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Jennileigh at the Chattanooga Choo Choo

Jennileigh Love

Bio | Costume Gallery | Bluegrass Belles Speech

Matthew Shepard Vigil Speech | TG Life Cartoons | Email Me


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.

Southern Comfort LogoAttended 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.


TG Life LogoNow Online: TG Life, cartoons by Jennileigh Love. These cartoons have been regularly available in our printed newsletter and are now available online.


Casual Jenni - Pride '97
Pride '97

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.

Jenni at Be All, 1995
Be All '95
Kuntry Stars
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.

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.

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.

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.

Jenn at Rock City
Jenn at Rock City
(1998)

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.

Minnie Mouse
Minnie Mouse
(Halloween '94)
Batgirl
Batgirl
(Halloween '95)
Groovy Jenni
Groovy 60s
(SCC '96)
Ms. Potato Head
Ms. Potato Head
(Halloween '96)
Ms. Santa
Ms. Claus
(X-Mas '96)
Jenni Bunni
Genderizer Bunny
(Halloween '97)
Jenni as Rudolf
Rudolf the Nasal
Dysphoric Reindeer
(X-Mas '97)
Little Jenn
Li'l Jenni
(Halloween '98)


Jenni's Speech at the Bluegrass Belles Holiday Party

December 21, 1997

Lexington, KY

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!


Matthew Shepard Memorial

By Jennileigh Love

October 18, 1998, Centennial Park, Nashville, TN

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.


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