Dorothy's Mix Tape Collection

Author's note: This is all the stories I've published for the mix tape series. I hope people enjoy them.

On the beach

It started with music.

I felt myself drifting along with the song, until I woke on a beach.

Sun shining, breeze blowing, smell of salt and the sounds of laughter.

I look, and there are a group of teens playing.

Then the ball comes my way, and I manage to catch it.

One of the young men comes over, and apologies.

I hand him the ball, and he blushes.

He blushes? At me?

He asks if I want to join the game, and I say give me a minute.

The music in the background gets louder.

I look down at myself. I’m ... younger ...

and a girl.

In a bikini.

The music soothes my anxiety.

I smile.

I get up, and go and join the game.

The music celebrates with me.

****

In a hospital room, an old man closes his eyes for the last time, as his daughter plays his favorite song to him ...

End

Tower Child

It all started with a staff meeting.

“Okay, so the twentieth anniversary of 9-11 is coming up. What are we going to do for it?”

“Well, on the tenth anniversary, we did a special on the orphans, especially the ones who were not yet born when their dad were killed. We could do an update.”

My boss’ avatar looked around the virtual room. Once upon a time we would have had to been all in the same room, but in order to keep up with the times, he had switched to these online conferences.

“Sounds good. Do we still have the contact list?”

“We should, I’ll check” I said.

“Good. Let me know.”

I disconnected from the “conference call”, and headed for our storage facility.

Finding what I wanted took a little time, but by the end of the day I had phone numbers for a half-dozen families who had given us permission ten years ago to run their profiles.

I spent the next couple of days phoning the families, and since the “kids” we had profiled ten years ago were now adults, in many cases I ended up having to call them separately.

Eventually I got four who were willing to consent to an interview.

But I had one which was sort of ... different. Rather than giving me the kid’s number, his parents said they would pass on my number to their child, and it would be up to them if they contacted me or not.

I shrugged, and co-ordinated with some of my co-workers for interviewing the the four who had consented.

Then I got a phone call, and a woman on the phone asked me if I was still interested in hearing from James Parker, the number five kid on our list.

I said “sure”, and the person on the phone said they were willing to meet me at a restaurant here in town.

The next day, I went to the restaurant, and waiting for this James Parker to arrive.

I couldn’t have been more shocked as to his appearance.

He looked like a woman.

He? She? Sat down, and there was silence for a moment.

“You’re ... James Parker?”

“I go by Joanne, now.”

“I ... see.”

“Do you? Do you understand why I was reluctant to come forward for your article?”

“Why don’t you explain it to me.”

“I’m transgender. It took me going to college to finally come out.”

“But you’re out now.”

“Yes, but that’s not the same as having my picture in your magazine. Yes, my college administration knows, as do my family, but I am not sure about having it splashed everywhere and read by everybody.”

“How about i make you a deal. You tell me your story, and before I run it, I’ll let you edit it, and if you’re not comfortable with the result, it wont run.”

“Fine.”

So for the next hour or so, she told me her story, and I took notes as she talked. It was obviously very emotional for her, but she gave me everything I could need to share her story in the best light possible, which is what I tried to do.

I got my editor onboard, and Joanne approved the article when it was finished, and I waited to see what would happen to her once the magazine hit the shelves.

I was blown away by the response.

On the one hand, there were a lot of people who took the time to say they admired her, and there were even some other trans people sharing their own stories as well.

Sadly, there were some extremely negative responses as well, especially on the online version of the article.

There was everything from people trying to psychoanalyze her and saying it was the loss of her father that caused her to want to be a girl, to disgusting messages about having sex with her, to people saying she was going to Hell “for her sin”, to, oddly enough, messages from supposed feminists saying a trans girl “represents a larger threat of rape than even a regular man.”

I kept in contact with Joanne, and although it was clear that some of the stuff bothered her, I was impressed with her resolve

Eventually, the firestorm died down, Joanne went back to a quiet life as a student, and I was left with a lot to think about.

And one of the things I’m thinking of is about Joanne, and whether she might be interested in dating a slightly older reporter ...

End.

Whirlwind

You ever have a friend who was like a force of nature?

I sure did, and that’s why I am where I am today.

I first met Lisa Beatrix in high school, when she practically hijacked me because she wanted someone to accompany her across the street for a slushie.

I pretty much fell in love with her right then and there.

Sadly, it was not returned, as she told me “I just don’t see you that way.”

Not that I was alone in my appreciation of her. Pretty much my whole school admired her or loved her, or at least lusted after her.

She could have done anything - been student body president, prom queen, head cheerleader, you name it.

But she gave her love to the Theater.

Musicals, plays, anytime there was something happening that related to the theater, she was at the forefront, and she was always our leading lady.

But as I said, her popularity crossed high school clique lines, and everyone called her by the same nickname - “the whirlwind.”

As for me, my life was also spiraling, but in a bad way. I had been struggling with my gender for as long as I could remember, and by high school I was crossdressing whenever I could just to try and keep some measure of sanity.

