Roman Rimer

abridged

hmmm well my computer decided to fade out just as i was approaching the end of recounting the hare krishna meeting at smu,

it’s late, i’m tired.  i will summarize and just hope that at some point in the future i will go back and write it up with details and suspense (uh although there really isn’t much) and humor.  because nothing is more hilarious than sexism.

i guess the reason this sticks out a month and a half later is because it’s what continues to happen.  male bodied people read me as male and then when we’re talking they make disparaging comments about female bodied people and the assumption is that i will agree because i am “male.”

the comments the guy at the meeting made were not horrible, but it was certainly smacking of inequality.

half the time i feel like i’m at peace and just need to keep on breathing and the rest of the time i get sick the minute i walk out the door because everything feels so messed up.  and being back in new york, a city that prides itself on being so advanced, well, there’s a lot of fucking work to be done. and i of course should just start changing the things that (i think) need to be changed - all the ads up with fucking guns in them, segregated bathrooms, military recruiting stations, etc. etc. - instead of writing about it, but it’s so easy to feel small in this city.

i started biking again and on the UES there is a dearth of bike lanes, and how can i go my own pace (which comparatively feels slow) when everyone around is speeding? if i stop i’ll get hit, but if i don’t stop i’ll miss everything around me.

anyway, the guy at the hare krishna meeting made a comment about how this group of women were being soo loud and if they had been a group of men instead they’d be quiet.  and i was, like, what fuckin men do YOU know?  because i know a hell of a lot of loud-ass men and a lot of quiet women.  no, i didn’t say that, well i said it but not angrily and not with the f word.

later in our group discussion (about judging people based on our assumptions) and he mentioned our conversation and said he agreed with me and wasn’t sure why he’d said the remark about the women.

my idea is that when one is feeling insecure it’s easier to put someone else down. people feel down a lot, so naturally this is a go-to.

and i’m not saying i’m not guilty of it, but i try really hard to be aware of it.  and sometimes it hurts so much to hear it.  maybe i wouldn’t mind it so much if misogyny wasn’t so fuckin ubiquitous.  this country is struggling to figure out health care and women’s reproductive rights get thrown the fuck out, as if it doesn’t matter. when in fact i would say it’s the exact opposite because the more people that are born the more people who are going to need health insurance. is this… not known?

on to lighter things… i was in an improv scene recently and my scene partner ended up talking about breast size and i was like, really? we’re going to go there?  and it was a funny scene, don’t get me wrong and he was great to play with.  but this idea of how people treat me now that i present as “male,” is some fuckin crazy shit. had i been there with him two years ago with my DD’s i highly doubt the conversation would have gone as it did.

and while i feel my gender is fluid, there is that part of me.  that even if we might not fully identify as people who are being put down that does not mean we just let it go.

sorority rush

SMU in dallas.

The password to log on to the internet where we were set up is “jesusislord,” and I would think this might be offensive or sacrilegious, but i am told that is not.  i suppose i should have a better sense of humor about religion.

the events that stuck out most was going to a hare krishna meeting and just before that crashing a sorority recruiting cookie bash. how do these connect and why did they both give me hope?

now there’s a large building, on the bottom floor this sorority is rushing (is that the right terminology?) and trying to get new members.  they have free cookies so you know i’m there.  it was an extremely large group and their voices echoed all the way up to the room a few flights up where the hare krishna meeting was taking place.

if there are two things i live for in this world they are fucking with gender conformity and free cookies.  i suppose the longer i think about it there are probably more than two, but these are pretty high on the list.

i was joking with micah and aaron that i should go downstairs and ask if i could join their sorority and upon being told no, launch into a huge discussion about gender division and perception. micah offered to videotape it since we could see the gathering from peering over the circular balcony, so i took the elevator down and walked up to one of the main tables on the outside.

“uhhh can i come in and take a look?” i asked one of the sorority reps manning the info table.

