Chapter 20 - Ask Connie

In my depression after returning from that glorious week of letting Connie be free in the world, I neglected to notice that I couldn't be bothered to be sure her voice and movements stayed firmly behind the screen of Conrad. People began to notice but, like sometimes happens, just shook their heads and whispered among themselves.

The gay guys next to the radio station certainly noticed. We'd call it Gaydar these days, but even with my efforts to suppress Connie they knew a fellow-traveler when the saw one. Sure, I confused them with Julie since our sex life was pretty well known on campus, (I dare you to hide such stuff when you have to bribe roommates and make advance arrangements) but the clues were there if you knew how to read them.

I was moping in the cafeteria, too bummed out to even clear my dishes, when Steve came over and sat down across from me.

"You look like you've lost your best friend, Con."

"No, I just have to bury her, that's all."

I told you I was depressed and not hiding things well.

"Julie? What the…"

"The funeral is metaphorical."

"She dumped you?"

"I'm not making much sense, am I?"

"You said it, man."

"I'm sick of hiding who I am, Steve. It's just too much!"

"Now there's something I can relate to. Try being gay in a straight world."

I had tried to ignore the burgeoning LGBT tidal wave in denying Connie, so I didn't really understand gay and straight, so he had to explain.

"Now there's something I can relate to," I returned his own words.

"Does that mean what I think it does, Con?"

"Sort of. Not the way you think. I… I'm sick of being Conrad and want to be who I really am - Connie. Conrad is a fake, a facade, a phantom."

"Hey man! Maybe we ought to go down to the club where we can talk without everybody listening in. You game?"

"Why not, things can't get much worse."

"Now that, my friend, is downright naive. You're not in jail or beaten black and blue in the hospital or a gutter somewhere or freezing in the snow because your father booted you out of the house. It can get a whole lot worse!"

That caught my attention, putting my worst fears about being revealed as Connie into words. I can't tell you what a relief it was to talk to someone who understood. Even though things have gotten much better today in 2020, we still live in a culture obsessed with sex and swimming in stupidity and contradictions about the subject. It was much worse back when I was growing up, people like Steve were taking big chances and were very vulnerable to the bigots and assholes.

Just as, at that time, I didn't really understand Steve's attraction to men, he had a hard time grasping that I felt like a woman. Nevertheless, we forged a connection and I was invited to come to one of their meetings. I promised I would, hoping I would be able to keep that promise.

I haven't mentioned it much so far, but I really didn't spend all my time in bed with Julie or obsessing about Connie. I hung out with guys in the dorm, still worked at the radio station and even spent time (gasp!) studying. Since I was right next door to the radio station I dropped in to see who was around. The answer was: nobody but Lloyd McGee, host of the call-in show and the tech who was on the air that afternoon.

"Shit! Hey Con! You didn't see that fucking bitch Maggie Vanhoose out in the goddam hall, did you?"

You may have noticed that every second word was a variant on 'fuck' or something scatological. And don't forget misogynistic. This was college life in the late sixties and early seventies. I was guilty of it myself, but I've cleaned up the things I said to protect my reader's delicate sensibilities. Besides, my husband doesn't like it when I swear like a sailor.

Maggie was a notorious and outspoken feminist on campus. She made a lot of people nervous but I liked her. In many ways I wanted Connie to be like her.

"Nope, pretty quiet out there. Just Steve hanging out next door."

"Shit! I got five minutes before the call-in show and she's supposed to be the guest spouting about that feminism crap."

"With that kind of attitude I wouldn't want to be around when she rips you a new one on the air. You got to develop some tact if you want to be a show host, brother."

"I got tact in fucking barrels, numb-nuts. What I ain't got is a motherfucking guest."

"My heart bleeds. I could pull you enough records to fill the time."

"Shit! I need a demo tape to send out for jobs. Records aren't gonna do me a fucking thing!"

That was the point where I lost my mind.

I was a committed feminist who had just spent the week with two committed feminists. We had talked about everything under the sun and I knew I could hold my own against a misogynistic radio host, especially one who is going nuts trying to figure out how I was using Connie's feminine voice to talk to him. This was radio, nobody could see me. Should be safe enough, but I wasn't going to worry about that any more. I was out, at least on the radio.

I'll save you any more of Lloyd's invective, but he was in a bind and if he wanted a demo tape I was it.

I shook my hair out, put on a set of headphones and sat down across the table from Lloyd, unconsciously brushing the skirt I wasn't wearing as I made myself comfortable. As I pulled the microphone over to me I had the fleeting wish I was at least wearing my bra with my wonderful new breasts, but that was safely stored with Sandra. Too bad.

