An Unexpected Christmas Gift Chapter 8

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An Unexpected Christmas Gift Chapter 8

By Joannebarbarella
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This is an expanded version of a story I posted some weeks ago and I have had a lot of help from two of the best writers on this site, Angela Rasch (Jill MI) and Emma Anne Tate.

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CHRISTMAS SPIRITS

The silence continued for just a few moments. Pins dropped everywhere. Five faces turned in my direction.

There was no way for me to escape.

Kylie did a very creditable imitation of Pauline Hanson, our home-grown Fascist senator, “Please Explain.” That was what Pauline had asked her interviewer when she was asked if she was xenophobic!

The laser death-stare that accompanied her demand, on the other hand, was straight out of the playbook of Julie Bishop, formerly our Foreign Minister. Julie was a lady I admired, not for her politics, she was on the wrong side, but because she was not only attractive but had it all together as a fashionista and a politician. That death-stare was one trademark of a steely lady. I actually thought she would have made a good Prime Minister, but she was operating in the old-boys’ sandpit and never stood a chance.

Kylie’s reaction was the very thing I had been afraid of, the mother wolf baring her fangs, ready to protect her family from an immoral predator.

All this went through my mind while I wondered what to do. My main consideration was to insulate Ali from the fallout.

It really wasn’t her fault. She could have had no conception of what my life had been like. She was a child of her times and I was a child of mine. She may have been sixteen in years but she hadn’t received that education and nurture that young girls almost instinctively absorb in their formative childhood from their mothers. Her emotional development was somewhat lacking.

“Well,” I cleared my throat, ready for battle.

I was beaten to it by my grandchildren. “Does this mean you’re not my Grandy but my Granny?” Nine-year-old Dixie asked in all innocence.

Out of the mouths of babes. In different circumstances I would have laughed myself silly. “Yes dear, in a way.”

“Kewl,” said Max from his pinnacle of thirteen. “Wait til I tell the kids at school Grandy is non-binary!”

It seemed that I had a couple of allies. They wouldn’t cast me adrift but in the end they didn’t get a vote. One of my main fears in exposing myself had been that I might be separated from them. Their parents would decide that.

I grinned apprehensively. Kylie is the one I had always been afraid of. A mother’s natural instinct is to protect her children and I always worried that she would think I would harm them and react with hostility.

At least the initial shock seemed to have passed and she stared at me with a neutral face. I hope that is a good sign.

“It’s true. I’m on the transgender scale, leaning well to the feminine side. I never told you because I was scared of how you would react. Would I have preferred to have been born a girl? Yes. Am I going to take any drastic measures like surgery to make me into a female? No.”

My announcement was met with silence, but the jury was clearly out. After an awkward moment I continued.

“Now that you know will I appear as a woman in your presence? Very likely. Or if you object I’ll just stay out of your way and you can stay out of mine. You need have nothing to do with me if you don’t want to.”

Kylie was mute. My son, Anthony, stood with his mouth agape. I guess they were absorbing it. I hoped that was the case.

The first sign of real opposition came from an entirely unexpected quarter, Joy, Kylie’s mother.

Joy got up from the table. “I don’t want to hear any more. There are only men and women. There are no half-way houses. God doesn’t make mistakes.”

I can’t say I knew her well. She was Kylie’s widowed mother and had always been as nice as pie on the occasions when our paths had crossed. Her hostility came as a total surprise.

Although I suppose I couldn’t blame her for being as much a product of her times as Ali or me. She was a little older than me and had been born and brought up on a farm in rural Queensland, not quite the outback but not far from it, and they were social conservatives out there. She probably had no conception about transgender people and had likely never knowingly met one in her life.

“No! I don’t think God makes mistakes. I’m here, just as much as you. My existence is not something I chose or asked for.”

I know I’m neither fish nor fowl; too much of the gentleman to give her the beating that I felt like doing and not enough of a woman to know my next move. Do I dissolve in tears? Sorry, that’s not me. Stomp out of the room? It looks like she’ll beat me to it. I moved between her and Ali to protect the girl, just in case.

“Kylie! Your children don’t need to see or hear this!” She stalked away, pointing at me. “I don’t want anything to do with this THING ever again. Please, Kylie, get IT” out of this house!” She left and went into another room.

I assume she will be true to her word and never speak to me again.

In a strange kind of way her outburst helped to clear the air.

“M-u-u-u-m,” Kylie called to her mother’s back, but to no avail.

Joy’s mind was made up.

My son Anthony entered the discussion. “Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell Mum?”

“I tried, I really did. I know I should have told her before we got married, but I was afraid, and times were different then. I loved your mother and I didn’t want to lose her. After we were married I tried a couple of times but she didn’t want to know, didn’t want to hear it, wouldn’t even discuss it.”

“So you lied to her, all those years,” he accused me.

