These awards are a way for us all to say thank you to the individuals who go beyond the call of duty in their efforts for our members and for Alpha Omega Society as a whole. On the ballot below list three Alpha Omega Society members who you feel have demonstrated outstanding dedication and support to the success of our group through their service in this past year.

Ballots must be turned in by the November Alpha Omega Society meeting. Paper ballots will be available at the November meeting for those attending. Ballots may also be emailed to my attention as Chairperson of the Christmas Party Committee.

Please take the time to vote for those individuals you feel deserve to be honored this year.

Respectfully,

It had been quite an experience to go from being a boy trying on a bra for a moment to discovering the girl I could be, and then leading a double life. For years all George had done was wear feminine things now and then because he was just inexplicably drawn to them. Then, in one brief day, everything just happened and life got really complicated. There was no warning. There was no plan for something to happen. One piece of clothing led to another, until all of a sudden I was standing there full grown.

George had many times thought about what it might be like to dress completely as a girl in things that fit him. But he had never really considered that it could or would happen. And I know seeing me in the dresser mirror scared him just as much as it did me. As soon as I saw my full image in that mirror, all logic went out the window. What at most had been random thoughts became, at that moment, a new reality. As life moved on for George, times were few and far between that I could even have a moment to feel alive again. And even if times were available, George would fight not to let them happen because he was afraid.

In ways I understood his fear. I was real now, and in many ways my being added to his own insecurity of who he was. George had always felt out of place as a boy. I, however, did not feel that way as a girl. Though it had scared me to all of a sudden come to life, that fear was soon diminished, and I did feel good, and right, and more complete than George had ever felt about himself. I understood that my being and needing to feel alive added more fuel to George’s fear of his secret being discovered. I was his secret now. If I wore something, and it was found out; it would be George who would have to face the blame. There was no way he could ever hope to explain about me. All anyone else would see and know was George wearing girls’ things, with him having to face the shame of that, as he had at times before. Life was not fair to either of us.

George and I battled many times. At moments I was that voice in the back of his mind. Other times I was stronger than him and would wear something. There were even times when I was so strong in presence that it was me who was there, even if the rest of the world only saw George. George and I were at war quite often.

It was about a year after I had come to life that Ma was again in the hospital for an extended time, and once more George took on the home duties. I just could not let that time pass, so one morning Dad went to work, and George got his brothers off to school. I was already prepared. Though I had grown some in a year’s time, my bra, girdle, stockings, and slip were still a wonderful fit as I put them on. And even my black heels felt so good to walk in once more. It felt wonderful to see and feel my whole feminine body again.

In school, George had to wear gym shorts for his physical education classes, and once more some of the boys made fun of his "girl’s legs". To a point, that was now funny, at least to me. If those same boys were to see me in stockings and heels, as a girl, I knew that they would have a totally different opinion of my "girl’s" legs. Even my figure seemed fuller and shapelier, and I loved it. Body hair and beard were still not a problem yet. My black dress and the Capri pants were gone, but now I found other blouses and tops that did fit as I went through Ma’s closet. I also found new treasures. Ma had gotten a couple new nightgowns. One was short and one was long. The short nightgown was blue in color, and the long nightgown was black with lots of lace on it.

I took off my slip, and added my jewelry and lipstick. George’s short hair was still a problem, so I did my best not to focus on it. I put on the nightgowns and looked at myself in the dresser mirror wearing them. They were so beautiful and so feminine. As I looked at myself a new thought came to my mind. I looked and felt "sexy" in them, especiall6y the long black gown that was very flattering to my figure. The soft material felt so good on my body as I walked around. I dreamed I was a beautiful actress or model that was wearing it.

It didn’t matter to me that I might have looked totally ridiculous doing dishes or vacuuming in my nightgown. All that mattered was that I was alive and complete again, and it was wonderful. Taking a break, I sat on the living room couch and watched some television. The program on was a daytime showing of the Dick Van Dyke Show. As I watched I found a character that was to be my role model for some time. The actress was Mary Tyler Moore, and her character was Laura Petrie. She was beautiful to me, and feminine, and sexy, and everything I wanted to be. I wanted to be in her things so much. I began to think of myself as Laura, and it felt good to feel that I had a name and identity for the woman I was.

