The Bravest Woman I Know

International Women's Day, hmm. As someone who was in the closet since forever the annual media onslaught as to how hard women had it was hard to take.

Please don't get me wrong I agree with all the statistics about earning less and the potential for violence against women.

As a man I just hated being cast as the bad guy when all I wanted to do was join the other team. I am sure in my frustration I reacted with my share of vitriol and sarcastic remarks.

I will still argue that it is tough to be a man these days….. doubly so if you don't want to be one.

Some have taken the opportunity today to mention women that have inspired them. To that list I would like to add my grandmother. I was lucky enough to spend a lot of time with both grandparents when I was at boarding school, especially those bitter sweet "home weekends".

A member of the Greatest Generation" she is one of the bravest people I have ever met stoically bearing years of illness with a grace few if any could muster.

The same bravery I imagine she and other Londoners displayed during the war.

Hugs,

April

Black Coffee, Vikings, Snow and Jealousy

No I am not referring to a Norse hook up or anything to do with SPAM.

I have found that my ability to focus, especially when creative writing is the order of the day can at times be nearly impossible. Blood from a stone and all that. An absent muse is serious business as much of my job involves the creative use of words. Some professional scribblers a certain Mr. King among them never seem to lack for inspiration. I was relieved to learn from a freelance journalist and friend that he experiences the same problem and the completion of an article or business proposal is the mental equivalent of a couple of rounds in the ring.

Coffee and music (loud music) are the missing ingredient in my creative process. Suffering from a severe case of adult ADD and a side order of depression and dysphoria I brewed up a fresh pot of joe and dug out my favourite classic soundtrack CD I had made a few years ago. It features a selection of tracks from the 13th Warrior, Pirates of the Caribbean, Last of the Mohicans and Star Wars…oh and a little Mozart thrown in for good measure.

Southern Ontario has enjoyed some above freezing but rainy weather the last few days firmly implanting thought of spring in the heads of car guys and gals. I even managed to snatch an hour or two yesterday to work on the Electra and test fit the replacement fiberglass filler panel between they rear bumper and quarter panel. The fiberglass repops are cheap but need considerable finessing to make fit. So much adjusting to do before the piece looks right.

Last night the rain turned into freezing rain then snow, I spent two hours Sunday morning scrapping, shovelling and moving cars so that the driveway would have that pristine blacktop look that "J" likes so much.

Now I hope that discussing other things unrelated to being Trans does not brand me as not sufficiently transsexual. I blog because it helps me with my depression and GID and I write about what I know and what I enjoy. Sometimes it is the trials and tribulations of being transsexual sometimes it is cars and music. I enjoy other blogs that talk about their day to day lives, it humanizes us.

I have been following Lucy's journey with great interest and am delighted to hear that she is doing well and in good spirits but I can't help feeling oh so jealous. It is a complex mixture of jealousy, fear and self doubt. My own road seems so long will I ever make it?

Hugs,

April

From the Mouth of Babes

This morning I had to attend a parent observation morning for my youngest in kindergarten. The children were asked how they felt that morning and to each use a different word to describe themselves. One little girl said pretty, some of the boys demured saying you can't feel pretty. The teacher said no that is correct she can feel pretty. "Then how would we describe our guest, can we use the word pretty?" I don't think Mr. X feels pretty, do you think he feels pretty? How about a word beginning with H, how about handsome?"

I could feel myself turning a little red at the absurdity of it all and a little sad at being pointed out as male. I also noticed with some chagrin that my youngest was trying to tell her friend that no daddy is pretty sometimes...no one heard her.

The teacher later spoke to me about my new job telling me that it was my daughter who told her all about it, if she mentioned anything else the teacher did not let on.

Laser appointment at 7:00 today, I would go as April but I don't shave for a day or two beforehand so the technician can see where the hairs are. The session went well, I really don't mind the pain. I always look forward to my appointments as the staff are so nice and for a brief moment I am one of the girls.

I am very happy for our own Lucy especially as everything seems to be going well, wow to wake up a woman such a long held wish from childhood. Does she, would I feel any different? Thanks for continuing blogging and bringing us the news from the front line.

Hugs,

April

Apropos of nothing except that I really like the tune is Toronto's own Handsome Ned:

To see some cool animated Edward Gorey go here:

http://www.freewebs.com/goreyfan/

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: