Art Of Politics
A Tale of Two TownsBy Judy OsborneGrowing up transgendered in a tiny Massachusetts town taught me to love cities, but two small towns remain in my heart. The two are as different as they can be in demographics, scenery, economy, and almost every other characteristic, and they're separated by an entire continent. Several months ago I had the uncommon joy of visiting one and then arriving in the other on the very next day. The experience set me to thinking about why these two towns are so special to me. The two towns are Port Angeles, Washington, and Provincetown, Massachusetts. One's economy is based on tourism; the other cuts down trees and ships them off to Japan for a living. A third of one's residents are gay; the other is largely homophobic. One is sophisticated and urbane, while residents of the other enjoy a far simpler lifestyle. These towns are special, in spite of all their differences, because transgender community events have been held in each for many years -- Esprit in Port Angeles and Fantasia Fair in Provincetown. In neither town can any of us pass. The entire population knows we're there, and they interact with us year after year. Townspeople no longer see us as stereotypes. Various individuals in each town like some of us; others they're not so sure about. We feel the same way about them. We're real people to them, with goodness in our hearts and warts on our noses, fascinating or boring or in between, beautiful or plain, good or evil to our own personal degrees, social folks and loners. They have to get to know each of us to find out who they like and who they don't. The large bar at the Port Angeles Red Lion fills up every year with people wanting to get to know us. By the end of each evening, every table has a group of townspeople engaged in animated conversation with some of us. Friends are made and prejudices overcome. Many years ago in Provincetown I attended a church supper where, through interaction with townspeople, I finally discovered I was someone respectable and real. I cried tears of loss and joy and adopted the date of that supper as my birthday, thanks to those accepting townspeople who understood our community through friendships formed during previous events. Interaction like this is rare at transgender events held in big cities. Residents may encounter us in restaurants or hotels, but they seldom know or care why we're there. Each new year we encounter a whole different set of people, offering little opportunity to build a momentum of understanding through repeated contacts. We're just not an item in the life of a city, and stereotypes about us tend to persist. In both Port Angeles and Provincetown, though, most people welcome us even when we visit on our own. And we don't pass even then -- they know us far too well. All of which illustrates what the gay and lesbian communities have understood for years -- it's hard to remain prejudiced against somebody you know and like. Prejudice starts to break down when friendship begins, and the new awareness goes out in waves as people involved in those friendships talk with others. That's why lesbians and gays have placed so much emphasis on coming out -- acknowledging their differences so those around them can begin to associate their diversity with their character, humanity, and value to society. Almost everyone now is aware of knowing at least one gay or lesbian person. With that awareness has come a large measure of social acceptance, and gays and lesbians are on the verge of achieving equality under the law as well. I'm certain almost everyone knows at least one transgendered person, too, but few are aware that they know one. Most of us are still hiding except when we're in Provincetown or Port Angeles or one of the few bars and restaurants we visit regularly in our own cities. The effects of our concealment are becoming increasingly evident as we struggle to gain acceptance and equality along with gay, lesbian and bisexual people. The Greater Seattle Council of Churches last year supported legislation protecting gays, lesbians and bisexuals from job discrimination but opposed the inclusion of transpeople. Their message: You have no face -- the congregations don't know you. We remain excluded from the national Employment Non-Discrimination Act. The sponsoring Human Rights Commission has research that says the public supports equal rights for gays, lesbians and bisexuals but not for transpeople. Again, we have no face. The Hands-Off-Washington board encountered the same public sentiment in their research. With considerable courage, the board defied that research by voting to include us in the current Washington State ballot initiative against job discrimination. We'll find out this fall whether their vote was wise or foolish (More on Washington vote here). So what will it take to change the public's perception of us? We each have to muster up the courage to come out -- to proudly begin to tell others who enrich our lives about our diversity. Then, our friends who know us as fine human beings will begin to understand our community and give it a face. We don't have to stand in the public square to proclaim our t-ness. We just once in a while need to tell a trusted friend or relative in a sensitive way and let the ripples of understanding spread out from there. Comments? E-mail Judy at ckfc08c@prodigy.com |