The Vegas Transgender Affirmation Project

At the risk of writing what may appear to be a travel diary, I will recount the events of the past weekend. Not because the events were Earth-shattering — I went on a very normal weekend trip to Las Vegas — but because these very normal events were so different from a typical vacation for me, at least before I transitioned gender.

I never really experienced a vacation before this past weekend. To be clear, I went on vacations. I was present to see what happened. But I never relaxed while on vacation. I always returned as tired as I was when I left.

That confused me — did I just need more time to unwind? Did I need to find different locations to vacation? Was it just me?

It turns out the answer was yes, it was just me. Or rather, it was the me who hadn’t transitioned gender. Because now that I am Amethysta, I had a normal vacation of exceptional insights.

Goofing off on Earth Day

Last Saturday, my wife, my son, and I went to Springs Preserve, a nature preserve in Las Vegas. It also happened to be Earth Day on Saturday, which meant it was more crowded than usual. But we were to meet family (who live in Las Vegas) at the preserve: my sister-in-law and her two daughters. I wrote previously about my nieces and how I bonded with them last holiday season, and I was excited to see them again.

As we walked around the exhibits, I felt so free, so real. I hugged everybody — I goofed around, I was silly, I was uninhibited. I did not feel self-conscious, which would typically moderate my behavior. I felt odd and yet right.

Is this feeling normal for most people — this sense of “being right” all their lives? All I can say is I experienced a sense of freedom I hadn’t realized could exist before I transitioned.

Part of me — maybe the part that is still afraid — wondered many things: was I passing? Are the smiles I see around me forced? Does everybody around me think I’m an idiot? But the rest of me won out and simply was: I was happy. I was in the moment. I was with my family.

I was right where I was supposed to be, exactly as I was supposed to be there. Everything was just right — I didn’t have time to worry with all the happiness to experience around me.

Cat at the cool hotel pool

This weekend was the first time I wore a ladies swimsuit: a purple swim brief with attached skirt and a black swim shirt. I am not yet brave enough to buy a one-piece swimsuit. Maybe after bottom surgery, but certainly not yet.

I won’t mince words: when I put on my swimsuit, I felt vulnerable and exposed. I felt like a snail without a shell, fully expecting a cup of salt to enshroud me at any moment.

And yet, as I felt exposed, I also felt…strangely comfortable. I was comfortable in the swimsuit, even as I worried about how I looked.

But damn it, I forced myself to walk to the pool. I did not make eye contact with the family already there. Instead, I stepped immediately into the water. I swam.

To my surprise, the sky did not fall. The Pool Patrol did not grab me from behind and throw me into Transgender Pervert Pool Jail.

Within ten minutes, I felt comfortable again. I wasn’t ignorant of what went on around me; I just…started not to care. I started to feel right again. I believed I was supposed to be right there, right then, right the way I was.

Lying in a lounge chair in a shallow section of the pool, I fell into a very profound state of relaxation — languid, languorous, and lackadaisical. The tension my swimsuit brought just…evaporated.

I reflected how I always disliked pools because of body dysmorphia. I believed I was ugly — that because of my disfiguration, I was not to be allowed at a pool. Every time I went to a pool, I broke an unspoken law made to protect the Beautiful People of the World from people like me.

But that day…I did not feel I joined the ranks of the Beautiful People of the World — I’m well aware I’m 53 years old and a touch chubby. But I felt I belonged. I felt that even though I was not a Beautiful Person of the World, they would look at me, see my soul shining through, and begrudgingly turn and leave me alone that day.

Perhaps I did feel just a touch beautiful.

I figured I looked like a cat who finds a sunbeam during the Winter. No explanations, no apologies, just lying in the sun because it is the right thing to do.

It was an alien feeling — a feeling of being completely at home in my body.

Learning I can care

As the weekend ended, and my sister-in-law and nieces were leaving our hotel, they said they were glad to have seen us in between the…what was it we had come to Las Vegas to do…? I admit — I was surprised! They were unaware we made this trip purely to see them, which was a lovely cherry to top the weekend!

I struggle mightily to tell people I care about them. Even my wife and I don’t say we love each other often. But after a weekend of feeling so right, I found myself capable of telling my sister-in-law and nieces how close I felt to them. I started to cry a bit as they left.

My younger niece gave me such a hug…she melted into me for a moment. I felt the whole Universe in that hug.

My older niece doesn’t go out for hugs much…but for us, fortunately, she made a brief exception.

And my sister-in-law, well… I spent a decade wondering who she was after she and my brother-in-law divorced. I heard horror stories about her — lies, apparently. Because the person I bonded with was very special — somebody I never realized and would not have realized if I didn’t make the effort to fly to Las Vegas.

She is my Sister.

My Sister sees me. I see my Sister.

Who have I become?

I’ve never been on vacation and simply relaxed into myself. This weekend felt as if another tumbler fell into place within a lock I’m trying to pick. I would not guess my inability to relax was a symptom of gender dysphoria. But as I considered it, the similarity to The Reflection makes sense.

There is a scene in Ayn Rand’s book “The Fountainhead” in which Howard Roark relaxes so completely, Gail Wynand remarks on it. He relates Howard to a cat, as I did above.

Howard is very secure in himself, which is what makes him so unusual. Of course Howard can relax and be just who he is — he knows who that is.

Other characters in the book — Peter Keating in particular — cannot relax as who they are. They don’t know. Peter asks Howard early in the book how he can always know what to do. Howard asks only how Peter does not.

My situation is slightly different. I typically knew what to do in life. I knew the choices to make, what decisions would be best, because I knew the person I was expected to be very well.

But that person was not actually me. While I could be successful and decisive and accomplished, those were another person’s accomplishments. And as such, playing the role was simple, yet devastating.

The reader may find it ironic that I related my insight through characters in an Ayn Rand novel. I did this partly because I wonder if these words are ones a conservative might understand.

The greater irony is: I bet most conservatives are Keatings, not Roarks. Worse, I bet they realize it…and are scared to death that anybody else guesses the truth. How similar that is to the transgender experience!

This weekend was full of firsts: the first real comfort in myself; the first real expression of Amethysta, with no filter, no guards; the first connection back with family; the first vacation and first attempt just to live.

I see it worked. It worked so well. If anybody wonders what transgender people feel like after truly being seen, I can answer truthfully:

We feel alive.

We feel how normal people probably feel every day, except the normal — for us — is simply extraordinary.