I have been trying to make sense of this past year. It has been unlike any other year of my 60 plus years on this planet. My biggest wish is, has been, and will continue to be Trans awareness and understanding. This year has been one of highs and lows that I have never experienced in one year. I do not suffer from bipolar disorder, but this year certainly has!
I started 2014 dealing with the realization that I could not continue working. After surviving cancer, being able to go back to work was something I did not think would happen. I had hoped to work for at least another three years. My body had other ideas. However, while in retrospect, going back to work might not have been the best decision for me healthwise, the things that I got to do during that year and 1/2 made whatever I am having to deal with now totally worth it. Having to stop working made me feel unproductive and brought back the feeling of being "less than" that I have been fighting with my entire life.
I got to go on two amazing cruises in 2013, as well as experience gay days at Disneyland in Anaheim, as well as another cruise this year. It was while I was on one of those cruises that I met Beau J. Genot, the filmmaker who would make the documentary short, "Trucker Patti," based on my life. I have been exposed to and spent time with more interesting and creative people this year than in my entire life combined. I have made some friendships that I hope will last, but at heart I am a realist. While people have good intentions of trying to maintain a relationship with me, geography and busy, different lives can sometimes make that impossible.
Premiering the film at Outfest this past summer was an experience unlike anything that had never happened in my life previously. From being a regular caller on several of the shows on Sirius/XM OutQ radio, and going on my first Derek and Romaine cruise, I knew there were people who were aware of me and some of the things I had shared about my life during those calls.
I was completely unprepared for all of the attention I received at Outfest. The idea that I was meeting people who I knew nothing about and who knew practically everything about me, was a bit unsettling, but in a good way. I had gone from the extreme low of having to stop working and dealing with my health issues, to a tiny bit of celebrity that seemed huge to me. That attention is what ultimately gave me the idea that maybe I could do something positive in the trans and intersex community that I was part of to make a difference.
Before Outfest, I had several Facebook friends and a few Twitter followers. By the end of Outfest, those numbers increased dramatically. While I continue to try to learn, I am not very adept at social media. For the first few months after Outfest, I could not believe the social media attention I was receiving. That is why I say I am not very adept at social media. I tried to use it to call attention to myself so I could spread my agenda of trans and intersex awareness and understanding and apparently just wound up alienating people, as I get very limited social media attention these days.
The idea that I first came up with to try and make a difference in my community, was to try to find projects in the entertainment world to get my name and my face better known. If "Trucker Patti," a 15 minute documentary short had brought me so much attention, imagine what something in a movie or on TV could do. I look back on that thinking now and cringe, realizing how naïve and silly it was.
My thinking was, the more people who knew who I was and what my story was, the more I would be able to share with people the hardship that trans and intersex people face every day. I had, from the beginning, had a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that people found me interesting. But none of us are really the best judge of how others see us, so I just decided to go with what people were telling me.
I tried to start a social media campaign to make this happen. I had met several entertainment industry people who had positive things to say about my film and me during Outfest. My hope was that I would find some help there. Again, in retrospect, I cringe!
I failed miserably. I don't know if the positive things that I heard from people during Outfest were just because I came across as likable and people wanted to be nice to me or if anyone sincerely thought me or my story was noteworthy. Part of me thinks the former to be more true than the latter. However, because I have no clue how one breaks into show business, I really don't know.
Then, a couple of months ago, I actually had a blog post published on Huffington Post, "Gay Voices." Another extreme high. A nationally syndicated (or maybe internationally-not sure how that works) online News site printed something I wrote. I really felt like I was making a difference. I might be useless when it came to driving a truck, but maybe something I shared could make a difference. A couple of days ago, I was published again and while it was a high, that high was a bit tempered.
What I do know, is that I now have this deep desire to do something to help my community. I would be lying if I said that the whole process of filmmaking and television was not intriguing to me. Selfishly, I would really love to be part of another project simply because it's fun and it stimulates that tiny bit of creativity that I thought I had lost many years ago. But, whether or not anyone believes me, it really is mostly about what some notoriety on my part could enable me to share trans awareness and understanding.
So now it is the end of my roller coaster ride of a bipolar year and I find myself more confused than ever. I am physically isolated living in Missouri, but the circumstances of my financial situation make that a necessity. I have enough of an income to live comfortably, but not enough to travel to promote my agenda. I have a few ideas about approaching colleges and universities, but given the somewhat lukewarm support that I am now receiving, I will have to give that further thought.
Don't get me wrong, while I am confused, isolated and a little down, mostly because I just want to make a difference, I am not giving up. I may not hear much from people these days, but I know I still have my supporters out there and I am not giving up. If television or movies never happen, it will make me sad. Even at almost 61, everyone deserves to have a dream and deserves help and support to achieve their dream. But, as long as I can write and share, it is something. If one person who is struggling can connect with my story, which is far from over, and it can give them hope, then I am truly making a difference.
For many years I was an unhappy person living with a secret. There are still many people out there living the same way. But, with trans and intersex awareness, that can and must change. Gays and lesbians can now be out, open and love and marry whomever they please. That fight has been hard fought and is still ongoing, and is succeeding. It gives me hope that trans and intersex people, who need to be loved and accepted just for who they are, not only for who they are perceived to be because they are "passing," can also succeed in the fight to just be themselves.
As tumultuous as the years since I made the decision to come back out and live as a proud intersex and transgender person, they have and continue to be the happiest and most fulfilling years of my life. I stumble and I fall. I make mistakes and make myself look foolish. But I get back up and most of all, I am me, with all the flaws and wonders.
Can't wait to see what adventures 2015 has to offer.
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Saturday, December 20, 2014
The Dark Times
I want to preface this blog entry by saying that I am not looking for sympathy. The person I am today, is a sum total of all of my experiences to date. I really like the person I am now. The violence that I experienced during my transition in the late seventies and early eighties that I will be documenting, maybe horrifying to some, but many girls I knew back in the day, had it much worse. All of this violence happened to me over 30 years ago. The real tragedy is, while you would think that things would be markedly better for trans women transitioning today, the violence is just as pervasive as it was during my transition. If anything, it has gotten worse.
Sharing this part of my life is something I have done only rarely. I have worked hard over the years to put these dark times behind me. As painful as it will be to share this part of my life, it is because of this pervasive violence that I will be opening a door that I would rather remained closed. We all need to do better by our trans brothers and sisters.
I like to think the people who know me would tell you that I was kind, compassionate, loving and positive. I have been blessed in my life with loving and supportive friends and family. I believe that they are the reason that I have been able to successfully put this painful time of my life behind me. We all need to be that loving and supportive friend or family member for those who are transitioning and most especially for those who are victims of violence. When something like this happens to you, there are so many emotions. You are terrified, you feel ashamed, you are outraged, but worst of all, you feel helpless!
On with the story. After landing back in New Orleans, my first job was as a church secretary at a Methodist church, if you can believe that. That only lasted two months. My next job was for the Federal Reserve Bank. I was a secretary in the Computer Services department. I really loved that job and hated that I had to leave it. I had a driver's license and a Social Security card in my female name. After I had been working at the Fed for a few months, it was brought to my attention that they did not have a copy of my birth certificate. That wasn't gonna happen.
Another problem that I was having, was feeling very disconnected. I worked all day with biological women, but I could not allow myself to get too close lest my little secret would come out. I was offered an opportunity to work at the one transgender bar in the French Quarter, called the Midship. Because I had felt so disconnected working a straight job, I jumped at the chance.
I am not quite sure the best way to put these stories together so I will start by telling you a little about the bar scene in the French quarter around 1980. This also might be helpful to those who don't understand the different kinds of LGBT bars.
Charlene's on Elysian Fields Street was the lesbian bar. There was a leather bar called the Golden Lantern on Royal Street. The Bourbon Pub and Café Lafitte's In Exile, a block apart on Bourbon Street, were for the gay guys. The male hustlers and their clientele hung out at a place called the Roundup. Occasionally some of the trans girls whose boyfriends were hustlers would also come into the Roundup. I worked the midnight to 8am shift, the best shift because no one came out to party much before midnight and generally didn't go home till dawn. The Roundup was my post shift bloody Mary bar. The Post Office and Fat Sam's Speakeasy were the two drag bars. The Midship, where I worked, was where the transgender girls hung out. At that time, most people hung out in their own kind of bar. The exception, was show night at the drag bars. Most people in the community liked the drag shows, so show nights had a pretty mixed crowd. Another exception was Le bistro, a dance club across the street from the Bourbon Pub where anyone who liked to dance went.
