Tennessee Vals Newsletter MAY 2004

Upcoming Group Meetings               

• June 12, 2004

The Queens Throne by Marisa Richmond marisaval@aol.com

With all this talk about Civil Unions and Constitutional Amendments up on Tennessee's Capitol Hill, I have been very busy lately. But for all the work that any of us does on behalf of others, it is always good to return to The ‘Hood and relax at the end of the day. As I was sitting in my crib one day, I heard a knock at my door. When I opened it, I was startled by a vision I had not seen in years.
"Randolph! Long time no see. What brings you back to The ‘Hood?"
"Why Marisa, it has been a long time. You look absolutely fabulous."
"Gotta be the shoes."
"I come for a very important reason. Do you still have that envelope your Aunt Bimbo gave you?"
"Yes. I keep it in this drawer. What is so important about it?"
"Let me see it," he said as he opened the package and pulled out a gold credit card.
"It is just as I thought. This is the Legendary Golden Credit Card of Power. It was cast long ago in a sweatshop in the South. You carry a great burden. You have been chosen to bear the Golden Credit Card of Power."
"Burden?"
"It carries unlimited shopping privileges in every department store and in every catalog known throughout the land. And you never have to pay the bill. It is covered automatically. This card has great powers."
"If that's a burden, where do we start....New York, London, Paris!?"
"Houston."
"Houston!? But I heard they don't allow any Transies in Texas. Not live ones anyway..."
"You must take it there to destroy it. Only there, in the Enron shredder can it be destroyed."
"Destroyed?! But, I thought I was going to get to use it."
"NO! You must never buy even a single item. It is evil and every time it is used, its evil seduces the user until they are shopaholic wreck. It was created by Winona Ryder for the purpose of buying whatever she could without ever having to pay for a thing. But according to legend, she lost it."
"I was wondering why she would turn to shoplifting...."
"For the good of all, it must be destroyed."
"Can't we do it here?"
"No. Only the Enron Shredder is powerful enough to destroy any incriminating item. You must take it to Texas."
"But...why me?"
"Well, I was going to ask Frida, but she seems to have disappeared. The last time anyone saw her, she was with some short, curly haired guy who wasn't wearing shoes. We think he promised her a ring."
"Some girls have all the luck..."
"Plus, it is known that you get things done without whining like some people we know. You are also known to be pure of heart. That is why "
"Oh."
"Besides, we figured we could trust you not to use the Card."
"Why?"
"Because it has also been said that you are extraordinarily cheap."
"I'm going to have to be more careful what I write about myself on the bathroom walls," I mumbled.
"What did you say?"
"Oh, nothing important...so who is this ‘we' you mentioned?"
"You will be happy to know that I am creating a posse for you."
"Just like that? So you don't worry about the Harry Benjamin Standards?"
"No, no–posse! A group of companions for your journey."
"Oh."
"So will this take long? I really don't have time for more than a three hour tour."
"A three hour tour....uh, yeah, that sounds about right...." he trailed off suspiciously.
"But you must beware. Your journey is a dangerous one. There are others who seek the Golden Credit Card of Power and they will stop at nothing to recover it for themselves and to prevent you from destroying it."
"I'm not afraid. I have lobbied at the Tennessee State Capitol."
"Yeah. You say that now. But you have never encountered the determination of others to control of the Card."
"You must keep it safe. Where can you hide it?"
I dropped it down my blouse. "Nobody will ever get in there...at least, not before happy hour."
"Very good. I knew we could count on you," he said as he put his arm around me. "My, what big--,"
I slapped his hand, "Wrong story buster. By the way, do you have any relatives in Jadeville?"
"Uh, maybe it's time to show you your new posse..."
Randolph took me down to the local bar where my friend Samantha and a few other folks I had never seen were sitting together.
"Everyone, this is Marisa. She will be the bearer of the Card. Marisa, this is your posse. First, let me introduce you to Leggo."
"Ooo, you're cute. So why are you called Leggo?"
"Because I always have to say that to the girls first thing in the morning if either of us is going to go to work."
"This may not be such a bad trip after all..."
Next came a real short guy with a long beard holding a martini glass, "This is Gimlet."
"I might have guessed."
"And this is the heir to the throne of Condor, EarofCorn,"
"EarofCorn?"
"Yes. Where I come from, we like to...
"Uh, I think I can use my imagination."
"Suite yourself. But reality is a lot better than fantasy."
"I'll take your word for it, your highness."
"Well, time to get started," said Randolph.
"Can't I get at least one drink for the road?"
"No. You must keep your wits about you. Evil lurks everywhere as long as you bear the card."
"Bummer."
As we reached a particularly bad looking stretch, I said to Randolph, "this looks like a particularly bad looking stretch."
"Nothing gets by you Marisa."
