It Chooses You - Миранда Джулай

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So the first time you came out must have been hard. You must not have had a good experience? Michael: It wasn’t hard. I just decided to do it, and I don’t know why I went back in the closet. It’s one of those psychological things that I’m going to a psychologist to work out.

      Michael spoke softly and with a sort of evenness that made me wonder if he was a little bit drugged. Nothing crazy, maybe just some muscle relaxers to take the edge off. The thought calmed me – I was glad there was some padding between him and my invasive questions. I wished I was on muscle relaxers too.

Miranda: What was your life like before you came out?
Michael: I was trying to be the same as every other man, and hiding the fact that inside I felt like a woman. I knew that when I was a child, but I had this strong fear of coming out for a long time. The movement for gay people to come out helped me realize that I shouldn’t do that.
Miranda: What did you do for a living?
Michael: I ran my own business as an auto mechanic.
Miranda: What do you do now?
Michael: Now I’m retired.
Miranda: What are you living on?
Michael: On Social Security benefits. This is a Section 8 building, so rent is very reasonable. And before this building I lived in the cheapest rooming house in Hollywood.
Miranda: And how do you spend your days?
Michael: I go shopping and watch television, and I go for walks for my health.
Miranda: What shows are your favorites?
Michael: The Price Is Right and the news.
Miranda: And do you feel like you have a community here?
Michael: I do have a community. I’m going to Transgender Perceptions meetings every Friday at the Gay and Lesbian Center on McCadden, and there’s a bunch of other transgender people that go. Male-to-female, female-to-male. There’s two I met there that had their major surgeries forty years ago.

      I asked if we could look around his apartment and he said sure. Michael stayed seated and watched us as we walked around, quietly peering at everything.

      It reminded me of being at a garage sale, the rude feeling of surveying someone’s entire life in one greedy glance. Every few seconds I raised my eyebrows with reassuring interest, but Michael was not concerned.

Miranda: Can I look at your movie collection?
Michael: Oh, that’s all pornography.

      I nodded and smiled warmly to indicate how okay I was with pornography.

Michael: You can look through it.

      I knelt down and studied the tapes. They were all of women, or what seemed to be women. I did one of those modern calculations: male-to-female + porn for straight men = he wants to be lesbian?

Miranda: Is it women that you like?
Michael: Well, there’s straight pornography and there’s trans pornography. There’s also some pornography with she-males too. And that’s about it.

      This answer just created more questions, but I was too shy to ask them. I took my pre-written questions out of my pocked.

Miranda: Have you ever had a computer?
Michael: No, I’ve never had any computers. I may get one someday. I use the computer at the library.
Miranda: Is there anything you want that you worry you’ll never have?
Michael: No, not at this age.
Miranda: You feel like you’ve come to peace with things?
Michael: Yeah. The only thing left is my completed transition; that’s the only thing left that I’m desiring. I’m waiting for that.
Miranda: And what would you say has been the happiest time in your life so far?
Michael: Oh, I just enjoy living. I’m always happy. I can’t say between one or the other which is the happiest time. I never thought about that.
Miranda: Not everyone enjoys living – is that just part of the spirit you were born with, or do you think your parents instilled that?
Michael: No. It’s part of my spirit that I was born with. I was never taught that idea.

      I threw a question mark at Brigitte and she nodded yes, she’d photographed everything. So we said goodbye to Michael, nervously heaping on parting graces, and silently rode the elevator back down to the first floor. We stepped out onto sunny Hollywood Boulevard, a street I drive down every day. Now when I drove past this building I would always know that Michael was in there, living on Social Security benefits, enjoying life and desiring only one last thing – to transform into a woman. His conviction ignited me. I felt light and alert. Evidence of his faith in this almost-impossible challenge was everywhere: the pink blouse, the makeup littering the bathroom, the handmade dildo-esque wig stand. These were not signals of defeat. This was not someone who was getting sleepy at the end of his journey; in fact, everything he had lived through made him certain of what mattered now.

      I had become narrow and short-sighted at my desk. I’d forgotten about boldness, that it was even an option. If I couldn’t write the scenes, then I should really go all the way with not writing them. I decided to remove myself from my computer and the implication that I might be on the verge of a good idea. I would meet with every PennySaver seller who was willing. I would make myself do this as if it were my job. I would get a better tape recorder and drive all over Los Angeles like an untrained, unhelpful social worker. Why? Exactly. This was the question that my new job would answer.

      I had to force myself each time I dialed a stranger’s number, but I made myself do it, because this was the end of the road for me; not calling would be the beginning of not doing a lot of other things, like getting out of bed. I started with the first item for sale (a pair of matching silver champagne

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