Joy had spoken for the past and the kids had spoken….I hope....for the future. But we only live in the present, and the present was Anthony. My only son. And his mother, the woman he had loved to pieces.

“No, I didn’t lie to her, I just stayed silent. I loved her with both my male and female selves and concentrated on being a good husband and, I hope, a good father. I didn’t neglect you, did I?”

He didn’t answer that. “Did you cheat on her?”

“No! I never cheated. She was my love. The only ‘other woman’ she ever had to contend with was me, and I kept myself under control. I wasn’t into men, not then, not now. She didn’t know, or if she suspected, she never said anything.”

“I think your mum had to have known,” Kylie mused. “I always suspected.”

“Really?”

Anthony subsided and chewed all that over.

I hope that we had brought him up well enough to extinguish any prejudices against those who are different.

He had lived with my wife and me in Papua-New Guinea, in Fiji, and had extended holidays over the years in Hong Kong and Singapore so I was pretty sure he had no problems with different races. Some of his best friends at boarding school had been students from overseas. He had even brought a couple home with him for the holidays. We hadn’t focused on gender variations. Maybe we should have, but it didn’t seem important at the time.

Ali had been weeping softly while all this was going on.

I could do little more than shush her and wanted to get her away from this mess, but I had to let it play out a bit longer. In the middle of all this tension I was trying to think of ways to divert her mind from her faux pas.

Kylie hasn’t contributed much input. I think her mother is responsible for that. “Where do you stand, Kylie? Can you live with me or not?”

“I don’t know, Mac… or is it ‘Joanne’? I’m confused. I don’t think this is the time or the place to make a decision on all of this. Christmas Day lunch hardly seems appropriate for this discussion.”

She’d at least got over her initial reaction and is considering her attitude.

Kylie shook her head. “Look, I’m sorry about Mum. I didn’t know she was so violently anti-transgender. I thought it was… you know…. just a mild prejudice. She didn’t try to drum her feelings into us when we were kids, but I suppose it was one of those things that just didn’t come up.”

She looked at Ali. “This girl doesn’t deserve to hear that ignorant bigotry. She’s a sweet kid.”

Anthony and Kylie exchanged glances.

I couldn’t detect the meaning of their non-verbal communication.

He let Kylie take the lead. Sometimes men do have common sense.

“It’s a lot to digest, maybe too much for here and now.” Kylie said. ” Look, I suggest we think it all over and we can talk amongst ourselves for a bit, not tomorrow, it’s Boxing Day. How about we get together the day after and see what we come up with.”

“Suits me.” I shrugged. ” Let’s have lunch at The Ship? That’s sort of neutral ground. We can leave Ali at the building’s pool with Max and Dixie and she can babysit them while we talk and hopefully agree how we’re going to handle this. Bring cozzies.”

Kylie smiled, “Right, 12.30, OK? We’ll come to your place at noon, get the kids set, and walk up the road for lunch. Just one thing, who’s going to meet us?”

“What do you mean?” I puzzled.

“Will it be Mac or ‘Joanne’? I think, after all these years, we’re entitled to see what we might be letting ourselves in for.”

My mind whirled. What was impossible fifteen minutes ago seemed probable. There and then I decided that it would be Joanne who showed up. If they couldn’t face me en femme then the show was over and we didn’t even need the lunch. On the other hand I might make their dilemma into a victory and my grandchildren would see me, too. If they approved, it would at least be a draw.

Still, I prevaricated. “I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it. I don’t want to give you too much of a shock. Let’s leave it for now and let me take this poor child home. It’s been pretty traumatic for her. I’m sorry we ruined Christmas lunch.”

The strange thing was, and it had given me hope, that other than from that cow, Joy, there seemed to be no animosity or antipathy towards Ali. I still thought it best to get her out of the frying pan and back to a place of sanctuary.

Nobody argued so I called an Uber and five minutes later we were on our way and back home just ten minutes after that.

Naturally, Ali was feeling guilty and distraught for having once again inadvertently outed me. When we were back on the sofa with her in my arms I told her it was the alcohol that was the cause and we should have been watching for the effects. A couple of glasses of champagne seemed harmless but she wasn’t used to it. There was a saying that explained it all, ‘in vino veritas’!

She asked what that meant.

I told her how wine or any alcoholic drink loosened the tongue. I actually got a giggle out of her.

“I’ll have to be careful in future. I’m always making mistakes and calling you ‘Joanne’ in the wrong places.”

“The problem is almost over, my love. In two days’ time they’ll either accept me or they won’t. In either case I’ll be ‘Joanne’ most of the time after that. My biggest concern is that you are accepted for who you are. In a few more days we’ll be going into court and I’ll be applying to be your guardian. I hope we’re successful and then it won’t matter what anyone thinks.”

