I was feeling my Pride Month vibe this week.
Working in Manhattan, you would think that I would have a wide selection of transgender bars, but there aren't many. In fact, I was aware of only one in the Hells Kitchen part of the city. The ads made it look like a strip club and the reviews felt like the transgender female staff were there to be ogled.
It was not what I was looking for.
I had been to several lesbian and gay bars. The people were great but I still felt like an outsider, the same feeling I had in cisgender bars. I just didn't feel like I fit in.
At a slow moment at work, I Googled "Transgender bars in NYC" and was surprised that there was a new trans bar that just opened up. It was called the T Lounge and its motto was "A Safe Place for Everyone." It sounded like exactly what I was looking for.
It opened at 5 pm so I went there after work. I went alone because I wasn't sure what kind of bar it was. When I got there at 5:30, it was empty. It was just me, the owner, and the two bartenders. I ordered a Happy Hour drink and the three of us spent the next hour just talking about being transgender and about being women.
I had a great time because I finally felt like I belonged!
It also gave me a chance to appreciate the cultural differences among members of the transgender community. The owner and one of the bartenders were Hispanic and the other was black. All three were decades younger than me. I am a white baby-boomer.
Questions and answers flew around the bar as we compared our experiences with each other.
They were much more sexually and physically aware of their bodies than I was and the conversation took many entertaining twists and turns as I ordered a second drink.
It was Happy Hour, after all.
They talked about moving fat around to make a bigger butt, breast surgery, and bottom surgery. They teased me about my ignorance about sexual positions and sweetly scolded me that I should let my hair grow.
I had worn the man-tailored shirt from work that I immediately took off as I sat down. It was over a women's clingy nylon t-shirt. My natural 44D breasts were very evident. They were jealous and wondered why I wasn't wearing a bra. I told them I wasn't out at work and that bra straps would be obvious.
They all told me that they loved my natural "titties".
I cringed at the use of "titties" but I did share their excitement in having them. The conversation flowed naturally and we all laughed about some of the crazy experiences you can have being transgender.
I loved every minute of it.
We also talked about the ugly side of being transgender. They shared stories of young transgender friends who committed suicide, ones who used the sex trade so that they could afford surgeries, the "creepy" guy stalkers, and the painful rejection of family and friends.
The owner told me it took years to get her liquor license because the local community board was concerned about the safety of children in the neighborhood. We all laughed at that because her bar was surrounded by the largest gay and lesbian community in the country.
"Who were all these dangerous transgender women?" we asked each other.
We all shared the bitterness of that moment with some well-chosen curses. I was among friends who knew firsthand who the enemies were.
I finished my third drink and left there promising to come back, knowing I would be back. I liked being in the "right" place.
I made one more stop on my way home, my annual Pride pilgrimage to the Stonewall Inn.
As I entered this time I noted a difference. It was filled with cisgender, gay, and lesbian millennials. As a transgender baby boomer, I felt out of place. I ordered a beer anyway and saluted the historical past and the transgender women who started it all, wearing my transgender bracelet with pride.
I raised my beer in salute.
Cheers Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, and thank you ladies for everything!
