Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

I just got a message from my brother: the group of them (brother, mother, aunt, uncle, cousins) are at the Inner Harbor, seeing the sights, shopping, going to the aquarium, etc., and thought I might want to join them.

I do. I especially want to spend more time with my cousins while they're in town, and it'd be kind of neat to spend some time with folks in "my space" (Baltimore being closer to that than anyplace else we're likely to meet, unless I do some MAJOR housecleaning in the next hour and somehow convince them to come to my house, fifteen minutes West of the harbour).

But there's the Mom/clothing issue. Nine years ago, in response to a request from Mom when I came out to my parents as transgendered, I agreed that I would wear boyclothes to her house. She wanted me to promise to wear boyclothes whenever I was around her; I modified that before agreeing to anything. She's never seen me dressed as *me*. I wore a kilt to my brother's wedding (not the brother who's in Baltimore today). When I've gone to my brother's in-laws for holidays I've worn pants because I figured it wasn't the right time to push things, especially with all the financial help I've been depending on Mom for lately. But this is ... well, my ground. It's not a holiday party or a wedding. It's fifteen minutes from my house, and a place I wander around with a camera some nights. At the same time, the first time Mom sees me dressed as myself, it's going to come across as a challenge. I don't want to antagonize her. I just don't want to have to keep putting on a disguise if she's going to be around.

Morally, I feel there's nothing wrong with my choosing my own clothes today. Politically is another matter. Just not showing up would suck too, 'cause this is a chance to spend more time with my aunt, uncle, and cousins without driving very far.

Interestingly, this topic came up with my sister in law last night. With all the slush on the ground, I didn't want to wear my flats, so I wore my cute boots and brought my innocuous flats to change into so as to not freak out my mother. My sister in law thought that was silly, and convinced me to leave the boots on (which I was happier about wearing in the first place, slush or no slush); she also chided me for choosing a more conservative top instead of the more festive one that I'd feared would bother Mom. She pointed out that in her parents' house, her family's judgement about what's apropriate should prevail over my mother's. She's right, but there's the question of how far/how fast it's practical to try to push Mom. (Note that her family's reactions to my cape probably had a lot to do with Mom's decision to buy me fabric to get it re-lined -- everyone over there thinks my cape is just the coolest thing, and tells Mom that when she tries to apologize for how "odd" I am for wearing it.)

Folks are supposed to go over to my brother's house sometime before the visiting kinfolk fly back to England, and my sister in law told me she expects me to come as myself, not in my visiting-mommy-disguise, so the issue is likely to be right in Mom's face soon anyhow ... but I'm still nervous about it. The memory of Mom's reaction to that phone conversation nearly a decade ago still stings ... but so does the reminder each time I put on a completely different look just to do family stuff. (All Come Free, while being more about my reaction to my parents' reactions to my coming out, has more to do with Mom's reaction than to Dad's, and also reflects the feelings of the decade leading up to my telling them, when all my friends and many strangers knew, but not my folks).

At my brother's house, I'll have my sister in law, at the very least, standing up to my Mom and arguing my side, plus I'll have the excuse that I was honoring the wishes of the hostess. But it'll still be tense with Mom. Today, while it's "my city", it's technically neutral ground -- the unspoken rules are all different. And my sister in law won't be there. And complete strangers will be -- I'm sure Mom will react to the "public embarrassment" aspect of drawing attention. On the other hand, it's one of the places that I go on my time, a place that's part of my non-family stomping ground. Putting on the boyclothes disguise to go there feels like ... well, wimping out for sure, but also "cheating" somehow.

I don't know yet what I'm going to do. I can go in Glenn-clothes, go in boyclothes, make an excuse and not go ... I'm going to go take a shower and then decide.