“Do you still love me after all the damage I’ve done?” Her face did little to hide her anguish.

“Never mind. It was all going to happen anyway. We probably just advanced things by a few days. You’re still my darling girl and I’ve still got to get you into TAFE. I can’t let you stay ignorant about seafood, and there are so many other things we’ve got to do together that we haven’t even thought about yet. I’ll always love you.”

“Anyway, tell me about other places where you spent holidays. Your parents couldn’t have left you at home ALL the time.” It was my attempt to get her attention elsewhere.

“Mostly we went to places with golf courses that Dad liked. We went to Sydney one time when I was about eleven. Mum came too and my sister. But basically, we went shopping and I wanted to get some nice clothes but I couldn’t because I wanted girls’ stuff and I couldn’t tell Mum. Morag knew but she couldn’t help me.”

“When Morag went to Canberra we went down for a few days to make sure she was settled in her new job. It’s a pretty boring place and Mum was cranky because she wanted to play bridge, so I can’t say I enjoyed it. Other than that we really didn’t go anywhere and Dad ignored me nearly all the time. He knew by then that I was never going to be a champion golfer or cricketer.”

I realised that I wasn’t doing very well in trying to elicit memories of good times, but at least she wasn’t thinking about the lunchtime debacle, so I gave up and just held her close.

She snuggled into me and made me feel so wanted. The rest of the day was restful and she gave me the DVD of “Dune” which we watched in the evening . We didn’t need to eat after that lunch.

I still had a couple of glasses of Chardonnay. I told myself it was to settle my nerves. Yeah! Right! One of my colleagues in Hong Kong had a tee-shirt which I always coveted. On the front it said “I’m not an alcoholic! I’m a drunk!” On the back the slogan was” Alcoholics go to meetings”.

“Dune" is a really good movie. I read the book(s) years ago and saw the first two screen adaptations, but this one was far superior .I can hardly wait for Part 2 to come out. Naturally, Ali was happy that she had been able to give me a Christmas present.

By the time we went to bed she had calmed down and recovered from the day’s events. She took MacBear to bed with her and he evidently helped her to go to sleep. When I looked in on her she was out like a light and the bear was clutched tight in her grasp.

Next morning she was up and at ’em. No cooking for breakfast but a healthy fruit platter, pineapple, melon, orange, grapefruit, blueberries, etc. She said it was to settle yesterday’s overindulgence.

Now I’ve inherited a dietitian!

No sooner had we finished eating and drinking and washing up than she was zipping around the place cleaning.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Well, I’ve been here nearly two weeks and the place hasn’t been cleaned. Mum used to insist that I helped with the cleaning, laundry, vacuuming and dusting. Once Morag was in Canberra I seemed to be doing all of it, so I just got into the habit. I like it tidy. She was off shopping or playing bridge.”

I couldn’t argue. It seemed like I’d got a maid as well. The only thing I’d been doing was making my bed! I had a man come in once every two weeks to do the heavier stuff like cleaning the bathrooms and doing the floors, but he was on holiday over Christmas and New Year. The poor bugger was going to be out of a job, not that I thought it would bother him. He had plenty of other customers.

Meanwhile, I’d been pondering the upcoming family meeting. I had already determined that it was Joanne who would greet them. I figured it was all or nothing. If they had made up their minds to boycott me, then that was it, better to get it over with and rip off the Band-Aid in one go.

I really wasn’t worried about my grandkids. Joy wouldn’t be there, that was for sure, so I only had to worry about Kylie and Anthony. I got hold of Ali when she had finished her whirlwind actions round the apartment and told her that I wanted to be ‘Joanne’ tomorrow. I needed to be the best possible ‘Joanne’ that I could be so to be sure that my face and make-up was perfect. We had to choose the exact right outfit for me to go to lunch with them….or not, as the case may be.

I think Ali saw this as atonement for yesterday’s mistake.

There is no problem with her doing my face as long as I moisturise and shave closely. Her cosmetic skills are now just about up to Arpi’s standards.

We spent some time discussing what I should wear.

Now Christmas in Brisbane is technically the height of the wet season, but this year the weather had been behaving itself and we were experiencing mainly fine days. I checked the forecast for tomorrow and it said it would be another like today, blue skies, low humidity and a maximum temperature of about 29C.

That meant I would be able to dress in light summer clothes, so I thought a skirt with some floatiness would give me room to move. Tight would not fit the occasion. We looked in my wardrobe and I had a few which I reckoned would be suitable. Ali had quite a good eye and we settled on one about knee-length with a dark brown background and white flowers to set it off, conservative, suited to my age and the occasion.

I always had to wear dark legwear because sixty-plus legs with varicose veins are not a good look. If not for the veins I thought my legs were pretty good.