The French quarter at that time in history was a unique place, especially being in the southern bible belt. At that time, there were not a lot of places in the country where LGBT people could congregate without too much fear of harassment. I believe a lot of that had to do with the fact that most people considered Bourbon street to be a den of iniquity. It was known for its hard partying crowds and strip clubs. Most of the time the police force left us alone. In those days, the New Orleans police department was known for being very lazy and corrupt. Occasionally, they did crack down, and were not someone to argue with.
The sad fact of those days, was that the majority of the trans girls could only make money one of two ways. They either stripped at one of the two female impersonator strip clubs on Bourbon street, mainly frequented by tourists, or they hustled. Hustling could mean sex work, robbing or a combination of the two. It was such a dangerous life for those girls. It also isolated them from the rest of the community. They were, for this reason, looked down upon by most of the other lesbian and gay bars, with the exception of the Roundup and LeBistro and were not made welcome.
I, and a couple of others, were an exception to that rule. Because I had started off as a drag performer, I had friends from all parts of the community. Also, I was fortunate in that I never had to resort to sex work to keep a roof over my head or myself fed has so many others did. Is it weird that I felt guilty about that? I did. I liked everybody and I wanted everyone to like everyone else. God, I can't believe how naïve I was back then!
I marvel sometimes that the fact that I have made it to the ripe old age of almost 61 still relatively sane. I have always had issues and I supposed to a certain extent, I still do. I just have a better handle on them these days. I have always felt, the best way I can explain it, is "less than". Until these last few years, I never felt like I fit in anywhere. The one benefit of this is that I have always tried to be the nicest person I could be. I always wanted people to like me. Unfortunately, I have not always made the wisest choice in the people I wanted to like me. I am fortunate that most people do like me. I am still insecure enough to sometimes be surprised that they do, but it's a good thing. My insecurities have kept me from finding someone to love me in a romantic way for any length of time. If I had always just been able to be me, maybe that might have been different. When you don't fit, you want to control whatever you can and people do not like to be controlled.
For those of you who don't know the difference, I will explain the trick and a date. A trick, is a consensual sexual encounter. A date, is sex for money. I had had a couple of dates, more or less accidentally, meaning I thought I was having a trick and after it was over, the guy gave me money. That turned out to be a bonus in more ways than one.
When I first started working at the Midship, there was a rumor going around that I was a "real" girl and the regulars were upset that the owner had not hired a trans girl. At the time, I was still going by my stage name, Rita Merrill. I quickly picked up the nickname, "Rita Real". Once that got settled, some of the regulars knew I had done drag and had never been a working girl like they were and for that reason maybe I thought I was better than they were. So, my roommate, Fury, sharing that I had, indeed turned a trick, smoothed things over for me.
Fury was one of the most interesting people I had ever met. She was 6'7" without her heels and not someone you would want to mess with. She had been involved in the Stonewall riot. Fury did not take crap from anyone and while the bar could be a dangerous place, I always felt safe when she was with me. She was an awesome person with a heart bigger than she was and while having a very gruff countenance, never hesitated to help someone in need.
I had frequent tricks. I was in my mid twenties and I have always been a very sexual person. My problem always was how to have sex. I never felt comfortable with the small genitalia I was born with and didn't like to be touched there. However, I also do not enjoy anal sex. Before I had my surgery, I never had a boyfriend for more than a couple of weeks. Most of the guys I met pre surgery were interested in having gay sex with me. My theory is that they were struggling with their own sexual identity and it was all right to have sex with a male as long as he looked like a female.
This was the cause of some of the first physical violence I experienced. A partner would try to force me to do something I did not want to do in the course of consensual sex play and on a couple of occasions slapped me when I didn't do what he wanted. I didn't like this, but was able to handle it. It was quite the conundrum, wanting to have sex all the time, but never figuring out how to do it right for me.
Now, readers, we're going to go someplace very dark and painful for me. I haven't talked about this in depth for many years. I don't want to be any more graphic than is absolutely necessary, but I also don't want to gloss over anything. Don't worry, I have a big old fat xanax ready to take after I get through this. Yes, it is prescription.
The first rape happened when I was working at Papa Joe's on Bourbon Street. Parking in the French quarter was always a challenge. This particular night I had parked about six blocks away from the club. As I was walking the last block to my little blue convertible, I noticed a police cruiser slowly following me up the block. I thought to myself, great now I'm going get hassled for walking to my car. I was relieved when the cruiser drove on by. At that time, I've lived in uptown New Orleans about 4 miles from the French quarter.
I had just crossed Canal street, the main downtown street in New Orleans, heading uptown, when I noticed a police cruiser behind me. I really didn't think anything about it at that moment as I wasn't doing anything wrong. So I just kept on driving toward home. I was still about a mile away when he turned his lights on and pulled me over. I still didn't put it together with the cruiser that had followed me to my car.
I could tell you guys about his line of bull about how I had a tail light out (I didn't), but instead will just get right to it. He followed me to my house and told me that either I did what he wanted or he would charge me for solicitation for prostitution and take me to jail. To make matters worse, he was not just a patrol cop, he was a sergeant! As I had said earlier, in those days, the New Orleans police department was very corrupt. I had heard stories of what happened to people who defied them. I was terrified. I had never been to jail. I had heard terrible stories of what happened to people like me in jail. So I did what he asked. It was demeaning and disgusting. After all these years, anytime a police car gets behind me, I get a little shaky and I remember that night.
The second time was the worst. I was both beaten and raped and considering what happened later, extremely lucky. His name was Rusty. As his name indicated, he had deep red hair, was two or 3 inches taller than me, and very good looking. I met him at the Midship when I was working. There were other girls in the bar much better looking than I, so I was a little surprised that he was interested in me. I had seen him once or twice at the Roundup, so I knew he did some hustling. But, most of the men that I had sex with were male hustlers. He was new in town, so I don't think anyone knew him very well. He seemed really nice and he knew I was trans, so it never occurred to me that he would be any different than any of the other guys. Even though he had only been around a short time, this was a pretty insulated community, so if there had been something off about him, somebody would have known.
Things started off fine. I liked champagne, so I usually had a couple bottles in the fridge. At that time, I lived with my bartending partner, Fury, and knew she would not be home before noon, as she always went drinking after we got off at 8:00 AM. We drank the champagne, made out, took our clothes off, and the last thing I remembered other than than excruciating pain in my head and my side, was an evil look that came over his face when I refused to do a sex act. He threw me across the room into the television set. I think he punched me a couple of times and kicked me. Then he picked up the champagne bottle and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital. I knew I had been raped because of how I hurt.
Fury found me unconscious and the house trashed when she came home about noon and Rusty was long gone. She told me later she thought I was dead. Head wounds bleed a lot.
I don't know which was worse, the rape, or what happened at the hospital. Fury, my roommate, had not called the police when she found me. She just called an ambulance and told them I was unconscious. Fury found me naked, but had slipped my panty girdle and a robe on me before the ambulance got there. When I first arrived at the hospital, they had not yet discovered that I had male genitalia. The paramedics had been more worried about my head injury than anything else. The nurse who was there when I came to, was very kind and caring until she found out what I was. Then it was like someone flipped a light switch. I had a head wound that required four stitches. Eventually the doctor came in and examined me. He was going to leave it at the head wound, but I had blood on my legs where I had bled from my rectum. He grudgingly did a more thorough exam.
He very told me very coldly that there was some tearing in my rectum and that my ribs were probably just bruised he didn't think there was any reason to "waste" an x-ray. He also told me not to go to sleep for awhile as I probably had a concussion but he could not see tying up a hospital bed for some "thing" like me for a little bump on the head.
Fury had not gone to the hospital with me. She knew the reaction they would have had to her and thought it would be better to stay home and wait to hear from me. The paramedics had told her my vitals were strong and I think they just wanted to load me up and get me away. I heard two nurses talking outside of my curtained area. One told the other one, " there's someone who got what he, emphasis on the 'he', deserved."
As I was getting dressed, a policeman finally showed up. He looked to me up and down and then sneered, " I suppose I have to make a report." I told him I only knew Rusty's first name. I was so mortified. I gave him a description and told him where I had met him and where I had seen him hanging out; whatever I remembered and then I left. I had asked them if they could call a cab for me, but they refused. I found a pay phone outside the hospital and called a friend to come pick me up.
No cops ever showed up at the Roundup looking for him. Maybe if they had, what happened three days later would not have happened. He killed a trans girl named Angel and my friend Bobbi Mattea, who was with them at the time got away out of a second floor window with a broken leg and all beat up, but she was alive.
