Both Sides of the Fire Line by Scopa Bobbie;

Author:Scopa, Bobbie;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chicago Review Press
Published: 2022-05-27T06:03:27+00:00

9

THE DANCE

AFTER MY DIVORCE, I FELT like I had been set adrift. I remember thinking about herd animals and how, when one of them is sick, they get left behind by the herd.

I felt like I had lost my herd.

My mom and dad were coming from their religious Italian beliefs and fears, telling me that if I didn’t repent, I’d be going to hell. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to repent about. I had not invented my gender issues. My wife had kicked me out of the house and divorced me. My brothers thought I had torn my family apart for selfish reasons and that I was just confused about who I was. One of my brothers allowed me to live in his home for a couple months while I was getting back on my feet. It was really his wife that insisted that I come stay with them: I lived in their home, but he was never nice to me. It was very uncomfortable, but to his credit he didn’t say no, and for that I will always be grateful.

I did have some family who remained my faithful friends. A few cousins and two aunts. Both of my aunts were also from the “old country” and were loving and kind to me. They, too, became like surrogate moms. When my aunt learned about my recent divorce and the breakup of my family, she told my cousin, “There isn’t another woman; it’s because Bobbie is a woman.”

My cousin had never seen it herself. But my elderly aunt from Italy had seen through my disguise for years and understood. It’s funny how some people knew—maybe always knew—while others didn’t.

I purposely distanced myself from many of my friends. I was embarrassed. And I was still living in limbo between being a man and being a woman. I think many people feel uncomfortable when they can’t put a person into one of two genders. We have a need to categorize people. When a person can’t easily be categorized, it makes those around them uncomfortable. I don’t know that to be scientifically accurate, but it’s what I’ve observed. The only thing I’m an expert on is me.

Six months after my divorce was final, I was still going to therapy. I had to talk to someone. My world had collapsed, and I was still struggling with what my future might look like. Should I even have a future? In my mind, taking action to short-circuit and end my life was still on the table. I desperately missed my children. I missed my ex, but it was my kids that I longed for. But they were gone. It seemed so final. Even if I prayed and hoped to be back in their lives, it wasn’t going to happen.

Once I was divorced, I stopped worrying about trying to pass as a man. I stopped making any effort to look “masculine.” I didn’t care anymore. Who was I trying to be a man for now? I began taking time with my hair, makeup, and nails.

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