Column XII: Christopher Street
On this random late Tuesday afternoon, Vanessa loved the pier more than she loved her own reflection. By the shine on the top of the water, she let her phone be invisible against the heated gray concrete of the revamped piers.
Vanessa just deleted Bumble, Tinder, Hinge, and Grindr. Yearning across the Hudson River, she envisioned the same love that all women wished for…safe…steady…sensual…supportive…and…stimulating. She hoped for a cupid's arrow to her as she waited for me to arrive on the pier.
Vanessa ran away from home at 13.
She watched the stories about the Big City in her upbringing, growing up in the most transformative city in the world. The best city in the world. And, the most liberated city on the planet.
In 2011, NYC made space for gay marriage, acceptance, and love; yet in the 2020s, trans women are looking for the same space freely given to the gay world, the same space where they fought on the frontlines for everyone’s liberation since the 1960s, even the 1920s, dating back to the Harlem Renassiance.
While the LGB community treat the girls and nonbinaries like their hetero and cis peers, colleagues, and friends. Vanessa believed, like most young people experiencing youth in the 2000s, that life would become truly liberated by 2020 and we will all live harmony and equality regardless of gender, sexuality, race. As the years passed, she saw her uncles, cousins, and brother call anyone looking different a faggot. Her aunts, sisters, and grandmothers all make sure to remind their boys that a trans woman will always be a man when they encounter a doll outside.
Late 2011, she watched Paris is Burning. She saw a vision of herself in girls like her, me, Octavia Saint Laurent, Carmen Xtravaganza and she started to swallow the boob growing pills before she slept.
She did this for a few months until her mother found the pills.
Vanessa’s mother was able to ignore her own true feelings for her child being gay but seeing the girl shift from a caterpillar into a butterfly overwhelmed her mom while peaceful assurance displayed off Vanessa.
For a few weeks, during 2012, Vanessa went to middle school with makeup, a slick ponytail, and press on nails. During those weeks, the boys pushed her in the halls and the girls laughed while calling her a faggot. On the last day of the 2 weeks, she came home with her full beat on hoping her mother would love her, but she was pushed down the stairs in the two bedroom apartment in lower Brooklyn then called a faggot, punk, and sissy by her momma.
That night, Vanessa left. She slept on the streets for a few weeks, and some unfortunate things happened…
However, with blinded faith, by 2015, she had been taking estrogen shots and living safely with her new adoptive queer family, so she started walking balls and went back to school.
She just graduated this May 2022 and she found a greater pleasure in guiding girls just like her.
I stumbled upon her on the Piers while she studied the Hudson river.
“Damn girl! About time, I thought you would’ve been here an hour ago,” she lectured before hugging me.
“I’m sorry, I just got lost-”
“Lost on that phone looking for some boy.”
“Oh my god! Here we go! Vanessa, why are you always judging me! I am young just like you and trying having a good time.”
“Babe, you are young yes, but you are a baby trans. I am just trying to protect you. I wish someone did when I first started mones. You know I’ve been doing this shit for 10 years…every year…every month…shit everyday you’re going to learn something new about yourself….it’s annoying but so beautiful Sloane. I used to think getting a trade was the most important thing, find a good man…and make sure he isn’t a chaser…you then gotta think about if he gay or not, does he just want me for my piece? After that, has he been with other dolls? I’m just saying…this is what all the older girls have taught me. Chasers love you when you first begin transitioning because they know you don't value yourself yet and not going to make them pay-”
“Make them payyyy?”
“Oh Sloane,” she grabbed my hand, “you have so much to learn.”
I viewed Vanessa as my older, bitchy, sister when I began six months ago. Now, I see the light inside of her. Most women who stand in their confidence, beauty, and intelligence are mocked to be bitches. Throughout history, women that stood up for themselves were called witches or, now, divas. I now understand her bitchyness as valuing our own self worth.
And yet we should always remember, “diva is a female version of a hustla.”