Entry #78: Loving an “Other”

This country I live in was founded on racism, and although over 200 year have passed, the fear and hatred of “others” continues. I do not have a solution and little hope that this will change.

All I have to offer are my own experiences.

Annie was a love that I never searched for. Until she stormed into my life, I was blissfully unaware of the daily discrimination taking place in this country. I was too busy carrying on with my own life.

You see…Annie was an “other”. A Person of Color. Asian. Transgender. A perfect trifecta for the hate that lives in this country. Hate that is fueled by religion and white privilege.

Our love for each other burned white hot. I cannot even begin to express how many hours, days, months, I spent doing my best to ensure that whenever Annie was with me, she would be safe from the hate and violence daily inflicted upon POC.

The stories she would tell me of discrimination and violence endured in her community were devastating to hear. While I had no first hand experience in my growing up, I sure got a face full of hate once we were together in public. I was not prepared with experiences to fall back on. This was all new to me and it was the scariest part of my life. Scary, because no matter what I did, or how I acted, I was powerless to protect her 24 hours a day.

Our year together was the most glorious time of my life. Annie was a life force unto herself and every day that passes, I thank the universe for bringing her into my life. Her life was cut short by the simple fact that her body failed the day she achieved her greatest victory over her dysphoria. If that isn’t the most cruel twist of fate, I don’t know what would be.

It is now fourteen years since Annie passed on. The hate of “others” continues to grow in this country, fueled by religious fanatics and just plain ignorant people.

I cannot envision ever meeting someone like Annie again. I think you only get one chance at that. I am so fortunate to have had her love for the year we had together. I will cherish all of those memories for whatever time I have left.

Entry #74: Recluse

Well, here we are two years into the pandemic.

It has been quite a ride, losing the social animal side of life in an effort to remain safe, and covid free, and alive.

More than ever before, I am distrustful of people. In fact, I find the world contains far too many people for my taste.

While there is a certain loneliness in having lost those social connections, I have found that I may be best suited to be…

A recluse.

My safe place, unless someone can convince me otherwise.

Entry #48: Hot Dogs

Annie always had the ability to surprise me when I least expected it.

One of the things that we enjoyed doing together was going out to dance clubs in certain cities where she thought she was comfortable and not threatened. One of those cities is San Francisco.

So it was one night, that we went out a little later than we normally would to a club where we had not been before. A great time was had, especially doing a lot of people watching. People were definitely dressed for a good time And it was fairly crowded.

By the time we decided to leave, we were pretty hungry, and it was into the early hours. I doubted we would be able to find an open restaurant, but to my surprise, there was a Mexican hot dog cart outside of the club.

Now, we all have preconceived ideas about different things. Annie wanted to get a hot dog. I was shocked! Not only had she never said she liked hot dogs, but the idea of watching her eat a hot dog made me laugh. It just seemed to be so incongruous to watch her eat a hot dog while standing in the street with mustard seeping out of the bun and onto her lips. I wish I had a picture of that moment.

Even a hot dog can surprise you at some point..

Entry #43: Safety

It did not take long after Annie and I met before I learned of her fear for her own safety.

The stories that she shared about Ellen and her growing up and facing the world, forced me to take notice of the world around me in ways that I never anticipated.

I made sure that whenever we were out together, I would always be sure to scan the faces of those around us, and ensure that no one ever got too close as to make her uncomfortable.

But, it was the time alone with her while she was sleeping, which I found to cause me to worry more than I could explain. I loved to lay and watch her sleeping, lay my head down on her chest so I could listen to her heart. However, inevitably my thoughts would focus in on what else could I do to ensure her safety. I knew that there was a lot of discrimination in this country, but I had never had to deal with it on a personal level before. Hours would go by some nights while I wrestled with the fact that her fears had now become mine.

Short of leaving the country to make a life together in a safer place, there did not seem to be any other viable solutions. Over time, we discussed this and made our plans. Plans that we were never able to complete.

So, here I am, 12 years and seven months later. Over the years since her passing, I haven’t given a lot of thought about the state of the country. And yet, while there has been much progress regarding equality and the struggle for many groups to find a voice and be heard, it seems like every week I hear of more murders committed against people of color for no other reason than hate.

To be sure, Annie was part of that group. Although the terminology has changed over the years, make no mistake that the hate and discrimination that might have been more subtle back in those days, is still with us and the current regime in this country now advocates outright violence for their extremist followers.

The regular murders of transgender women of color in this country is sickening and heartbreaking. I don’t have a magic wand to come up with a solution. All I have is my memories of Annie and yes, Ellen, and wonder what their lives could have become were they still here.