That was OK, with a skirt of that length thigh-highs would do and would not be too hot. I also had a nice pair of coffee-coloured sling-backs with a heel of about one-and-a-half-inches that would be suitable for walking up to the pub, if we got that far. I had a matching bag for my bits and pieces.

My underwear would have to be light-coloured. No problem. It was summer after all. I had a high-necked orange blouse that tied with an Alice-bow and had flared three-quarter sleeves that I rather liked. We agreed that it would complement the skirt nicely. I would wear my favourite wig and be a real woman, going to lunch with her family.

That was the plan. We’d see if it worked! Of course, there’s the old saying that no battle plan survives contact with the enemy!

I sat her down and told her she would have a job to do as well. Even if I was declared persona non grata I didn’t want her to suffer. Assuming the best, I would be going off with my son and daughter-in-law for lunch and leaving her with Max and Dixie. While I thought they were on side I wanted to make sure they accepted her. I didn’t want her to be isolated.

So I made sure that she used her skills to cement their connection with her. Cavorting in and around the pool was a start but I told her that the way to their hearts was through their stomachs. If her parents and I were off to the pub she should give them some kid grub to keep them filled and occupied. We had sausages and buns, mustards, tomato, and onions, so hot dogs would be in order. No problem for my girl. She could deliver those in a trice.

Once we had our battle plan in order, we settled down for lunch. I was eating too much and too well since she came into my life. If I wasn’t careful I wouldn’t be able to get into my carefully selected female clothes!

Anyway, we just had tomorrow to worry about first. I didn’t want either of us over-thinking the situation. I wanted us to be cool, calm, and collected.

As if that was going to happen!

The TV news was as bland and uninformative as it always is over the Christmas holiday. Pictures of the Pope giving the message of peace and goodwill get boring when you’ve seen the same thing over and over and they always show a church service in Bethlehem. I haven’t watched the Queen’s Speech in years, although this year it was the King.

Still, we did manage to push the problem to one side by watching several episodes of Game Of Thrones before going to bed.

We were up a little later than the sun. I did the hated shave while Ali did breakfast. I was very careful. Today was not the day to nick myself. Thankfully I didn’t.

She served poached eggs on toast plus the usual orange juice and coffee to make my pills go down.

The one thing I’ll have to teach her is how to make coffee. I like mine VERY strong and the right blend of beans is the basis.

We cleaned up and the dishwasher did its work.

With teeth cleaned and all pearly we went onto the balcony, and she got to work on my face. Back to my bathroom for inspection when she finished and it was as perfect as it could be, so I got dressed in the chosen outfit and fixed my wig. My teeth are great but my hair much less so. Male pattern baldness’R’us.

I went back to the living room and asked her how I looked.

“Gucci! You’re beautiful.”

“Liar!” I’m nervous.

“No, really. You look like a very elegant fifty-year-old lady, better than my mum. Nobody would ever know.”

“I do hope you’re right, my dear.”

I went and sat on the balcony so that I could see their car coming and get a bit of a heads-up. I wanted to look my best when they arrived.

Ali was dressed completely casual since she was going to change shortly to get in the pool. For her it hardly mattered. To my eyes she still looked enchanting and, fingers crossed, my family would think so, too.

The car appeared and I rushed to the full-length mirror in Ali’s bedroom. There was nothing out of place, nothing I could improve on.

When the buzzer sounded I told them to come up. They had keys anyway. To buzz was only politeness. I jammed my front door open with the little wedge that serves to do that, so they would get the full view when they came out of the lift.

If I was going down it would be with all guns blazing.


My grandkids sort of spoiled my big reveal by charging out the instant that the lift-doors opened and then coming to a sudden stop in front of me. It was quite funny.

They looked at me, mouths agape.

“Grandy, is that really you?” Max found his voice first.

“Wow!” Dixie added. “You’re pretty…. for a grandma.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Maybe you’d better call me ‘Joanne’ when you see me like this.”

By this time Kylie and Anthony had caught up. They did a classic double-take, by which time I had ushered the children into the apartment where Ali was waiting to greet them and there was a group hug between the three kids.

Kylie looked me up and down. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t tell us before. I would have been jealous!”

“Do I look all right?” I guess I was fishing for approval, if not a compliment.

“Silly woman,” Kylie gushed, “ you look great. I didn’t want to believe it. I was prepared to hate you, but I can’t.”

My son was still gawping.

“Come in, come in,” I said, getting out of their way so they could get into the unit.

“This is going to take some getting used to,” he said, but there was no hostility in his voice.

“So why don’t we let the kids go down to the pool and we go up to the pub?”

With the immediate crisis averted we agreed to go to The Ship, leaving Ali in control of the juniors. They were down to the changing room before we left and the sound of happy splashing pursued us as we crossed the street. I was sure there would be no problems there.

