Roller Coasters and Reflections

Last Saturday was a roller coaster of emotions and experiences AND the roller coaster was in a tornado AND the roller coaster was on FIRE.

So, let’s dive in, shall we?

I had been looking forward to Saturday for a variety of reasons. It was a stressful week at work and I was excited to wear my new dress and to see Frozen. I was especially excited because one of my sisters was joining me which made seeing a play about sisters even more special.

The theatre is housed in the same building as the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, one of my favorite places in the world. I had planned on going to the museum and spending some time there before meeting my sister.

I was feeling good. It was a warmish day, I had a new dress, my makeup was done, and I had survived the week.

The first exhibit I popped in displayed art by Katsushika Hokusai and Claude Monet. A woman came up to me and complimented my dress. We chatted for a few minutes and she asked if I was going to see MIA’s new exhibit called Giants. I had just heard about the exhibit the day before and I was keen to see it, but I hadn’t bought a ticket for it. MIA is free, but sometimes special exhibits have an admission price.

I told her I was thinking about it but I didn’t have a ticket yet. She lit up. She said she was a member and was able to get a complimentary pass. She disappeared and came back a few moments later with a ticket.

It’s safe to say I was really touched. She didn’t have to do that. She didn’t have to be friendly and compliment my dress, and she certainly didn’t need to give me a pass. She snapped my picture and I was overwhelmed by her kindness.

I went to the exhibit and loved it.

I visited some of my favorite pieces and just absorbed the joy of feeling cute (FEELING cute and LOOKING cute are not the same thing, lol) and the sound of my heels clicking on the floors.

Soon it was time for the museum to close and instead of taking the elevator I used the steps. MIA has beautiful staircases and I feel like a princess when I descend them and I can’t resist that, lol.

As I made my way, clutching the railing the entire time, my foot slipped and I stumbled. Luckily the railing helped but I scraped my forearm and ripped the strap that stretched across my toes. The stiletto dangled from my ankle, its strap clinging to me. The heels were unwearable.

I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t sure if I had time to leave the museum to pick up a new pair of heels and get back in time to meet my sister. I certainly couldn’t go to the play in my stocking feet.

In a time of crisis (and yes, I am being dramatic here) I immediately think of what resources and options are available. My mind immediately went to my trunk (or my car’s boot for my UK readers) where I had some shoes a friend gave me ages ago. I couldn’t remember exactly what was in there, but I prayed there was something that would work. A simple black heel was all I needed.

I walked to my car barefoot and popped my trunk. I looked through the shoeboxes and found a gorgeous pair of red thigh high boots (how did I not know I had these??) but I also found these:

A little…. hm, slutty (lol) for the play but I didn’t have a choice. I strutted back to the museum as if these stilettos were my plan all along. Fake it ’till you make it, after all.

When the box office opened, I went to pick up my tickets. A woman with her daughter, who was probably around five years old, waited in line with me. She told me she loved my dress, and I thanked her. I told her daughter that I loved her dress as she was wearing the same dress Elsa from the play wore.

She looked at me and told her mom “that’s a boy”. Her mom told her to be polite and I took my tickets and walked away.

I didn’t really know what to think but I wasn’t really hurt. Kids don’t have a filter and they say whatever they think. She wasn’t being cruel or anything and I knew that. Her mom was kind towards me.

I waited for my sister and my thoughts drifted towards feminine standards and I reflected that as I age my masculine features are becoming more prominent. These features have been making photos of myself a little more humbling than usual. I am not in love with the photo of me next to the Monet here, but, well, that’s what I look like sometimes.

After a little time a guy came up to me who was working as an usher. He told me that he was sorry that happened and misgendering happens to him as well so he knew how it felt. I was really touched that he did that. I knew she wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt my feelings, so her words didn’t really impact me, but they did lead me to think about my presentation and getting older.

Like the lady who gave me a ticket, he didn’t have to do this.

It’s a cliche but kind people are my kind of people.

My sister arrived and we chatted before the play, intermission, and after.

She didn’t have to come with me to the play. But she knows how important the experience would be for me. Doing something in public with a transgender person is out of the comfort zone for some people, but she did it anyway.

She did it for me.

The day was all over the map but I am glad it ended on an affirming note.

Love, Hannah