July 5, 2013
It's official! I'll be in Seattle the weekend of October 11-13 to see my family, my Seattle-area friends, a PLU game (my brother James will be a sophomore DB for the Lutes) and of course the Seahawks-Titans dust-up. It's basically the same trip I made out west last November..
But it's not, is it? Last week I revealed some fairly important personal details here on the blog, and nothing is ever really going to be the same. I don't want this blog to turn into a running commentary about my transition, but if this is going to remain the deeply personal project it's been since the start, that shit's gonna have to be dealt with sometimes. This is one of those times.
Whenever I come out west to see a game, I run into people who recognize me from the blog. That's AWESOME. It's really gratifying to know that people enjoy what I write, and to know that I give voice to the segment of our fan base that isn't addled by a predisposition for defeatism and negativity. Things are different now, and at least a little bit awkward/scary- Now, anyone who recognizes me from the blog will also probably know that I'm transgender. Will people be as understanding/supportive in person as they've been on twitter/in the comments here on the blog? I hope so, but I really don't know. I can think of 100 different terrible things that might happen.
The thing that might confuse people is that even in October I'll most likely still be presenting myself as a "guy," at least in a public place I don't feel entirely safe within. I get closer to living as a woman every day, but it's still probably 6-12 months away from happening. So when I run into people at the game this October, uncomfortable questions will probably be asked, or at least reside on the tips of peoples' tongues.
That's all scary as shit to me, but I face far scarier things as part of this whole journey I've embarked upon. I often think of that bit in Glengarry Glen Ross when Alec Baldwin starts berating Alan Arkin (in terms of dealing with the stress associated with transitioning): "You think this is abuse? You think this is abuse, you cocksucker? You can't take this, how can you take the abuse you get on a sit?" I need to keep forcing myself out of my little comfort zone, and I'm certainly not going to stop going to Seahawks games because I'm afraid of what people might say to me.
You know what has been one of the constants in my life, as I questioned these incredibly basic things about my identity for decades? Loving the mother-fucking Seahawks. Some things aren't gonna change one goddamn bit: I'm still never going to miss a game, I'm still gonna pour my heart and soul into this blog, and when I come to Seahawks Stadium I'm going to scream until my skull is on the verge of popping whenever the enemy has the ball. The continuity of my Seahawks fandom while EVERYTHING else in my life changes is unbelievably comforting to me.
Last January, as I sat in my apartment crying after the Seahawks lost that playoff game in Atlanta, one of the first thoughts that gave me ANY comfort in that moment of despair was... "Now, when we win the Super Bowl, maybe you'll get to celebrate that win you've been waiting for your whole life as YOU. The real you. Johnnie, not Johnny."
I'll see y'all in October. No matter what my apprehensions are, I can't fucking wait.
What do you think, sirs?