Visibly Trans: Hot (mess) Girl Summer
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Photo by Heather J [/caption]
Column by Heather Johnson
It’s been about a year since I started transitioning. The metaphor of caterpillar to butterfly has been floating around in my head, especially the part about the caterpillar turning into a special nutrient-dense goo in its chrysalis. I was barely functioning goo for the first ten months while decomposing myself into some form of essential “Heather” only to re-emerge this summer for the sun to dry my wings.
While in the chrysalis/goo, I missed so many deadlines and expectations it feels like everyone has been disappointed in me on at least one occasion over the past year, if not multiple times or even perpetually. Then, I think about friends going through their own crap and find myself saying the words to them I probably need to hear, “Please take care of yourself, we’ll connect again when you’re ready, when it doesn’t feel like the whole world is going to lose its orbit.”
Why are we so hard on ourselves but so gracious with others?
Being queer, especially trans right now, is to experience the world with the amplitude turned way up. The attacks from the Fed are still coming, though less frequently than in winter. The Admin is now banning gender affirming care in all health plans for federal employees. My partner is on a federal health plan. I’m on her plan. I may lose health coverage. Plaintiffs are being sought for yet another lawsuit, and more of my future plans, dreams and aspirations are clouded in uncertainty. The idea of finding a “real” job with health insurance becomes more and more appealing.
If the current Admin is the amplified “noise” of institutionalized transphobia and discrimination, then my friends, community and feeling of embodiment have been the “signal.” In bits and pieces and fleeting moments, I heard that trans joy in the beginning; a hug from a close friend, a new dress or just being properly gendered at the cafe. Those moments were little navigational stars in the dark while transiting this new path. All winter I dreamed of warm days and sun dresses and picnics at the park.
Women friends are amazing; hands-down the best friends I’ve ever had. We stay in touch, we support each other, we show up for each other. I wish cis men could figure this out and drop their egos; show a little vulnerability with each other, have some affection for each other. It’s not gay, I promise. Not that it should matter. Unless they’re gay and you’re gay and it turns out you’re gay for each other - then it might be gay. The patriarchy and its concomitant misogyny and homophobia have really wrecked masculinity.
Sun dresses in the summer are the best thing ever. Bare shoulders, flow-y dresses, sandals and a warm breeze off of Admiralty Inlet at Chetzemoka Park is peak summer. It’s picnic blankets with charcuterie and cute dates interrupted by NIMBY crows. Peak summer is running shorts and bare sports bras in the early AM to beat the heat - with enough sweat to hold my hair in a post-run curly masterpiece. The awkward grow-out phase from winter was terrible; my hair did not want to cooperate.
We’re at the end of August, and already people are talking about the end of summer with a forlorn resignation. Even the geese (a very gay animal, I might add) have been honking their way about town, “heading to Palm Springs!” they announce. Blackberries are reaching their overripe state, turning to mush when you try to pluck them. I’m harvesting all those moments of joy..
As much as I want to pull over and enjoy the clear reception of Dua Lipa’s “Just Dance”, to shimmy my shoulders and bob my head in the driver's seat with a warm breeze in my hair, that’s just not how any of this works. The car doesn’t stop, and soon the song will be over and a new one will play. Autumn is coming. I hope we have a good DJ.
Heather Johnson is a writer, photographer, and filmmaker. Her work is place-based and explores what it means to live with meaning, purpose, and community. She is a native of the Pacific Northwest and is most at home playing in the landscape where the mountains greet the sea.