I remember there was an article in the paper, small because of who it happened to, and I have tried to find it in the Times Picayune archives, but can't. I heard through a couple of girls who came from Houston that he had killed two girls there and had been caught.
Those are the two darkest moments of my life. But I had to learn something from them. You have no choice of what happens in life. The only choice you have is how you react to what happens. I'm here, I'm a good person, I could never be like them. I win!
Sharing this part of my life is something I have done only rarely. I have worked hard over the years to put these dark times behind me. As painful as it will be to share this part of my life, it is because of this pervasive violence that I will be opening a door that I would rather remained closed. We all need to do better by our trans brothers and sisters.
I like to think the people who know me would tell you that I was kind, compassionate, loving and positive. I have been blessed in my life with loving and supportive friends and family. I believe that they are the reason that I have been able to successfully put this painful time of my life behind me. We all need to be that loving and supportive friend or family member for those who are transitioning and most especially for those who are victims of violence. When something like this happens to you, there are so many emotions. You are terrified, you feel ashamed, you are outraged, but worst of all, you feel helpless!
On with the story. After landing back in New Orleans, my first job was as a church secretary at a Methodist church, if you can believe that. That only lasted two months. My next job was for the Federal Reserve Bank. I was a secretary in the Computer Services department. I really loved that job and hated that I had to leave it. I had a driver's license and a Social Security card in my female name. After I had been working at the Fed for a few months, it was brought to my attention that they did not have a copy of my birth certificate. That wasn't gonna happen.
Another problem that I was having, was feeling very disconnected. I worked all day with biological women, but I could not allow myself to get too close lest my little secret would come out. I was offered an opportunity to work at the one transgender bar in the French Quarter, called the Midship. Because I had felt so disconnected working a straight job, I jumped at the chance.
I am not quite sure the best way to put these stories together so I will start by telling you a little about the bar scene in the French quarter around 1980. This also might be helpful to those who don't understand the different kinds of LGBT bars.
Charlene's on Elysian Fields Street was the lesbian bar. There was a leather bar called the Golden Lantern on Royal Street. The Bourbon Pub and Café Lafitte's In Exile, a block apart on Bourbon Street, were for the gay guys. The male hustlers and their clientele hung out at a place called the Roundup. Occasionally some of the trans girls whose boyfriends were hustlers would also come into the Roundup. I worked the midnight to 8am shift, the best shift because no one came out to party much before midnight and generally didn't go home till dawn. The Roundup was my post shift bloody Mary bar. The Post Office and Fat Sam's Speakeasy were the two drag bars. The Midship, where I worked, was where the transgender girls hung out. At that time, most people hung out in their own kind of bar. The exception, was show night at the drag bars. Most people in the community liked the drag shows, so show nights had a pretty mixed crowd. Another exception was Le bistro, a dance club across the street from the Bourbon Pub where anyone who liked to dance went.
The French quarter at that time in history was a unique place, especially being in the southern bible belt. At that time, there were not a lot of places in the country where LGBT people could congregate without too much fear of harassment. I believe a lot of that had to do with the fact that most people considered Bourbon street to be a den of iniquity. It was known for its hard partying crowds and strip clubs. Most of the time the police force left us alone. In those days, the New Orleans police department was known for being very lazy and corrupt. Occasionally, they did crack down, and were not someone to argue with.
The sad fact of those days, was that the majority of the trans girls could only make money one of two ways. They either stripped at one of the two female impersonator strip clubs on Bourbon street, mainly frequented by tourists, or they hustled. Hustling could mean sex work, robbing or a combination of the two. It was such a dangerous life for those girls. It also isolated them from the rest of the community. They were, for this reason, looked down upon by most of the other lesbian and gay bars, with the exception of the Roundup and LeBistro and were not made welcome.
I, and a couple of others, were an exception to that rule. Because I had started off as a drag performer, I had friends from all parts of the community. Also, I was fortunate in that I never had to resort to sex work to keep a roof over my head or myself fed has so many others did. Is it weird that I felt guilty about that? I did. I liked everybody and I wanted everyone to like everyone else. God, I can't believe how naïve I was back then!
I marvel sometimes that the fact that I have made it to the ripe old age of almost 61 still relatively sane. I have always had issues and I supposed to a certain extent, I still do. I just have a better handle on them these days. I have always felt, the best way I can explain it, is "less than". Until these last few years, I never felt like I fit in anywhere. The one benefit of this is that I have always tried to be the nicest person I could be. I always wanted people to like me. Unfortunately, I have not always made the wisest choice in the people I wanted to like me. I am fortunate that most people do like me. I am still insecure enough to sometimes be surprised that they do, but it's a good thing. My insecurities have kept me from finding someone to love me in a romantic way for any length of time. If I had always just been able to be me, maybe that might have been different. When you don't fit, you want to control whatever you can and people do not like to be controlled.
For those of you who don't know the difference, I will explain the trick and a date. A trick, is a consensual sexual encounter. A date, is sex for money. I had had a couple of dates, more or less accidentally, meaning I thought I was having a trick and after it was over, the guy gave me money. That turned out to be a bonus in more ways than one.
When I first started working at the Midship, there was a rumor going around that I was a "real" girl and the regulars were upset that the owner had not hired a trans girl. At the time, I was still going by my stage name, Rita Merrill. I quickly picked up the nickname, "Rita Real". Once that got settled, some of the regulars knew I had done drag and had never been a working girl like they were and for that reason maybe I thought I was better than they were. So, my roommate, Fury, sharing that I had, indeed turned a trick, smoothed things over for me.
Fury was one of the most interesting people I had ever met. She was 6'7" without her heels and not someone you would want to mess with. She had been involved in the Stonewall riot. Fury did not take crap from anyone and while the bar could be a dangerous place, I always felt safe when she was with me. She was an awesome person with a heart bigger than she was and while having a very gruff countenance, never hesitated to help someone in need.
I had frequent tricks. I was in my mid twenties and I have always been a very sexual person. My problem always was how to have sex. I never felt comfortable with the small genitalia I was born with and didn't like to be touched there. However, I also do not enjoy anal sex. Before I had my surgery, I never had a boyfriend for more than a couple of weeks. Most of the guys I met pre surgery were interested in having gay sex with me. My theory is that they were struggling with their own sexual identity and it was all right to have sex with a male as long as he looked like a female.
This was the cause of some of the first physical violence I experienced. A partner would try to force me to do something I did not want to do in the course of consensual sex play and on a couple of occasions slapped me when I didn't do what he wanted. I didn't like this, but was able to handle it. It was quite the conundrum, wanting to have sex all the time, but never figuring out how to do it right for me.
Now, readers, we're going to go someplace very dark and painful for me. I haven't talked about this in depth for many years. I don't want to be any more graphic than is absolutely necessary, but I also don't want to gloss over anything. Don't worry, I have a big old fat xanax ready to take after I get through this. Yes, it is prescription.
The first rape happened when I was working at Papa Joe's on Bourbon Street. Parking in the French quarter was always a challenge. This particular night I had parked about six blocks away from the club. As I was walking the last block to my little blue convertible, I noticed a police cruiser slowly following me up the block. I thought to myself, great now I'm going get hassled for walking to my car. I was relieved when the cruiser drove on by. At that time, I've lived in uptown New Orleans about 4 miles from the French quarter.
I had just crossed Canal street, the main downtown street in New Orleans, heading uptown, when I noticed a police cruiser behind me. I really didn't think anything about it at that moment as I wasn't doing anything wrong. So I just kept on driving toward home. I was still about a mile away when he turned his lights on and pulled me over. I still didn't put it together with the cruiser that had followed me to my car.
I could tell you guys about his line of bull about how I had a tail light out (I didn't), but instead will just get right to it. He followed me to my house and told me that either I did what he wanted or he would charge me for solicitation for prostitution and take me to jail. To make matters worse, he was not just a patrol cop, he was a sergeant! As I had said earlier, in those days, the New Orleans police department was very corrupt. I had heard stories of what happened to people who defied them. I was terrified. I had never been to jail. I had heard terrible stories of what happened to people like me in jail. So I did what he asked. It was demeaning and disgusting. After all these years, anytime a police car gets behind me, I get a little shaky and I remember that night.
The second time was the worst. I was both beaten and raped and considering what happened later, extremely lucky. His name was Rusty. As his name indicated, he had deep red hair, was two or 3 inches taller than me, and very good looking. I met him at the Midship when I was working. There were other girls in the bar much better looking than I, so I was a little surprised that he was interested in me. I had seen him once or twice at the Roundup, so I knew he did some hustling. But, most of the men that I had sex with were male hustlers. He was new in town, so I don't think anyone knew him very well. He seemed really nice and he knew I was trans, so it never occurred to me that he would be any different than any of the other guys. Even though he had only been around a short time, this was a pretty insulated community, so if there had been something off about him, somebody would have known.