Over the next three weeks I missed five more days of school so I could live as Laura, and I didn’t care if George liked it or not. I found more clothes to wear, but always spent some time in one of my nightgowns. It was crazy, I knew, but I even began to fantasize about being with someone who could and would accept me as Laura. There just didn’t seem to be any fairness to the double life I had to lead. Girls got to wear pretty clothes, pretty shoes, nice jewelry and make up. Girls got to have long, pretty hair. Girls weren’t made fun of or ridiculed for being sensitive or gentle, and didn’t have to be athletic.

Something else had happened by this time. George had for the most part stopped growing in height and was now the shortest boy in his class. Also, George was still laughed at by other boys and some girls, as being a "goofy" looking boy, and his "girls’ legs" were a point of shame to him. But I could see myself in the mirror as a girl. My height was fine as a girl, and I was not "goofy" looking. I knew that my body, my figure, and my legs were as pretty as any girl or woman that George knew, and even better than some.

I could put on and wear a bra, stockings, a dress, high heels, and lipstick just as well as any other girl or woman. Being a rough and tumble boy was not at all easy for George to even try to do. Being feminine seemed as natural to me as I could know, and felt so right. Part of me hated that George even existed. Part of George hated me for that same reason. That was the irony of the whole situation that was so hard to live with. George had to exist, whether I wanted him to or not. He was the reality that the rest of the world saw. There was no way that George, a thirteen year old boy, could tell his parents, or anyone else, that there was another reality that was me. I knew that, too, and hated it. I savored every minute I could be Laura, the girl I was, every chance I could. Ma came home from the hospital, and as they say, life returned to normal.

For those of you who haven’t seen a VJM show, they work around a central theme, generally expressed a double entendre. Last year was "Under a Big Top". Roberson presents songs both original and covers, patter and dance as part of the show. Roberson manages costume changes by interspersing videos. The opening video this year was "Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places." Varla, it appears had succumbed to the urge to get married. My favorite shot was in front a of Bush-Cheney campaign headquarters. In a nod to Varla’s apparent growing popularity in the lesbian community there was a cover of an old country-western song Patsy Cline’s "She’s Got You," in which Varla recalls an early affair with her FedExÔ delivery woman., before she discovered she really liked boys.

Gifted with an amazing voice, Roberson actually sang the famous "Un bel di" aria from Puccini’s "Madama Butterfly" in one number, before segueing into a medley done in pseudo Japanese Pop style. Hidden on the back of her kimono was a baby ventriloquist’s doll. I couldn’t make out a word here as the rapping was too fast (this from a performer who has also done "Why can’t rappers teach their kids to speak," a take off on a song from "My Fair Lady").

One of the tensions in the show is the extent to which Varla stays a self-mocking drag character and the moments when Varla is simply a talented and entertaining woman. Drag performances often feature something that I respond to as sublimated self-hatred, and I find that self-denigration one of the most tedious parts of a drag show. I thought those were minimized this year. One of the numbers in the show, a song about the urban legend of kidney stealers, didn’t have anything to do with drag.

Roberson remains a talented performer with many gifts. But I detect a drift away from the conventions of drag, as perhaps Roberson senses what works with an increasingly broad-based audience.

Diane S. Frank is an Alpha Omega Society member, officer, culture maven and prolific writer.

Diane Frank reviews the recent Cleveland performance

Besides seeing Varla Jean at Cleveland Public Theatre, the next night I was in the neighborhood again. There was a theatre outing from my Temple (Chevrei Tikva) to see "A Bright Room Called Day" by Tony Kushner, better known for "Angels in America". We'd seen a bit of Angels presented a few years back by a college group, and I thought it might be interesting to see. A few of us gathered for dinner at Bela's Four Seasons, which is right across the street from Designs by Victoria at Detroit and 58th. The food was good, the company convivial and we weren't out of place given the number of tables filled by groups of men from the gay community. I didn't directly ask if it was a safe place, but I don't think there's any problem. It's nice to have a less expensive alternative to Snickers.