“sure!” they said cheerfully.

huh.  this somehow did not turn out as i thought it would. i guess it’s a good thing that sometimes you want a fight and there’s no need.

so i walk in and i’m surrounded by a sea of female bodied college students.  i get a few odd looks here and there, but other than that i was able to just be there.

never in my life did i think i would be in dallas at a methodist college at a sorority rush event, but you know, there i was.

i walked through the packed crowd, went around from one side to the next, politely excusing mysefl as i brushed up against them.  i grabbed a couple cookies from various displays, looked around.  i was accepted, and that was that. no one pushed me away, no one said, “what are YOU doing here?”

maybe if i’d had a few conversations this story would have more depth or perspective. maybe it would have made people think, but maybe just being there was enough.

again i’m struck with this idea of where we do and do not belong.

maybe that’s why i end up going to the same places all the time. once i find a place where i feel like i belong sometimes it’s hard to question where else i might go.

there’s an idea of being safe and feeling accepted, but again who is to say where my body should be?  where do i belong? where does anyone belong?

next up: the hare krishna meeting and how it’s all connected.

back

Haven’t written in a long time.  I used to do it all the time.  And then on the trip it just got to be too much.  I tried retelling some stories last night and there was a beginning, a middle, an end, but it felt like there was no weight, and i knew there was a point i was trying to make, but i couldn’t quite get it out.

This is what happened, this was my experience, I want to share it.  But to find humor in it, where maybe there was none… there was absurdity sure.  but there is absurity here, too. the striking classism, the segregated bathrooms - it’s division. and i think it’s fucking ridiculous.

but i’ll try to tell stories.  I can talk about the reactions I got when I used the women’s bathroom at eating establishments, but Micah seems to tell it better than I can.  I was just aloof.  I didn’t realize it would be an issue.  If anything, there seems to be a reluctance to question the signs we follow.we’re told where we can or can not go, where our bodies belong. but who is to say?

When I was talking with students at Brooklyn College I brought up the issue of having unisex bathrooms, but one objection was safety.  One female bodied student said they didn’t think this would be a good idea because they were afraid of being raped.  I wasn’t sure exactly how to respond to that.  It’s sad as fuck to think that on the whole people can’t be trusted to be in the same space for fear that they might be hurt. but how can that be changed?

I tend to see the good in everyone, and this will undoubtedly be my downfall, but i also think unity should be the goal.  i don’t have any solutions, I think progress will be gradual, but there has to be a better way.

And it’s weird now hanging out with groups of friends who (as far as I know) identify as cisgender, when we break into groups based on bodies.  Granted, I think my friends would accept me into the women’s room, however even in NY I’ve gotten strange looks when I’ve gone in the “women’s” room (even before I transitioned).  There still is this separation based on the bodies we’re born into. I don’t think there can be any evolution until we move past it.

And it’s tough because I’ll hear cisgender male bodied folks talk disparagingly about female bodied people and I’ll want to step in.  And sometimes I do, but then sometimes i don’t want to have to fight. and who am i to censor anyone’s thoughts or feelings?  Ah, which brings me to being what feels like… undercover… next entry.

the only good thing about "us and them" is the pink floyd song.

the 20 oz. mocha i had at 8pm clearly is still in my system, so why not get out everything (PG-13 rated) that is running through my head, making it even more difficult for me to fall asleep.

it is now thursday, officially three weeks into our trip.  it feels like two months.

i have to keep on holding on to each moment, and i find it gets easier.  i want to take everything in. i’m trying as always to not worry about the future.

i miss people, a lot.  and i love being away because in some ways it makes me love everyone more. i didn’t think that was possible, but some faces are frozen in my mind, and i just can’t wait to see people again. i hope i won’t censor myself when that time comes, but i know it’s inevitable.

sometimes i am afraid to show love.  silly, i know, but i still hold back. i’ll be talking to someone and i want to pour out all this kindness and love, but i don’t want to say too much, because it feels like too much.  on more than one occasion i’ve been too afraid to say “i miss you.”