I hate this stress, I hate it I hate it I hate it. One of the Big Important Advantages of being OUT is that I don't have to worry about how people will react when They Find Out, but there are still these little corners of shadows and greys and tense situations to deal with. It's not [expletive]ing fair. (Of those corners, this is the most serious. There are other, smaller ones.) When I made my peace with dressing as Myself and [expletive] what the rest of the world thinks, it was supposed to free me from this whole, "Do I have the nerve to actually walk out the door dressed like this?" panic -- and mostly it did so (though, oddly, I sometimes feel that when going out in boyclothes -- go figure). I resent Mom for her part in my feeling like a scared, closeted eighteen year old again, even though on her side it's just wanting to protect herself from something she sees as unpleasant.

Then again, if I take too long writing this, they'll finish their sightseeing and go home and my decision will be moot. Guess I'd better go take that shower.

I wound up wimping out clothing-wise for seeing my relatives at the Inner Harbor. I wore the same black pants that I've worn the past two days. But I did wear the red leopard-pattern velour top that my sister in law said I should've worn last night at the Christmas party. (It would've made more sense to wear it there, and to wear the black velour top today, I guess, but since I'd already worn the black yesterday ...) I could've worn a different black top, but I didn't want to repeat the all black thing right away. And I'm running out of "not too femmy" tops suitable for today's weather that go with these pants.

The top was flashy enough to upset Mom but the outfit as a whole wasn't so girly that she could make a big scene. (She made a small scene. Said I should close my cape because my top was giving her sunburn (it's a little fancy, but it's not bright). Later, she made a comment about not riding the elevator with me. And a few times she made a face. She wasn't happy.) My excuse is that I don't have that many winter tops that I can wear with these pants, but I'm also glad I didn't go entirely to something "safe". I don't feel like I hit a middle ground -- I feel like I caved -- but I do feel like I got away with a wee tweak to the boundaries. I also wore the boots that I wore last night, even though I didn't have slush as an excuse this time. (I'm counting last night as precedent for getting away with the boots. And they do have chunky heels, not spikes.)

I found a great parking space, only to discover that my container of parking-meter quarters in the car was empty. So I wound up parking over in Little Italy and walking several blocks. (The exercise was probably good for me, but my body is complaining -- I'll be needing Ultram, at least.) I met up with everyone else in one of the shopping plaza thingies, and we walked to the WTC and went to the observation deck on the top floor. Yes, the building I got "detained" for allegedly photographing a few days before Thanksgiving, in the fog. And yes, I could see my house from there. Then we poked our noses into the ESPN Zone so my cousins could see what it was like. Everyone else headed toward Bowie, and I came home to write this, grab a guitar, and change lenses. I figure I might as well head over to Mom's too, and get a free dinner and have a little more time to talk to folks. Got some stuff I really need to do at home in the next few days though.

It was obvious from the observation deck how flat Baltimore is. It doesn't feel flat when you're walking up Charles St., but down here by the water isn't exactly a hilly part of the state. I said we should make a side trip to Frederick.

Actually, I'd love to show them "my" Baltimore -- the corners of it that I get to, not just the Inner Harbor. Charles Village, Mount Vernon, even show them my place on the seedy side of Union Square. Or at least show them the harbor at night, the way I usually see it. I want to show them Catonsville -- the strip along rt. 144 with Bill's Music and Appalachian Bluegrass -- and the photogenic middle of Ellicot City. I don't want to just show them the touristy parts; I want to show Annapolis as I know it, including the Key School, and cool restaurants in Olney and Rockville and Washington, and Sandy Point and Skyline Drive (I'm trying to remember whether they saw those last two when they were here twenty four years ago). Yeah, they enjoyed Hooters (which they'd just left when I caught up to them), but I'd rather show them Paper Moon and the Olney Ale House.

Ah, but I digress -- I was planning to talk mostly about clothes. *shrug* Before getting dressed, I called my brother's cell phone again to see if I could get a "read" on the situation. The impression I got was that this probably wasn't the time to push too far (though someday I'll have to anyhow, even if there's never a good time). So I'm putting that off until I'll have my sister in law to back me up verbally. I think my cousins would've argued my side today, but I'm not absolutely certain. And I have no idea how my aunt and uncle are going to react.