There were a number of things that impressed me on the positive side about "A Bright Room Called Day". The acting was excellent. The set design was truly dizzying. Front stage center was a writing desk inhabited by an androgynous character who presumably voiced the authors thoughts about the gloomy events taking place on stage, at the brink of the Nazification of Germany. To the rear, steeply raked, a sliver of stage ran from the audiences right down to the left, leaving dark the right half of the stage. All the action in the first act took place in these two locations. I say all the action in the first act because despite the imaginative set design and the great acting we all agreed that Kushner's play was just to preachy, too talky and the subject matter more gruesome than we wanted to contemplate with our own election coming up. Besides, I found that my brain just wasn't wired to look at that fun-house stage and I had a splitting headache.

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This last weekend could have been terrifically busy. I've needed to drop in on Transfamily, but I had to work late that Thursday night.

Friday evening was Shabbat services as usual. Saturday, I thought I might have to visit a group that already uses the facilities we might move to in January...but it turns out they're cool with us sight unseen. Sunday was a real treat. My friend Lyz B., has adopted a baby girl from Guatemala. Lyz, who I first met a few years back when she included me as a member of a panel at the Cleveland International Film Festival will I hope, be our March Speaker (Gender Representation in Art). She had a welcoming party for the baby, which I was delighted to attend. Besides a wonderfully eclectic and diverse group of family, friends and neighbors, there was this wonderfully charming baby. I was greatly pleased to spend some time with her, and give her bottle, and watch her big, deep curious brown eyes, seeking so avidly through the room.

Still the experience was a reminder that it isn't always easy to be out and about. Not because I got a fisheye from anyone, even the watchful grandmother who might have been a wee bit skeptical of my baby handling skills (relax, I've had two of my own!), but because there are the places in normal conversation where I tend to get a bit vague. When you are talking about where you live and where you work, and you aren't out at work you really don't want to tell people something they have to remember not to share. But I also feel a bit silly being so vague when people are only asking normal questions. And it was a bit strange meeting people who live only blocks from me and being that vague. But really, those are my issues, not theirs and it was a perfectly wonderful afternoon.

To finish off the day, just when I arrived back home, I got a phone call from two of my friends from temple, wondering if I wanted to join them for dinner. Which I did, and we did, and had an interesting discussion with a third woman about her difficulties with her aging mother as well as some good Chinese food at Sun-Luck Garden on S. Taylor in Cleveland Heights.

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Where were the shows that compelled boys to express their feelings or do anything else considered feminine? Guys haven't had many role models who weren't geysers of testosterone.

My friends have told me on several occasions of boyfriends breaking down and sobbing like babies when they broke up with them. Tears, wailing, snot coming out the nose, the works. This is proof that most of you men aren't unfeeling fat heads; you have just been suppressing your sensitive side. I think it's time to let it out.

The Market Place-Howland

5000 East Market Street

Warren, OH 44484

(330) 856-9633

Hours M-F 10-5; Saturday 11-4

Closed Sunday

I learned at my first meeting that there is nothing to fear, but fear itself. I thought I'd laugh. But I didn't! I found a group of caring individuals most endearing. I saw couples that really loved each other and accepted each other for what they are, inside and out. I found a place that I could be comfortable and that would hear my fears, my hopes and dreams

They come in all shapes and sizes. They too, come with their own hopes and dreams. To be accepted by others for themselves. Cut and dried. They just wanna be themselves.

Some walk their journey alone. They may be alone, but they're brave! How many places can you go to and leave with a sense of wow? There they are, trying their darnnedest to be looking like a woman! And how amazed I was, and still am, at how darn good they can pull it off! But what's it's really about, is what's inside - not how they look.

I recently told a friend that I used to want to lead a very vanilla life. I wanted to sit in the back of the classroom, with my head down, and be unnoticed. I wanted smooth! But life doesn't hand you smooth all the time.

I found that if they're not scared, so why should I be? Since the beginning of my days with Alpha Omega, I've come into my own. I've learned to stand up for myself and for what I think is right and not to be ashamed of it. I have a voice and I’m gonna use it. And I do! That's very empowering.

Respect. It's all about respect. I respect them for sharing that part of their life with me, just another person in this world, and they respect me. Doesn't get much better than that!

I like what our group stands for. I like being able to go to a safe place with no fears of having our private lives outted.

I love that the group respects the wives and their feelings. And when it's all said and done, we've found lifelong friends.

If you’re looking for a safe place to go and your wife is afraid of what she'll find, tell her to fear no more. Seek and you shall find. That's exactly what we did and I’m so glad!

Sincerely, Sherry

(Just another one of the girls!)