From where I sit, if something major does not change after this election, then I honestly have to wonder if this country can survive to ensure true equality. More and more, I come to the conclusion that his country no longer holds value to me if there is no equality. Canada is calling, once the borders are open again. Leave or stay. Whichever I decide, my memories of Annie will always be with me.

Just a thought…

Entry #39: 12 Years

In just 10 days, the anniversary of Annie’s passing will be upon me.

I find it impossible to face the fact that it has been so long. Not a day goes by that I do not think about her. The most mundane of things I observe at any given time will make me think of sharing what I am seeing at the moment.

I have read so many articles on grief and moving on, that at times my head spins. The hard truth of the matter is, I cannot move on. One result of not being able to deal with her death, is the fact that I gave up drinking alcohol in any form.

Failure to drink alcoholic beverages has managed to keep most of my demons at bay, except in the rare occasion where I forget and actually take a drink when out with friends. It only takes one. One drink and the depression and darkness overwhelms me and all I can think of is Annie, even while still being among other people. Immediately, my demeanor changes and I must find a way to graciously make an exit. When this darkness roars back, I am in no mood to engage with anyone.

Twelve years without her. Twelve years without intimacy because I am simply afraid that nothing and no one can ever replace what we had together. How could I ever share the baggage I carry with anyone else? Would anyone else care? Would anyone else not run in the other direction, should they find out? My silence, my darkness I find to be the safest of places.

Twelve years without her has made me into a different person. I don’t enjoy large crowds and most of the time I am quite content to be solitary and alone with my thoughts. I listen more than I speak, and I suppose most people think of me as rather indifferent due to my lack of engagement in what I perceive to be inane conversation. Just another piece of baggage I carry with me.

As the date gets closer, I will close myself off to more and more people. It is just what I do. Right now I will be thinking of her and make plans to visit one of the favorite places we shared together. Spending the day in one of her favorite places won’t eliminate my funk, but it will grant me a few hours of pleasure, just by reliving our mutual love for that place.

Many writers and other people just say to move on and get over it when dealing with this type of grief. In my case, the fact is I will never be able to get over it. I will never be able to get over the fact that Annie died without being able to experience what she worked her whole life to achieve. She was cheated out of the love that I have for her and the life we would have made together. In a world filled with hatred and dismissal of who she was, we had our own little bubble of safety and love that provided her and therefore myself with a peace that is lacking in the world even after all these years.

So here I wait for the anniversary of her death yet again, and I wonder how many more anniversaries I will see before I am able to join her.

Entry #38: Memories

Sometimes an every day observation can become a trigger of memories from the past.

Recently, I was out and about and happened to glance at a passing metro bus.

There was a young couple I could see through the window and it brought me back to a time when I had my first girl friend.

At the time, I was 15 and she was sixteen. I was a transfer student into a new school and knew no one. By the luck of the draw I entered into a biology class and was assigned a table and partner.

I don’t think I grew up in a bubble, but the fact is that everyone I knew and saw at school was white. I didn’t know or have any non-white friends. Not purposely, but that’s where I lived.

So I was quite surprised to be paired up with an African American girl. As it turned out, we both hated the class and neither of us could grasp what the hell we were supposed to learn.

She made the funniest faces constantly during class. Well, we hit it off and became friends. More than friends. I would walk her to home and school and we began to spend all our free time together. Within a few weeks we were inseparable.

We were young and naive and thought we were in love. There were many trips around town on the bus together as neither of us were old enough to drive.

We loved to hang out at the beach and kiss and make out everywhere we went. This lasted well into the next school year.

Laura was a petite little thing and while the teenage hormones raged in both of us, she never let me get past the heavy kissing part. I didn’t care, because all I wanted to do was be with her as many hours of the day as possible.

She never brought me to her house, nor did I bring her to mine.

A mixed race couple was taboo in those days and we knew neither of our families would approve.

So it happened one day that I went to meet her before school and she didn’t come out. No one answered the door. Not the next day or the next either. I showed up on the fourth day and was pounding on the door when a neighbor lady asked what I was doing there. I told her I was there to see Laura. The lady said matter of fact, they moved three days ago.

I was stunned and frantic. How could she just leave like that? Well, we had no cell phones, computers or Internet back then so it was impossible for me to find out what happened or where she had gone. She was just gone.

I would not see or hear from her again for over forty years.

When I met Annie I was so confused, I tried to do a little research and began writing a blog about our shared experiences. It became an outlet for me and Annie enjoyed reading it and then we tried to dissect everything we were experiencing. When Annie died, I decided that I could no longer look at all the things I had written and had shared with her. There was no longer any joy in those words.

