Jennileigh at the Chattanooga Choo Choo |
Jennileigh Love |
Bio: Twentysomething year old transsomethingoranother living in Nashville. Joined the Vals in 1994.
Community: Vals board chair. Former Vals newsletter editor. Vals Web Mistress. Board Member for the Center for Gay, Lesbian, Bi and Transgendered Life in Nashville. Participated in 1995 Miss Be-All Pageant.
Attended Southern Comfort '95, '96, '97. Southern Comfort 1998 Co-Chair. 1999 Southern Comfort Board Member.
Other: Enjoys exercising, caving, nightclubbing, making and weaering nifty costumes, art (painting, drawing), sci-fi, comic books and toy collecting. Nashville Predators devotee. Certified Marvel Zombie and Star Wars Nut. Alderaanian Princess and Jedi Knight in training (just kidding).
Education: Graduate school dropout (but finished the degree anyway).
Read about the Stonewall Mission Church, an important part of my life.
A Brief Bio: At this point most people would write, "I've been dressing as
long as I can remember," which also applies to me. The earliest evidence
I can find of my transgendered nature is a photo from 1972 in an old
album. The photo is of me at age 2, with some of my mother's curlers in
my hair. My parents tell me that I would roll them in, and go to a
mirror and look at them. This is pretty strong evidence for the "nature
vs. nurture" argument in the favor of nature.
Other early memories are vague. I do remember imitating the way
a girl in our neighborhood walked when I was around 6. I was a very
quiet child and probably more than slightly effeminate. I think my
grandfather always knew I was different. Once, I overheard him say to a
friend that I was "kindly quare", which really hurt me at the time. When
I started school, I quickly learned that non-athletic, effeminate boys
aren't too popular. I was pretty much a bully target all the way through
elementary school. Couple that with Southern Baptist teachings of the
"evils" of wearing women's clothing and it became pretty obvious that I
had to hide my transgendered nature to survive.
As we all know, suppression of it doesn't make it go away, and
my transgendered nature surfaced in odd ways. I developed a fondness for
costumes of all kinds, which still exists to this day. I would always
dream of the most elaborate costumes for Halloween. I never got to wear
them.. I was always `The Six-Million Dollar Man" on Halloween and the
costumes existed in only in my fantasies. Somehow, costumes were okay,
whereas I felt guilty wearing women's clothing.
There were no lesbigay organizations in my high school so I was
active in the next best thing ... the Drama Club! I did get to do makeup
and wear costumes, but never once did full blown drag. In my teens I
could finally drive, and that gave me more freedom to experiment. For
the first time, I could shop without the presence of my parents. I got
over some of my reluctance to dress and bought lots of things then,
absolutely terrified of what the clerks might think of me. I bought my
first dress when I was 17, which was a size 9. Luckily it fit (I only
wish I could get into a 9 now). I was limited in how many girl
things I could accumulate because I had to constantly hide my stuff (in
the closet, of course) from my parents. Strangely enough, at the time, I
didn't really consider myself a transvestite. I didn't know what I was,
other than different and confused.
But dressing around the house behind closed curtains and locked
doors makes a pretty lonely trannie. I was all dressed up with nowhere
to go. I was very much drawn to the transpeople I saw on television, but
had no idea how to reach them. I thought I must be the only one in the
state and I sank into quite a bit of depression. I drank to escape. I
was really ready for a change.
The editor of Cross-Talk had an e-mail address and I contacted
her about the Vals. At the time, I was terrified of coming out and
needed a little encouragement before I got the guts to call up the Vals
and I got it through the `Net. I think this is why I'm so big on using
the Internet for outreach, because it really helped me out. After too
much soul searching, I finally called up the Vals.
When I joined the community, all the emotional baggage of guilt
and shame vanished. A whole new world of self-acceptance was opened to
me. Nothing has been the same since. My greatest hope in the work that
the Vals do is to prevent someone from feeling as lonely as I did.
I would never consider going back in the closet knowing what I
know now. Heck, who would??
Jennileigh's infamous costumes...
I love making costumes of all sorts. To read more about my interests, go to JJ's Critters Page.
First of all thank you all for having me as your speaker. It's a
complete honor to speak here tonight and I was surprised when
Anne asked me to come.
