My flight touched down in Edmonton and I waited, squirmy baby in my arms, for the next set of passengers to board before we took off to Regina. People started filing in and I couldn’t help but notice a couple: she was over six feet tall, had very masculine features and a suspicious bust; he was quite petite, small-boned and soft spoken. They plunked themselves in the seats behind me, then I heard them saying they were in the wrong row and before I knew it, the man was squished next to me and the woman was in the aisle seat. He was very friendly and took an interest in Jolie. We made pleasant conversation while the woman pulled a copy of Middlesex and began to quietly read. The man asked if Regina was home for me and I admitted to having been born and raised there. So had he. I asked which school he had gone to and we quickly discovered that we had gone to the same elementary school and began reminiscing about past teachers we had shared, despite his being three years my senior.
“What a small world!” I remarked, “What’s your name?”
“I’m not going to tell you that!” he joked. But then I realized he wasn’t kidding. And in that instant I looked into his eyes and remembered seeing them before, on the face of a young girl. She had been three years older than I, and everyone at school called her Boner and gossipped that she was a lesbian. Older kids told us that when we biked past her house we had to hold our breath, otherwise we’d become lesbians too. She was marginalized, teased, and an outcast by the time she was 12. I never really knew her, because when you’re in grade school, a three year age gap is an ocean. She was kind, though. I remember talking to her at the park once, but that’s about it.
I took a closer look at his face and saw other features I recognized, noticed that his wrists were slight like mine, but that he had facial hair, a deep voice, and a flat chest. I assume that he had either undergone a sex change operation or was taking hormones.
I didn’t let on that I recognized him or remembered pieces of his past he’d probably rather forget.
We got to talking more and he told me that he is a nurse, and that he works in the community with marginalized youth. I noticed the rainbow on the bead of his eyebrow ring and on the scarf folded on his lap. He had endured such anguish on his journey but was now spending his days reaching out to those who might be struggling. I wondered how much of his path had been dictated by the cruel rants of school children, how much was nature, how much was choice.
When the plane landed he gathered his things and said, “Au revoir, Jolie. Je m’appelle Jeremy.*”
*Name changed out of respect, and also a little fear of the Almighty Google.
16 Comments
Wow. Now your Facebook status makes a lot more sense.
ps. Welcome to Regina!
I think it was very respectful for you not to let on that you realized who he was.
Hope you have fun!
IN a Universe where we all easily feel out of place, I cannot imagine what it feels to be out of place in your own gender or in your own body. I have many trans friends, and I am constantly floored by the amount of bravery it takes to make such a leap. My guess is that he knew who you were, and appreciated your discretion.
You handled that so well, Amanda.
Isn’t is sad what kids endure? It really does make you wonder about how much of who we are is created by others.
Well at least you can’t complain that you had a boring flight :)
Kids really can be cruel. You did a wonderful thing for him letting him stay “annonymous” and it sounds like you had a lovely visit in the process.
Your lack of judgement and compassion speaks volumes about your character Amanda. If everyone was a little more like you, the world might be a much better and safer place to live. I think in your kindness you have demonstrated what most Christians should strive for but often fall short of because of the do’s and don’ts dictated in the Bible. I think it’s a beautiful gift to be able to accept things that may not be necessarily right for our own lives in the interest of human spirit. Regardless of sexual orientation, when stripped of all the vices every one of us has, lies a human soul with feelings and hopes and dreams and beliefs like every other person on earth. It’s sad really that sexual orientation can cause such conflict and persecution in a person’s life. Sometimes quiet acceptance can bring not only a feeling of normalcy but also strength to those that have endured having their spirits crushed by their peers for being different. You have a glowing spirit Amanda, thank you for sharing yourself with us with such honesty.
I think this is a really cool story, and it shows everyone what a loving, accepting person you are.
It’s inspiring to see that people who have struggled so much as kids can turn that around and give back to others. Awesome.
During one of my practicums for speech pathology, I did voice therapy with transgendered individuals. (Female to male transgenders don’t generally require speech therapy b/c the hormones lower their larynx and therefore their voice. However, male to female transgenders already have a lowered larynx, and there’s no way to raise it. They often require therapy to teach them to raise their pitch in the healthiest way possible). Anyhoo, the experience gave me a whole new respect for that population. Can you imagine just feeling so uncomfortable in your own skin, and society not really accepting you either way? Terrible.
I think you handled the whole situation really well. Kudos to you!
Wow, you handled the situation so well. I think it was so respectful of you not to lead on to the fact that you knew who he had once been.
Children can be so cruel. I hope if I can teach my children anything, it is to be respectful of everyone, regardless of their differences. I am so happy that it seems as though he’s come through a rough time in his life and is making a difference.
I loved this story that you shared. What a sensitive heart you have and an inherent wisdom to give him the dignity of not outing him when he didn’t want to willingly share it.
great story!
Wow, such a great showing of compassion. Thanks for sharing the story.
Very interesting! I am curious though as to why he did not want to tell you his name. It seems like, if you go through all the obvious, why still be “in the closet”? The world is so cruel. I try to teach my kids that there is only one voice. That is the voice of God. We might think we hear a lot of other voices but they are just trying to distract us, and in the grand scheme of things, steer us off course.
I think it was very polite of you not to let on that you remembered parts of his past, when he clearly did not want to discuss it.
And I think it’s remarkably touching that he ended by telling your baby girl his name =)
Such a touching story. And a small world, indeed. Here’s to hoping he’s found the peace that alluded him before.
(Also: I love Eugenides. Such a wordsmith, that one. And I feel sort of proud that I know “Regina” sounds like, um, well, I think I’ll stop now.) xo
Like everyone else had commented, I thought that was very kind of you not to let on. : )
Comments are closed.