As long as I can remember, I’ve wondered what it would be like. To be one of those people. The winners. The people who hit the jackpot, who go from normal life to that other kind, where your name is in headlines and your face is on TV, where you get recognized on the street, have your own fan club and Wikipedia page. How would that feel? No, but really, how would it actually feel?
And so I want to warn you right away: I still don’t have an answer to that question. I’ve gotten a lot closer, but this is all still so new. It has only been a year since I found myself living my fantasy, a year that passed like a whirlwind, a whirlwind that picked me up and carried me along with it, twisting and tumbling.
And I’ve fucking loved it! I’d always wanted it, on some level. After all, that’s the whole reason I wanted to know what it felt like! But I hadn’t admitted that to myself. Officially, my position was that fame wasn’t for me, that I’d be overwhelmed by it. When I married Kelly, who by majoring in theater had publicly declared her intent to pursue some form of stardom, I thought I’d found the perfect solution. Kelly would be the star, and I would bask in the warmth of her stardom, without having to risk exposing myself to the glare of public scrutiny. My public image would consist of blushing modestly while Kelly thanked me in acceptance speeches for various awards, and that would be enough for me.
This is Amy Schneider, the trans bird who won Jeopardy. A certain attention seeking here, no? Could that be part of other behaviour?
And something that really does get my goat about a certain middle aged type when they trans. There’s a certain smile and head tilt which they think is most female. When it’s clearly and obviously a pastiche which has been practised. One of those things like porno, know it when seen even if can’t quite define it.