For those of you who do not know me "Love" is not a camp
drag name - it's quite close to my real last name. I've been active in
the transgender community with the Tennessee Vals in Nashville
for over 3 years serving as their newsletter editor and web page
mistress. This year, I was tapped to be on the board of directors of
the Center for GLBT Life in Nashville. Most recently I was tapped to
be co-chair of the 1998 8th Annual Southern Comfort Convention in
Atlanta, Georgia.
Regardless of all these feathers that appear to be in my cap, I
still consider myself a newcomer to the community. Barely 3 and a
half years ago, a scared, confused and lonely guy made one of the
most important trips of his life to Nashville. He was tired of being so
alone in how he felt about his gender and was on the road to
alcoholism. He didn't know what to expect from this mysterious
group of people called "The Tennessee Vals." They met in of all
places, "The Gay and Lesbian Center". I had NEVER known anyone
who was openly gay in my life! Would they make fun of me if I
didn't "pass" as female? Would they try to hit on me? What if they
find out where I live and tell everyone what I am?
We've all been there, in one form or another. I always tell new
people who come to our meetings that it's okay to be scared. You've
heard of butterflies in the stomach? Well, I had pterodactyls that
first day I walked into a Vals meeting. I don't know how I managed
not to upchuck that day. Looking back, I think I was so ready for a
change in my life that my brain cut off most of my body functions.
It's the only way I can explain how I strutted out of that dressing
room in my best high heels without wetting my pantyhose. Maybe
it was just a vicious tuck.
In any case, I walked out of my first Vals meeting, no longer a
guy, at least internally. I had a new sense of identity and who I was
in relation to the universe. A star was born, at least within my own
mind. I loved to crossdress, and for the first time in my life, it was
okay. I had seen the world outside my closet. And it was good. I
haven't looked back in the closet since. Besides. it's pretty dark in
there.
Anyway that's enough about me. I hope that inspires some
folks who are new to the gender community and allows you to see
that I'm no different that any of you. Tonight what I really wanted
to discuss was building community.
My home, Nashville is a big tourist town. Yes, we do get the
usual tourist buses from Iowa dropping hundreds of pasty-skinned
senior citizens on our streets in search of Loretta Lynn's autograph.
I tried once to convince one of them I was Shania Twain, but they
didn't believe me.
Our support group gets lots of visitors from outside Nashville,
whether they are just passing through or visiting for a convention.
We have also had many trans-transplants who move to Nashville
from remote nether-regions of the land like Connecticut (whatever
state that's in). Several of you make the trek south to Music City to
attend our meetings. The one comment that I get the most from
new people is how tightly woven the "community" in Nashville is.
"Community" as I speak of it means the greater gay, lesbian,
bisexual and transgendered people who live in Nashville. One
Sunday, I got out of bed, after a night on the town, makeup from the
previous night still on. I got a call from two of my friends inviting
me to eat breakfast with them. These friends of mine, by sexual
orientation, happen to be a gay man and one lesbian.
I didn't have time to do a good makeup job, so I just took a
shower and dressed androgynously as I usually do. We headed to
the local Denny's for what I'm sure was a "Slam" of some sort. The
three of us, one trans-somethingoranother, one gay man and one
lesbian enjoying each other's company and the morning air.
I had no idea this was an unusual occurrence.
Recently, the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force formally
included transgendered people in their mission statement. I
applaud their decision. We all know about the HRC's exclusion of
not only trans-people, but bisexual people. We all know that there is
plenty of transphobia in the gay community, as well as in the
straight community.
I can't say I haven't experienced any animosity from the gays
and lesbians in Nashville. I can remember one person who said that
I appeared too masculine to be a woman, although they didn't say it
to my face. I heard about the statement second-handedly from a
friend who was quick to defend me. Beyond that, the worst I ever
got from the community was my butt pinched and a few unwanted
advances at the Jungle, which is not the place where most reputable
folks hang out. (Why was I there? What makes you all think I'm
reputable!)
How do we achieve such a united community, where gay and
lesbian and bi and transpeople eat together, work together and
party together? The truth is there is no formula.
I do know of things that can help. When I was first coming
out, I always looked for any excuse to go out dressed up. (These days,
I don't need one!) In 1995, When the Vals announced that someone
needed to attend a meeting of the "Nashville Pride Committee",
which organizes our yearly Pride Week, I volunteered to go to the
meeting. This was really the first time I sat down with the gay and
lesbian community outside of a bar setting.
