So, Thanksgiving weekend is officially over. I am watching the last of the long, long string of football games that have been airing seemingly nonstop since Thanksgiving Day. I have to say that all this football makes me very, very happy. Especially since the college and NFL seasons are winding down.
Thanksgiving has always meant football to me. This year I have watched a ton and even played some with my son and nieces (and 2 year old nephew who loves football almost as much as I do!). Both my favorite teams won (UT and the Cowboys) so that added a little more happy to my happy Thanksgiving. But enough (or maybe too much already) about football. What I really wanted to write about is dominoes.
Though those "bones" have had a regular part of our family gatherings for years, I don't mean the little white rectangles, littered with black dots. I mean the conceptual dominoes. I mean the dominoes we spend our whole lives setting up into neat little rows, creating cognitive patterns and perceptual designs. These beautiful shapes seem so orderly, so perfect. That is, until something or someone comes along and tips just one. Then, that one clanks into the next and it is all "downhill" from there. Every single domino is in danger and when gravity has had its way, there is little more than a pile of bones, scattered in a mess that vaguely resembles the once orderly and perfectly planned and meticulously laid out designs.
When I was a kid, one of my very favorite gifts I ever got was a Domino Rally. This was a set of dominoes and "tricks" (like a pulley activated by a domino tapping a string, freeing the weighted end to pull down the gizmo that eventually sent a marble rolling down a tube to start the other set of dominoes falling). I spent HOURS setting up the rows of dominoes, tinkering with the tricks, spreading my game out all over the house. I remember how beautiful it was when you got it all set up, called everyone one in to witness your genius and with one flick of the finger tip, set it all in motion. Everyone gasped and cheered as the steady click, click, click of dominoes falling one after the other created a hypnotizing visual effect.
But I also remember how frustrating it was when, while I was hard at working setting up elaborate schemes, a domino would rebel and fall without prompting or because I sneezed or dropped a marble or the cat was curious. I remember the desperate feeling of trying to get ahead of gravity and stop the perpetual, premature destruction of my masterpiece. I remember feeling so mad that all the time I had spent setting it up, was gone, and now I just had to start over, setting up the dominoes one by one.
Over the last 7 months I and my transition have been the sneeze, the dropped marble, the curious cat that has sent many a family member, friend and potential date into desperate panic, trying to get ahead of the click, click, click. Most people have a whole room full of dominoes set up around gender, sexuality and how they relate to others around these issues. Our society has created a seemingly "secure" environment in which to say this person is my "sister", "daughter", "girlfriend" etc. But when that person recognizes, and asks others to recognize that their gender does not match with their body, and therefore they are now a "brother", "son" or "boyfriend" the dominoes begin to fall, and scatter, and lose their shape.
Given this is my life, my reality, the truth as I see it, all this gender shifting and bending just seems normal to me. It just seems like it should be obvious to everyone. I have noticed that those who have had the hardest time with it are those who have spent the least amount of time with me over the last five years or so. And even more so over the past year.
The girl I went on a couple of dates with was caught completely off guard by my disclosure and told me she didn't feel comfortable being in a romantic relationship "with a woman." This stung but was almost laughable to me. All I could do was shrug my shoulders and say, "She just doesn't get it." It told me she wasn't able to listen, process or accept what I was telling her. It told me she likely hadn't read the blog at all. It told me her dominoes had been set in cement.
I can't blame her for that. Dominoes in cement are way less frustrating, way less scary, way safer. The only trouble is, that if you set your dominoes in cement, even YOU can't knock 'em down when you are ready. And if you ask me, even as cool as it looks for the dominoes to be all set up in rows, the real beauty lies in the dynamic motion of their falling, the glorious click, click, click of continuous motion up, down, in spirals and through obstacles.
Some of my friends and family have said that they feel a great loss. That they mourn a death of sorts of who I was. Especially those who don't have a chance to know me now, to spend time with me and starting setting the dominoes of our relationship back up again. Some people have set them back up. Some people have seen a way to set them back up in an almost identical pattern as before, maybe with just different colored dominoes. Others have scrapped the old patterns and started fresh.
I know the frustration of someone or something coming along and rendering all your work useless, especially unexpectedly or when you thought you were done with that project. I know the confusion of asking yourself: what now? is it worth starting over? how do I know as soon as I get them all set up again something won't just knock 'em over?
Each person in my life will have to answer those questions for themselves, just like I did. Believe me, 7 months ago I was standing there in a puddle of my own tears and a cloud of my own frustration asking the same questions. But I didn't have a choice, really. I HAD to pick up the dominoes and start again. But the people in my life DO have a choice. They can have their dominoes in cement. OR, through thought, questions and interactions with me risk that the dominoes will topple. And for those whom my transition has more or less created an earthquake under their display, they can choose to start over and set 'em up again. The pattern, the response is up to them.
As for me, despite the frustration of the inevitable act of gravity, I am choosing to set em up, one by one with the hope that when they fall, I'll learn something. Hopefully, I will learn to enjoy the click, click, click even when it happens when I didn't mean for it to, in a way I never intended. Even when it's an earthquake I never expected.
So... dominoes, anyone?
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