TransGression

It’s hard to fill my suitcase, not because I don't have things, but because I’ve decided to leave behind my whole life; I’m not sure what I’ll need.

The three things I most want with me, won't fit in my suitcase: my dog, Percy, my cat, Lucy, and my motorcycle. I sell the bike and my best friend, Lily, promises to watch Percy and Lucy until I can pick my life up where it left off.

I didn’t plan to be in this situation, but I am.

It's not my first time purging everything, but last time it was in fulfillment of a long-denied need. This time it feels like retreating from a bully.

I didn’t expect to be emotional locking the door on the broken lease apartment I love.

Lily pulls up and we ride in a pensive silence to the airport.

"It's just three years," she says about halfway through the drive.

"Think I should stick it out?"

"No. Just think of it as an extended vacation."

"I wish you could come."

"I know, but there’s no way they’ll let me on the plane."

When we arrive, she pulls me in a tight hug, "Keep me updated on your adventure!"

"I will, be safe. Please stay safe." I whisper before we break the hug. I wave and head into the airport.

I make it through TSA fine, and board the flight with just the suitcase.

My seat is between the window and a couple who are eager to spend the summer backpacking through Europe.

"Are you a backpacker too?" The chipper young woman asks when she sees my small carryon.

"No, I'm emigrating."

"Wow," the young man's eyes are wide, "bro, that's badass!"

I sleep off and on through the flight.

The moment we land and I've made it through customs the tension leaves my shoulders. My jaw unclenches for the first time in months, and I finally cry.

"You dream that every night?" Lily asks leaning against her counter holding a baby blue, white and pink mug.

"Yeah, for a couple of weeks now."

"You think I'd take in Percy and Lucy?" She laughs.

"That's your big take away?" I had just poured out what had me so shaken up I showed up unannounced at her doorstep on a dreary Tuesday morning, and she was going to crack jokes about not caring for my fur babies?

"Come on, you know I would," she takes a sip of coffee, "host Lucy."

"That's not the point."

"I think it’s your subconscious flight response to stress. It’s natural to want out of this hellscape.”

This psychoanalysis gave me pause. All my life when things were stressful, I always ran, hid and cried. “Where would I even go?”

“Where do you go in your dream?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know. I go through customs and feel waves of relief.”

She sips her coffee thoughtfully, “If I were running away, I’d go somewhere I always wanted to go. Somewhere on my bucket list.”

“So, you are thinking about leaving too?”

“Oh, I mean sure. It passes through my mind all the time, but I’d never get through customs. Not with my documents.”

I knew what she meant. When I had finally come to terms with the election results, I had rushed to the passport office and updated it with my name and gender marker. But I had seen videos of other people’s passports being denied, and miss labeled.

“Besides,” Lily shrugs, “being the youngest of three boys made my stress response fight, so I’ll be fine.”

“I just feel like running is cowardly.” I couldn’t make eye contact with her. I feel stupid even bringing it up to her. She faces more harassment in a day than I would in a week.

“How many years did you fight for this life?”

“Too many.”

“And you don’t want to lose it.”

“Exactly. I love this city, it’s so much better than the suburbs where I grew up, and I have friends and—”

“Right, but I mean inside. The city isn’t going anywhere, and there are hundreds that are just as good if not better all around the world. You’d make new friends.”

“I guess. I’m settled into this life. My zombie days are behind me; I finally feel alive.”

“So don’t lose that. You get to keep that now; that’s the point of all this. That’s why we go through the mood swings, second puberty and get the surgeries.”

She’s right. Those things were true here and anywhere I went for the rest of my life. It wasn’t as if someone could drag me to a hospital and reattach my breasts. Even if I couldn’t get a refill on my testosterone, my voice wouldn’t suddenly jump multiple octaves, and my beard wouldn’t suddenly fall out. If it did there were plenty of ads for cat safe non-minoxidil hair growth serums and who could stop me from using it on my cheeks?

But even without those things, the law is moving every day. Inch by inch it claws at my freedoms, and there had to be a place somewhere on the planet I could breathe.

“Surgery. Singular in my case.”

Lily laughed, “Congratulations, on your male privilege.”

My privilege looms large in my mind lately. I laugh uncomfortably, “I see your point. Our bodies are a home and we carry them anywhere.”

“If you could be happier someplace else, why deny yourself any more years of happiness? Why be a martyr?”

“Because this life, I’ve built is worth fighting for.”

She smiled, “Then fight.”

I sip my tea from a matching pink, white and blue mug, if only it were that simple.

Back home I doomscroll through videos on my phone. It starts off fine, a band promoting their new song, funny pets, but then the virtual panhandling starts. A family in front of rubble begs me not to scroll because my view means they can eat tonight. When I scroll, the video hits closer to home, an exhausted woman asks me to visit the link in her bio so her family can leave a state that has stripped away her teenager’s gender affirming healthcare.