Lloyd's mouth was hanging open as Connie spoke the traditional words "One…two… three…mike check… mike check. You getting this, Charlie."

Charlie was getting the voice, if not exactly what was happening. I heard the musical intro as Lloyd pulled himself together. Grabbing a pad and pencil I scrawled "CONNIE ALFARO" in big letters. I appropriated Sandra's maiden name on the spur of the moment. She had gone back to it after her husband died, but kept Julie with 'Wheeler' in honor of her father.

"Good afternoon, and welcome to Talk-back," Lloyd intoned. He really did have a great radio voice. "We have a last minute program change today, as Maggie Vanhoose, our scheduled guest, was unable to attend. Let me introduce..." he stumbled slightly, "Connie Alfaro to you, who is a very well informed, uh, person on today's feminist issues."

Lloyd's eyes glanced desperate toward the ceiling as he said that.

"Thank you, Lloyd," Connie said, "I'm pleased to be here today. While I won't tell you I am as well versed as the wonderful Maggie, I have just returned from a small conference of dedicated feminists over the vacation and can claim some small expertise."

"I'm glad to hear that, uh, Connie."

Lloyd's eyes belied that statement, but this was radio and only I could see that.

"Let's get our first caller on the line. Welcome to Talk Back, Gloria"

The tech had held up a sign with her name on it so Lloyd would know who he's talking to.

"Am I on?" came a plaintive voice.

You'd be amazed how many times a call-in show host hears that. 'No you idiot, I just invited you, by name, to talk to my goddam cat. Of course you're on!' was not an acceptable reply.

"Hello? He said your name was Connie?"

"That's right. How can I help you today?"

"Well, I wanted to know If you've heard what's happening with Lorena Weeks."

Bingo! Sandra was hot about this one.

"For those of you that don't know the name, Lorena Weeks sued Southern Bell in Weeks v. Southern Bell. She was denied a switchman's job because only men could be switchmen. One of the company's arguments was that switchmen had to be able to lift at least thirty pounds to do the job and that was too much for a woman to handle. Things got embarrassing when her lawyers proved she had to routinely move a thirty-four pound typewriter for her job as a typist. It took a lot of years and some very silly arguments in court, but she finally was awarded back pay of somewhere around thirty thousand dollars just a little while ago. See, women can fight misogynistic men on their own turf and win!"

By this time Lloyd was just sitting there paralyzed in shock.

"Should we see who else has a question, Lloyd?" I asked.

That woke him up and for the rest of the hour I fielded questions about the 26th amendment (letting 18 year olds vote) which was about to be ratified at last, Feminists like Bella Abzug, Gloria Steinem, Shirley Chisholm and Betty Friedan, abortion, the ERA hearings in congress and sex segregated help wanted pages.

We finished up with a discussion of Phillips v. Martin Marietta, a ruling telling employers that they couldn't refuse to hire women solely because they have small children unless fathers of small children are also denied employment.

Somewhere near the end I looked up and saw Maggie watching through the soundproof window. She was looking very bemused, as well she would, hearing a woman discussing feminism intelligently and fervently while watching that voice emerge from a guy.

I told you I had lost my mind.

The show ended and I took off my headphones. Maggie was there in an instant.

"Just where the hell did you come from?"

I just told her the name of my home town. It didn't satisfy her.

"You know that's not what I meant! You're good. You're better than good! No way I could have pulled all those facts out of the air like you did!"

"Just lucky my girl and her mom spent a week talking about this stuff with me. I get pretty steamed when I hear crap like that happening to women or anyone else for that matter."

"But you're a guy?"

"That's open to question, but you wouldn't be indulging in any sexist stereotypes, would you?"

That's about when Julie came bursting in, followed closely by her roommate.

"I knew that was you! Connie, you were wonderful!"

I was smothered in a hug and a very passionate kiss. Julie's roommate just stood there with a smirk on her face.

"They better get married soon if they're going to behave like that in public," she commented.

The tech was waving his hands to attract attention, then remembered the intercom. "Hey Con, the phone is going wild. Grab a line and talk to some of the callers. I've got a radio station to run in here."

As he queued up the next record, without thinking Connie answered, "KXXX, campus radio. How can I help you?"

It took a good twenty minutes for Lloyd and me to field calls before the phones quieted down. As I remember only one of the calls was a request for music, the rest wanted to know more about feminism, Connie and some of the things we discussed. Maggie slid a paper with contact info for the women's group before the both of us and smiled as Lloyd had to pass out information on feminism to anxious women. Sadly, the callers were almost exclusively female. We had a long road ahead of us.