Things started off fine. I liked champagne, so I usually had a couple bottles in the fridge. At that time, I lived with my bartending partner, Fury, and knew she would not be home before noon, as she always went drinking after we got off at 8:00 AM. We drank the champagne, made out, took our clothes off, and the last thing I remembered other than than excruciating pain in my head and my side, was an evil look that came over his face when I refused to do a sex act. He threw me across the room into the television set. I think he punched me a couple of times and kicked me. Then he picked up the champagne bottle and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital. I knew I had been raped because of how I hurt.
Fury found me unconscious and the house trashed when she came home about noon and Rusty was long gone. She told me later she thought I was dead. Head wounds bleed a lot.
I don't know which was worse, the rape, or what happened at the hospital. Fury, my roommate, had not called the police when she found me. She just called an ambulance and told them I was unconscious. Fury found me naked, but had slipped my panty girdle and a robe on me before the ambulance got there. When I first arrived at the hospital, they had not yet discovered that I had male genitalia. The paramedics had been more worried about my head injury than anything else. The nurse who was there when I came to, was very kind and caring until she found out what I was. Then it was like someone flipped a light switch. I had a head wound that required four stitches. Eventually the doctor came in and examined me. He was going to leave it at the head wound, but I had blood on my legs where I had bled from my rectum. He grudgingly did a more thorough exam.
He very told me very coldly that there was some tearing in my rectum and that my ribs were probably just bruised he didn't think there was any reason to "waste" an x-ray. He also told me not to go to sleep for awhile as I probably had a concussion but he could not see tying up a hospital bed for some "thing" like me for a little bump on the head.
Fury had not gone to the hospital with me. She knew the reaction they would have had to her and thought it would be better to stay home and wait to hear from me. The paramedics had told her my vitals were strong and I think they just wanted to load me up and get me away. I heard two nurses talking outside of my curtained area. One told the other one, " there's someone who got what he, emphasis on the 'he', deserved."
As I was getting dressed, a policeman finally showed up. He looked to me up and down and then sneered, " I suppose I have to make a report." I told him I only knew Rusty's first name. I was so mortified. I gave him a description and told him where I had met him and where I had seen him hanging out; whatever I remembered and then I left. I had asked them if they could call a cab for me, but they refused. I found a pay phone outside the hospital and called a friend to come pick me up.
No cops ever showed up at the Roundup looking for him. Maybe if they had, what happened three days later would not have happened. He killed a trans girl named Angel and my friend Bobbi Mattea, who was with them at the time got away out of a second floor window with a broken leg and all beat up, but she was alive.
I remember there was an article in the paper, small because of who it happened to, and I have tried to find it in the Times Picayune archives, but can't. I heard through a couple of girls who came from Houston that he had killed two girls there and had been caught.
Those are the two darkest moments of my life. But I had to learn something from them. You have no choice of what happens in life. The only choice you have is how you react to what happens. I'm here, I'm a good person, I could never be like them. I win!
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Trucker Patti Goes To College.
I want to preface this blog entry by saying that I don't think what I'm going to write will be all that interesting. I am still not sure yet where I am going with this blog. So far, I am telling my story chronologically. I had originally thought about just telling a stories about something that happened in my life for each blog entry. I think though, that the stories will make more sense if my readers have a idea of where I was in my life at the time of the story and what had come before. Comments on this would be very helpful.
I left New Orleans in the spring of 1978 for Modesto, California. This was where I had gone to high school and where my mother still lived. I had planned on living with her while I went to school. I had managed to salvage the GI bill that my commanding officer had tried to take away from the with his threat of a dishonorable discharge, but it wasn't enough money to pay for school and provide living expenses. As it turned out, I wasn't able to live with my mother. At the time she had live in boyfriend who didn't care for the idea that I was transitioning. That meant I had to find a job. Finding a job in Modesto in 1978 was not the easiest thing to do. The only place that was willing to hire me, was an adult movie theater as a cashier. I don't really have any interesting stories about working there. Well, there was the one time that an 18 year old, red headed, freckle faced boy who looked like he was 12 (I had to card him), came in and you could see he was wearing black lingerie under his t-shirt.
I went two Modesto Junior College. Instead of going as "Patrick", I went as "Pat." The administration knew my gender, but my professors did not. This was my first experience with, what some in the transgender community refer to as "stealth mode." I took great pains to not get to close to other students so they wouldn't find out about me. I was 24 and most of them were 18 or 19, so it wasn't too hard. I did tell a few people and my professor in my drama class after a few weeks and even though I was scared to death of rejection, they were actually supportive. Theater is very intimate. It was very hard to be stealth.
Any of you who have been to college realize that your first year is basically general education courses. I signed up for those and drama classes well. I had been out of school for 6 years by this time, and I had a very hard time being interested in anything other than my human sexual behavior class and drama. Plus, I was working 32 hours a week and going to school full time. You have a lot of extra curricular things with drama, and I was exhausted most of the time.
The biggest problem I had as far as drama class went, was my suitability for roles. At 6 feet tall and 250 lbs., I could hardly play and ingenue. So the only thing that was left for me, were character roles. My drama teacher did tell me that one of the things that she enjoyed about me was my enthusiasm. She said usually she had to work to get her students to project. I was one of the few students that she had work to get to project less. It seems I always had a big mouth.
I did not do well that first semester of college. I barely managed to pass all of my classes with the exception of my drama class in which I got in "A". I got a "B" in my human sexual behavior class and an "A" on my final paper which was about the different terms for homosexuality! I hadn't learned the hanky code yet, or I would have added it to the paper and spiced it up a little.
Working, trying to go to school, and being so absorbed in my own head trying to figure out how in the hell I was going to get enough money for surgery made my life pretty difficult. Other than the few kids in drama class that I had confided in, I had no social life. Dating was definitely not an option, although I probably got hit on by every kind of creepy guy that came to the adult theater.
On a visit to San Francisco while I was still in the Navy and home in Modesto on leave, I was introduced to David Petras, who owned San Francisco Trucking Company. After I moved back to Modesto, I visited David in San Francisco several times. There was no romance, but we had become good friends. When I told him the problems I was having dealing with school, he offered me a job running his office. He also offered me a place to stay. He had a three bedroom apartment about two blocks north of Market and Castro street. That was a really interesting neighborhood in 1978. His office was in the apartment.
While I was working for David, I found out about Stanford University Medical Center's Gender Dysphoria Clinic in Palo Alto, California. I went for an initial visit, where they gave me the name of an endocrinologist near me in San Francisco and also provided me with the necessary paperwork to take to the Department of Motor Vehicles and Social Security to get a driver's license and a Social Security card in my female name. My mother and I came up with the name together.
My birth name was Patrick William and wanted something to keep my same initials. Mom said originally, if I had been a girl, she was going to name me Patricia Anne. I told her I understood the Patricia, by why "Anne?" "That's it," she cried! Wyanne for a middle name. Patricia Wyanne had the same initials and amount of letters as Patrick William did, so it stuck. I thought it was pretty cool that my mother gave me my female name!
I went to the endocrinologist initially for hormone therapy. She had some previous knowledge of Klinefelter's syndrome and how it presented physically in patients and thought there might be a good possibility that I had it. She did a chromosome structure on me and sure enough, I was XXY.
Business at San Francisco Trucking Company was enough to keep David busy, as at that time he only had one truck. It wasn't enough to keep me busy. I decided I wanted to strike out on my own and get a job as a woman. So I answered an ad in the newspaper and went two work for Toyomenka America, a Japanese based company that had offices worldwide. And worked as a secretary. I had no trouble passing as a woman. It was a bit interesting having so many short Asian men looking up at my 6 foot blond bombshell beauty!
During this time, I was still regularly speaking with Carrie Nye Cavett. I had really loved drama class in college and had a really strong drive to pursue something in theater. I also had then I even thought, that Dick Cavett and Carrie Nye could help me if I went to New York. I don't remember for sure what my thinking at the time was, and that it must've been along the lines of not wanting to warn them that I was coming thinking that maybe they would try to dissuade me. However, if I actually showed up there, I was sure that they would help me.
So many times I think back to those days and see how much my judgment was clouded by being so obsessed about having gender affirmation surgery, which in those days we call a sex change. I like gender affirmation surgery better. I wish now that I had stayed in college did whenever it was that I needed to do to get my degree. But, you cannot live your life full of regret. Hindsight is always 2020 and many of the experiences I had in my life I might not have had if that was the road I had gone down.
