, and it's time to start cashing in on it.
Last week, in an effort to be more social, I decided to meet up with some people from an online forum (the one referenced in this post) that were having a small meet-up. The plan was to meet at one of their houses in the Davis Square area, and then to head down to see a Grateful Dead tribute band. I had my reservations, mostly out of worry about how people would react if they knew I was transgendered, but figured it would make a good chance to meet some new people and do new things.
I'm glad I went. I didn't really feel like I had any problem talking to people, and I met a few people who seemed really cool. I split off from the group for awhile (between the party and concert) and eventually met up with them at the show. All in all, it was a pretty good time.
There was one awkward moment, though. By the end of the night, it was obvious that a number of the people I had come with (and at the show in general) were rather drunk. I was gathering up some people to whom I had offered a ride and saying goodbyes to people, when one of the people from the party came up to me. He had actually been the first person that I had met on the night and seemed like a nice enough fellow, but was pretty clearly out of it at that point.
me: "Goodnight! Nice meeting you!"
him: "Are you a pre-op or post-op?"
...awkward! I didn't see any point in hiding it, so..
me: "....pre-op. How'd you know?"
him: "Someone from the party recognized your username from your post back in March."
me: "Oh. That's not a problem, is it?"
him: "Nah, nah. So does that mean you're a man or a woman?"
me: "Woman."
him: "Oh, oh. Man, that's cool. If people have a problem with that, screw them."
(remember, he was black-out drunk at this point)
me: "Do people have a problem with that?"
him: "Who cares, I think it's awesome that you came out, life's too short to worry"
me: "Totally!"
him: "So are you pre-op or post-op?"
me: "Pre-op"
him: "So does that mean you're a man or a woman?"
me: "....I think I'm going to have to go soon. Later!"
There was certainly other drunk ramblings mixed in there somewhere, but that was the general gist of it. It was awkward, because he was asking questions that are kind of personal kind of loudly, but it's nothing I can't deal with.
It's not that I had a problem with people knowing that I'm transgendered, but there was certainly frustration at having thought I was "getting away with it" only to find out that, in all likelihood, my past was likely discussed around the group before the concert.
After the show, I left with two people who I had met that night (the two that I had talked to the most) that lived near me and needed a ride. They were also new to that group of people, so they actually didn't know that I am transgendered, but I decided to tell them after the aforementioned guy above started talking about "chicks with dicks" as we were trying to leave the room. They were cool - like most people, they were more curious about it than repulsed by it, and mostly just seemed to understand that it wasn't an easy decision to transition and that I've become a much better person for it.
I'm not really upset about this - like I've said in the past, I understand that reactions to transgendered people are mostly based on lack of information. Nobody actually treated me any differently that I could tell, so I plan to just move forward as if I don't know they know I was born as a male. In other words, I'll talk about it if it actually comes up in conversation, but not volunteer anything unless I feel like there is a reason to do so. I'm actually curious if there is anyone that reads this journal as a result of that forum, but don't really know how to find out other than to invite people to email me if they see this post.
This story was longer than I thought. There are definitely more topics that I will be writing about in the near future, including a friendship that started really great and ended in a really strange way, as well as a friendship that started kind of strangely that has ended up becoming something pretty great. Suffice to say, as much as I want to say that being transgendered doesn't affect my life, I think I'm slowly realizing that that isn't the case.
