New Beginnings
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I did not think through my coming-out ceremony before I wrote out invitations. It simply seemed appropriate to have a ceremony of some kind. Humans do rituals. Anthropologists study them. I even did a little reading on the gift economies, but that was not really the way I was pointed. I leaned toward giving thanks to those who had paved my way. The gifts would be tokens of appreciation.
Since I did not plan things, there were a few kinks that would have been avoidable. Marbury Hall was the building that I lived in. I was vaguely thinking of having it in the common room. It quickly became clear that I needed more space. Dr. Krelinov suggested a meeting room or auditorium. As Dean, he could reserve one, though I was surprised he wanted to. I also considered using the all-faith chapel. In the end, I rented the meeting room at a family steak house. They even provided tea, coffee and cheap cookies.
I borrowed a mannequin and dressed it in my ratty jeans and a favorite Clash concert shirt. Underneath I taped nipple rings, with a bell hanging out through a tear in the shirt fabric. On the floor I placed my Army boots. Next to this I set a picture of me wearing it all. That was as close as I wanted to come to any of it. Funny how that works. Images can be powerful, but change is more powerful.
Elspeth helped by pulling the corset tight. Sheila found the clamp reassuring. I could not say the same, but it did something for me. My suit intentionally mimicked the colors of the jeans and T-shirt. The heels, not so much. I was set, so I needed to wait for my cue.
And wait.
And wait.
We had a projector and screen set up. During the entry period, it was set to cycle through images of me with friends and colleagues. Elspeth greeted everyone while I fidgeted. I thought of all the people I had invited. Would they be disappointed? I wanted everyone to have something iconic, but how many iconic things did I own? Maybe money would work. If it's what you have, then...
Elspeth raised her voice to say, " ... Doctor Siobhan Richards." Showtime.
I turned the corner to enter the room. What had been a quiet buzz of conversation stilled abruptly. I was glad I was in a tight-laced corset, because it forced me to keep breathing. I had prepared some remarks, but they went out the window.
Instead, I said, "When I first saw this version of me in a mirror, I asked Sheila why? She told me I was not pretty. Before I could protest that this explained nothing, she added, 'Think it through, Doctor.'" No one laughed, but there were several winces. As quiet rebukes go, Sheila's was major league. There were several people in the room who could truly appreciate it. Almost everyone could follow the reasoning behind her directive. I gave them a moment, then went on.
"You have all seen images of Sheila in the Irish sod green dress and white lace cover. You have likely seen her on the dance floor. With that as an example, how could I aspire to less than this?" I waved a hand at myself and shut the fuck up.
I let them think...
... for a while.
It was a lot to follow, but Dartmouth does not employ buffoons or hand out degrees like candy. When eyes started to widen and heads started to nod, I knew my evening was a success. Sean says, never overplay the hand. I only needed to tie a bow on things.
I said, "I asked you here tonight so I could pay tribute to what has gone before. As much as the future may be different from the past, the past is the foundation. Dr. Lancaster..."
Emilia Lancaster was Dean of Women's Studies and one of my supporters. Her head jerked when I called her name. I went to the mannequin and extracted the bell from below the T-shirt. I handed it to her with the promise of two images. Dr. Lancaster bowed her head in acknowledgment.
Things went quickly. I gave the ratty pants and torn T-shirt to the heads of the Gay, Lesbian and Transgender Society and CGSE, along with the two nipple rings. Several items of no longer worn body jewelry went to my teaching aides, the newsletter, supportive faculty and Triangle House. That left Drs. Krelinov, Steele and my nine wedding assistants. I started with the Dean.
"Dr. Krelinov, my gift to you is intangible. A collection of family documents is coming to the library and history departments. To the extent that goodwill accrues to me, I assign it to the department and its projects. Dr. Steele, as my taskmaster, I bring you work." I raised a document box. "These are the raw notes and early commentary from two summers in Boston. Take them in trust for all the social sciences." There was appreciative murmur to that one.
"There are nine more. You know who you are. Please come forward."
My nine assistants for the wedding came up. To seven I gave rings I removed from my ears. To Evaine, I gave the eyebrow stud. For Elspeth, I had worn the large nose ring. If Veronica could do it, so could I. Everyone accepted their small token, Elspeth with wide eyes. One thing left to do.
"Everyone, I ask you to bear witness." Eight of my assistants stood at my sides. Elspeth opened a small box. From it I removed a pair of ruby studs. I continued, "These studs are a family heirloom. They represent the past, but also continuity. They have endured for generations already." I placed one stud in my left ear. "They also represent my place within my family. This I acknowledge, for myself and for generations to come." I placed the second stud in my right ear. "I present myself to the future. You are my witnesses. Thank you." There was generous applause.
I honestly had no idea what to expect. I initiated the evening because I had debts to pay. As an eyesore, many persons and institutions had defended me and supported my position through the years. I hoped my tribute repaid them in some way. If nothing else, I hoped they would not feel betrayed by my unfamiliar visage. Judging from the faces and comments, I had succeeded at least in part.
Above that, I received appreciation for making the gesture. Many people called it moving. Several offered congratulations on my statement of responsibility. This was common among the most senior faculty present. I asked everyone to sign my guestbook and promised a commemorative image via email. The Dean of History chided me for giving Dr. Krelinov too big a stick.
The line was almost done when Morgan Robertson came forward with a guest. Senator Robertson was wearing her political hat openly, so her guest was either another politician or a potential donor. She did not keep me in the dark.
She said, "Jo, that was lovely. Had I not seen the pictures, I would have trouble believing it. It had to have caused you trouble, which I suppose is the point to the gathering. It went well I think. But, I did come to talk shop.
"Allow me to introduce Marc Brunner of Sylvania. He represents one of New Hampshire's leading employers. Their headquarters are overseas, so the Beacon Light project is of interest to them. Since you seem to spearhead the startup fundraising, I brought him to meet you."
Mr. Brunner said, "I am glad she did. Most impressive. Such transformation is worthy of Kafka though I do not see you as a, ah, what is the word?"
Morgan and I chorused, "Cockroach." We did not burst out laughing, but it was a near thing for me. Germans take Kafka's Die Verwandlung very seriously. Usually translated as The Metamorphosis, it is the story of a man turning into a giant bug and dying. Herr Brunner, seeming to realize his reference could be easily misconstrued, became embarrassed.
He spluttered, "Frau Doktor, please do not offense take. Die Transformation ist sehr beeindruckend. Most impressive is..." I held up my hand.
I said, "Herr Brunner, be at ease. I take no offense. What you said is almost exactly what Herr Karl said a few days ago. In fact, my fiancé calls me Frau Doktor. What did you wish to discuss?" He was not ready to go there.
Jo
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