I Don't Think We're In Kansas Anymore

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I Don't Think We're in Kansas Anymore

 
by Lauren Renée
 
What happens when a post-op TS lesbian and her genetic lesbian lover run into trouble in Oklahoma while on a motorcycle trip.

 © 2003 by Lauren Renée Hotchkiss

Laurie's breasts pressed hard into Wendy's back in warm, comfortable vibration. She smiled dreamily, relishing the weight and feel of them. It was so wonderful to have real breasts at last and to have found a lover who didn't care that she used to be a man. The roar of the Harley's engine was loud, as dawn broke across the Midwestern countryside.

They were half-way through a trip up the Pacific coast, along the Canadian border, and down through the Dakotas, Nebraska, and Kansas. As soon as they hit the Oklahoma panhandle they would cut west along 105 and start heading back toward California.

They hardly looked like the grad students they were, with their leather jackets, Levis, motorcycle boots, and their hair tied back with bandannas, but, after all, Cal Berkeley had always been a haven for those of alternative lifestyles.

Still half-asleep, and half- hypnotized by the drone of the engine, Laurie began to fall into a reverie, once more thinking about her family in Ohio and how she could never tell them about what she had done, nor the nature of her relationship with Wendy, afraid they would never understand.

As they crossed the state line into Kansas, the endless miles of farm land that stretched out before them seemed to grow more lush.

Wendy began joking, bringing Laurie back to the present.

"No wonder Dorothy left, but why the hell did she ever want to come back."

This began a whole series of jokes, and pretty soon they were pointing out scarecrows in the cornfields to each other and making bets on which ones were alive.

"Auntie Em, Auntie Em, here comes a cyclone."

"I'll Auntie Em you my pretty."

They were laughing so hard that Wendy almost lost control of the bike.

The back tire was starting to sound funny. They knew it didn't have much tread left. They'd stopped at one gas station somewhere back in Nebraska, but the way the mechanic had leered at them, and the rude and suggestive remarks he'd made when he'd realized their relationship, made them decide to just keep going and get the hell out of the Midwest before they stopped. At least no one threatened them in the Bay Area.

As they crossed into Oklahoma, they began to see a change right away.

Despite their jokes, Kansas had been beautiful, in its own way, but Oklahoma.... Almost immediately the lush cornfields had given way to dry dusty prairie, dust that caught in their throats, ...and their spirits.

The joking stopped immediately.

They rode for the next couple of hours in silence till, in late afternoon, they heard the whine of a siren behind them. Looking back Laurie saw a patrol car coming up over the crest of a hill and bearing down on them.

Wendy pulled over to the side of the highway and stopped, waiting as the sheriff got out of his cruiser and came up beside them.

He wanted trouble. Laurie could feel his hostility as he approached the bike and circled it slowly, looking them over. They could both see that he was trying to find something he could bust them for, but as they hadn't been speeding, and Wendy's license and registration were in order, there was nothing he could hold them on. He stopped in front of the bike and spit a long stream of tobacco juice into the grass beside the road before pulling his pilot shades down his nose and fixing them with a glare that looked like something he’d learned in Intimidation Class at the police academy. At last he spoke to them.

"You know this back tire's almost gone. Ya'll'd better get it replaced."

“We will, sir, as soon as we can” Wendy replied, expressionlessly.

Almost regretfully he began walking back to his car, but just before he got in he called out to them.
"Take my advice, girls"–the way he'd said "girls" grated against both of them but neither of them dared say anything–"get out of Oklahoma quick, 'fore you get hurt. I don't want to see either of you again."

Not waiting for a response, though neither of them felt like saying anything anyway, he'd gotten into his cruiser, slammed the door, and pulled back onto the highway.

They stayed there awhile, still shaken, wanting to put some distance between them and the sheriff, but at last Wendy hit the ignition and they headed off again.

They rode for several hours, nervously looking back over their shoulders, peering up the highway in front of them, and at every billboard sign they passed, but they never saw the cop again.

It was near sunset when they heard the roar of a powerful engine behind them. Laurie turned around to see a Ford Bronco coming up fast. It was almost like a scene out of Easy Rider, with two rednecks in cowboy hats, beers in their hands; there was even a gun rack in the back window.

It was almost funny, but the laugh died in Laurie's throat as she saw the one in the passenger seat take down a rifle from that rack and aim it out the window at them.

She heard the crack of the rifle and looked at Wendy's reflection in the rearview mirror. She could tell by the look on her face and the way her body stiffened that she'd heard it too. "Toto, I don't thing we're in Kansas anymore," said Wendy. "Hang on."

