Detroit 9000 Redux

My rare trip out as April in the daylight and doing my job was a great confidence boost even though I didn't find Mr. Buick's grave.

I high tailed it back to the hotel and changed quickly into guy mode and returned to film more of the hot rod show at Cobo Hall, specifically some of the rockabilly bands playing

and the Miss Autorama pageant. Not yo

ur usual bikini car show rather a rockabilly/kustom kulture/burlesque inspired beauty contest.

Professional hair and makeup artists specializing in the fifties pin up girl look so popular in the kustom life style were on hand to help any contestants who wanted it. I captured some of the preparations on film for television and some still images for the article. Jealous certainly but more in the dysphoria way than any wish to be on stage. To say that the contest was popular was an understatement, I had to fight my way to the front through a sea of guys to get the camera set up.

The girls both professional and amateur did a great job, looks weren't everything as they were also judged on fashion and appreciation of the rockabilly ethos. Each had to name their favourite car, god forbid anyone mentioned a muscle car (as opposed to a chopped Merc or deuce coupe). Two professional models from the more mainstream part of the show upstairs participated and I was pleased to note both were very tall over six feet.

I finished up a little earlier than I thought so I grabbed a Greek salad at the bar just down the street from the Milner. Still having some time on my hands I decided to venture out again, this time to GiGi's. I had brought a LBD with me but was uncertain whether I would have the time or opportunity to wear it on this trip. Was I nervous leaving the hotel, walking through the lobby or down the street to retrieve my car...nope...more progress.

I had been to GiGi's before, a legendary gay club in Detroit that has a drag show and is a hangout for transgendered/transsexual girls. The club was not packed but lots of other girls were there and I had a chance to chat with quite a few of them. Like all Detroiters I met, unfailingly friendly and no matter what gender always ready to talk cars. No dancing as the music was too modern disco for my liking as you can tell from the blog my taste runs several decades older.

Sunday morning back to the show at 10:00 AM to shoot some more still images and conduct an interview for a second article I am working on. As I walked back to my car I bid farewell to the city and took one or two more shots of the skyline. I have journeyed to Las Vegas many times for car business (SEMA) and although a cool place I am more than ready to leave after five days, Detroit is different, leaving always feels different, sad, a little like leaving home.

The drive home was better too, last year I was filled with despair as I returned to a job that would never let me transition. Things are not certain at the new job but there is hope, it is up to me now.

Working on a deal to be back soon on business and maybe April full time at next years show....

Hugs,

April

Here is Jack Scott, Windsor & Detroit Rockabilly hero:

Detroit 9000

Back from my annual pilgrimage to the Motorcity. I must apologise for my absence, I hoped to blog from the road but the wireless in my hotel was spotty at best.

I had planned to cover the Autorama hot rod show (59th year) as I was commissioned to write an article, the new job meant I would be there on more "official" business as well.

Any excuse visit my favourite city (Memphis is a close second), I don't know if it is the fact that I am nuts about cars or I just have something for the underdog?

As usual I planned to say at the retro Milner Hotel and enjoy its faded glamour, the hotel is smack dap in the city's historical district next to the Opera House and a stones throw or should that be baseball throw from Comerica Park. I was a little disappointed that I didn't get my usual room. In past years I have for some reason been given exactly the same room on the eight floor with an excellent view of the neon M in Milner.

I was also agast to find that this time I was apparently not the only guest. Really last year I was there five days and never saw another living soul besides the staff, even at breakfast.

The Milner has the worlds smallest and oddest shaped elevator so leaving en femme is a little like playing Russian roulette, you never know who you will be up close an personal with. This year I was on seven and right besides the back stairs so I had my own private exit if I so desired.

The lobby is beautiful but you have to be a fan of the vintage to enjoy the rooms. Mine had ancient steam radiator that seemed to have a mind of its own and windows that only responded to brute force. I guess all my experience with old cars of various conditions gives me a different perspective than the usual business traveller.

The hot rod show was exhausting, I had a press pass to get in early on Friday and lugging two cameras around and the constant up and down to get a good shot left me dizzy. I was exhausted by the end of the day and just wanted to sleep. Saturday was to be my big day.

I had a few hours in the morning before I had to shoot some of the bands playing downstairs at COBO and the pin up girl contest. I had set the morning aside to get some b-roll of Woodmere Cemetray and the Mowtown building....Hitsville USA.

Why a cemetery well I did say in an earlier post I was going to try an pay my rather late respects to David Buick, founder of the eponymous company.

I also decided only the night before to do this all as April. I had brought a suitcase with a few outfits and shoes in case I could get out and maybe hit a mall or two.

Crossing the border on Thursday afternoon I had a very interesting experience with US Customs. As normal I presented my passport and explained why I was entering the United States. I guess with the longer hair I look different from my photo so she asked for a second piece of ID. Satisfied I was who I said I was she still wanted to look in the car. No problem, first thing she does is open the case with the shoes!

