It’s been forever since I posted. That’s all I’m gonna say. My friend Jon and I have an agreement that we don’t apologize for how long it’s been. All that matters is that we’re here NOW.

Showing up. That’s the key to being an ally. In my case, an ally to my trans/nonbinary kid and to their friends and loved ones. Anyone who’s ever read this blog, ever met me, knows that I have been an ally since I was five and asked Mom why Uncle John and Uncle Tony never brought their girlfriends to our jazz gatherings. “Well, they love each other, so they don’t need girlfriends.” To which I replied, “Oooh, is that like Aunt Beadie and Aunt Thelma?” Mom said, “Yes, they are called lesbians.” And that was it. Explain things to your kids without a ton of details, just answer factually, and let them either figure it out or come back with more questions.

I kind of figured it out and never looked back. As a straight woman, gay and lesbian friends always let me play in their sandbox. And when I was living in NYC in the 80s, that took on new meaning as our friends were getting sick… too many funerals. I swore that, if I ever smelled a lily or looked at another orchid, I would lose it. Being an ally meant being acquainted with loss, massive loss.

But did you catch that last paragraph? I identified myself as a straight woman. Nothing else. I didn’t know there was more to be. But when Luka came out as trans, it was up to me to learn, to listen, and to evolve. Now, I understand that I am a white, straight, cisgender woman. This matters. White, because the first people to throw rocks at the police during Stonewall were trans women of color. Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia Rivera, trans women of color. And at a rally after Stonewall, Marsha got up to speak during one rally and was shouted down by a crowd of predominantly white gay men. The guys at that rally didn’t consider these trans women of color as part of “their group.” (Sound familiar? Fear of The Other is woven into the fabric of America.) To me, trans people (especially TWOC) have always been the most vulnerable of LGBTQ tribe.

So when I heard Elliot Page was coming to town to promote his new book, the brilliantly named Page Boy, I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t go into the Barrymore Theater (COPD, Covid issues, etc. mean I don’t attend live anything anymore). But I could SHOW UP. And if there were protesters, I could calmly witness to love. (DISCLAIMER: Old Amy would have shouted at them and probably come up with some appropriate swears, but I like to think I have evolved in the past years.) So I grabbed a white t-shirt and two bottles of acrylic paint (one pink, one turquoise, natch) and improvised a shirt. Then I headed down to the theater, not sure of what to expect.

No protesters. What was I thinking? My therapist, the brilliant Rita, said, “Amy, this is Madison!” But I have seen neo-Nazis at drag shows… in Columbus, OH, home of my equally brilliant child, so I had to err on the side of caution. All that happened was this: I walked around, offering “Mommy Love” to anyone who needed it. I spoke to all sorts of people – allies and Tribe alike. I saw some people who wore the scars of past abuse. Some were physical scars, and some were emotional, like their auras were blurry. And one person was happy to show me the scars they got from their top surgery, which was impressive, because that takes trust.

Luka came out, and I came into a new understanding. I don’t pretend to have it all down, I am still following peeps on YouTube who are sharing their personal, intimate journeys with top surgery… and I am so grateful for their witness, for their generosity. They make it a little easier for those who are on the journey to self-acceptance.

Luka lives in Columbus, OH, so they is not in this picture. Want to see them and their work? Head to lowbarart.com and see the tattoos and fun and murals. But if you just want to see a pic, here you go!

I am rambling… but let me end with this thought: Years ago, I thought my only child was a (girl) who was pretty spectacular. Then I found out my (daughter) was a lesbian and still spectacular. Then I came to understand the trans/nonbinary of it all. Now I know this: Luka is a prism of light and love, talented and strong and vulnerable and kind. And all I have to do to be a supportive mom, to be an ally, is evolve. Fearlessly, loudly, grounded in love. And by God, to SHOW UP. Amen.


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