Laurie braced herself, hugging her lover tighter, as Wendy cranked the bike to full throttle, trying to outrun them.

It happened so quickly, it was over before she realized it. With a loud bang the rear tire blew, whether from another bullet or just from age she didn’t know, and they began to skid out of control, swerving across the highway. Suddenly the bike was down on its side, sparks flying from the skid guard as it scraped across the pavement. Both of them were still astride the bike, hanging on to the upper side, trying to keep from flying off or getting caught between the pavement and the bike. Feeling a dull ache in her hand, Laurie looked down to see her glove pinned beneath the left rear shock, a trail of leather and blood streaming out behind her where the glove was being dragged across the concrete at 70 miles-per-hour.

As they slid onto the shoulder and hit the embankment of a creek that separated the highway from the bordering fields, Laurie was thrown from the bike and landed on the bank. Ahead of her she heard a loud splash, and the roar of the engine change to a shrill whine and suddenly grow still.

She must have fainted then. When she came to she looked down in horror at the almost surreal sight of her hand, shaking uncontrollably in shock, the glove ripped almost entirely to shreds, and what was left melded to the pulpy red tissue that was once her flesh. The skin of her knuckles was gone, the glistening white of bone showing through. Strangely, she didn’t feel any pain.

She looked at it like it was some kind of unclean, unholy thing, separate from herself, and then forgot all about it completely as she caught sight of Wendy’s still form nearby, pinned beneath the four-hundred-pound Harley.

Laurie got up quickly and ran over to where Wendy was lying. Blood was trickling from her mouth, and one eye was out of its socket, horribly swollen and distended, softly bubbling like hot tar. Her neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, but she was still conscious. Laurie knelt down beside her, and taking Wendy's hand, strangely cold, in hers, began to cry. Wendy looked up at her, slowly working her mouth, trying hard to say something, but no sound came. Laurie tried to make it out, to read the message forming on her lips, but she couldn’t. At last Wendy gave up. Giving Laurie’s hand a gentle squeeze, she looked into her eyes and smiled.

Out of nowhere the thought returned to Laurie, of how she wished that she and Wendy could have been married, would have been married if it were not for the repressive laws of a culture that was afraid of those who were in anyway ...different.

"Why can't people just leave us alone," she said, but she didn't get an answer. Wendy had closed her eyes.

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Kudos

I wanted to just hit the button, but that stupid error without logging in.
Well since I'm here, I like your story, but it makes me wanna stay out of Okie-ville.

Short and sour

From the bigoted sherriff to the ******* who can kill someone for sport, and with total impunity, this was enough to shake me from all the good feelings that I had today.

If you meant to shock me and shake me up, you succeeded.

S.

I Don't Think We're In Kansas Anymore

I'd like to see this story continue and see Laurie and Wendy get the justice they deserve

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Bigotry?

It would appear to me that the most bigotry being displayed here is by the writer. The only place something like this happens is in California. Specifically in Hollywood, on the studio backlots.

. . . .

Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until they speak.


I went outside once. The graphics weren' that great.

Bigotry

littlerocksilver's picture

Unfortunately, it happens in Arkansas, too. Also, it is sport to run down bikers, straight, gay, TG or otherwise. Now because of this horrid backlash, it's going to be even less safe.

Portia

Portia

corrections

I have been actively transitioning for 6 years and did 2 years previous research with multiple contacts within the US and Canada as well as points in the UK and Europe. Overall I estimate that I met WELL OVER 2000 PLUS transgenders world wide and many have been attacked and a very high number come from the US where TG rights are all but non-existant.

To say that 'this happens is in California. Specifically in Hollywood, on the studio backlots' is just setting yourself up for a VERY UGLY and (often) FATAL surprise. Bigotry against us is as abundant WORLD WIDE as sun in the Sahara desert. You say 'but I don't see it in the news'? Well no... you probably won't because most newscasters don't see the death of a transgendered person or the maiming of one as very important.

Denial is not a river in Egypt, my friend, it is a state of mind that you NEED to consider as a danger to yourself.

Christi_line_drawingcropped2.jpg
__-=Foxxe=-__

Explain Please

How did these alleged transphobes know that one of the two women on this motorcycle was transgendered? I've lived in Oklahoma most of my life and I've never seen any motorcyclists wearing any identifying marks saying "trans" or even gay or lesbian for that matter.

Nor have I ever seen any sign of organized or unorganized attacks on bikers, especially chosen at random. I have seen a skirmish or two between bikers, but these were members of organized biker gangs, ironically from California.