patterns can be hard to break. i’d like to live in a world where it wasn’t so scary to do something good.

back when i was a kid we used to play this game called boys chase girls (or vice versa). i don’t know about you, but i was told i was a girl, so that was that.  i would keep all the male-bodied kids away by trying to kiss them.  they would run away and although my female-bodied comrades thought of me as the MVP, the male-bodied cootie-fearing kids were not fans.  years later, and, well… you know the punchline.

feeling more confident with my genderless self. i get self conscious for talking/writing about it so much, but i really feel that as soon as i moved past it and stopped seeing myself as one or the other i felt more like i was one with everyone.  this is just my body, it’s how i travel through the world.

i’m tired of thinking of the “other.” i am part of the world, and from my perspective, others are part of the same world.  yet there is a need to feel safe in groups.  one group feels the need to protect its own, but is it possible to start thinking that everyone is just one big group?

just throwing it out there. i got my issues, my doubts, but i am just getting bored by the same us v. them arguments. i don’t know who “them” is anymore.  and it’s not like anyone would agree on that anyway, because i have no idea exactly what anyone else is thinking/feeling.  if no one can agree on who us and them are anyway, then what’s the point?

what’s the one thing everyone can agree on? maybe that is the place to start.

i want to cut out everything i’ve learned, because it’s constantly changing. the only thing i’m sure of is that i am struggling to survive.  and not necessarily in a bad way, i’m finally at peace a good chunk of the time, but, like, i want to survive.  that’s it, that’s the only thing i’m sure of.

separation

i heard somewhere that good art is like being able to see yourself in what is being presented.  which is kinda like when you analyze your dreams gestault style.

if this is true for art and dreams, why not the rest of life?  why is it so hard to see ourslves in others? why such distance?

at a college now where the dorms are separated by gender, and i want very much for this to change.  the fact that it is ok for me to stay in the “male” dorms but not “female” dorms is laughable.  if someone were to add up the hours for which of the two genders i spent “being” i’d totally be more on the female side.  and i’m aware this is a stupid argument because this is a stupid idea: that we are different.

and i’ve gotten to the point where i identify as both or neither, or something else entirely, but i don’t want to choose to be one or the other.

now someone can say, “well we are different - look at our bodies and see how they’re different,” but is that enough? it seems smaller things are used to divide us when the larger things we have in common (i.e. trying to survive) seem to be disregarded.

one can only fight so many battles.  and of course i’d like to examine why i feel so passionately about what i’m fighting for.  beneath the surface it doesn’t have to do with sexuality or gender, it has to do with people being allowed to be who they are.  it has to do with repsecting other’s freedom.  but who am i to come to a school where i’m not enrolled and act like i know what’s best?

change can come from within, but i do want to come in and just say, everyone fuckin wake up. when one person is oppressed, everyone is.  if you are forced to be kept separate and/or in the closet, how can you be free?  but how can i even be so sure?

all i can do is look at people, and if i see my own struggle of just trying to be - in them - then i will do what i can to help.

Possibility

Been learning a lot here, about just about everything.  There are stories about people and experiences, and one thing I was not anticipating was nature.  We’re very close to the woods and I’ve met some very kind folks who study mushrooms and spiders. It’s awesome learning about all the different types.  There is so much out there, and you can learn something (usually multiple things) from everyone you meet.

For an atheist I sure have been clocking in church hours. Each place is different, but all of them have been welcoming. It’s scary going to a place where I might feel like I don’t belong, but by listening and talking to people it’s very easy to see what we have in common.

I’ve been hearing about closeted people (mostly male-bodied) and it strikes me as incredibly fascinating but also very sad.  Not that being out takes away all problems, but there is something to be said for accepting at least one part of yourself.  Maybe it’s selfish of me to put my own views on them, maybe they are happy.

I remember reading a biography on Anthony Perkins, who dated and slept with many male bodied people, but apparently still wanted to have a “wife and family.”  He was able to do all of the above, and he certainly loved his family, but he felt conflicted.  Perkins did try to go to counseling to get rid of his homosexual tendencies/feelings and that part just… doesn’t seem healthy to me.