I didn't know anyone at that meeting. I simply showed up,
introduced myself and listened. It was more of an information
gathering than anything; the Vals needed to know what the plans
for Pride Week were so we could plan accordingly. The people at the
meeting were accepting of me. But notice, I didn't go there to run
things, just to listen.
I would hate to say that our good relations with the greater
gay community in Nashville were based on "an excuse to get
dressed up", but it seems to be that way. The Vals have always made
it a point to attend events of interest to the GLBT community. In
1995, Marisa and I both attended the Nashville Pride Ball, which is a
major fundraiser for Pride Week. We were the only two Vals there.
In '96, the Vals brought ten people. In '97 we had fourteen in
attendance, several of which came from this group tonight. Yearly,
Nashville CARES hosts major fundraisers, such as the Night In White
and the Musicity CARES AIDS walk and we have made a point of
attending these events. We have also made a point of educating our
lesbian, bi and gay brothers and sisters about us. Many of the local
GLB organizations have asked us to come speak at their meetings,
which we eagerly do. Recently, when the Kerry Lobel, executive
director of the NGLTF visited Nashville for a town meeting on hate
crimes, we were there.
One thing we do have in Nashville that is unique is our GLBT
Community Center, which unfortunately you folks do not have. The
Center isn't fancy - just a small converted house. But within the
Center is a wealth of information for the GLBT community in
Nashville. The Center maintains a library, lots of newsletters, a
community bulletin board, a kitchen, a switchboard and meeting
rooms. The Tennessee Vals used to meet at the Center until we
outgrew it. Most everyone who goes through the Center doors has
heard of the Tennessee Vals. We make a point of keeping Vals
newsletters, brochures, and business cards in stock there. We
volunteer for duties at the Center, serving in leadership positions, or
just simply cleaning up the kitchen. I have spoken many times to
Center phone volunteers about how to handle calls from
transgendered people. One of those phone volunteers even "came
out" to me later and admitted to being transgendered. I can't stress
enough how important the Center is to me, and to our community.
Perhaps it's time for a Center in Lexington or Louisville or even
Paducah.
The Vals have always been active in Nashville Pride even
before I came along. In each Pride Parade, we have had some sort of
contingent, sometimes just marchers, other times entire floats.
Earlier this year, I was trying to encourage one of my Vals sisters to
march with us in the Pride Parade. Her response was, "I'm not gay.
I'm a transsexual. Why should I march." My simple response was
"Be proud of being transgendered."
She wasn't identifying with the gay community. And it is
true, we do have different concerns. I'm not going to ignore that.
But in spite of our differences, you will find that our stories are
similar.
What transgendered people do is challenge the limits of
gender expression. Whether gays or lesbians will admit it or not, so
do they. It is not considered the proper gender expression for a
man to be a hairstylist or enjoy decorating any more than it is
appropriate for girls to enjoy sports or fixing their car, or a
transgendered person to wear the clothing of the opposite sex. The
actual act of taking a same sex partner is not an appropriate gender
expression in society's eyes. Transgendered people are a very
obvious violation of society's rules of bipolar gender.
We have two community newspapers in Nashville, Query and
Xenogeny. Locally I know you have The Letter, the editor of which is
here tonight. I know we've all glanced at those wonderful personal
ads they have in those things:
SOFT, SMOOTH THING. I'm a handsome guy, in my mid-50s. 6'2. 220 lbs, and I like
smooth guys, 35 to 50. I don't mind if your a bit effeminate. (Madison) #9641
In other words, he's looking for a straight-looking and
straight-acting man. What does the phrase "straight-looking"
mean? Does it mean you can go in public and not be perceived as
gay? Does it mean you don't have an ear pierced (or both), a limp-
wrist, or a soft-toned speaking voice? Maybe it means you don't go
around wearing t-shirts with slogans like "Can't Even March
Straight." Or perhaps it means you're one of those elusive lipstick
lesbians. What "straight-looking" means to me is that if I go to the
grocery store with a gay or lesbian friend, I'll be the one being
called a faggot, and my friend will go on home, blending in
perfectly with the straight world. Thanks a lot!
Our community divisions are further complicated by the
heterosexual crossdressers who don't want anything to do with gay
people. It's almost funny to think about when you visualize this
hypocrisy. Imagine a former college football player in a pink dress
explaining why he's perfectly straight to a muscular gay
leatherdaddy. It's absurd.
