I'm new here and this is my very first post, so bear with me, but hi. The LGBT community-- both online and in the real world-- raised me. I have identified as trans since I was 12 and I have been on testosterone for a full year as of today, weirdly enough, so the idea of sharing our stories and experiences in this thread is giving me this weird feeling of sentimentality and fondness, but that's not really the point. I've got plenty of horrifying/embarrassing/hatecrimey/uplifting shit I could say about being openly and visibly trans in the bible belt of the states, and opinions about the resident discourse to boot, but really I'd just like to express my gratitude and positivity towards the only elder gay to really ever take me under his wing-- my ex-coworker, Brent.
Brent is a lot of things. For the sake of the topic, he is, first and foremost, a gay man. But he is also a science teacher, a father, a husband (three times!), an ex-addict, an on-screen actor (he slept with Oscar Isaac back before his career really took off, and had the photos to prove it, I wish I was joking, you don't have to believe me and honestly I think he showed me these images KNOWING no one would ever believe me), an ex-stripper (again, you don't have to believe me, but I've seen the proof with my own eyes, unfortunately), a murderer (lol oops), a funnyman, and a damn good bartender. We worked together at this comically shitty local restaurant for years. He met me before I was out as trans, which had more to do with my living situation than anything, and we had this running gag where we were a dynamic duo; a teenage butch lesbian and an old gay man, heckling each other 24/7. Think Deadpool and Negasonic Teenage Warhead. Anyway, the customers fucking loved it for some reason, dinner and a show, but it wasn't really an act for him. The insults were his way of showing affection. And he totally spoke my language. I won't lie, a huge part of why he took to me so quickly was because I was LGBT, but my idea of the gay (umbrella term) community is a little different from his. This modernized version of our community isn't the one he was raised by, and honestly, I think his idea of the community helped to shape mine-- we clicked because we were gay, and in the south, when Brent was growing up and becoming apart of/learning about the movement himself, it was the unspoken truth that people like us have to look out for and protect one another no matter what. Because we're a family, all of us. From day one he was beside me, softening the blows from our crazy-ass managers, giving me pointers on how to dress and talk to people in our small, closed-minded town in ways that would keep me safe(ish). When you're a butch lesbian, you have to try twice as hard at everything, all the time, to so much as even be spoken to or acknowledged-- a concept that I don't think I ever fully wrapped my brain around (I'd wager that has something to do with me not being a lesbian in the first place). One of the most memorable and literal examples happened my very first night working-- it wasn't enough for me to dress like the other hostesses, business-casual type beat. I had to be sleek and refined. I came in with a patterned buttondown and slacks & this guy dragged me to the bathroom, showed me how to re-style my hair for fine dining, how to clean myself up properly, showed me where to find clothes that were all black. Stuff he'd learned from lesbian friends around his own age. I came in the next day dressed per his instruction and he told me I looked like Winona Ryder. Ha!
Anyway, we got pretty close. He'd lost his kid in a freak accident over a decade ago but never let go of that fatherly/motherly instinct; near the end of our time working together, I came out as transgender and quickly found myself disowned by my blood family, so Brent stepped in and became like a father to me, even though he didn't fully understand the trans thing. It was a time in my life where I seriously needed the guidance of an adult to figure my shit out, and I will never, ever be able to repay him for what he did for me. He taught me how to do my taxes, how to cope with my (unrelated) PTSD, how to properly care for my pet cattledog, how to navigate finding a new apartment, a new job, how to recover from something like being told your family doesn't want you anymore. How to shave my face.
All of the LGBT "freaks" in our town flocked to him, they were all his regular customers. And he doted on them, too, from beneath that scornful little exterior. He had several trans regulars in particular who he always had me pay special attention to. One day he pulled me aside and told me to always treat our trans customers with respect and a little extra kindness, because they need it, and I dunno, I still think about that to this day, if it wasn't obvious. He was such a stubborn, mean little man, but the one time I ever cried at work, he found me, quietly walked up to me, and squeezed me to where my arms were trapped and I couldn't hug him back. And he kissed the top of my head (I was sitting) and told me "I hate you less than everybody else", which I know is some cheesy Facebook boomer bullshit, but every time I think about it I get kinda teary-eyed. I could talk about this guy all day but I'll end this chunk of text here because this shit has gotten way, waaay too long, but TL;DR maybe this is a crazy opinion but I believe every younger gay/trans/etc person deserves an older LGBT mentor in their lives, to better learn about the foundation of our community and that "family" element that the newer generation seems to kind of be missing out on. Shoutout to Brent, too. <3 Our senses of humor were pretty different in the grand scheme of things, but one of the few jokes to ever get a laugh out of him was a one-liner about how he was like the Miss Hannigan to my little orphan Annie. Ironically, by the end of our time together, he was more like my Warbucks than anything, lol. Maybe that's too cheesy, idk:)
16.05.2022 02:06:50