I would go back to school one more time after having surgery. At that time I was 29 years old and going to school with a bunch of 19 and 20 year olds was difficult. At school, I had learned the new technology of word processing and during summer vacation, I took a temporary position working for an attorney at a title insurance company. After one day of working for her, she offered me a fulltime job with a decent salary and that benefit. I was done with college.
I left New Orleans in the spring of 1978 for Modesto, California. This was where I had gone to high school and where my mother still lived. I had planned on living with her while I went to school. I had managed to salvage the GI bill that my commanding officer had tried to take away from the with his threat of a dishonorable discharge, but it wasn't enough money to pay for school and provide living expenses. As it turned out, I wasn't able to live with my mother. At the time she had live in boyfriend who didn't care for the idea that I was transitioning. That meant I had to find a job. Finding a job in Modesto in 1978 was not the easiest thing to do. The only place that was willing to hire me, was an adult movie theater as a cashier. I don't really have any interesting stories about working there. Well, there was the one time that an 18 year old, red headed, freckle faced boy who looked like he was 12 (I had to card him), came in and you could see he was wearing black lingerie under his t-shirt.
I went two Modesto Junior College. Instead of going as "Patrick", I went as "Pat." The administration knew my gender, but my professors did not. This was my first experience with, what some in the transgender community refer to as "stealth mode." I took great pains to not get to close to other students so they wouldn't find out about me. I was 24 and most of them were 18 or 19, so it wasn't too hard. I did tell a few people and my professor in my drama class after a few weeks and even though I was scared to death of rejection, they were actually supportive. Theater is very intimate. It was very hard to be stealth.
Any of you who have been to college realize that your first year is basically general education courses. I signed up for those and drama classes well. I had been out of school for 6 years by this time, and I had a very hard time being interested in anything other than my human sexual behavior class and drama. Plus, I was working 32 hours a week and going to school full time. You have a lot of extra curricular things with drama, and I was exhausted most of the time.
The biggest problem I had as far as drama class went, was my suitability for roles. At 6 feet tall and 250 lbs., I could hardly play and ingenue. So the only thing that was left for me, were character roles. My drama teacher did tell me that one of the things that she enjoyed about me was my enthusiasm. She said usually she had to work to get her students to project. I was one of the few students that she had work to get to project less. It seems I always had a big mouth.
I did not do well that first semester of college. I barely managed to pass all of my classes with the exception of my drama class in which I got in "A". I got a "B" in my human sexual behavior class and an "A" on my final paper which was about the different terms for homosexuality! I hadn't learned the hanky code yet, or I would have added it to the paper and spiced it up a little.
Working, trying to go to school, and being so absorbed in my own head trying to figure out how in the hell I was going to get enough money for surgery made my life pretty difficult. Other than the few kids in drama class that I had confided in, I had no social life. Dating was definitely not an option, although I probably got hit on by every kind of creepy guy that came to the adult theater.
On a visit to San Francisco while I was still in the Navy and home in Modesto on leave, I was introduced to David Petras, who owned San Francisco Trucking Company. After I moved back to Modesto, I visited David in San Francisco several times. There was no romance, but we had become good friends. When I told him the problems I was having dealing with school, he offered me a job running his office. He also offered me a place to stay. He had a three bedroom apartment about two blocks north of Market and Castro street. That was a really interesting neighborhood in 1978. His office was in the apartment.
While I was working for David, I found out about Stanford University Medical Center's Gender Dysphoria Clinic in Palo Alto, California. I went for an initial visit, where they gave me the name of an endocrinologist near me in San Francisco and also provided me with the necessary paperwork to take to the Department of Motor Vehicles and Social Security to get a driver's license and a Social Security card in my female name. My mother and I came up with the name together.
My birth name was Patrick William and wanted something to keep my same initials. Mom said originally, if I had been a girl, she was going to name me Patricia Anne. I told her I understood the Patricia, by why "Anne?" "That's it," she cried! Wyanne for a middle name. Patricia Wyanne had the same initials and amount of letters as Patrick William did, so it stuck. I thought it was pretty cool that my mother gave me my female name!
I went to the endocrinologist initially for hormone therapy. She had some previous knowledge of Klinefelter's syndrome and how it presented physically in patients and thought there might be a good possibility that I had it. She did a chromosome structure on me and sure enough, I was XXY.
Business at San Francisco Trucking Company was enough to keep David busy, as at that time he only had one truck. It wasn't enough to keep me busy. I decided I wanted to strike out on my own and get a job as a woman. So I answered an ad in the newspaper and went two work for Toyomenka America, a Japanese based company that had offices worldwide. And worked as a secretary. I had no trouble passing as a woman. It was a bit interesting having so many short Asian men looking up at my 6 foot blond bombshell beauty!
During this time, I was still regularly speaking with Carrie Nye Cavett. I had really loved drama class in college and had a really strong drive to pursue something in theater. I also had then I even thought, that Dick Cavett and Carrie Nye could help me if I went to New York. I don't remember for sure what my thinking at the time was, and that it must've been along the lines of not wanting to warn them that I was coming thinking that maybe they would try to dissuade me. However, if I actually showed up there, I was sure that they would help me.
So many times I think back to those days and see how much my judgment was clouded by being so obsessed about having gender affirmation surgery, which in those days we call a sex change. I like gender affirmation surgery better. I wish now that I had stayed in college did whenever it was that I needed to do to get my degree. But, you cannot live your life full of regret. Hindsight is always 2020 and many of the experiences I had in my life I might not have had if that was the road I had gone down.
I would go back to school one more time after having surgery. At that time I was 29 years old and going to school with a bunch of 19 and 20 year olds was difficult. At school, I had learned the new technology of word processing and during summer vacation, I took a temporary position working for an attorney at a title insurance company. After one day of working for her, she offered me a fulltime job with a decent salary and that benefit. I was done with college.
Monday, December 8, 2014
New Orleans Is A Drag!
My drag career started at a bar in the French quarter of New Orleans called the Post Office. I believe that the bar was located at the corner of St. Louis and Burgundy. Drag was a bit different in those days. Most performers had few resources for wigs, costumes, makeup, etc.. There were a few of the older queen performing, that were involved in the Mardi Gras krewes. They had more elaborate wigs and costumes than us younger performers.
When I first started performing, I was still in the Navy. I wasn't making that much money, but I was able to purchase a few nice outfits and a couple of good wigs. After I got out of the Navy and had to support myself with whatever temporary jobs I could find, it was harder to find money for drag. In those days, performers worked only for tips. Usually the amount of money we made was enough for a few cocktails and maybe a meal, but not enough to support ourselves. We did a lot of sharing of resources.
As a performer, my only real claims to fame, was that I looked real and I wasn't good lipsyncer. After I had been performing at the Post Office for about six months, a man named Bruce Richardson was opening a club a block down the street called Fat Sam's Speakeasy. One of my best friends, Paulette, who was not only talented as a performer, but also as a director and choreographer, not to mention extremely beautiful and very convincing as a woman, was asked to join the cast. My mind is a little foggy on exactly who else was in the original cast but I do remember Regina Adams, Sandra, and probably the best performer in town at the time, who was the reigning Miss Gay New Orleans, Lisa Baumann. To my surprise, I also was asked to be part of the original cast. I was thrilled to be in such talented company.
Some of the performers impersonated specific female singers. Lisa Baumann is, without question, the best Liza Minnelli impersonator I have ever seen, but Lisa is just all around talented. I don't think there is anything she couldn't do, once she set her mind to it. I believe, that she was the only person in the cast with legitimate theater training. I did not have anyone in particular that I could make myself look like. I was pretty, in a girl next door kind of way, but I was overweight, so really couldn't make myself look like any of the popular female performers of the day. However, I loved doing anything Bette Midler. Some of my best performances, were her material.
While we all did our own solo numbers, one of my favorite things to do were the cast skits. Most of those were directed and choreographed by Paulette. She could be intensely dramatic on one number and hilarious on the next. I was the least experienced and talented of the group and I only got better because of the generosity of my castmates. My biggest limitations as a performer was the fact that I couldn't dance, was not graceful, and my fashion sense was very lacking. To a certain extent, I could follow choreography. This was one of the most fun and creative times of my life. However, impersonating a female just was not enough for me. I had to become on the outside, the woman I was on the inside.
At one point, my mother came to town for a conference and came to see the show. As I had always been a klutz as a child. She told me she was very surprised at how graceful I appeared on stage. I told her that was only because every move I made was choreographed by someone else. This was the first time my mother had ever seen my female persona. We had talked about the whole "transsexual" thing, but it wasn't until after seeing me this way, that she started to understand. From this point on, she was my biggest supporter.
