Roxanne Ross
Keeping a secret is an effort. It takes an emotional toll on you to hold something hidden in your heart. Once you share it, whether with someone, or commit it to writing or a webpage, the momentary relief of opening up and releasing it is soon followed by the gnawing feeling that it has left your control and anything can happen.
Well, anything can happen, and does.
I recently received a phone call from an old friend from a firm I had worked for in the 1980's. He said, "Hi, this is Richard A-."
"Hi, Richard, it's been a while."
"Yes", he said, and I have an off-the-wall thing to ask you."
"Uh, okay," I said, somewhat puzzled. He was a really nice guy as I remembered him. He continued, "I saw your website and wondered if you would be willing to come to my house for our poker game tonight…dressed as a woman."
Gulp.
"Uh, Richard," I said shakily, "can I change to the phone upstairs?"
As I went to my bedroom, my mind was a torrent of emotions. Outed! This was really it. Over the past three years I had carefully revealed myself to a select few, trusted individuals with ample time for explanation and teaching about transgender issues. I had wondered if an uncontrolled outing would ever happen and now it had. My website is a very rudimentary one with a tiny picture and no links to my male name or life. I honestly never imagined this would actually happen. No, my glasses are not rose tinted.
I got on the phone and said, "Well, I guess we need to talk." This regular poker game has been an ongoing event for a half dozen architects that had worked together at the same firm. I knew each of them, although we have now all scattered to firms all around the city. If ever there was an outing, this was it.
In the course of the conversation, I shared with him my dismay that this had happened, but was candid that I knew it had been a possibility. What was more concerning to me was he said he had been sent the link by someone eight months ago. He said he could not recall the source. And what was even more puzzling, the website he described had no relation to mine. So, my outing happened through some unknown webpage, which eventually did link back to mine. So much for my naivety about the hidden corner of the cyber-universe where I supposed I was tucked away.
I also told him my story. In the end, he was contrite and felt bad he had been so flippant with his request. I admonished him to no feel bad, because he had not done anything malicious or wrong. But I did request he treat me and any rumors coming his way with understanding and dignity for my sake. He promised and we hung up.
For three hours I pondered this turn of events. I began to face the realization that I could not be sure who now knows at least something of my most personal issue. It dawned on me that the most honest and constructive thing I could do was…
"Richard?"
He was surprised to hear my voice again so soon.
"Yes?"
"When is the poker game and where do you live?"
He paused. "Are you sure you want to do this? I don't want you to do anything that will be uncomfortable for you." He still is a very nice guy.
"Yes," I said firmly, "I want to come. I would much rather face my accusers than have them talking behind my back and making judgments without a chance for a fair hearing."
He said, "Well, it is at 7:30 and goes well into the night."
I said," I will be there if at all possible".
As I got dressed, I considered the ramifications. Who already knows? Is my credibility already so damaged locally that I will no longer maintain my professional standing with my peers? What can I do? I considered the story of Daniel. The lion's den was a lot more dangerous, but I got a sense of the idea in thinking about my old friends reactions to seeing me en femme. But I decided that the best defense was a good offense.
At 7:15, Richard answered the door. His look told me he was taken aback at my arrival and the reality of me in the flesh. He said, "Wow." And he stared for a moment, then smiled and shook his head, noting in effect that it really was something you had to see in person. I spread my hand wide and said, "This is me, Richard."
The guys showed up over the next half hour. I began with introducing myself as though they did not know me, but they did recognize me. Three of the more 'wise guy' fellows ended up not coming, so it was ultimately six of us around the table. I had never been invited to a real 'all-guy' serious poker game, and felt appropriately female and a fish out of water. They were patient with me and treated me with respect, explaining each game as we played. They fleeced me good, my inexperience making me ripe for the picking. However, I viewed the few dollars lost as a benefit. They had to feel somewhat sorry for the dumb blonde…just kidding. No, we laughed and kidded with each other and I slowly but surely began to share with them, showing pictures and giving bits and pieces of insight.
Around midnight, at a lull, I shared more of my story in earnest, to give them a picture that would be indelible for them. As I sat there in a nice black sweater set, brown suede skirt and low heels, and looking quite demure, ( well, that was my intent, anyway), I asked that they take my words to heart. I asked that they not spread rumors, but send anyone who ever mentioned my status as a transgender person to me directly, as I would be glad to tell them the truth. I left with the feeling my message had gotten through to them.
The next day, I realized I had left my umbrella at Richard's house. After spending the day en femme with my friend Nicole, I stopped by his house. He had been composing an email to me, so he invited me in and we talked some. The conversation went something like this:
"That really went well last night," he said.
"Yes," I agreed, "I thought so too."
"Everyone was impressed. You were so brave to do that. They heard you and we all said we learned a lot."
"I am glad, Richard. All I wanted was a chance to present me as a sincere credible person and be honest."
"Yes, your honesty really came through."
I shared more of the heartache of being hidden and feeling ashamed and full of confusion for most of my life. We both talked of the paths our lives had taken. We shared from our hearts. It was really something.
As I prepared to leave, I said," Maybe I'll visit you again when the other guys can come."
"Yes," he said, and then pausing a moment he looked at me and added, "Because none of us really believed it until we saw you."
Gulp.
So, who really did the "outing"? The anonymous website? Or me?
Keeping a secret is an effort. It takes an emotional toll on you to hold something hidden in your heart. Once you share it, whether with someone, or commit it to writing or a webpage, the momentary relief of opening up and releasing it is soon followed by the gnawing feeling that it as left your control and anything can happen.
Well, anything can happen, and does.
View my homepage: Roxanne Ross