There was a time back before Stonewall, before the
community divisions, there was one word that was used to describe
all of us. And it is a cruel word to some, but not to others. The word
is queer. I once met a lesbian that was absolutely obsessed with her
hatred of men. She was screamingly butch, raised wolf-dogs and
lived on a farm with no electricity or running water. Now her
lifestyle is not exactly something I agreed with. I couldn't
comprehend her complete hatred of all men. And besides, how can
you run a curling iron with no electricity, right? Anyway, the one
thing that we both agreed on was that we were both queer. She was
queer in her way and I was queer in my way. We were both queer
together. Queer used to mean something besides homosexual. It
used to mean different or unusual, with absolutely no sexual
overtones in it. I urge you all to re-examine the word queer,
redefine it in your minds, and reclaim it for your own.
So in conclusion, maybe the rallying cry for our community
shouldn't be "We're as good as straight people!" That implies that
there's something wrong with us, compared to straight people.
Maybe the rallying cry should be "We're all queer. Get used to it."
Thank you all and have a great holiday season!
I've never been asked to write a eulogy before. I've been lucky. I've never been close to anyone who went through what Matthew Shepard did. Yet every time you and I walk out our front doors, we take a risk with our lives.
All transgender people risk a great deal by being open with society. A basic human need has always been "to try to fit in." Transgender people frequently have difficulties in simply fitting in. We're usually easily identifiable by our appearance. Sometimes we're not perfect women or men and most of us will even admit it. Even more at risk than the less "passable" transgenders are those who "pass" perfectly as the opposite sex. Imagine the fear that they have of being discovered as "not a real man" or "not a real woman", and the consequences they deal with when they are discovered.
I can't imagine what it was like for Matthew being left to die that night. However, the transgender community is not immune to the same brutality. The list of recent victims is long. In 1993, a transman named Brandon Teena was murdered in Humbolt, NB. In Washington, DC in 1995, transwoman Tyra Hunter was struck by an automobile and bled to death. Witnesses say the emergency medical service was making jokes about Tyra when they should have been saving her life. In 1996, Christian Paige, a transwoman from Nashville, was stabbed to death and her body burned in Chicago.
All of these victims were transgendered. They all had families and friends, just like Matthew. They took risks, just like Matthew did and like we all do by being open and out with our sexualities and gender identities. They paid the ultimate price for it.
We're all at risk here, being out in public at this vigil. Why do we do it? I believe the benefits of being true to ourselves far outweigh the risks we take. I think we should honor Matthew tonight by continuing to take the risk, and live our lives openly and freely. We should also honor Matthew by fulfilling his own dream of being an advocate for the oppressed, no matter who they may be. But most of all, tonight, we should honor Matthew by stopping the hate. Stop it and stop it NOW.
Now Online: TG Life, cartoons by Jennileigh Love.
These cartoons have been regularly available in our printed newsletter and are now available online.
Pride '97
Be All '95
With a few famous friends?College brought on more suppression, because dorm and fraternity
life is not compatible with transvestism. I had very few girl items and
I threw myself into school instead. I really struggled with my
transgendered behavior then. I was always wondering why I was this way
and I really hated myself for it. In graduate school, I finally got a
chance to live in my own place without roommates, and nothing stopped me
from expressing my transgendered self. For the first time, I did makeup
and the full works. I spent all the time I could dressed as a girl. I
think I lost a lot of my shame then, and accepted myself for what I was.
My first contact with the Vals is a result of a lot of contorted
other contacts. I found a 900 number for cross-dressers in a copy of the
Nashville Scene, quite by accident. Somehow I completely missed the Vals
number listed in the classifieds. Through the 900 number (and an ugly
phone bill), I got the address of the magazine, Cross-Talk. I figured I
could at least read about the lifestyle, even if I couldn't participate.
The magazine had a listing of transgender groups nationwide and much to
my surprise, there was one in Nashville.
Jenn at Rock City
(1998)
Minnie Mouse
(Halloween '94)
Batgirl
(Halloween '95)
Groovy 60s
(SCC '96)
Ms. Potato Head
(Halloween '96)
Ms. Claus
(X-Mas '96)
Genderizer Bunny
(Halloween '97)
Rudolf the Nasal
Dysphoric Reindeer
(X-Mas '97)
Li'l Jenni(Halloween '98)
Jenni's Speech at the Bluegrass Belles Holiday Party
December 21, 1997
Lexington, KY
Matthew Shepard Memorial
By Jennileigh Love
October 18, 1998, Centennial Park, Nashville, TN