I thought you were travelling alone?

I am I said.

Who's shoes are these?

Mine.

What size are you?

Well I would like to say 10 1/2 but mostly 11.

I volunteer that I am transsexual and that I plan to transition this year. At that point she told me about a friend of hers who was transitioning from FtoM.

We had a quite a long conversation as she had a lot of questions (there was no one behind me), my most pleasant experience ever with US Customs. A year or two ago having to tell anyone about myself would have meant I would have died of embarrassment and shame. Progress I think.

Saturday morning I was up early showered and went down to breakfast. Back up to my room changing into jeans, purple top and cami and a black belted sweater as well as a heavier black winter coat with fur trim if it got colder. Grabbed my camera bag and tripod and went out through the stunning lobby. Retrieved the turbo Mitsubishi (presscar) and headed towards the river on Woodward then right on Forte Street to find Woodmere Cemetery. Woodmere like Atlanta's Oakland is a huge green spot in the midst of the city.

I drove in the front gates at 9:00AM and carefully negotiated the snowy lanes to eventually find the Allendale section.

I trudged through the deep snow each step a chore as I punctured the frozen crust, only the squirrels were light enough to dart cross the snow without sinking in. I made two laps tof the not insubstantial Allendale section before admitting defeat. I could not find the Buick marker, perhaps the tough Michigan winter had toppled the grave stone. A number had been thrown over frost heaved ground and lay illegible under the deep snow.

I am a stubborn girl so I screwed up my courage and went to the main office where I found the resident genealogist who provide me with a photocopy of an old map with the grave site marked. So intent was I on finding David Buicks grave that I nearly forgot I had just interacted with complete strangers ass April.

Unfortunately the map didn't help and I was forced to conclude that his was one of the fallen tomb stones. I hope to try again in better weather.

Next stop number 2648 West Grand Boulevard, Hitsville USA, the home of Motown Records. The studio was in almost constant 24 hour use from 1959 to 1971, with Motown eventually buying many of the neighbouring homes on the street to house various divisions and record company operations before eventually splitting for California in 1972. Perhaps Mr. Gordy just got tired of all that snow.

I took some exterior shots (no cameras allowed inside) then decided to go in. I thought I could just walk around by myself and look at the exhibits but found myself thrust into a tour group, "oh good your just time to join the group, with one of our best guides" the girl at the ticket desk instructed me...gulp.

The famous Studio A is simply a typical row house so things were cramped and there was no way I could keep a low profile. I think I did pretty well and did my best to go with the flow. I did keep my mouth shut when the tour guide asked if there were any foreign or out of state visitors. I don't recall any funny stares from adults or children and I slowly began to relax and enjoyed the tour.

I highly recommend the museum to anyone if they are visiting the Motorcity. The studio and equipment are pretty much as Marvin Gaye left it when he finished the last album ever recorded there. The office equipment and upstairs living quarters were as accurate as any episode of Mad Men, wish I could have taken some photos. Really like stepping back in time to the mid sixties, imagine all the music spilling out the doors, Diana Ross answering the phones and stepping outside to a street filled with new Cadillacs, Thunderbirds and Rivieras. perhaps Detroit at its industrial and cultural peak.

Part 2 tomorrow...

Here is the first #1 hit for Motown, Hugs April

Girls It Ain't Easy

One of the benefits of working at home is the ability to have some music on while I work....and to wear eyeliner. Pulled out a stack of CD's to keep the creative juices flowing, one that I had criminally not spun in a while was the double CD of the seventies soul girl group, Honey Cone. One listen and you can tell that the group were proteges of Holland/Dozier/Holland. Hat tip to my brother.

The group has a fascinating history which you can read about in more detail here:

http://www.soul-patrol.com/soul/honeycone.htm

You have to hear their version of Son of a Preacher Man, however today I give you Girls It Ain't Easy. The title certainly sums up what we are all going through and especially spouses and family.

Off to Motown on business this week...my favorite city in the world.

Photos are from Thursday and Sunday.

Hugs,

April

Strategic Retreat & Crisis of Confidence

I finally had a chance for a long sit down with my new boss about both short and long term business issues. It is not like this is a new relationship we have known each other for ten years and worked together for eight.

During our informal planning session he mentioned I should go back to wearing my hair in my usual "ducktail"/ rockabilly style, "that is the "A" I know. I said yeah well I am not really sure what I should do with it at this time. Don't wait to long otherwise you will look like a fag was the response

Sure I was a little taken back but more worrisome was the seed of doubt it planted in my mind about my planned coming out to him in six to eight months. What if he fires me, oh god I couldn't start again, more delays. The prospect seemed unbearable. Unlike the Biblical Jacob I do not have the patience or time to start again. Depression is however more than patient and is always looking for a way back in, I quickly found myself curled up and unresponsive in its suffocating grasp.