Suddenly, I sensed something behind us.
"Randolph," I whispered. "We're being followed."
"Yes, I know. We've been followed since we left The ‘Hood."
"Who do you think it is?"
"Golly Molly."
"Ugh. That wretched creature?!"
"Don't worry," said Randolph. "As long as we stay together, we will let no harm come to you."
At that point, we were surprised by a set of recruiters.
"Repent ye sinners! Mel Gibson has shown you the way. Repent now and we can get our toaster ovens!"
In the confusion, Samantha and I got separated from the others.
"Come Miss Marisa. We must flee before they convert us."
We scrambled away in the confusion and continued our journey towards Houston to destroy the One Card of Evil.
As we stopped for a non-Super Size bite to eat, we heard a low grumbling sound in the trees nearby.
"Shhh, Miss Marisa. You stand there and I'll sneak around the back and grab whomever it is."
So I stood there looking up at the sky, "Tut, tut, it looks like rain," I said, when suddenly Samantha came tumbling out of the woods with a rather strange looking person.
"Please don't hurt me."
"Why were you following us?"
"I, I just wanted to help."
"Miss Marisa," said Samantha, "Don't believe her. She's evil."
"You don't like me," said Golly Molly.
"You look very familiar," I said. "Don't we know you? Weren't you once known as Spiegel?"
"Spiegel?"
"Yes. I remember now. You were supposed to be addicted to catalog shopping...in the days before the Internet."
"Nobody has called me Spiegel in a long time."
"Well Spiegel, we must be off."
"Spiegel will help nice Mistress. Show you the way."
"Do you know the way to Texas?"
"Ah, yes–the home of Nieman-Marcus. Fabulous store."
I couldn't argue with her on that. "Well, okay. You can come along."
After traveling for awhile, we reached a line of trees, and through the trees, we saw them...In front of us was a line of burly looking Texas Rangers.
"There it is," said Spiegel, "the entrance to Texas."
"They don't look very welcoming," I said.
"They're probably there to keep same-sex couples married in other places from getting in."
"Sounds like Rhea County back in Tennessee," I said.
"We'll never reach the Enron Shredder if they're in the way," said Samantha.
"There's a back way," said Spiegel. "We can get in the back way."
"There's a back way?"
"Yes. It's where the Liberals sneak in. Follow me."
We traveled around the Rangers until we reached a darkened corridor. Spiegel said, "Right through there Mistress."
In the darkness, I got separated from both Samantha and Spiegel. I stumbled around trying to find my way when suddenly, out stepped a large man wearing black leather holding a cattle prod.
"Well, it looks like this is my lucky day. I just bought a brand new pair of handcuffs and they would look delightful on you!"
"Why...I never! Well, not on the first date...."
"You'd be perfect for helping us test our new dungeon."
"Did we take a wrong turn and end up in Colorado? I'm sorry, but I don't have time to entertain at another football recruiting party. Perhaps another time."
He began lunging at me trying to zap me with the cattle prod. I struggled to avoid being touched, but he finally zapped me and I blacked out. When I came to, I noticed that, except for handcuffs, I wasn't wearing a thing.. Fortunately, Samantha was there to rescue me.
"What is it about you always having a Wardrobe Malfunction?"
"It wasn't my fault this time."
"Sure. And what big..."
"Hey, wrong story. Just help me find some clothes."
"Here, Miss Marisa, you can wear this," she said as she threw me some clothes.
"What happened to Spiegel?"
"She disappeared in the dark corridor. If you ask me, we're better off without her. Let's hurry and destroy the card."
When we finally reached the Enron headquarters, we noticed it was surrounded by FBI agents.
"How do you suppose we're going to get past them?" I wondered. Suddenly, they began talking excitedly into their lapels, then jumped into their limos and sped away.
"What do you think that was all about?"
"I dunno. Maybe Martha Stewart is having a hissy fit over her new accommodations," said Sam.
We ran up to the corporate office to find the shredder unguarded.
"Miss Marisa, you must destroy the Card. Let it go, now!"
"No," I said as I turned around. "It is mine and nobody is going to stop me from buying at least one pair of shoes. I came all this way to Texas. At least I should buy some cowboy boots. Just think, I'll be the only person in Nashville wearing cowboy boots!"
At that moment, Golly Molly suddenly appeared and jumped on me. "My Precious. You thief, you stole My Precious! Give it back!"
A wicked catfight ensued. Nails and hair were flying.
Suddenly, the Golden Card flew out of our hands, and right into the mouth of the Enron shredder. As the machine gobbled the Card, Golly Molly let out a wicked shriek.
"My Precious! You've destroyed My Precious!"
"So what do we do now? asked Samantha.
"Well, we could drag this out for another half an hour...."
"Nah."
"Or we could just go get a drink."
"That sounds good to me," said Sam, as we left Spiegel behind to cry over the fate of her ‘Precious.'
So it has been a busy month for me. And I owe it all to Fred in Auckland, the last person in New Zealand to get a personal thank you.