Also i wonder about people in heterosexual (or any) relationships who I’m sure love their partners but maybe want something else, but feel they can not have both. Or even be honest about wanting both.

If people didn’t think there was anything wrong with it and/or didn’t feel so alone what would that look like?  And this goes beyond sexuality.  What if we allowed ourselves to be and do exactly what we’d like?  I think it’d be beautiful.

I think a huge issue is choice or at least understanding that we have choice about what and who we want to be.  And I guess if one doesn’t see any options (read: happy, out people in homosexual relationships) then how would they know it’s possible?

I feel like the urge to be ourselves gets stomped on from the moment we’re born, and usually just to protect us, but between school, religion, etc etc we are told where to go, what to believe, and not left with much choice about who to be.  And if we’re scared to be ourselves all one can do is look at others for how to be.

Outside of the people we meet, there’s the media, but only a fraction of people are represented and even then it’s narrow and not necessarliy realistic.

There is so much out there and so much I don’t know.  While I could look at people in the closet and want to say, “Hey!  Don’t be scared.  It’s okay to go beyond what you think is possible!”  I have to tell myself the same thing.  I wonder what else is possible and who I can become.

This Year's Model

i have a feeling i’m going to be playing catch up with writing about this trip for the rest of my life.

tonight we met some people at the ole miss gsa who were awesome and we had a great talk: issues covered included coming out, gender, society’s rules (or what we think they are), faith, etc.

also heard about the views of others who were not only not ok with the idea of same-sex lovin, but other things that i hold very sacred.  for instance, apparently some people think amnesty international is a lefty terrorist organization!  i was like, what? i mean COME ON. i didn’t realize sending cards to political prisoners telling them to cheer up (which is what i did in high school) could possibly be thought of as a bad (dangerous!) thing “that would prevent people from getting into college.” but it does. wow.  I have a lot to learn.

that would’ve been the biggest shock of the night, but then we decided to drive to holly springs, ms to go to graceland too.

what. the. fuck.

this place was nuts.  you pretty much show up there any time of any day and just knock and you get a tour of this dude’s house full of elvis (presley, not costello, whom i would be more interested in) memorabilia and anything and everything that could ever be connected to elvis in any way possible.

anything.

frogs? yes, he had a song lyric that mentioned jumping around from lilypad to lilypad so OF COURSE one should have a 60 lb. concrete frog sculpture.

the house was interesting, but it was his personality that stood out.  if you ever want to do a study on gender here’s the guy to see, the perfect model. the way he treated the female-bodied people in the group (making comments about their body parts) and the male-bodied people (making comments to us about the female -bodied folks’s body parts) was ridiculous.

there were several times when i wanted to be like, whoa it’s not cool to talk to people like that and also point out the irony since the male-bodied folks he was talking to (quite differently) were transmen. but since he kept on mentioning his gun collection and joking he had cut a woman’s arms off with a chainsaw, i decided it was in our best interest for me not to address his misogyny.

one of the people we went with had mentioned her brother had insisted if she were to go, to bring some guys with her, so it was great being one of the “guys” to maybe make the female-bodied people feel safer.

and i wonder if i hadn’t transitioned if i would have felt as safe as i did.  probably not since he seemed to enjoy talking about the size of women’s breasts, one of whom he’d met whose “breast was so big she couldn’t have fit in a garbage can.”