What we do have is a very large and thriving biker community all across the state. People from all walks of life ride motorcycles here, from "crotch rockets" to Gold Wings to fully dressed out Harleys. That group of guys climbing off the bikes on a hot western Oklahoma afternoon, looking badly in need of shaves and a bath just might include a district attorney or banker along with the blue collar factory workers and insurance saleswomen. They might even be out on a poker run to benifit BACA Nation - Bikers Against Child Abuse.

In short, the bigoted stereotypes portrayed in this story simply are not the norm here in Oklahoma. But if you want to talk about stupid, lets discuss a biker who rides hundreds of miles on a tire she knows is bad and only makes a token effort at getting it replaced. THAT is stupidity bordering on criminal.

. . . .

Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until they speak.


I went outside once. The graphics weren' that great.

No Explanation Needed

erin's picture

It's a story. No where in the story does it say that all of anything anywhere are any particular way. So attacking the story by saying the stereotypes inside are not the norm in Oklahoma is silly. They're not the norm anywhere but they do exist. It happens in Oklahoma because that made the title work.

I took the bigotry of the cop to be aimed at lesbians myself.

You're attacking the story for details that are irrelevant like your line about only happening in movies. That simply is not true, BTW. LGBT people are attacked every day and people who are assumed to be LGBT but aren't, are attacked every day, not just in Oklahoma or the US but pretty much worldwide.

That's what the story is about. Just because you haven't seen such behavior does not mean it does not exist.

This is a cautionary tale. It's saying, be careful out there. They, meaning people who hate are out to cause trouble for you, take care of yourself.

The tire is a literary device so that the author had a plausible way for the accident to happen without a direct murder, BTW; it too is irrelevant to the story's meaning and purpose.

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

What I'm saying

How did these people in the truck know the two were lesbians? Is it a case of "Look Billy, two women on a motorcycle, must be lesbians, lets have a little fun!". It could easily be written to make the encounter entirely plausable. I might not like it even then, but I could accept it. They stop for cold drinks and have a run-in with the guys in the truck, who then chase them down.

The cop, had he been looking for a reason to give them a ticket, had a perfectly valid reason - the bad tire. It would have been entirely legal for him to write them up for defective equipment and have the motorcycle impounded until repairs are made. Bam, that puts them in BF, Oklahoma on foot while the tire is ordered and installed. They have an encounter with the afore mentioned rednecks, etc, etc.

I remember the flack given Dimelza for one of her stories where a crossdressing motorcyclist loses his wig while stopping at a store, the second time that had happened to him. This story is far less plausable than that.

. . . .

Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until they speak.


I went outside once. The graphics weren' that great.

does it matter

kristina l s's picture

I could have a whinge at them riding a Harley. I mean that's so cliche, but somewhat plausible never the less. It's a cautionary tale, a what if. Narrow minded yokels abound. Hell I'm on the other end of the world and there's plenty here even if guns might be a little less prevalent. Stuff happens, people draw conclusions right or wrong and sometimes they act on them. Booze, cars, guns, machismo, whatever... sometimes women are just as bad.

A while back I posted a blog, that no one commented on or likely understood. Late one night I was about to write a story when I read a comment about suicide being cowardice. That angered me and the story instantly changed and became an answer to that comment and I posted it. No names and like I said I doubt anyone got the reasoning. so it goes.

Inspiration or maybe motivation comes from all over. The corn might be as high as an elephants whatsis but in this case...

Kristina

Changing complaint

erin's picture

Which is it, bigotry or plausibility?

You've changed what you're complaining about. The story is short and to the point, all of your suggested changes would make for a much longer story. Telegraphic encounters in short stories are the rule, details are left out or glossed over to move the action toward the plot points.

No need to continue answering your objections, you don't like the story. It's as simple as that. It's impossible to answer any and all complaints when the menu changes.

Hugs,
Erin

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

Oh

I have relatives in Oklahoma, my mom was born there. When the two crossed into Oklahoma I thought something different from Kansas, because the two states are different.

I wish I could tell you Lauren that you're full of it. But you're not. These days your story would be the exception rather than the rule.

When they shot at the two girls Something just left me. The scene in the creek was far to real for me, an ex cop. I'm leaving you a Kudo, because it is a good story. It took all the goodness and sucked it out of my universe. I wish I could say I enjoyed it, but I didn't. It was far too real for that. I wish I could say there are no cops like that, I can Thank God they are becoming fewer.

I need a hug,
Beth

hugs

Consider yourself hugged... by an ex-street person (not to be confused by the silly TV version)

Christi_line_drawingcropped2.jpg
__-=Foxxe=-__

ah shit

kristina l s's picture

Was it a TG thing or a lesbian thing? Possibly neither, just a couple of girls on a bike, fair game. An accident, yeah. I think I'm back to my comment title.