I don't believe that he meant it as a way to hurt but simply the typical banter between heterosexual guys. "J" says take it as a compliment, clearly he senses a change, the hormones at work, but cannot put his finger on it.

To return to the micro level, why does the idea of cutting my hair (delaying having my ears pierced) seem like such a retreat? It will grow again. Sure I am reluctant to give any ground on even the flimsiest signs of progress but perhaps more than that is that the old "A" no longer exits. To go back to pretending to be him would be both painful and false.

Some exercise and talking with "J" helped me gain some perspective but I am not out of the woods yet.

I was lucky enough to get out again on Sunday night but this isn't the time for those pictures. So instead I give you the car gals way of measuring snow fall. Oh and return visit from the Raveonettes:

My Hovercraft is Full of Eels

That is silly I don't even own a hovercraft. I don't exactly know what it was but last night I was struck with a serious fit of the giggles. You know when you start laughing and just can't stop until the tears are rolling down your cheeks. Not a good idea when wearing eyeliner and mascara.

I had he opportunity to get out with the girlfriends (or as I know them trouble making enablers ;)) last night. The three of us had the privilege of accompanying Heather on her first night out en femme. She did great by the way, very natural and if she was nervous she hid it well. It was a pleasure to catch up with Ashley and Natasha, hope we can get out again soon.

We started with a bite to eat a Thai restaurant, excellent noodles and green tea. Everyone was relaxed and joking, it started when someone said something about Buicks and my trunk being full of something…weasels…I don't know but that was all it took. I could not help thinking of the Monty Python, "Dirty Hungarian Phrase Book" sketch and I was a goner.

Perhaps the stress of the week, a new job, two important meeting earlier in the day and the rush to get ready was too much. All that stress needed a safety valve and laughter was a great release.

Later we went to a club down the street then home at a somewhat reasonable hour.

Everyone repeat after me, "My Hovercraft is Full of Eels".

Hugs,

April

Coward or Knowing When to Shut Up?

I would not say that I have conquered my depression, rather with support from my family, some progress on my journey and therapy I have fought it to a cold war standstill.

Unfortunately little things can still set me off and the black dogs slip their chains.

Sunday was an extended family gathering, over lunch the topic of the Thai airline that recruited and hired transsexual flight attendants came up. What we see as a small but welcome sign of acceptance in the wider world

was greeted with skepticism, ridicule and confusion.

I find it hard to describe how hurt and angry I felt. I wanted to deliver a stern lecture regarding the difference between transvestite and transsexual. I wanted to make a case for equal rights and tell them about the often life or death struggle anyone trans must go through.

Of course I instead stayed silent, a well intentioned defence would only raise questions I was not yet prepared to answer. Like a tropical storm front my face clouded over and I lapsed into silence for the rest of the gathering. I caught that knowing look from "J", the one that says I know but shake it off and put on a brave face. Unlike her I am terrible at hiding my emotions….a womanly trait I have yet to master?

I guess what hurt was that this person/people will know all about me soon enough, perhaps before the year is out. I don't want to be the punch line in anyone's joke. I should be more charitable and put it all down as an idle comment born of ignorance and instead look forward to ambassadorial role to come.

On the plus side I got to walk my daughter to school this morning and played a spirited game of tag before the bell rang.

Hugs,

April

Day One Year Zero

Not to make fun of the bloody history of Cambodia but in my own life a revolution has taken place. Today (St.Valentine's Day) no I didn't plan it that way, is the first day of my new job working from home.

I wish it meant my first day as April 24/7 but I hope that will come this year. That is my plan, that is my goal and this job is a big part of it, fingers crossed it will allow me the freedom to finally be me.

I am at the computer dressed casually as April, jeans, bra, white t-shirt, a little eye makeup, wonderfully normal.

Lots of challenges ahead but I am excited, I was ready to go this morning, I have not looked forward to getting to work for some time. I am basically doing the same job I did before but more responsibility and more creative control.

I didn't get out on the weekend as we had lots of family stuff going on. I was "J's" escort to a formal affair at a very exclusive country club. It was a dinner for her company. Lots of looking for a dress beforehand, for her not me, I just wore my black suit. She looked great in her new outfit, black too, I think all the women in attendance wore black...very funereal.

Looked enough like a guy though my hair is too long. "J" later told me I was sitting too feminine. To make matters worse I was unsure what to drink, "J" says order a Cosmopolitan. All the guys are drinking beer and I am walking around with a pink drink in a Martini glass, only the little umbrella was missing.

Interacted well enough though an undercurrent of sadness as I felt somewhat the impostor and somewhat too comfortable in a role I wish I could abandon. Still a really nice evening out.

Hugs,

April