After the tour he asked the three female bodied members of our group to wait for us on the porch while he told us “men” some stories he thought their girl ears wouldn’t be able to handle.  the stories were so intense “they’d make a goat vomit for years.” i was ready to be amazed.  also, i wondered, what makes a story so heinous that you can’t tell someone based on their body?

he said he’d seen everything; but the stories (which were more like fragments) he told did not shock me. he mentioned some porn actors with long penises, a tale about a female-bodied person sucking off a pit bull, some person licking peanut butter and whipped cream out of someone else’s butt, and i was like, yes, and?

i mean, i consider myself to be pretty open minded and non-judgmental and i think anything is possible, so it’s pretty hard to shock me.  i was far more offended by his sexism from earlier on than by any of his sex-related stories.

at the end he had us sign a sheet of paper with comments. i wanted very badly to write “please treat female-bodied people like people,” but all i could say was “i will remember this experience for a while.”

i don’t know where that came from, but it’s the truth.

first southern open mic

Ideally I would finish the hitchhiking story or go back and talk about Texas or Arkansas (oh man we have a while to go).

But just a few notes about tonight.

I performed at an open mic I’d heard about from a new friend in Little Rock. The place was only a few blocks form our hostel which is great since we don’t have a car and Memphis isn’t the safest city to get around in.  At its peak I would say there were about 25 people in there.

I don’t know how long my set was, doesn’t feel like more than 4-5 minutes, we’ll see… but there reached a point where the whole room was silent and people were looking at me. and I was like, whoa!  These people I don’t know are all fucking listening to me!  I better say something good!

And I was totally open about everything, which I guess I’d been planning on for a while.  And it was fine.  Maybe it took a while to sink in, but there I said it, that I transitioned (which I’m sure feels like old news) and that I don’t identify as one gender or the other.  And that was… ok. And people shook my hand afterward and thanked me.   I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t feel safe, but there was this tension beforehand and I wondered if some people might be hostile. But you can be yourself and honest even in a situation where you feel like you might not be accepted.

and i led in with my feelings about togetherness and open mics and i talked about survival and tried to make it as universal as possible, how i believe everyone has something to say and share with the world.

Open mics, man.  They are churches of sorts.  I ended up hanging out a bit after, met some cool guys, who smoked us up, had some good chats about how fucking ridiculous the world is and we feel like we don’t fit in.  It was like New York in that respect.

I love open mics and I feel I can trust people who are drawn to this setting, because those who feel the need to perform- (whether it be poetry, or music, spoken word, comedy, etc etc) I feel like (and this is my opinion) that people do it because they want to be heard.  with everything we are given to watch and see and read there is something else that WE need to say that we’re not hearing.  and if you go to an open mic (or do a show) you’re getting on stage and you’re telling your truth and seeking approval. because usually it’d be too frightening to do that in waking life.

and that’s pretty awesome.  because anyone who can bear their soul and wants to say something NEW means they are thinking outside the box, they are creating new ideas.  and anyone who has new ideas a) is ok in my book and b) is a friend of mine because they are also tired of this “fake” world we assume we have to adhere to/obey.

Hitchhiking part 1

I was trying to write about people without using gendered pronouns to see how that would fly. I was getting there, but in wanting to describe our hitchhiking experience part of me feels that they (and other details) would help. So I’m going to drop that for now…

Friday we were waiting by the side of the road (cue Tom Petty’s “Crawling Back to You”) except of heading to Los Angeles with dirty hands and worn out knees, we were heading to Memphis with oversized backpacks and a bag of bananas.

The decision to hitchhike came after we exhausted our options, asked everyone we’d met in Little Rock, posted on Craigslist, etc.  We made cardboard signs the night before.

Micah with his simple, to the point “MEMPHIS” with a star and smiley face. Me (having had a bit much moonshine) tried to think of what would accompany his sign the best.   I thought if I was driving what would I see that would make me want to stop.  So I wrote out in large block letters: MAKE SOME FRIENDS.  It made sense at the time.  In the morning, not so much.

Penelope was kind enough to let us out at a place it thought we would have the best chance.  We were there for a little over an hour.  We got some friendly waves, a few people flashing peace signs, which warmed my heart.  But no one stopped.

Eventually Penelope came back with Jeremy in tow and we headed to a nearby Waffle House to figure out where to go from there.

Penelope and Jeremy suggested going to a truck stop.  Truckers are used to picking up people, they probably could use some company, it seemed to be the best bet.  We drove ten minutes and went into a truck stop that had an area for dining, a little mini mart, gas station, etc.