While doing shows, I met my first celebrity. Dick Cavett, an extremely popular television talk show host and his wife Carrie Nye, a celebrated Broadway actress, were regular attendees to the show. I was introduced to them and was invited to sit with them after the show. To my surprise, they seemed to really like me and after that night, I had many dinners and lunches with them, especially with Carrie Nye, whom I became friends with.
One of the biggest faux pas happened on a night out with them. We were going to the Commander's Palace for dinner with Carrie Nye's childhood friend, Dr. Mary Pillow Scales and I was sitting in the back seat with Dick. He had become very friendly with my pal, Paulette, who like me, was transgender. He told me he could tell that we were different from some of our hard partying friends. I laughed and told him, "so many of those queens are after just three things, booze, dope and dick." I took me a second to realize who I was sitting next to, and fell all over myself trying to apologize and he just roared with laughter. He said it was one of the funniest things he had ever heard. After I left New Orleans for California, Carrie Nye and I remained in touch and my mother was always surprised at the fact that a well known Broadway actress was calling her home to speak to her child.
I read more into the relationship with Dik and Carrie Nye than what was actually there. My first year of college, I was a drama major. I had come up with a wild scheme to go to New York and study acting at NYU. I was counting on this relationship with Dick and Carrie Nye to open some doors for me as far as auditions and maybe getting some roles. It might have been a good idea to have actually told Carrie Nye what I was planning, because when I showed up unannounced in New York and let them know that I was in town, I think they were a bit horrified. They vacationed in New Orleans fairly anonymously in those days. Their life in New York was totally separate. I lasted about six months in New York working for a temp agency. I had only one I audition, could not find any acting classes I could afford, and after getting sick and losing my temporary job, ran out of money. Note to prospective thespians; if you are going to pursue your dreams, have some ready cash to see you through! Dick gave me $200 so that I could drive to New Orleans. This would not be my first time returning to the safety of the rather insulated community of the French quarter. At this period of time, the late seventies and early eighties, there were only a few places where trans women could live without too much violence against them. New Orleans was one of those places. I say "too much violence", only because even as gay and trans friendly the French Quarter seemed, violence did rear it's ugly head. Another story for another time. The violence against me was a very dark time in my life that I am not quite ready to share yet.
After I returned to New Orleans, I went back to work for Bruce Richardson at Fat Sam's new location on Basin street. It was there that I met my next celebrity. Patti Labelle attended one of our shows. I did get to talk to her briefly and hugged her, but never established any relationship with her. I worked there for about six months and was temping to pay the rent. Brue was one of the sweetest people I ever met. He was a huge supporter of the art form of drag. I was very sad to learn that, a couple of years after I left Fat Sam's, that Bruce was brutally murdered. This was my first brush with a close friend dying. That would change later with the AIDS epidemic.
My next opportunity to perform, was at the most famous female impersonator bar in the French Quarter. The name of the club was Papa Joe's, which is still in existence on Bourbon Street today. I only worked there for a few months, because as opposed to doing drag shows, this club was a more about exploitation. Most of the performers were strippers and I actually put on the pasties a time or two myself. This club was mainly for tourists and most of what I did was a comedy routine to end the show, get the current group of tourists on their way, so a new group could come in. I had always felt really comfortable working at the gay, drag bars, but at Papa Joe's, I just felt like a freak.
My next a gig would be bartending at a transgender bar called the Mid Ship. But that's another story for another day.
When I first started performing, I was still in the Navy. I wasn't making that much money, but I was able to purchase a few nice outfits and a couple of good wigs. After I got out of the Navy and had to support myself with whatever temporary jobs I could find, it was harder to find money for drag. In those days, performers worked only for tips. Usually the amount of money we made was enough for a few cocktails and maybe a meal, but not enough to support ourselves. We did a lot of sharing of resources.
As a performer, my only real claims to fame, was that I looked real and I wasn't good lipsyncer. After I had been performing at the Post Office for about six months, a man named Bruce Richardson was opening a club a block down the street called Fat Sam's Speakeasy. One of my best friends, Paulette, who was not only talented as a performer, but also as a director and choreographer, not to mention extremely beautiful and very convincing as a woman, was asked to join the cast. My mind is a little foggy on exactly who else was in the original cast but I do remember Regina Adams, Sandra, and probably the best performer in town at the time, who was the reigning Miss Gay New Orleans, Lisa Baumann. To my surprise, I also was asked to be part of the original cast. I was thrilled to be in such talented company.
Some of the performers impersonated specific female singers. Lisa Baumann is, without question, the best Liza Minnelli impersonator I have ever seen, but Lisa is just all around talented. I don't think there is anything she couldn't do, once she set her mind to it. I believe, that she was the only person in the cast with legitimate theater training. I did not have anyone in particular that I could make myself look like. I was pretty, in a girl next door kind of way, but I was overweight, so really couldn't make myself look like any of the popular female performers of the day. However, I loved doing anything Bette Midler. Some of my best performances, were her material.
While we all did our own solo numbers, one of my favorite things to do were the cast skits. Most of those were directed and choreographed by Paulette. She could be intensely dramatic on one number and hilarious on the next. I was the least experienced and talented of the group and I only got better because of the generosity of my castmates. My biggest limitations as a performer was the fact that I couldn't dance, was not graceful, and my fashion sense was very lacking. To a certain extent, I could follow choreography. This was one of the most fun and creative times of my life. However, impersonating a female just was not enough for me. I had to become on the outside, the woman I was on the inside.
At one point, my mother came to town for a conference and came to see the show. As I had always been a klutz as a child. She told me she was very surprised at how graceful I appeared on stage. I told her that was only because every move I made was choreographed by someone else. This was the first time my mother had ever seen my female persona. We had talked about the whole "transsexual" thing, but it wasn't until after seeing me this way, that she started to understand. From this point on, she was my biggest supporter.
While doing shows, I met my first celebrity. Dick Cavett, an extremely popular television talk show host and his wife Carrie Nye, a celebrated Broadway actress, were regular attendees to the show. I was introduced to them and was invited to sit with them after the show. To my surprise, they seemed to really like me and after that night, I had many dinners and lunches with them, especially with Carrie Nye, whom I became friends with.
One of the biggest faux pas happened on a night out with them. We were going to the Commander's Palace for dinner with Carrie Nye's childhood friend, Dr. Mary Pillow Scales and I was sitting in the back seat with Dick. He had become very friendly with my pal, Paulette, who like me, was transgender. He told me he could tell that we were different from some of our hard partying friends. I laughed and told him, "so many of those queens are after just three things, booze, dope and dick." I took me a second to realize who I was sitting next to, and fell all over myself trying to apologize and he just roared with laughter. He said it was one of the funniest things he had ever heard. After I left New Orleans for California, Carrie Nye and I remained in touch and my mother was always surprised at the fact that a well known Broadway actress was calling her home to speak to her child.
I read more into the relationship with Dik and Carrie Nye than what was actually there. My first year of college, I was a drama major. I had come up with a wild scheme to go to New York and study acting at NYU. I was counting on this relationship with Dick and Carrie Nye to open some doors for me as far as auditions and maybe getting some roles. It might have been a good idea to have actually told Carrie Nye what I was planning, because when I showed up unannounced in New York and let them know that I was in town, I think they were a bit horrified. They vacationed in New Orleans fairly anonymously in those days. Their life in New York was totally separate. I lasted about six months in New York working for a temp agency. I had only one I audition, could not find any acting classes I could afford, and after getting sick and losing my temporary job, ran out of money. Note to prospective thespians; if you are going to pursue your dreams, have some ready cash to see you through! Dick gave me $200 so that I could drive to New Orleans. This would not be my first time returning to the safety of the rather insulated community of the French quarter. At this period of time, the late seventies and early eighties, there were only a few places where trans women could live without too much violence against them. New Orleans was one of those places. I say "too much violence", only because even as gay and trans friendly the French Quarter seemed, violence did rear it's ugly head. Another story for another time. The violence against me was a very dark time in my life that I am not quite ready to share yet.
After I returned to New Orleans, I went back to work for Bruce Richardson at Fat Sam's new location on Basin street. It was there that I met my next celebrity. Patti Labelle attended one of our shows. I did get to talk to her briefly and hugged her, but never established any relationship with her. I worked there for about six months and was temping to pay the rent. Brue was one of the sweetest people I ever met. He was a huge supporter of the art form of drag. I was very sad to learn that, a couple of years after I left Fat Sam's, that Bruce was brutally murdered. This was my first brush with a close friend dying. That would change later with the AIDS epidemic.