click to return to top

Margin Notes by Fredrikka Joy Maxwell

No people of color. As I sat and listened to the opening speech of . ed writer Vern Bullough, I wondered who was the Christine Jourgensen of people of color. Noticed no youth either but felt there should be some as some of the sessions scheduled were built around their issues.
It was still dark when I got to the airport. The security detail hadn’t even arrived yet and the security checkpoints were locked. No coffee. Everything was closed. I couldn’t believe people were in line at the ticket counters buying tickets anyway. I already had my ticket because I bought it a couple weeks beforehand. Orbitz rocks!
There was a session about feminine voice. Much surgery does not do much good. They can change the mass of vocal chords They can alter its fold but they cannot change its pitch. It may be you have to live with pitch imperfections.
After the ordeal of the security checkpoint, and thinking about what I’d like to do to this Bin Laden guy if I ever got my hands on him, I smelled coffee. And I followed my nose to a barely opened place where I could get some coffee, juice and maybe a bagel. and then I hustled back to the gate. There was this guy standing there. He looked like an air line official and so I asked him if the plane had boarded yet as I had not heard them calling. the flight.
“Are you Ms. Maxwell?” he wanted to know.
I conceded that I was.
“We’ve been looking for you,” he said.
I wanted to know why.
He said the plane was just starting to board. so we hustled down the jet way. And he touched my shoulder and we abruptly halted.
“This way, “ he pointed out a side door.
The coffee hadn’t jump-started my metabolism quite yet. It suddenly dawned on me I wasn’t gong to get to go to the end of the jet way and board like normal people. I found myself outside in the weather about to board a plane that I could see was smaller than another parked at at nearby jet way. Oh, God, I wondered, what had I gotten myself into?
“Ma’am!”
I stopped, glanced around, and saw this guy waving at me. I approached him.
“Ma’am, “ he said, “you going to Charlotte?”
“Yes, what’s going on:?” I could just imagine them saying that the plane had broken down.
He pointed to the left at another small plane.
“This one’s going to Charlotte.”
Well I thought sure the guy in the suit knew what he was talking about. He had pointed towards the plane ahead instead of to the right. Still he had been a gentleman and a credit to his airline having kept his eyes peeled for me to come down the pike with my coffee.
“Thank you,” I said giving him my best fem smile despite the unholy hour.
Turns out the other plane was going God only knows where and God has this habit of not briefing me beforehand. Sorta like the CIA or something. Only those with a need to know. And I guess I wasn’t one of them.
It was good that I had the coffee, though, I don’t remember them serving any food on the plane. The flight was uneventful. I drank my coffee and I napped.
The US Air people in Charlotte were courteous and didn’t give me a hard time. Did I say US Air rocks? I asked directions to where I was to catch the connection to Philly. When I realized it was gate F something and I was maybe like C somewhere, I knew I was in trouble. And decided there was no way I was gonna hike that distance. I asked if they had a cart. The ticket agent pointed me to a seat and picked up a phone and the next thing I knew a cart whisked up and I got on and we whooshed through the crowd and honked our horns for people to look out and made a couple dizzying turns and then the lady driver slowed down. I didn’t dare ask if she had done NASCAR. I was just grateful to get to the gate with time to spare.
The plane plunged into a swirling sea of gray overcast and when it finally began to land I could see that it had rained and it didn’t look very promising in Philadelphia that Wednesday. When I claimed my bags and finally found the ground transportation, I knew I had plunged back into winter again. I laid my bag on the ground and broke out my coat. I thought sure I was going to freeze.
No sign of spring in Philly and no sign of Alyssa, whom I had hoped to meet for lunch that day. Having received more than my share of telecommunications messages at work concerning unidentified bodies that appeared to be linked to missing person cases Metro detectives had been working, I had a pretty good idea of the kind of things that could happen to a person who got lost and suddenly found very very dead. I found the hotel gift shop where they had a small business section and an internet linked computer. I sent emergency messages to the site we frequented. one asking the web mistress to have Alyssa contact me just so we would know she was OK. I think in my worried running around, I suddenly remembered to pray that Alyssa would not turn up on the Remembering Our Dead list.
I was meditating on a song I’d heard in a Methodist church:

I know I was born to be a girl. This is what I was born for. Even as the clouds of worry and fear swirled around me I still found myself somehow able to touch my feminine core, that thing inside variously known as soul, spirit, whatever.
I met a guy in drag with a white beard and blue hair. this person’s name was Tomika . He and his sister were from Madison, WI.
After the dinner conversation with Linda, I was more determined than ever to do the SCC presentation. It has finally crystallized into a need to give a black perspective to T people who simply do not understand the dynamics that is going on with black people. A sense of history and a sense of what is really going on with black T people on a daily basis There is a need to be a bridge, to proclaim even from the margins, “HERE I AM!”
I know now that is my job, must be my mission . To proclaim to the world that we are here in living color and not just dead as in Remembering Our Dead.
What is that dynamic that people--mostly white--don’t understand? Is it the notion that black, while ensconced in the black community, do not come out for fear of the wrath of that community? That wrath can also include the family and church. And, contrary to popular misconception, black people are big on both. Family and church. Even if the church is just another sexist institution.
Is part of that dynamic that black people don’t organize TG support groups? If they organize TG support groups is it in essence about the black community? Why?
Alyssa called and apologized for her failure to show on Wednesday. Domestic problems. Her wife and daughter are gone for the weekend. I hope I an work her in . She was the main reason I came to Philly in the first place.

We were not able to work her in by the way. Not a total train of heartache. The rain stopped for a whole day and the sun shone and the weather actually was nice for a change in Philly. I had a couple seminars I wanted to attend. But I also wanted to venture downtown and see the Liberty Bell. Which my roommate Ginger and I did.
One of the most interesting things about visiting the Liberty Bell was that the security going in. But Ginger and I weren’t carrying any explosives so they let us in. The most explosive thing about us was that we both looked good.. Even in her dark glasses.
As we waited our turn to approach the bell I noticed several people reach out and actually touch or stroke the bell. The bell is not a religious symbol. But it might as well be to some people, especially to those from foreign lands who came to American seeking freedom and a new life. They venerate this symbol of the freedom that they now enjoy. so do many Americans. Black Americans have a unique connection to the bell because it was the abolitionists who first called the bell the Liberty Bell.
It was good to walk downtown and see the different kinds of people strolling the streets of downtown Philadelphia. Blacks, whites, Hispanics, Orientals.
And rolling past old houses and tall apartments and some apartments older than me and Ginger and everybody on the train combined as we rolled from urban to suburban parts of town. Doing the bell was the high point.
I remember being a wall flower in red. swaying to disco music especially Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.” That may well have been my theme song that trip. I will survive; and survive I did.
Philly was the only convention that ended on a Sunday that nearly found me in tears. I don’t know why I felt a sense of sadness after all that I had gone through. Maybe it was because I had a great room mate and it would be awhile until I would see her again. Maybe I was just grateful that I had in a sense found my mission. I don’t know. I do know that I never felt that way before at the end of any other con I went to. And I also know something else. I’m glad I went to Philadelphia. It was a learning experience. And it made me know that I have something to share with the community. And I will.

click to return to top

Press Release: ORCHID CLUB
Nashville, Tennessee USA The grand opening of The Orchid Club was announced at the midtown Nashville Sheraton Hotel on May 1, 2004. The Orchid Club is a national transgender travel club offering four trips per year in venues across the USA. Club President Chrysis Monaco is past Chair of the Tennessee Vals, one of the largest regional transgender social and support groups in America. In making the announcement, Chrysis remarked, “Pick up any alternative lifestyle travel magazine and you will find a variety of travel clubs and offerings for our gay and lesbian friends. Options for the transgender traveler are quite limited. From South Beach, Florida to Lake Tahoe to New York City, The Orchid Club is dedicated to hosting exceptional leisure experiences for transgender men, women and their significant others.”

For information, contact: Chrysis Monaco, The Orchid Club, P.O. Box 140535, Nashville, TN 37214 ChrysisM@aol.com

click to return to top