Kristina

Oklahoma! (with apologies to Rogers and Hammerstein)

Andrea Lena's picture

Oklahoma, just keep in mind it's not the only place
Jersey, Texas too, oh anywho
No matter where it's such a big disgray-ace!
California and in places like New England, too!
In Iraq and Chad, it's more than bad
Oh golly gee, oh what are we to do?

We know that it isn't the land
Cause even my brothers would reject me out of hand...
So I beseech
I never meant to preach
I'm only sayin'
I'm out luck in Oklahoma!
But everywhere else as well, Oh Fuck!



Dio vi benedica tutti
Con grande amore e di affetto
Andrea Lena

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

It Could Happen

I liked the story . . . a lot. It was simply a slice of life. Well-written.

Who knows how the people with the rifle knew, what they knew, or if they knew. Maybe they imagined something, saw a CA license plate, saw two women on a bike and instantly "knew' they were lesbians. Laurie's belief that it was a hate attack tells me a lot. Could be the Sheriff thought it over and sent some of his friends. It doesn't matter because what she thought is what matters.

One time in the late sixties I was hitchhiking across No Dak and accepted a ride on a motorcycle. It was a cold bitter day and after forty miles I took a ride in a car when offered at a rest stop. Thank God I did because the bike's rear tire blew about ten miles down the road. The cyclist had gotten it under control and safely stopped the bike, but had I been on the back, I don't think it would have been good. This story brought back those memories and I wish they'd have stayed in the sixties.

I'm sure Oklahoma is a nice place for a lot of people. Minnesota is a nice place, yet I'm also sure a transgendered person could easily get killed under the wrong circumstances. There's a lot of hate in the world.

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

BINGO, Angela

I could not have said it better.

Great bittersweet/tragic tale BTW.

John in Wauwatosa

John in Wauwatosa

Exactly!

Quit looking at it as aninsult to Oklahoma! This stuff happens everywhere! I have heard of gangs of kids from Notre Dame that sat outside of a South Bend, IN. gay bar and beat up anyone who came out. For fun! We recently had a young man walk out of a downtown bar in Grand Rapids, MI. He was attacked, beaten and killed by 6 men. His crime? He looked gay, according to one of his assailants. These incidents ae under reported, partly on he basis that they "asked for it".
It happens everywhere. If you think it can't happen in your area, you are making yourself a taget, plain and simple.

Wren

I also agree with Angela. I

I also agree with Angela. I also ride a Harley and have been riding Hondas, Suzukis, BSA's, Triumphs and Harleys ever since I was old enough to do so...my GG sister has too...long before the lawyers, doctors and actors decided owning a bike was cool and became "bikers". :p :D I've experienced some people's prejudice against motorcyclists as well as others who consider you no more than just a regular person who happens to ride a bike. I would never ride on a bad tire, but someone else might.

A cop in the midwest pulled me over once, and I got all on edge, expecting him to give me a bad time.... turned out he was very nice and just wanted to point out my taillight was out and I should get it replaced, which I did. Another time, another cop was an ultra a***ole to me. Same area. There are good and bad people anywhere you go.

The story is also about...

...Paranoia.
It's natural for such a couple in a heterosexist world to think they're out to get you, even when they're maybe not.
The cop was lenient in spite of his attitude, which itself may have been more inferred that actual.
How does one get a clear view of people in a truck and what they're doing, when they're behind ya and yer riding pillion? Could have been a paranoid mistake and the storyteller makes they point the tyre might have just blown, might have been a bullet ... might not.
Most things in the story are open ended except that two people who love each other but have a reason to have some fear, start having that fear in a place they don't know, with people they don't know around them.
As for the rest, it'd quite fuzzy.

I didn't like the story - I got squeamish after the knuckles and the eyeball - but it was very readable and held my interest and got me starting up Google Earth - does the landscape really change that dramatically at the border?

Keep em coming. Controversy is good for the mind!

XX
AD

Dykes in AZ

I think it was 1995 when Kim and I joined a womyn's motorcycle club. They asked us if we were wymin and we said "yes", of course, but some were skeptical. The president said, "Look, they said they're wimyn and I'll take them at their word. They can ride with us and if they act like wimyn everything will be cool." That was quite nice of her; I've had worse from other lesbians.

In relation to this story, we were surprised that most of the wimyn had pistols in holsters on their hips. Several had been run off the road by rednecks in pick-up trucks. Showing that they had guns kept assholes from endangering them. The next ride, Kim and I had on our pistols, too.

Hugs and Bright Blessings,
Renee

Hugs and Bright Blessings,
Renee