The three of us walked up the footpath, my son in front. Kylie took my arm in hers. My skirt flapped gently around my knees but I’d already forgotten that this was the first time I would be doing this with them as a woman.

“Now there are no more secrets you’re going to have to come clean on everything,” Kylie demanded.

I almost burst into tears but managed to stop myself from ruining my mascara. All those years, all those fears, melting away. As Roy said in the movie, “Like tears in rain.”

So we got to the pub, sat, and ordered drinks before perusing the menu.

My son broke the brief silence. “You’d better give us chapter and verse and I’ll decide if I forgive you.”

I knew he already had, even if he didn’t know it himself.

“OK. I did start telling you on Christmas Day but we didn’t reach a conclusion. I’ll go back to the very beginning.” I told them how I had realised I was different when I was about eight or nine. That would have been about 1965, and in those days I didn’t have a clue why. There were no personal computers and no internet, I just had this desire, this yearning, to be a girl.

Nobody would have understood in those days and not for many years later. I thought I was a freak until the nineties when the internet began to explain to us what we were, the transgendered.

I went through the various problems that had arisen for me over the years and how I had continued to hide them and live a ’normal’ life so as not to hurt anyone else, until we got to where we are. “I got so used to hiding my feelings that it became a habit.”

Kylie said, “I did have my suspicions about you sometimes because I thought you were sort of too gentle. The way you looked after Saranne when she was sick, but I just thought it was because you loved her.”

“It was because I loved her and it broke my heart when she died.”

“A lot of the life went out of you,” Kylie agreed. “I also noticed, in just one day, that you’re very fond of Ali. She has woken something in you.”

Women are far more perceptive than men.

“You’re half right, but I’m not ‘fond’ of her. I love her. She’s given me back what I was missing. I love her as much as I love you all.”

I realised with a shock that I probably did love Ali more than my children and grandchildren, but I wasn't going to say anything.

Anthony opened up. “Dad, you never tried to push any of this on to me. How did you keep it all bottled up?”

“You learn, son, you learn. You didn’t need to be burdened with my problems. But I don’t think you should be referring to me as ‘Dad’ while I look like this, do you?” I giggled, something I never do when I’m ‘Mac’.

“You’re a bastard, do you know that?” He said with a grin.

“No, I’m a bitch.”

We all had a good laugh. There was no ice left to be broken. My family was one again, with the exception of Joy.

I could do without her. It wasn’t as if we had ever been close. I hoped it wouldn’t upset Kylie too much. It didn’t seem to. I had heard stories over the years that not everything had been rosy between them, but family is family. Her mother had had five children, four girls and a boy, the youngest. Perhaps that means that the bonds between parent and children aren’t so strong. I wouldn’t know.

Lunch over, we walked back to the apartments. This time, Anthony walked arm-in-arm with me on one side and Kylie on the other. It couldn’t get any better.

I told them the rest of Ali’s story and that I was applying for guardianship.

They thoroughly approved; I think because they could see that it would be beneficial for me as well as for her.

We arrived back at the pool and the kids were still enjoying themselves. Ali had fed them with hotdogs and made sure they didn’t drown themselves after eating. It was clear that they loved their new sister.

We chivvied them into changing back into ‘street’ clothes, under protest, but they did as they were told and after a few minutes upstairs my tribe departed .But not before I got kisses from all of them. That’s the kind of thing you miss when you’re hiding a big secret.

We organized for them to come over to watch the fireworks on New Year’s Eve. There’s no better place to see them than my apartment. Us grown-ups would have drinkies while the kids oohed and aahed at the light show. Kylie volunteered to be the designated driver. I was told in no uncertain terms that “Joanne” had to be the hostess.

Coming over for the fireworks was something I had let go when my wife died. Apathy I guess. Now the fire was back.

Ali insisted that I should spend the next several days as Joanne and I was on cloud nine. I t didn’t take any pressure for me to agree. She was giving me extra tuition in applying my own make-up and I was getting better. I still relied on her approval.

The fireworks show came and went. The grandkids were as good as gold and Ali did a splendid job looking after them. She was already part of the family. My son and daughter-in-law never indicated that I was anyone but “Joanne”. I had spent nearly all the time before and up to then en femme. We had gone and done a bit of shopping in the meantime. A girl always needs new clothes and especially new shoes and the sales were on.

After New Year we had to come down a bit. On the third of January we were going to have our first court appearance and you never know how those are going to pan out.

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To Be Continued
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Comments

Tears

Emma Anne Tate's picture

You really had me with this chapter, Joanne. It rings so true . . . the kids' reactions, Joy's, Kylie's. Most of all, of course, Anthony's, caught between a lifetime of memories and loyalties and the reality he finally saw for the first time.

Joanne's explanation, so calm and rational, was what I might wish for in similar circumstances. No emotional plea for understanding; just a statement. "This is who I am and have always been. Here are the choices I've made and why, and I stand by them. Do what you need to do."

