I am many things 2.
By: Avril Mariposa Spencer
Tags: Missunderstood

I had intended this piece to be about the generally overlooked and not understood, and even when it is, still undervalued reality of intersex biology. Biological arguments against the validity of being transgender are often thought of by those who use those talking points, to be the indisputable facts. They’re wrong, but I’ll talk more on that point another time.

This time I want to, as the title of this indicates, continue with my first blog, “I am many things”.

In case you haven’t seen it, there’s a post out there floating around that says to try and be a little more understanding of the adult transgender woman acting like a 5 year old or a 13 year old in her choices of clothing or decorations. She never had a chance before to be a 5 year old girl, or a 13 year old girl, because the world told her she was a boy.

I sleep on the same bed frame I bought when I thought I was a man. It’s very manly. Black solid wood. Very practical with its many drawers and bookshelf style headboard. It’s not ugly. But…

If I were to not have a bed, and went to buy one today, it would look very different than this one. It would be very pretty. I’ve adorned the bed I do already have with things to make it prettier. I have pink sheets, a furry pink duvet cover, furry pink pillows and pink pillow shams with little white pom poms around the edges. It’s all quite adorable, and yes, looks like a 10 year old girl lives here. She does. My driver’s license says I’m 48, but trust me, I am many things, and 10 years old is one of them.

Back when I was “biologically” young and more importantly…ignorant, my brief-but-complex and well considered response to the simple question, “What’s your favorite color?” was “It depends”. I’d say that if you want to know my favorite color for a banana, it’s yellow. If you want to know my favorite color of sky, it’s blue. Pink was never my answer. It’s the only answer now. Pink, pink, pinkity pink. I am floating on a giant pink, glowing, sunrise cumulus cloud of pink.

But I am many things and I am also that 5 year old I remember, from when my friend took his daughter to see the fireworks one long ago 4th of July. Every single time the sky lit up, no matter what color that one was, that little girl exclaimed with the pure joy that only children can possess (so they say), “My favorite color!” Every. Single. Time. I’m currently enjoying my new favorite color (don’t worry, pink is still THE one), and it was almost accidental. Bright yellow. I was shopping for my first ever bikini. I was too self-conscious to go to a store. I’ve since grown up from that. But in my search, I found a bright yellow one that just caught my eye and after continued efforts to find the right pink one, I finally gave in and bought the yellow one. I love it. I love it so much that I bought other yellow things to coordinate with it (see my previous blog for more about that) and now have several yellow outfits, accessorized with yellow jewelry, shoes, sunglasses. Oh…I still need a yellow purse. Check.

The other night I was out dancing at a local club and was wearing my gold embellished Apple Bottoms booty shorts with my new clearance section score, a bright yellow sweater that is soft like cashmere but is well ventilated (necessary considering the fact it was 80 degrees at midnight that night). I had a yellow oriental-style folding hand fan, yellow shoes, gold belt, yellow jewelry, and my favorite yellow thing of all, my yellow highlighted hair from a few weeks earlier.

I was getting complimented by total strangers at the club, including one woman who told me that I should always, only, ever wear yellow from now on because it is so my color. She said she wishes she could pull it off but doesn’t like the way yellow looks on her. She said whenever she sees someone like me who’s able to wear it so well, it actually makes her mad, or turns her on a little. I thanked her. I told her I was happy to have turned her on a little. I think she said, “More than a little” but I can’t be sure. It was loud and like the butterfly I am, I needed to flutter away to go say hello to a friend. While I was waiting in line at the bar, another woman complimented me on my outfit, my glowing skin (I’ve been tanning and wearing glitter infused body lotion) and then she hit me…with a compliment too big to not be sure of. I had to literally ask her if I’d heard her correctly after she said it. She asked how exactly I’d decided to get into this line of work. At first I was simply confused because we hadn’t discussed my career as a CT scan technologist yet. A part of my brain that still remembers back when I used to get confused for a drag queen woke up in case she was making that mistake. No. My mistake. She didn’t mean that…at all.

I asked, “What line of work do you mean?”.

Her: “Porn.”

Me (almost spitting my margarita out through my nose): “Did you just say ‘porn’?”

Her: “Ya. You do porn right?”

I am many things. A porn star is not one of them. But oh. My. Gawd. THANK YOU!

💛