Then in grade 12, things came to a head.

I was in the drama room after everyone else had left, cleaning up some costumes, when I spotted a beautiful princess dress hanging in the corner.

I actually sighed with relief when I put the dress on, as the horrible weight of trying to be a boy fell from me.

And then I saw my reflection in a mirror, and the illusion broke, and I collapsed to the floor, weeping.

I didn’t know that I hadn’t been alone during this until ....
“Tom?”

“L..Lisa? Oh ... God ...I was just ...”

“Being a girl.”

I couldn’t deny it I hung my head in shame.

Then she came down, hugged me, and said, “It’ll be okay, Tom.”

“N..not Tom. Diana “

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

And right at that moment, I knew I was gonna be okay. No matter how long it took me, no matter who tried to get in my way, I was gonna be Diana, for real.

Because I had one special person in my corner.

Lisa Beatrix.

“The whirlwind.”

End

Farm Visit

I stood at the old gate, and, not for the first time on this trip, I wondered what I was doing here.

But the memories behind the gate called to me ...

It a way, I had grown up behind this gate.

My grandparents owned this place, it was sort of a hobby farm, and just about the best place a kid could go. I mean, it had horses you could ride, and a dog you could play with, and a little mini forest you could have adventures in.

I wonder what my grandparents would have thought if they had known that most of my “adventures” involved me becoming a girl ...

I open the gate, and return to my car to drive inside.

The place had changed as much as I had ...

Only in the opposite direction.

While the place is like a ghost town, slowly returning to the grass it sits on, I went from being a wounded child struggling with their gender to a woman who is whole, and healed, and mostly healthy.

I drive up to the remains of the old house, and I smile at the good memories - my grandfather teaching me how to ride a horse, my grandmother making amazing meals, the wonderfully warm sense of being loved I had always gotten when I came here.

Both my grandparents are gone, but neither has a grave, so this place is probably as close to one as I can get. I know that if they can hear me at all, they could hear me in the city just as well, but some instinct brought me out here so I could say to them what I always wanted to say.

“Thank you, I love you both. I hope you’re looking down from heaven, and I hope you’re proud of the woman I became, even if I was a boy when I was here.”

“I wouldn’t be here without you, which you must know. You gave me a safe place to be while I tried to figure out who I was, and what I needed to do.”

“Goodbye.”

I get back in my car, drive to the gate, and let myself out.

I close the gate behind me, knowing I will never open it again, and I climb back in my car, but pause for one last look at my past.

“See you when my time comes...”

On the wind, I could almost hear a whispered reply.

“See you ...”

“Granddaughter...”

End.

Midnight Meeting

Every Halloween night, I put out candles for those who have passed on, and I remember how they impacted my life.

Especially the girl who would become my guardian angel, my cousin, Sara.

As I light the candle, I remember the last time I saw her - I was only five, she was almost seventeen, and in my eyes the most beautiful girl I knew. We were staying in my aunt and uncle’s house, which gave me many opportunities to watch her, hoping to learn the secret of her beauty, hoping to imitate it myself someday.

Which I might have been forgiven for more if I had not been a boy.

I struggled with incontinence, so I started to set my alarm to wake me up at around midnight so I could go to the bathroom and avoid peeing the bed, which is why I was up when she came home from a date.

After I did my business and was headed back to the room I had been given. I noticed she hadn’t closed her door yet, but was sitting on her bed pulling her hair out from the hairdo she must have had for the date.

Suddenly, I had a feeling that if I ever wanted to talk to anybody about what I was feeling, now might be the only chance I’d get.

I knocked on her door, and after exchanging some pleasantries I said, “I think something’s wrong with me, Sara. I look at you, and I’m so jealous of how pretty you are, and all I want is to be as pretty as you.”

“But you’re a boy?”

“Am I? I don’t feel like one. Or think like one, since I don’t know any boys who want to grow up to be pretty girls.”

“That sounds like something serious.”

“It is. I just don’t know what to do.”

She hugged me, and said, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to help you.”

I hugged her back, and said, “You just did. You listened, and didn’t freak out.”

“No freak-outs here. Just remember that boy or girl, you’re loved.”

She gave me a hug, and I went back to bed.

Back in the present, I stroked the side of the candle I had lit for her. Not long after that conversation, she graduated high school and went to the States to go to university. I would never see her again, and she died less than ten years afterward of cancer, so she never knew that one day I’d find the courage to let my girl self out, or that I would never forget the first person to ever accept me no matter what.

And she would never know I would always re-hear her words whenever I struggled,

“Boy or girl, you’re loved.”

End

The Mixed Tape Interview: Dorothy Colleen

Subject: Dorothy Colleen

Duration: 00.25.59

Date: 20/11/2014

00.08.03 - 00.20.32

For anyone who hasn't read your work, can you talk a little bit about the type of stories your write?

I don't really write any one "type" of story. I've written sci-fi, fantasy, real life, and autobiographical stories. I just go wherever my muse takes me. Either that, or I might be crazy (giggles)

What's the most useful piece of writing advice you've ever received?