It was quite a shock then, to receive an email from the blog only days before I intended to delete it all, from someone who claimed to be Laura from my high school days. Of course, I did not believe her for a minute, but in follow up emails, she told me things that in fact only she would know. So we began to correspond.

I had so many questions. Among them was, why was she reading my blog at all? She said she had stumbled across it when doing some other reading, and after reading it all, she had a feeling it was written by me so she reached out.

Turns out, she was as lost as I was over her leaving. In fact, her father had seen us together more than once, and had decided without telling her that the family would move rather than let us keep seeing each other. I just could not understand and finally she admitted to me the reason. Her father feared for her safety and refused to believe I was a decent person. I continued to ask why and finally she admitted that she was transgender and knew this about herself for years before she met me. Not only did her parents not know what to do with that information, they tried to hide her away from anyone they did not know personally.

After they moved, within months she ran away. Eventually, she ended up in England, finished her education and began a career. Here it was forty plus years later and she has a successful career and had been living in Japan for over a decade. Laura said she is happy with her life and the choices she has made, is still single and has no desire to ever come back to this country. But, she said, she would love to meet me sometime. I said that would be difficult as I never travel to Japan.

Laura said there might be a solution. She was scheduled to speak at a conference in Canada in a couple of months, and would I be interested in meeting there? Once she gave me the dates, I could see I had some free days from the tour and agreed to meet her there.

Our visit was so good. She is still as petite as she was in high school and just as beautiful, although with a few more wrinkles like the rest of us. We talked for hours, and in the end I was so happy that she found me before I could delete the blog. I told her all about Annie and she already knew most of it from the blog I wrote.

We have stayed in touch since she went back to Japan. She really wants me to visit there. She said once I see it for myself, I would understand what peace and beauty there is in that country, and why she will never leave to live anywhere else. One day, perhaps I will take her up on her offer.

She is happy in who she is, has found acceptance there, and her life is so much more in tune to nature and with peace. I could use some of that myself.

I guess I am glad to have seen that couple on the bus, because some memories are from a better time that might be past, but still a part of ourselves.

Entry #35: My Darkness

Not that long ago, I was asked when the darkness started to be evident in my life. I couldn’t really put a specific time on it, although I suspect it was at a young age.

Like most families out there, mine was dysfunctional no matter which way you looked at it. I don’t recall ever hearing the “I love you or I am proud of you” words. Ever.

As an introverted young person, I kept to myself most of the time and grew to embrace the chaos and dark thoughts that started to make themselves known to me more and more often.

Music became my lifeline from a young age. When performing, those dark thoughts never managed to make themselves known. I always knew they were there, but in music, I was always able to keep them bubbling under the surface.

I might have been fooling myself, but I thought I had it under control for all those years.

While the darkness was always there in the background, it didn’t manifest itself in an all empowering force until I lost Annie.

Annie brought a light into my life that had never been there. For the year or so we were together, I did not have a single dark thought and I believed I had beat it for good. I didn’t even come close.

When Annie passed, everything I knew to be true died. The darkness that enveloped me was unlike anything before. The most difficult aspect after facing the fact that Annie was gone, was losing the music. My life up to that point existed solely for my ability to perform and to please Annie. Music was my only safe place, and now it was gone along with Annie. There was no longer any kind of lifeline left. I spiraled down into an alcohol fueled frenzy that I only survived due to a friend dragging me back from the abyss.

I still saw friends, although not as often, and I could tell they knew I wasn’t right, but I rebuffed all their questions and put up my walls. I no longer saw the point. They tried, but over time I pushed many of them away.

I have been a captive of my own special darkness for going on eleven plus years now. It rules everything I do and the walls are now impenetrable.

The real friend list is pretty short now and they, just like my many acquaintances have no idea what goes around in my head. The music is still lost to me, although I do go to a show once in a while and sit in a dark corner and try not to engage with anyone.

My darkness is now my security, and I am no longer afraid of it. No one knows, for the simple reason is I don’t trust anyone enough to tell them. Nor do I want to. I cannot imagine that I could possibly meet another person who could bring back the light the way Annie did.

This surely isn’t the way I planned to finish out my time, but it is my reality and I am ok with that.

Entry #29: Montreal

Montreal was one of our favorite cities. I didn’t travel there often before I met Annie and because of that I knew little of the city. That all changed with Annie.

Annie loved Montreal and convinced me to travel there more often so we could meet and she could show me all the great things about the city. It only took a few trips for me to realize how much I had been missing and how this particular city was so well suited to who we are and our dreams together for the future.