We tried waiting outside for a bit and asking people going in and out but no luck.

Penelope and Jeremy were kind enough to wait around for us til we could fin someone and there was an arcade there so that worked out alright.

I thought what would be the best way to reach as many people as possible?  Certainly someone would be going to Memphis, but it’s kind of hard going around asking people, and Micah did that more than I, and when we’d been waiting before he’d gone down to the gas station and asked people there, none of whom were headed in our direction, but he met some interesting people nonetheless.

I decided maybe I should go as the cashier at the mini mart to see if she could announce it over the loud speaker: reach as many people as possible. For those of us who are inclined to get onstage I think this a common thing to think about: how many people can I reach?

I waited in line and I saw our driver-to-be, but was afraid to ask him directly.  I got a good vibe from him, I can’t say what it was exactly, just that he wasn’t off-putting.  Not a huge guy either, although bigger than Micah and I for sure, but not scary. He ended up getting into a different line, but he was still close enough to overhear when I asked the cashier about making an announcement.

She asked her manager who said no, but later on made an announcement urging the sale of the pumpkin Reese’s cups (go figure).  The truck driver, whose name we would find out was Patrick, overheard Memphis and said he was going there.

“You stuck?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“I can take ya.”

“You got room for two?”

“Yep.  I have an 18 wheeler.”

That is a lot of fucking wheels.  He said he’d be leaving in half an hour (and actually it was sooner than that.  He snuck into the theater for a bit with his bag of chips and extra large soda (yes, there are theaters for truckers), and came out maybe ten minutes later.

We walked to his truck, which I didn’t even get a full view of til we got out.  The license plate said Ontario and I knew we were in good hands.  I hate that shit, I hate labels and all that, but for some reason the fact he was Canadian (and as we would find out from him, also of Native American ancestry) made me feel safer. I am a hypocrite. Go figure.

memphis: day 2

alright. i still need to write about dallas and little rock.

but we are in memphis.  and we are at day 2.

here is a brief outline of the day’s events:

*was taken out to lunch by awesome preacher and his friend. had kick ass BBQ tofu sandwich.

*they drive us by (and we walk around) huge anti-gay church with this out front:

*heard about preacher’s old church (which was kind of secretly queer) that had its windows shot out. also heard about closeted church members who come to his current openly gay-friendly church for commitment ceremonies, but go to other congregations (that are anti-gay) where they do not sit with their partners.

*drove by adult bookstores where married/DL men go to have sex

*went to current gay friendly church, across street from roman catholic church - apparently the priest there doesn’t talk to the ppl at the gay friendly church.

*on way back drove by one of his friend’s house. tv news crew out front; so he went in to talk to friend and see if everything was ok.  turns out murderer ran through his friend’s backyard and was caught when he broke into house across street. at the same time (unrelated) known pedophile who had gotten into argument with person was just walking up and down the street, 15 SWAT team members were in parking lots right across train tracks. memphis is apparently is the first or second city in the country for murder rate per capita.

*went to the lorraine motel where MLK was assassinated and talked with jacqueline smith who has been sitting out front for 14 years protesting gentrification (among other things) in the area. : http://www.fulfillthedream.net/pages/mlk.jsmith1.html

*walked into posh peabody hotel (bc obvi poverty is only a problem for some) where crowds were gathered to watch (trained) ducks walk down a red carpet and into an elevator as they do everyday at 5pm.

*walked on beale street. met dude there who told us gene simmons was there once and told him KISS were working on marketing KISS coffins.

*met rad folks at lesbian bar, was totally taken care of (food and drinks!) & got much love, played trivia - the last question being about the sequencing of robin williams movies (which i of course frighteningly knew instantly), heard some interesting opinions about politics

*ended up in of all places a leather store. most of that time without my pants (this was all good, of course). details to come one day when i have fully processed the day’s events.

videos of a couple of these instances were taken and will be posted in the next few days.