Everything that you've done with this story has been great, but IMO this chapter shows why it was so worthwhile to continue the tale beyond where you had ended I Hate Christmas. It is real, and beautiful, and so very hopeful. Thank you for sharing it with us.

Emma

When I came out……

D. Eden's picture

It wasn’t very dramatic. I had several discussions with my spouse, one on one, before anyone else in the family. The discussions basically covered the fact that I had been diagnosed as gender dysphoric; I had a diagnosis from one psychiatrist and two psychologists. We spoke about how I felt, what the diagnosis meant, and what my/our options were.

The two of us then sat down with our sons, who were all adults, and had the discussion with them.

Both discussions went pretty well all things considered. But then again, it was all academic at that time as nothing really changed.

But when I made the decision to transition, things definitely changed. My wife basically told me she couldn’t live with me and not to come home - I was staying in York, PA from Monday through Friday on business at the time. She paid a visit to a lawyer and started divorce proceedings. Two of my sons basically cut me off, while the third (my middle son) actually became closer to me - we spent a lot of time on the phone talking.

Some time later, my wife had my middle son call me and tell me she needed to speak with me. We had not spoken since she told me not to come home; on the advice of a friend who is a lawyer, I had not called her or taken her calls. I was advised that any communication should only be with her lawyer once she started things. But my son told she really wanted to speak with me. So I called her.

She told me that she had told the lawyer to tear everything up because she realized that she loved me, no matter what I looked like or how I dressed. In fact, she told me that she had done a lot of thinking, and that she came to the conclusion that the things she loved about me the most were the very things that were to most feminine about me.

To make a long story short, I transitioned full time over eight years ago, and we are still together. My relationship with all three of my sons is better than ever, and my wife and I love each other more now than we ever have. Yes, our relationship is different - but we are very, very much in love.

I lost a lot of friends, and a lot of family - both hers and mine. But the ones who are still around are the ones who truly care about us, about me. And we have made new friends - friends who can see beyond the fact that I am a transgender woman, and that we live together as wife and wife.

Sometimes you have to take a chance, even if the odds are stacked against you. Sometimes you have to give people a chance, and you have to have faith in them, and in yourself.

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

I Don't Know Why

joannebarbarella's picture

Sometimes a reply doesn't go into the slot that you wanted it to, but never mind. Dallas, you are far braver than me, and also further along the transgender Bell curve. You needed to transition. I can live with the body with which I was born. Difficult sometimes but tolerable.

You are fortunate that your family has accepted the real you. I'm still trying to pluck up the courage to tell mine. the story is what I hope would happen.

Above My Paygrade

joannebarbarella's picture

With help from you and Jill I know I have exceeded my usual standard of writing. It's amazing what a little encouragement can do, and I am proud of this story. I know it's better than my usual output. I'll try to keep it up. This one is meant to be for Emma Anne. Let's call her my muse!

Credits in heaven!

Emma Anne Tate's picture

Thanks, Jo. Know that you inspire me, too. Every day. If the only thing I accomplished on BC was help, in some small way, to inspire this wonderful story, I’d call that a job well done. :)

Emma

Emma Is A"muse"ing

Emma, are you pushing indulgence?

I coached a lot of youth sports. . .tennis, soccer, basketball, football, and volleyball.

One of the strongest messages I gave the players is the need to give each other verbal support. A soccer or basketball player will run between two and ten miles in a game. Much of that will be a sprint. It is exhausting. Without teammate support players will wilt both physically and mentally.

Authors also need support. They're taking a huge risk by exposing themselves to negative criticism.

My books on Amazon average about 4.4 out of 5.0 on readers' ratings. That means they receive a lot of five star ratings. They also receive occasional two-stsr ratings.

The two-star ratings hurt. For me it takes quite a few five-star reviews to soothe the sting from a two-star review.

Emma is a terrific cheerleader who understands how important it is to support the authors. Her efforts will logically result in more and better stories for us to read.

Jill

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Inspiration

joannebarbarella's picture

As I've made clear in every chapter both Angela Rasch (Jill MI) and Emma Anne Tate inspired me to take a little short story by the throat and shake it until it became something much more. They both deserve credit as my muses. I was lucky to have been working with them on the 2024 New Year's Contest when I posted the original and they both saw the seeds of a longer, better, version hiding in the undergrowth of the proverbial briar patch and have edited and beta-read for me to nudge it into its new form, taking time out from judging the stories in the contest to do so.

The inspiration was theirs. I can only claim credit for some perspiration. I know that they are both admired and loved here at BCTS and are accomplished published authors. I will always be grateful that they stooped to conquer my mediocrity.