As I write this, you have to remember that all of this transpired a long time ago. Annie was never welcome in the U.S. during that time. The fact that she had a successful corporate career was a testament to her drive and the fact that she found herself in a company that refused to allow discrimination within its ranks. Even by today’s standards, many companies pay lip service to non-discrimination but turn an eye away from actual instances of it.

I became an expert at watching for “the look.” The more often I saw someone looking at Annie with disdain and hostility, the more dismayed I became for her safety. The reality of the situation was that since I was accompanying her, those feelings were projected onto myself as well.

We shared our feelings over this many times and we worked hard to find a place where we could live and have a future together in a welcoming environment. In the end, Montreal became the obvious choice. Even though it was only a short plane ride away, it was like traveling to another world where your gender or color of your skin held no sway over living an every day life in peace and happiness. The U.S. held no such hope for us. Even today, while I still live in the U.S., I would prefer to live somewhere else that is more inclusive and welcoming to everyone.

Without Annie however, there is little motivation for me to leave. Without Annie, life has become something like living on a treadmill. The day-to-day is repetitive, all the while my memories of her surround everything I see and do.

Her picture in my phone and her iPod, which frequently finds itself in my pocket, represent the shattered life that remains from the love that we shared for each other.

Entry #28: Hands and Eyes

Annie had the most beautiful eyes and hands of anyone I knew.

There were so many stories that hid in those eyes. It always surprised me to see how quickly her eyes could change. The pain and despair she felt when dealing with an intolerant society always showed in her eyes. She was beaten down so many times, yet always persevered to rise up again even stronger.

But…there was so much joy in those eyes as well. When we were together, making our way in finding out everything we could about each other, her happiness pushed back the pain. Once she accepted and embraced our relationship, she transformed into a new person. Still shy and introverted in public, she never held back from seeking new adventures and explorations with me. It seemed to me that I opened a door that she kept closed since she was thirteen, and now that it was open, there was no holding her back.

And she had amazing hands. Long and slender fingers which were always perfectly manicured with a constantly changing palette of nail polish. Soft hands…the softest hands I ever felt. Yet those hands were like fire. When she touched me, whether it be holding hands, or something more intimate, those hands caused me to lose my mind on so many occasions. The simple act of her human touch sparked many emotions and so many times it was hard to maintain control.

I have never met anyone else who could speak to me in such a personal way with just her eyes and hands. Watching and observing, and interacting with her every day, and week, and almost year that we shared together made for the happiest time of my life.

She didn’t deserve her fate. Annie had so much more to live for. I know how happy I made her, because she told me and showed me over and over again. If only she could have lived to enjoy the freedom the surgery promised.

Entry #25: Questions

I have been writing this blog for a few months now. Unlike my previous blogs, I have not received a lot of comments on the articles, or as many followers. It might be a function of less people following blogs than in the past due to most people using social media more often. Or maybe readers simply don’t find it interesting.

However, I do get more private messages with questions. The questions vary, yet I am surprised how many of them are of a personal nature, requesting intimate details of my relationship with Annie. I do my best to check out the questioners to see if they are serious or just another hater with an agenda.

Most of the time I tell them their questions are out of line and why would you even think I would answer them? Here’s the thing…

If I were in a relationship with another man, no one would ask. If I were in a relationship with a cis woman, no one would even bother me. But Annie was neither of those, so now people think it is appropriate to ask me personal, intimate questions? How rude and disrespectful can people be? Well, in my experience it seems they are pretty rude and disrespectful. What were they hoping to get back? Hoping that I will reveal something that will feed their fantasy or fetish?

There was however one question that I thought I would answer here and it is not what they were hoping to read I am sure. The question is “what did Annie and I like to do the most when we went to bed? So here then is my response.

We liked to fall asleep together. Exciting yes?

I was an average size guy at the time, my weight varied between 180-185 pounds. Annie was almost as tall as me but she only weighed about 125-130. She was a size two, very slender. She was light as a feather.

So, when we went to bed for sleep, we took off our clothes and she would stretch out completely and lay on top of me face to face. Being a bit shorter, she would tuck her head into the crook of my neck. I could feel her complete body and bury my face in her hair. We loved to feel the beat of each other’s hearts and the rise and fall of our breathing against our chests. I loved to run my hands up and down her backside to calm her from the day. Sometimes we would talk softly and other times enjoy the peace we gave each other as we fell asleep.

Not what you were expecting right? Feel free to leave comments or ask respectful questions.