I don’t have extra money, I barely have money to pay for my own bills, so I do the only thing I can which is copy the link, so the algorithm pushes the video.

It’s time for tele-therapy.

“Hey, how’s your day going?” my therapist smiles.

“Pretty good. It’s nice to be on spring break. I visited a friend and that’s about it.”

“That’s right, I forgot it’s spring break. Do you have any big plans?”

“Not really, just recharging before the mad dash to summer. Next week is testing so I don’t have lesson plans to write.”

“Well, enjoy the time! What feels important to talk about today?”

“I’m still having the dream, you know the one where I leave the country. I told my friend about it. She says it’s just my flight response, and I think she is right, but I also don’t know how to fight back right now.”

She paused, “That’s a challenging place to be. Maybe it would help to take a step back. Why does leaving feel safe?”

“I’m not sure that it does. The UK has its own trans acceptance issues. Latin America could be cathartic to reconnect with my ancestry, but Mexico and Venezuela aren’t safe right now anyway. I’ve investigated Canada’s immigration programs. I’m a strong candidate, but it’s $5,000 to continue with the paperwork.”

“So, what makes you want to run?”

“I guess. It feels like taking control. If something bad was happening, I could just drive to Toronto.”

“Ok, so what if we made an emergency plan, maybe the parts of you that want to run will feel heard. Have you been to Toronto?”

“Nope.”

“What if you planned a trip to Toronto, just to visit. Maybe a break from the stress and anxiety could be good.”

“Like a vacation?” It could be a chance to test out my passport.

“Yeah, just a vacation. Not moving, but getting a break from everything.”

After therapy, I check Airbnb. There’s a cute place with a hot tub. It isn’t too expensive probably because it was a weekday. I booked it Thursday through Saturday. Then I text Lily.

“Want to go to Toronto for a couple of days?”

She replies with a surprised face emoji, a car, and the Canadian flag, “Road trip!”

I retrieved my suitcase from the back of the closet and load it with a few outfits, my swim trunks, and my camera.

***

Lily descends with two large suitcases, but dressed in an uncharacteristic black hoodie, jeans and sunglasses. “I didn’t do my make up.”

“I didn’t notice.”

“This is why you strike out at Slammers.” She laughs.

“I mean you’re wearing sunglasses.”

“To hide my naked eyelids.”

“Do you really think they’ll be looking that closely? I mean I was planning to go by Niagara Falls, it is a busy port of entry. When in Canada, you see Niagara Falls.”

“In college we used to go through Detroit, so I’ve actually never seen Niagara Falls on any of my trips to Canada.”

“Speaking of college, you want a throwback playlist?”

“Duh what kind of question is that?” She picked up my phone from the dock where it was navigating.

We sing out of tune loudly and stretch our new voices. It’s been a few years since my voice cracked, but when Spice Girls came on, I forgot I can’t hit the high notes anymore.

When we got to a gas station in New York, Lily passes me her passport. “Ok, look at me from right there, do I look the same?”

She took off her glasses.

I opened the book and there was Lily about six years ago. The face is totally unfamiliar to me.

Her sandy blonde hair is shorter with dramatic bangs. The beard surprises me.

“Well?”

“Has anyone ever told you looked like Bobby Berk?”

She emerges from the passenger seat and snatches the passport back. “I’m getting a drink, want anything?”

“It wasn’t a read.”

She scowls and points at me, “Thin ice.”

“Canada Dry,” I call to her.

She groans at the irony and continues into the store.

I hope I didn’t really offend her. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

She returns with a bottle of Canada Dry, and Diet Coke.

“I think your passport will be fine. I didn’t mean anything by the Bobby comment, I’ve never seen you like that before. You were very handsome, but now you’re gorgeous.”

She rolled her eyes, “Forgiven.”

“Thanks, so we are even.” I hold up my phone with a picture of myself from around the same time. I had short hair, no beard, but was wearing a dress.

“Not necessary, but I like that pixie cut on you!”

“It was fine at the time, oh want to see one with long hair?”

“Of course.”

“This is college.”

“Now that really looks like you. I love your curls.”

“Thanks.”

“But you really think they aren’t going to suspicious?”

“No, it looks like you shaved and grew out your hair. Guys do it all the time.”

Sure, enough at the border our passports were fine. The border agent compared us to our pictures, asked some standard questions and waved us through.

The moment the car is in park near the falls, I feel a weight off my chest. The built-up tension leaves my body. Deep breaths: the air felt light, crips, clean.

“You, ok?” Lily glances at me.

“It just hit me.”

“Me too.” She wipes a tear I hadn’t noticed falling down my cheek. “I think we needed this, thanks for bringing me along.”

“Of course! Thanks for coming.”

“Let’s see this waterfall.”

Mist rains down on us the moment we’re out of the car.

“Look at the rainbow!” Lily points, “It’s magical.”

