Heart of Gold

So often we overlook some of the very best people, and let me tell you this Queen is amazing. I won't share her name or true detail to her story, but what I will share is that she has a heart made of gold. Seldom to people realize it because when they look at her they cower. They avert their stares. They cross the street. The mumble under their breath about how people like her should cease to breathe or how they need to figure themselves out. Well this might be news to the world, but coming out doesn't mean we deal with your emotions over the situation. It means you are privileged enough to hear our stories. It will be a privilege for you to hear a fraction of hers.

The people that know her say she wears her smile like the sun as it sets. People were always waiting for it to show, and when it did it was the most beautiful smile you would see. Her style was ever changing as she went from trend to trend, but you barely saw her with her clothes on. No one knew what she was going through. Her family didn't even care. She was on her own and had been for a time. It took her years to feel like she could be herself. Burlesque was just a part of that-- becoming herself.

Each night she brought home stacks of ones. Her size twelve heels were kicked behind the door and her wig lay on her boudoir waiting to be brushed for the next evening. She stepped into the shower and turned the temperature as hot as she could bear it; torn panty hose lay outside the tub and makeup ran down her face. The night began to drain from her body. She filled the tub and the water sat up to her breast. She looked down at them, uneven pecks. She began lathering soap on her arms, chest, legs and then the space between her thighs. Her penis lay limp with no feeling. How she longed to feel whole. She wished for the chance to become the woman she wants to be. She thinks about how she doesn't need to change, but maybe if she did it would make her feel more complete. Maybe it will or maybe she will feel exactly as she does now.

Her name isn't as important as her story. Sometimes people want their privacy. After all she says, "I only represents one person in a vast community, but my experience might be relatable to some." She told me how she longs to share her story, but she cannot find the words. It is hard to be courageous right now, especially in this world. She gives and she gives, but seldom receives. Growing up she saw doctors and was told it was a phase and later on a disease. Labeled as mental, this woman had issues with gender. She was beaten by family and peers all in the hopes the title queer would leave her. She wrote down every name she was called in a leather bound book and in order to forget she drank a handle and swallowed a bottle of pills; however, nothing worked. When she found herself out of that place and on her way to a higher education she pretended to be the perfect man. She dressed simply and wore her hair clean cut. She went on dates and even made love to the women she compared herself to.

Her unhappiness was registered by a very close friend. She broke. She cried and she finally came to terms with the woman she is and her friend held her close and just said, "I love you. I hope you know this." It was that day he (himself) died and she (herself) truly began to live. Beaten with unkind words and sometimes physical violence she longed for something to change. She slept with a different man often, trying to feed her appetite. She often thought that it would take the pain away. To be loved over and over and by many, but quickly realized that she was just used for her celebrity and for her identity. Tired of being fetishized, she longed to settle down, but it's hard to find the one when every man acts like a boy and they forget she once pretended to be one.

Sometimes feeling alone she reaches down between her legs. What a foreign place for a woman. She remembers when she felt something there, a tingling sensation perhaps. She wished she could fit the mold of society, but also wishes that she could just simply be. What will it take for people to accept her? How many like her have to die before people realize they are human? Will she every see equality? She says these are the questions that keep her up at night. She thinks aloud how it could have been her at Orlando. Or how she could have been shot on the street. How people just don't understand what it's like to be looked down upon by every single person you meet.

She works too damn hard to be living like this. To be treated as inferior-- like society's secret mistress. A lot of people forget how Trans* began a revolution. How LGBTQ+ got it's foot in the door. How a lot of it started in underground clubs. Divas voguing, dressing in drag, and flaunting their colors with PRIDE. It's sad that individuals like this QUEEN have to put the show away and hide. Everyone just wants to be accepted. Everyone wants the same equal rights. So why did this Queen have to live such a hard life?

I'll tell you she's happy now and very secure in herself. Don't treat her with disrespect. Don't curse, and don't yell. Look at her in her eyes and know she is so proud to be a woman. She is strong. She is courageous. And she is not afraid of staying true to herself, but it took her a long time to get there-- to look down at her penis and then in the mirror, to look into her own eyes, to give self love, and to heal.

This story doesn't seem very R- rated, but yet I'd argue it is because what we lack in sex, language, and violence you've already come up with in your head. This story is poorly written only because it is a second hand account, but if you heard it from her you wouldn't be able to close your mouth. Don't forget about the violence in the Trans* community during this month of PRIDE. This is an every day occurrence and they all need allies on their side.

Sincerely, a lesbian and king writing about a Queen who works at night