Stories

http://yezida.livejournal.com/170946.htmlI just read the above story and it touched me deeply.I have not been using my journal the way I want. Bullet points for the world and my memory are only one reason I began journaling online a decade ago. I also did it to write stories. My class- "Tits to Tats: Traversing Sex Politics in the First Person" reminded me that I really am an amazing orator. And those that know me really know I'm not so good at blowing air up my own skirt. But I was. I glowed. And those students glowed.I was on version 16 or 17 of the class when I arrived- 6 pages of yellow legal pad paper in Sheryn's red leather book. I have been debating for months what in the world this class would be, had argued with friends, had panicked at points, had debating breaking my contract- and at 3am on Saturday/Sunday after sleeping one hour, talking with Seattle MysteryMan for an hour then Hunter for half that time, I pulled out the paper from my Leather Passion and Identity class from earlier that day, a class that had gone so well with 60 perverts crammed into a preschool to learn with fervor and tears in their eyes- and I wrote. I wrote an introduction that read:Hi, Lee Harringtontoday is an experimentusually I...but today I'm going to tell you a storyits a true story, but a story nonethelessI will then take you in a few diff. directions afterwardsbut only you can decide which path is the right oneJust like Beauty &B or Alice in W, each tale has many interp.Because I am only one personAnd this is only one story from my lifeand each of us decides what we wil do w the stories we are givenFrom there I wrote for 5 more pages, back and forth scrawling out of order curled up in a bed alone under a suspension frame... it poured out and I knew I could write it. I knew I could say it.Saying it when I got there was another thing.I met my friend BarefootGal, and then was winged off to the University, met one host, then another, and was total butterflies. I've always done classes I know at Universities- this was a class designed by the request of the univerity. Not just that, its the first time I've done a class all about me, analyzing me.Yes, I teach classes and often use examples from my life. But the focus is what can *you* do.As students poured in I ended up oversharing and got that look- OMG, what have we hired- look. 60+ year old professors do NOT need to hear about the used condom that appears in your newest tattoo. I Stumbled over myself and so went to go grab a soda, use the loo, just get out of there for a bit.I'd set it up in such a way that I could cut out tons of "highlighting examples" aka babbling about my life story, easily. I could look at the clock as I went at intervals and decide whether to tell examples or not. This was vital as I only had an hour and 15 minutes and I'd never done this class before. I had NO idea how long it would take. So at 1 minute after they introduced me, in language that was beautiful and touching, and I began. Sitting on a table, black 1890s jeans, button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, tie. Kicking my feet too much.Hi. As you heard, my name in Lee Harrington, and to be honest, today is going to be an experiment. Usually I travel around the US and elsewhere helping...I talked. I told a story. A Once Upon a Time Story.It was so hard. I cut it short some, but the basics where there for the gender tale.So much cut out, and yet, when I looked at the clock, I went "Oh god,I have 15 min left"So I sped up and cut to the "Why I have Transitioned" stories, aka "What this story is about at its core" that I have heard from others.Knife to gut, with a smile on my face.Similar reactions on their faces. Laughter, empathy, uncomfortability.I skipped almost all of the antecdotes. I thought I was out of time.I wrapped up with, to quote the notes:BREATHETruth is:This is a storyand those are just some of interpretationsBut its a STORYNo room for woulda, shoulda, coulda-Did not know @ 5-Knew at 14-Still greatful chance to live the life I did, diverse, as woman after that-Lived good life, full of ps and downs... even w challenges I wouldn't have changed a thing-Not average transman-no average transman-offended by word trans, and word average-infers transition-and that those not on gender journey are not changing in their lives-we are ALL on journeysMy belief:-Its not the story we lived-Its not the excuses we make or the world made for us-Its what we do w it-I challenge you to look @ YOUR life & journeys-write it down like I did, all 17 drafts-look @ what you've lived-and for extra credit, how its been interpreted by yourself and others-Look @ your own journey in the first person-& see if you can say at the end of the dayTo the person in the mirrorI love youscars, loves, hopes, fears and allBecause I can today... and could not 5 years agoall worth it-OutThey applauded.There were tears.Then I was informed I still had over 30 minutes.I'd looked at my clock wrong- doh!So I took questions, and tried while answering them to fit in all the antidotes I'd not cited before. The tale of meeting my former date rapist at a sex club. The tale of Being Brian. I did not fit in them all... the ones I think matter to the issue of gender politics. Marcus saying sorry at Burningman. But I couldn't, and wouldn't force the stories in.Sometimes being a good orator is knowing when to stop.And I did. 30 minutes of great questions later. Though one stumped me- if transmen and FtM annoy me as words, what should it be. I said Gender Journeyers, but its too vague and they agreed. Oh well.And as they filed out I had a line of people wanting to ask questions, shake hands, get cards. And it was good. Truly touched lives. Funny stories. A really nice ASL translator. People working in my field with shared concerns about what the field looks like.And I lived. I exposed my soul and lived.Knowing it was true.