One other thing I have come to appreciate is just how important comments are in promoting readership. I'm sure that the greater the number of comments pertaining to a story entices potential readers to take a peek to see what all the fuss is about and that in turn generates further comments and increases the popularity of the tale. Of course the story has to have some merit to start with but, as Jill says, authors need support and thrive on it.

I also understand how a low rating or review dampens an author's spirits. I was bitterly disappointed when another recent story of mine garnered only two comments. It scored OK on reads and kudos but I just thought it deserved better in terms of interest and attention. I can only envy Jill's average rating of 4.4 out of 5. That shows what a great writer she is.

Neither do I have to tell anybody how good is Emma. Anyone here knows that.

I have made a point in my own reading of trying to avoid negative comments. The author may not be the greatest in the world, but they have had the courage to post a story and I give points for that. Maybe it was just not to my taste. Sometimes I will PM a writer to offer criticism in private or explain why I didn't like what they wrote. Maybe they will ignore me or maybe they will take notice, but are at least aware that I have not tried to discourage them.

So, "Support Your Local Author!" And try to give them a cheer or two.

So much to recall

Andrea Lena's picture

The honest-to-goodness dread. The hoped-for acceptance. The realistic responses. I remember writing with Allison and talking about the mixed reception she received in her own journey with her story. And of course my own story.

There always seems to be one person - maybe I'm projecting here - the one person who seems to suspect things aren't quite like what everyone sees.

And the honest-to-goodness if a heart-wrenching reminder that there are things we need to do or not because we love someone. I cried throughout, but I smiled just a little at the end; wanting to believe that things will be alright, Thanks!

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Your Path

joannebarbarella's picture

Is working, dear 'Drea. Slowly but surely you are coming out to people who accept who you are.

I'm still balancing on the stepping stones crossing the stream and hoping I don't fall in the water. I just read "Guardians" again and you are a magician at putting emotion into your stories.

I would like to think that someone in my family sees through my charade and will welcome me when I tear away the veil. Doesn't stop me from being scared.

Cliff Hanger

BarbieLee's picture

The chapter before this one was a real cliff hanger. Perfect timing in the story line and as good as any of the TV Soaps which kept the audiences primed for the next week. My grandmother was one of those poor trapped unfortunate souls.

Started reading this chapter and couldn't imagine where it had come from? Had to back up, click on the link to the prior chapter, read the last five paragraphs to tie it in. There are several writers on this channel who are witches at leaving cliff hangers. (congratulations you joined the coven) The thing is when they do they insert a few of the paragraphs from the previous chapter into the beginning of the new chapter to tie the story together.

Beautiful heartwarming story and exceptional writing skills.
Hugs Joanne
Barb
We can never say, "I love you" enough times to fill the empty in our soul when they are no longer there.

Oklahoma born and raised cowgirl

Had to back up, click on the link to the prior chapter

Patricia Marie Allen's picture

I'm with you. It had been just long enough with enough other things clogging my mind that the first few opening paragraphs seemed to exist in a vacuum. The last two paragraphs of the previous chapter brought me up to speed.

This has been a great story from the beginning, but it just keeps getting better.

Hugs
Patricia

Happiness is being all dressed up and HAVING some place to go.
Semper in femineo gerunt
Ich bin eine Mann

That's The Second Time

joannebarbarella's picture

That one of my replies has ended up somewhere else other than where I intended. However, I'm always ready to accept a compliment.

Patricia Marie, I'm more than happy that you're enjoying it and I'll try not to disappoint.

Thanks for reading and commenting.

The Tricks Of The Trade

joannebarbarella's picture

Thank you, Barbie Lee. Yes, I shamelessly copy the experts here who really know how to do cliffhangers. I hope I don't let them down.

And I do appreciate the compliment. I can only try.

Wonderful story.

gillian1968's picture

Very nice character development.

I’m looking forward to more.

Gillian Cairns

I Thought I Was Winding Down

joannebarbarella's picture

But we'll have to see if there is a bit more energy left in the story. I like writing it and I don't want to let it go.

Thanks for reading and commenting, Gill.

Great Chapter

Great Chapter but I can't really say I ever liked Julie Bishop myself. To my mother and me, we called her the secretary of the libral party (our version of the conservatives). Especially when she was such a bitch about Julia Gillard when she said "she's the PM not some fashion model"! 5 years later Julie Bishop is on the cover of fashion magazine! She supported that other bigot Abbott and supported the LNP when we were all pubically saying how antiwomen the LNP was yet she was the first to cry discrimination and boys club when they dumped her. As a lawyer for James Hardie she was an appalling human being. To me she is nothing more than a victim of her own doing.
I was born in 72 so I can relate to Joannes struggles of finding her identity. Nice to see the family approval though. :)

I'm Not Her Greatest Fan

joannebarbarella's picture

I would never vote for Julie Bishop and she could be as hypocritical as many others, but at least she had "style". She could not have been worse than those fuckwits Tony Abbott and Scott Morrison. Maybe you can tell I'm not an LNP supporter!