My next opportunity to perform, was at the most famous female impersonator bar in the French Quarter. The name of the club was Papa Joe's, which is still in existence on Bourbon Street today. I only worked there for a few months, because as opposed to doing drag shows, this club was a more about exploitation. Most of the performers were strippers and I actually put on the pasties a time or two myself. This club was mainly for tourists and most of what I did was a comedy routine to end the show, get the current group of tourists on their way, so a new group could come in. I had always felt really comfortable working at the gay, drag bars, but at Papa Joe's, I just felt like a freak.
My next a gig would be bartending at a transgender bar called the Mid Ship. But that's another story for another day.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
The Journey Begins
I want to preface this story by saying that the events that take place in this blog entry start more than 35 years ago, so my memory might not be exact on all of the dates. I'm going to try to get as close as I possibly can.
In 1976, while in the Navy, I was transferred to the naval support activity base in Algiers Louisiana. I was a member of the Navy Steel Band. This steel band had come into existence after world war II when the natives on the island of Trinidad started making musical instruments out of 55 gallon oil drums left over from the war.
Admiral Elmo Zumwalt had heard this music and decided he would like the musicians in the Navy Band in Puerto Rico to put a group together. Eventually the Navy Steel Band was transferred to Algiers.
While stationed there, I discovered the French quarter. In the French quarter, I discovered a bar called the Bourbon Pub. It was the first gay bar I had ever been to. I met a bartender named Ben who I became friends with. This would have been late summer of 1976.
For Halloween, my friend Ben, decided to put me in drag. We went out to several parties that night and most people thought Ben had brought a fag hag with him. Fag hag was an affectionate name for biological women who hung around with gay men. That night I was also introduced to someone who performed regularly in drag shows at a bar called the Post Office. We became friends and I was encouraged to try my hand at doing drag. I had always loved performing and once I started doing drag, I had a ball.
Getting to dress up as a woman felt so right. However, I discovered at the very beginning of my drag career, that drag was an art form. I could wear very light makeup and easily look like a biological woman. But I reveled in the art form of drag. I loved the theatrical makeup and over the top gowns. Lipsyncing, which I had a real talent for, made me feel like I was the actual performer I was imitating. The performance aspect was just so much fun. In those days I was known as Rita Merrill.
It was while I was doing drag shows, that I met my first trans woman. Her name was Samantha and she made her living working the streets. In soft lighting, she was beautiful. In the bright light of day, it was obvious that she was male. This was my first experience of seeing what so many trans women go through, because no one will give them a job when they are presenting as their true female selves. We desperately need a trans inclusive ENDA now!
Man people acquainted with me know that I have Klinefelter's syndrome, being that my chromosome structure is XXY. It is one of the reasons that I have always been so feminine in appearance. At this point in time, I knew nothing about Klinefelter's. I barely knew what gay was and had just learned about transgender, or at that time what we referred to as transsexual. As time went on, through Samantha, I met other trans women, and I immediately identified with them. I had never felt comfortable trying to be a gay man.
It was at this time that I'd decided that I could no longer be in the Navy. I knew that I needed to be a woman and I knew the United States Navy would not willing allow me to continue to be part of their organization if I wanted to be a woman.
I went to the chief that was in charge of the Navy Steel Band that I was attached to and told him my situation. He passed this up the chain of command and very shortly thereafter I was contacted by two agents of NCIS, that is the naval criminal investigative service. My word was not good enough. They had to investigate me. They came to my apartment and took pictures of my drag clothes. Then they preceded to tear my apartment apart looking for pornography. It was their belief that anyone who was homosexual, must have been lots of nasty male on male pornography hid. I told them over and over that I did not have any, but still they continued to look until they felt they had looked in every nook and cranny of my small apartment. I felt extremely violated. I was being completely cooperative and I felt like there was no reason other than just pure meanness that they would do this to me.
Within a week, I had an audience with my commanding officer. He told me I was a disgrace to the Navy; he called me a fucking faggot and told me that he would make sure that I was dishonorably discharged. I told him I had done nothing dishonorable and had not been caught doing anything I wasn't supposed to and if he was going to try and give me a dishonorable discharge, I was going to get a lawyer and fight it. I was then told to get my faggot ass out of his office.
Three days later while I was at the band room, my discharge papers arrived telling me that I had to be off the base within an hour. I was being give a general, under honorable conditions, discharge. This was so important to me, because I would not be eligible for the GI Bill to go to college if I was dishonorably discharged. I said goodbye to my friends in the band, most of whom had been very supportive, packed the few things I had there and left the base for the last time. I went home and had a good two hour cry and went out that night, and for one of the few times in my life, got drunk!
I had no trouble finding work through a temporary agency as a female. In those days they did not ask for identification when you applied for work. My birth name had been Patrick Gipp. When I applied for work, I applied as Pat. That enabled me to cash my paychecks. It was tough making ends meet and as much as I loved doing my drag shows on the weekend, I knew that I had to go back to California to my mother's house and go to school to try to get some sort of job that would enable me to eventually pay for surgery. So I got on in the bus and went back to my mother's in Modesto California.
In 1976, while in the Navy, I was transferred to the naval support activity base in Algiers Louisiana. I was a member of the Navy Steel Band. This steel band had come into existence after world war II when the natives on the island of Trinidad started making musical instruments out of 55 gallon oil drums left over from the war.
Admiral Elmo Zumwalt had heard this music and decided he would like the musicians in the Navy Band in Puerto Rico to put a group together. Eventually the Navy Steel Band was transferred to Algiers.
While stationed there, I discovered the French quarter. In the French quarter, I discovered a bar called the Bourbon Pub. It was the first gay bar I had ever been to. I met a bartender named Ben who I became friends with. This would have been late summer of 1976.
For Halloween, my friend Ben, decided to put me in drag. We went out to several parties that night and most people thought Ben had brought a fag hag with him. Fag hag was an affectionate name for biological women who hung around with gay men. That night I was also introduced to someone who performed regularly in drag shows at a bar called the Post Office. We became friends and I was encouraged to try my hand at doing drag. I had always loved performing and once I started doing drag, I had a ball.
Getting to dress up as a woman felt so right. However, I discovered at the very beginning of my drag career, that drag was an art form. I could wear very light makeup and easily look like a biological woman. But I reveled in the art form of drag. I loved the theatrical makeup and over the top gowns. Lipsyncing, which I had a real talent for, made me feel like I was the actual performer I was imitating. The performance aspect was just so much fun. In those days I was known as Rita Merrill.
It was while I was doing drag shows, that I met my first trans woman. Her name was Samantha and she made her living working the streets. In soft lighting, she was beautiful. In the bright light of day, it was obvious that she was male. This was my first experience of seeing what so many trans women go through, because no one will give them a job when they are presenting as their true female selves. We desperately need a trans inclusive ENDA now!
Man people acquainted with me know that I have Klinefelter's syndrome, being that my chromosome structure is XXY. It is one of the reasons that I have always been so feminine in appearance. At this point in time, I knew nothing about Klinefelter's. I barely knew what gay was and had just learned about transgender, or at that time what we referred to as transsexual. As time went on, through Samantha, I met other trans women, and I immediately identified with them. I had never felt comfortable trying to be a gay man.
It was at this time that I'd decided that I could no longer be in the Navy. I knew that I needed to be a woman and I knew the United States Navy would not willing allow me to continue to be part of their organization if I wanted to be a woman.
I went to the chief that was in charge of the Navy Steel Band that I was attached to and told him my situation. He passed this up the chain of command and very shortly thereafter I was contacted by two agents of NCIS, that is the naval criminal investigative service. My word was not good enough. They had to investigate me. They came to my apartment and took pictures of my drag clothes. Then they preceded to tear my apartment apart looking for pornography. It was their belief that anyone who was homosexual, must have been lots of nasty male on male pornography hid. I told them over and over that I did not have any, but still they continued to look until they felt they had looked in every nook and cranny of my small apartment. I felt extremely violated. I was being completely cooperative and I felt like there was no reason other than just pure meanness that they would do this to me.
Within a week, I had an audience with my commanding officer. He told me I was a disgrace to the Navy; he called me a fucking faggot and told me that he would make sure that I was dishonorably discharged. I told him I had done nothing dishonorable and had not been caught doing anything I wasn't supposed to and if he was going to try and give me a dishonorable discharge, I was going to get a lawyer and fight it. I was then told to get my faggot ass out of his office.