Someone told me that the key to writing was to just keep writing. Write every day, never quit. And read. The more stories you read, the more lessons you can learn about writing. I only wish I could remember who it was who said that. (giggles)

What books have influenced you the most as a writer?

I grew up on Issac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, C.S. Lewis, and J.R.R. Tolkien. Of those four, I think Bradbury have the most influence on my writing. A lot of my stories seem to take place in the kind of small towns Bradbury liked to write about.

As for books I've read recently, I really like "The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever" Its the story of a writer who contracts leprosy, loses his family, is rejected by his town, and then suddenly finds himself travelling to another universe called "the Land" where magic works, and he is the reincarnation of their greatest hero, arriving at their darkest hour. He doesnt accept it, and calls himself "the unbeliever" and fights against his supposed destiny until he finds himself caring about the Land and its people. I've read it before, and some of the ideas in the story found their way into my story "Quest for the Silver Cleric".

You've written over 200 stories, what are your favorites?

My favorite stories? Gee, that's a little like asking which kid you like best. (Giggles). But "The Lucky One" was fun to do, I tried to make it as silly as I possibly could. "Rock Star Makeover" is my most popular story, so I'm pretty happy about how that turned out. I probably worked hardest on the "Vision Spring" stories, even if the last one didn't turn out as well as I would have hoped. "6:45" is the most personal story I've written that's not strictly autobiographical. The story is about a student who after a day of bullying, wishes everyone would go away. He wakes up to discover his wish has come true, and then he has to figure out why, and what makes him act the way he does. It actually surprised me how much of me slipped into that one. I honestly didn't even realize it until I saw a comment on the first chapter that described the character as "consumed by stress". I re-read the chapter, and had to agree, and also saw that you could have used that description for me at that age. Between my gender issues and my PTSD, I guess I had reasons to be stressed. (Giggles)

You've transitioned since you've started posting stories. How do you think the experience has changed you as a writer, and more importantly, as a person?

I discovered I was Trans… well, I knew something was strange when in elementary I couldn't figure out why they made me go to the boy side of the schoolyard. I fought against it, especially after my rape, and I only got more desperate after I became a Christian. It took me trying every possible way I could think of to "man up" before I surrendered to the possibility that I might actually be a girl. I'm stubborn like that. (giggles)

I started transitioning about 2 1/2 years ago when I first went out in public in a skirt, and discovered to my surprise nobody noticed. Since then, I came out to my family, found a job, started on hormones, and tried to work on my other issues. I have a consult for getting SRS coming up in March of next year, and so if they say yes, I could be having the surgery by this time next year, although I consider my odds of being accepted to be less than 50-50. Regardless, within two years, I hope to be as done as its possible for me to be.

I sometimes worry I won’t be able to write as much now that I am in transition. A lot of my early stories came out of the pain and confusion I was dealing with. With me having at least made a beginning on dealing with both issues, I worry I'll lose my creativity. Art often comes out of pain, they say. But so far, I've continued to produce stories, and my latest works seem to be just as well liked as my early stuff ... As for me as a person, I find transitioning to be a mixed experience. I am much more relaxed, but in some ways I am more vulnerable - without the male mask, I am more exposed …

What was the most unexpected part of transitioning?

The most unexpected part of transitioning has been how ... easy it has been. I assumed I would never be able to pass, never be able to find a job, never be accepted by my family. As it turned out, I was wrong on all counts. People have been incredibly generous and patient with me, I am very grateful for it.

You're religious. Can you talk about what role faith plays in your work and your life?

In my stories a lot of my characters end up being at least nominally Christian, although I try and avoid "preaching' in my writing. That said, I've written stories that take place in Heaven or Hell, so I guess my faith does seep in there sometimes (giggles).

In my personal life, my church runs something called an Affirm Committee, and I’m really involved with that. It’s not so much a support group as an attempt to make sure groups who are often made to feel unwelcome at church feel welcome. They've done lectures of racism, on the horrible treatment of aboriginal Canadians, and one on the odd tolerance of lesbians in Germany between World War One and World War Two.

My faith kinda fills two holes for me. - One is a need to believe I matter, that I have value greater than the status of "toy" that my rapist placed on me. The other hole is a need for justice - that just because he never went to jail for what he did to me doesn't mean he got away with it.

Aside for my faith another thing that has helped me a lot was going to the rape crisis center and taking counseling. Over the course of 24 sessions, I managed to learn a lot about how to process what happened to me. Its not "done" yet, I still have bad times, but I feel like I am moving in a positive direction.

What would you say to someone who is where you were five years ago?

If I could say something to someone who was where I was, I'd tell them to get help. And if the first place you look doesn't work, find another. And give yourself a break. Nobody asks for this condition, so try to be kind to yourself. And you never know, if you try, you might succeed in ways you never even imagined you could. And if they were really like me, they'd probably not believe me. (giggles)

*****