Before I get started about one of the most magical firsts of my life, I want to take the time to be real with you for a minute. This past Tuesday was the Transgender Day of Remembrance. A day where members of the trans community and our allies reflect on the brothers and sisters who have lost their lives by just being true to who they are. In 2018, 22 Transgender men and women have lost their lives to a violent crime fueled by hate. And no matter how far we can come, there will always be more work to be done. So, please remember those who have lost their lives by being themselves. In the end, Love will always win over hate.
“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
― Jimi Hendrix
I find at times my own worst enemy is myself. I sit and think about what could go completely wrong. Never the positive in a situation. I seem to worry about what others will think, about the reaction that the people around me will receive. It is a significant fear of mine. I fear that I am not going to be the one hurt, but it will be one of the fantastic people who support me. But eventually, a girl has to venture out of the walls that are my home. And that time came this past weekend. An opportunity presented itself to cover one of my favorite bands in the world, Scott Bradlee’s Postmodern Jukebox. And any time I can hear the sound of yesteryear mixed with the words of today, count me in. When I sent my correspondence email back, I mentioned that I had recently come out as Transgender and would that be acceptable? The response was an overwhelming yes. So, all that was left to pick out what I was going to wear, and how in the hell I was going to calm those nerves.
Friday afternoon arrived, the time to start getting ready was upon me. And I felt that pit in my stomach. I tried to find excuses to go in drab, to not draw attention to all of us. I just wanted to blend into the crowd. Finding out we were going to leave in 30 minutes; I had no other option than to go as my true self and hope for the best. Since Postmodern Jukebox is a throwback to yesteryear, I busted out a very 50’s style fit and flare dress with pearls. It only made sense. I am dressed, I am ready to a point. The pit that is in my stomach is now traveling to the back of my throat. If I throw up, I think it’s understandable. I lock the door to my apartment, get in the car with the second in command around here, and someone I am proud to call my sister from another mister, Sharon and her husband. There was no turning back now. I am doing this.
Food, pick up my other half, and the trek to The Orpheum theater begins. I am not going to bore with our conversations over food. Those can be boring unless you are there. So, fast forward, to the moment we pull into The Orpheum parking lot. People are already walking in. And all I can think is people are going to be shooting that look as if I pissed my pants in high school. But I knew I couldn’t sit in the car forever. And we walk, but yet my dumb ass decides to wear heels. The plus side for me is that I do not sound like a heard of horses. The downside is that I am already 5’9”.
The first moment of nerve-calming took place entering the door. Purses have to be checked before entering anywhere anymore. The man who was checking purses called me mam and complimented my dress. Okay, Beks! That was not that bad. The first part of the wax is off the leg. Time to keep moving up. We take our seats to wait for the show to begin, and panic started setting in again. Until…..I caught a glimpse of people dressed in flapper dresses and zoot suits. I am home. I remember texting Sharon during this time telling her that I was freaking out. Her response made me feel better. “Just take deep breaths. No one is looking. And if they are it is because you’re beautiful.” Bitch, water leaked from my eye. Running mascara sucks.
The lights dim and PMJ takes the stage. And for two and a half hours, I didn’t care who was in the room with me. The power of music was speaking to all of us. It is something I will always admire in PMJ, their music will speak to you. They give songs that are just bubble-gum pop, a whole new meaning. It shows how much talent the band, singers, writers, dancers, and anyone I missed from PMJ genuinely have. The night felt perfect. And I do not use that word very often when it comes to a night out. Sharon, her husband, and my other half were there for me all night. It’s a night I will never forget. Outside of this year’s trip to OKC, and the weekend I came out, it became one of the most amazing moments of my life.
And to you reading this, don’t be afraid to be yourself. Yes, it is going to take time. It is going to take courage. But when you do, you are going to feel free. And that is a feeling you will not want to trade for anything in the world.