She was a prop for the story. I couldn't leave it to Pauline Hanson!

Amanda, apart from the political input I hope you're enjoying the story and I thank you for reading and commenting.

Hopeful

But it still feels real, which I like. Credibly optimistic?

Astrid Eriksson

Like Me

joannebarbarella's picture

Astrid, I'm also credibly optimistic! Maybe that should be "incredibly"! When I finally get up the courage to come out to my family I just hope they will be as accepting as my fictional Joanne's.

Thank you for reading and commenting.

Good one Joanne

Podracer's picture

Small comment on a lot of work and words, now that the reading has caught up. I loved the very believable Mac/Joanne, and was seeing the scenes - well done.

Teri Ann
"Reach for the sun."

A Fair Bit

joannebarbarella's picture

Of autobiography in that character. As they say, "Been there, done that, got the T-shirt".

Thanks, Podracer, for the comment and the compliment.

Autobiographical

Lucy Perkins's picture

I am pretty sure that the lovely characteristics of Mac/Joanne are all from your personality Joanne.
She is unremittingly cheerful, friendly and positive. Now who does that remind me of?
I am absolutely loving the way that you have developed this story, especially the strong bond between Joanne and Ali, and the way that you have developed Kylie as a real person ( I loved that line "I didn’t want to believe it. I was prepared to hate you, but I can’t.”. That is just perfect.) and she really is coming out as a star, despite your less than flattering comparison between her and those two dodgy politicians. It painted a lovely picture, though!
Lucy xx

"Lately it occurs to me..
what a long strange trip its been."

Not Yet

joannebarbarella's picture

"Autobiographical". I hope that one day it will be autobiographical. My real daughter-in-law is a lovely person and I do think she will react in the way that I have depicted in fiction, but one never knows until the day of the big reveal and I'm still a coward.

The politicians are just a feature of the story. I would not wish either of them onto any of my characters!

Thank you , Lucy, for your comment and I have no idea who this lovely positive person is!

That went well !

Most things have been covered by the previous comments, a lot in more passionate and eloquent terms than I could express..
Most of your readers will easily relate to the 'butterflies in the stomach' worries about the coming-out confrontations. No disrespect to anyone's religious or moral beliefs but many anti LGBT bigots like Joy fall back on the ' God doesn't make mistakes' and 'follow the teachings of the bible or other sacred book' mantras. Surely if their god is in total control, then it must be his/her decision as to the acceptability of how we live our lives. As I've said before thank you for this wonderful heart-warming story Joanne

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Gill xx

You Can Never Tell

joannebarbarella's picture

The "family values" taught to those countrywomen are not very different to what we see in many of the same situations overseas. However, I'm with you, Gill. If God doesn't make mistakes then we're not mistakes. I don't feel as if I'm a mistake although it took me a while to come to that conclusion. Then, of course, I'm a non-believer. I have been cursed but nothing happened to me so far. There's still time, I suppose.

All that aside, Gill, I'm happy that you're still following the story and I thank you for enjoying it and commenting.

Right idea, wrong conclusion

Dee Sylvan's picture

If God does not make mistakes (I agree), then She made trans on purpose. No halfway houses, but a true gift from God.

It amazes me every time I hear someone's story. You could put my name in place of Mac's or Joanne's, and everything else would remain the same. I would still be in disguise if cancer hadn't made me put my priorities in place. But there are too many things yet to do for this old girl to start looking backward.

I wonder who is going to show up in court. Common sense would dictate that Mac make an appearance, and not give the judge any reason to question his motives. But stranger things have happened.

Ali is coming into her own everyday. Taking care of the kids, cleaning and cooking, everything a normal 16 year old girl is capable of. Joanne is, of course, the recipient of an opportunity of her own making. All of these dominos started with Mac showing kindness to someone in need. And for those of us who transitioned while living on our own, having someone like Ali to nurture and in return, getting the most positive reinforcement everyday is another dream come true.

btw, Dune is another movie I never considered watching but with your recommendation, I'm going to have to rent it. One more chapter and I'll be all caught up! :DD TAF

DeeDee

So Far, So Good

joannebarbarella's picture

Relatively speaking for my fictional Joanne. In the immortal words of Meatloaf 'Four out of five ain't bad". He did say that, didn't he?

I actually went to a cinema with my son, the first time since the pandemic, and saw Dune 2 on a big screen. I really enjoyed it. My only warning is that it is nearly three hour long, so I suggest you go to the loo before it starts.

I like good fantasy and science fiction so I'll try to give you a heads-up now and again. Thanks for reading and commenting, DeeDee.

family acceptance

is such a wonderful gift.

lovely chapter!

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