Three days later while I was at the band room, my discharge papers arrived telling me that I had to be off the base within an hour. I was being give a general, under honorable conditions, discharge. This was so important to me, because I would not be eligible for the GI Bill to go to college if I was dishonorably discharged. I said goodbye to my friends in the band, most of whom had been very supportive, packed the few things I had there and left the base for the last time. I went home and had a good two hour cry and went out that night, and for one of the few times in my life, got drunk!
I had no trouble finding work through a temporary agency as a female. In those days they did not ask for identification when you applied for work. My birth name had been Patrick Gipp. When I applied for work, I applied as Pat. That enabled me to cash my paychecks. It was tough making ends meet and as much as I loved doing my drag shows on the weekend, I knew that I had to go back to California to my mother's house and go to school to try to get some sort of job that would enable me to eventually pay for surgery. So I got on in the bus and went back to my mother's in Modesto California.
Saturday, December 6, 2014
Welcome To The Life and Times of Trucker Patti
Welcome to my blog. My name is Patti, however because of my years calling into Sirius/XM OutQ radio, some people know me better as Trucker Patti. "Trucker Patti" is also the title of a documentary short based on my life. While I have posted blog entries before, this is my first attempt at doing a blog strictly about myself. I am looking forward to it being an interesting adventure.
I intend to be as open and candid as I possibly can . I would like to tell a bit about myself and my life as it is and who I am now, as well as what my hopes and dreams are for the future. The goal then will be to share as many stories as I can about my life. I have found in the past, that telling a story will sometimes jog a memory of another story. I am hoping to use that format to make this blog interesting reading for those who are logging in.
I also will be looking to see how many people are reading. I hope people are reading and then sharing with everyone they know. Seeing more people reading will give me a kick in the behind to motivate me to write more. My passion at this point in my life, is transgender and intersex awareness and understanding. This passion is what is fueling my desire to write.
If I am 60 years old. You might ask why it has taken me this long to find my passion. I am hoping, as I write, to discover the answer to this question, because I myself don't yet know the answer. I have always been envious of those who find their passion early in life. But, better late than never.
My life these days is pretty good. I live in a small trailer park in the country in the Ozark mountains of central Missouri. I live in a 30 foot travel trailer with a big slide out. I love my trailer. I used to have a 1500 square foot, three bedroom two bath home. It was great to have that house while I was younger and could physically keep up with the maintenance. For several years, I was helping to raise my two stepsons and generally whenever they were over, they had friends with them so when I had kids, I had a houseful of boys. My two stepsons are now grown with lives of their own. It was a good decision to sell the house. I love where I live. I have wonderful neighbors and am close enough to town to get the things that I need, but far enough outside of town to have that country feel.
One of my biggest regrets is that I did not save more money. I have enough of an income to be very comfortable as long as I am careful. I don't have enough money to travel. I would love to travel and spread my message of transgender and intersex awareness and understanding. I would also love to do television and movies. Participating in my documentary short and a recent stint as an extra on the television show "Glee," have given me the acting bug. I am hoping to put together a package to submit to LGBTQ friendly colleges and universities in the hope they would sponsor me to come and speak to the students.
I spent 25 years living, as some in the transgender community call "stealth mode." What living in stealth mode means is that no one other than my family knew that I had been born with a penis and had gender affirmation surgery. The people in my life viewed me as an ordinary, heterosexual woman. I believe that pulling that off successfully for 25 years was great training for me to be in the acting world. Plus, I have been told that the camera likes me. If you get a chance to see my documentary short or the episode of "Glee" that I will be on, you can be a good judge of that for yourself.
I would love to do more television. I would love to be in movies. So, if you know anyone that can help make that happen for me, please let me know. I am honestly not looking for fame or fortune. What I am more interested in, is getting my face and name out into the public so that I can share my story and my passion for transgender and intersex awareness and understanding with more people.
In the last few years, I have shared part of my story with many people. What surprised me more than anything else, was how many people in the LGB community knew so little about trans people. Many of them told me I was the first trans person they had ever hung out with. I encouraged them to ask me any question that they could think of and I would be happy to give them as honest and open an answer as I possibly could. These conversations are what sparked my passion.
I have gained a very small bit of notoriety because of my years calling into radio shows and my documentary short. I have decided to use that notoriety to do something to help trans people. For 25 years, I basically hid in the straight community. The best thing that I ever did for myself, was when I came back out eight years ago. I am now out and proud.
I live every day with the psychological damage of what living with "the secret" that I had been born intersex and transgender for so many years has done to me. By sharing my story and spreading awareness and understanding wherever and whenever possible, I am hoping to mitigate some of the damage and hopefully help other people at the same time.
So, my friends, I ask you to come along on this journey of discovery and remembrance with me. A lot of people tell me I have lived an interesting life. And, when I look at it dispassionately, I can see that what people tell me might be true. I struggle with the actual reality that people find me interesting. That may be because my life is just that, my life. What has been normal for me, is abnormal or interesting to others. I'm not sure, but hopefully we will see.
I intend to be as open and candid as I possibly can . I would like to tell a bit about myself and my life as it is and who I am now, as well as what my hopes and dreams are for the future. The goal then will be to share as many stories as I can about my life. I have found in the past, that telling a story will sometimes jog a memory of another story. I am hoping to use that format to make this blog interesting reading for those who are logging in.
I also will be looking to see how many people are reading. I hope people are reading and then sharing with everyone they know. Seeing more people reading will give me a kick in the behind to motivate me to write more. My passion at this point in my life, is transgender and intersex awareness and understanding. This passion is what is fueling my desire to write.
If I am 60 years old. You might ask why it has taken me this long to find my passion. I am hoping, as I write, to discover the answer to this question, because I myself don't yet know the answer. I have always been envious of those who find their passion early in life. But, better late than never.
My life these days is pretty good. I live in a small trailer park in the country in the Ozark mountains of central Missouri. I live in a 30 foot travel trailer with a big slide out. I love my trailer. I used to have a 1500 square foot, three bedroom two bath home. It was great to have that house while I was younger and could physically keep up with the maintenance. For several years, I was helping to raise my two stepsons and generally whenever they were over, they had friends with them so when I had kids, I had a houseful of boys. My two stepsons are now grown with lives of their own. It was a good decision to sell the house. I love where I live. I have wonderful neighbors and am close enough to town to get the things that I need, but far enough outside of town to have that country feel.
One of my biggest regrets is that I did not save more money. I have enough of an income to be very comfortable as long as I am careful. I don't have enough money to travel. I would love to travel and spread my message of transgender and intersex awareness and understanding. I would also love to do television and movies. Participating in my documentary short and a recent stint as an extra on the television show "Glee," have given me the acting bug. I am hoping to put together a package to submit to LGBTQ friendly colleges and universities in the hope they would sponsor me to come and speak to the students.
I spent 25 years living, as some in the transgender community call "stealth mode." What living in stealth mode means is that no one other than my family knew that I had been born with a penis and had gender affirmation surgery. The people in my life viewed me as an ordinary, heterosexual woman. I believe that pulling that off successfully for 25 years was great training for me to be in the acting world. Plus, I have been told that the camera likes me. If you get a chance to see my documentary short or the episode of "Glee" that I will be on, you can be a good judge of that for yourself.
I would love to do more television. I would love to be in movies. So, if you know anyone that can help make that happen for me, please let me know. I am honestly not looking for fame or fortune. What I am more interested in, is getting my face and name out into the public so that I can share my story and my passion for transgender and intersex awareness and understanding with more people.
In the last few years, I have shared part of my story with many people. What surprised me more than anything else, was how many people in the LGB community knew so little about trans people. Many of them told me I was the first trans person they had ever hung out with. I encouraged them to ask me any question that they could think of and I would be happy to give them as honest and open an answer as I possibly could. These conversations are what sparked my passion.
I have gained a very small bit of notoriety because of my years calling into radio shows and my documentary short. I have decided to use that notoriety to do something to help trans people. For 25 years, I basically hid in the straight community. The best thing that I ever did for myself, was when I came back out eight years ago. I am now out and proud.
I live every day with the psychological damage of what living with "the secret" that I had been born intersex and transgender for so many years has done to me. By sharing my story and spreading awareness and understanding wherever and whenever possible, I am hoping to mitigate some of the damage and hopefully help other people at the same time.
So, my friends, I ask you to come along on this journey of discovery and remembrance with me. A lot of people tell me I have lived an interesting life. And, when I look at it dispassionately, I can see that what people tell me might be true. I struggle with the actual reality that people find me interesting. That may be because my life is just that, my life. What has been normal for me, is abnormal or interesting to others. I'm not sure, but hopefully we will see.
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