“The water is such a pretty color too!”

I could have marveled at the falls forever. Looking across we see the half bridge on the American side. It was nowhere near as a spectacular of a view. Looking at ‘the States’ I feel free. I’d only ever felt this way twice before, once when I started T and when I woke up from top surgery.

“Smile.” Lily takes a selfie of us with the falls and the rainbow as the backdrop. “Sweet, wanna check out the gift shop? Bet there’s maple syrup.”

Of course there’s a wall of maple syrup, and of course we each bought some. Lily got a T-shirt and I got a hat.

“It lives up to the hype.” I said as we continue to Toronto.

“Absolutely breathtaking. We should do the boat next time.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, can you imagine it from below? Next trip we can just stay in Niagara.”

“Next trip?”

“Yeah, we should make it a quarterly thing. Just get a little break from the chaos and remember what freedom tastes like.”

“I’d be down for that.”

As we enter the city limits, lights in buildings replace the sunset.

The Air BnB is a 3-story old brownstone, but inside a modern design. The hosts, a friendly gay couple, greeted us as we enter.

“What brings you two to Canada?” the one asks as the other rolls his eyes.

“Just a little rest and relaxation. Not sure if you’ve heard but the states are wild right now.”

“We’ve heard; the world’s aware.”

“Are there any fun queer spaces?” I figure that from the looks of us we appear as a straight couple.

“Church Street has all the local bars and clubs. Are you?”

“Trans.” Lily says before he can finish.

The couple smile and encourage us to enjoy our stay.

Our room is at the top. It has a vaulted ceiling with a sky window. The bed is in a peaked corner of the room which means we have to crawl in from the foot. There is also a couch, coffee table and large TV.

The moment, the suitcases are in the room I ask, “Want to get in the hot tub?”

I change into my trunks and Lily into a one piece.

The hot tub is a wooden barrel on a rooftop patio. The lights of the city sparkled all around us.

The hot water removes any remaining tension within me. “I could use to this.”

“So tomorrow want to go to Kensington Market?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a neighborhood with tons of vintage shops.”

“Then head to Church Street? See if we can find any good gay bars?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

***

In the morning, the light shone from a window above the bed. Lily is asleep facing the wall.

I carefully crawl out of bed and head to a small coffee shop next door. Lily is in the shower, so I place her Americano and a blueberry muffin on the coffee table. I sit on roof top patio sipping my tea and nibbling a muffin.

“It is lovely here. Thanks for the coffee.” She takes a sip

“No problem. There’s a coffee shop next door; I had to try it out.”

***

The shops are eclectic places, filled with vintage clothing and brightly painted walls. We tried on a lot of things, but nothing moved us to buy.

“Hey, check this out!” Lily calls over the music in a shop. She holds up a purple and yellow letterman’s jacket. “Isn’t this your school?”

“No way! I’m taking a picture; my students will never believe me.”

“You aren’t going to buy it?”

“A small? Girl, I’m short, but I can’t fit in a small.” We laugh.

Shopping adventure complete, we walk along the shore. It’s strange looking south at Lake Erie. Lily is on a pier with her arms stretched overhead as if she’s ready to hug the lake. She spun and the sunlight dances in her hair.

I snap a picture of her without her noticing; I’m sure she’ll hate it, but she looks joyful.

As the sky gets dark, we make our way to Church Street. The spring air is intoxicating so all the windows are open. Drag performers lip sync to songs sometimes even turning to people on the street. It couldn’t be more different from back home.

The open windows reminded me of the Neo-Nazi’s showing up to a benefit drag brunch at a local brewery patio in our city. Since then, drag returned to windowless clubs.

Lily senses where my mind had traveled. “It’s so different. I miss the days when we were open like this.”

“Yeah. They don’t seem afraid at all.”

A bachelorette party let out a loud “Whooo!” the moment the door closed behind us. “Some things are universal.” Lily sighs over the music.

“Guess so.”

***

Over coffee and waffles with genuine Canadian Maple syrup, Lily asks, “How’d you sleep?”

“Well, I’m hungover so—”

“Any dreams?”

I smile. “Actually, yes of the shore.” I turn my camera so she can see the picture I took at the pier.

Her eyes light up, “We need to get a frame from Niagara’s gift shop.”

“Of course! Matching ones.”

As downtown Toronto fades in the rearview, I feel the knot return to my throat. Tears well in my eyes at the thought of home. I brush them away with the back of my hand. The home, the life, the future I fought so many years for felt like returning to a cage.

“Danny,” Lily’s voice is gentle, “We’ll get through it together. Think about how happy Percy gonna be.”

I don’t know how she’s so much braver than me, but I’m glad we’re in this fight together.

On days when it all feels impossible, I look at the pictures of us at Niagara Falls and Lake Erie with the States behind us. They remind me what we’re fighting for: peace, freedom and a place in the world.