I Am J

by Cris Beam

  “I thought…” Carolina started. “I thought… I just thought if you went away for a while, I could have more time. To think. I just needed more time. It wasn’t going to be forever.”

  “You used me!” J felt his voice straining, and he lowered his tone to a growl. “You let me think he hated me.”

  “He would have, J, I promise you. What did he say to you in there?”

  He said I was disgusting. But he might not have thrown me out. J was silent.

  His mother started crying again. “J, at Melissa’s you could be yourself—you could grow the way you needed to grow. And that’s what happened, right?”

  J considered this, but he didn’t want to give his mother the benefit of a nod.

  “At home I couldn’t have provided that for you.” Carolina was speaking so softly, J could barely make out the words. “Sometimes we can’t do everything we want to for our children.”

  “So sometimes you lie to them?”

  Carolina wiped her nose on her glove and stood up. J hadn’t realized how much shorter she was; could he have grown in just a few months? “I thought if I had more time, you’d have a better family to come home to.”

  So all this time it wasn’t even about me, J thought, backing away a few inches. It was about you and your fears of what he’d think—of you and how you’ve raised me. J hadn’t considered his parents’ marriage too deeply before, the way his father was gone so much, the way Carolina backed away from arguments like a wounded animal but then instigated them, too, with little pecks and insults, tossed from a room away. He knew that his dad thought Carolina coddled J; was she afraid Manny would blame her for J’s being trans? Was it his fault that his parents were too afraid to face their own problems to take on his? Am I braver than you both?

  “J, what are you thinking?” Carolina asked, stepping in to bridge the gap he’d created between them. “I was going to tell him; I really was. But then, well, a lot of time passed. And—we just do the best we can.”

  J was thinking about getting home to Melissa, about how Karyn had probably consulted all her psychology textbooks on cutting or called her shrink friends to get the name of a good doctor. Melissa would need him now.

  “I’m sorry, m’i—” Carolina paused. “M’ijo. I love you.”

  J could tell she wanted to hug him, but he didn’t move. The strands of the conversation were starting to fray: His mother loved him and lied; his father hadn’t hated him but wasn’t accepting, either. Everybody had their problems. All he really knew was that his life was no longer a secret and no longer anyone else’s to control.

  He reached for his mother’s hand and gave it a single squeeze. “Go back inside,” he said quietly. “Pops has probably fallen asleep in there.” And he turned to walk toward the train.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

  It was spring, no doubt about it. Crocuses were up in the park, and the pretzel stands had started selling ice creams. J could only justify triple-shirting for a few weeks more; pretty soon he’d be down to a tank and a tee. But Zak’s hand-me-down chest binder had stopped chafing so much, and J’s arms were already looking bigger, so maybe this summer wouldn’t be so bad.

  He turned his key in Melissa’s door.

  “You got something in the mail!” Melissa yelled from the kitchen. She was cooking again—part of the “ten-point plan to health” that her new therapist had instituted. This meant J and Karyn were eating a lot of experimental recipes involving flaxseeds or Kombucha. Unfortunately, Melissa was still a terrible cook.

  “Smells delicious,” J grunted, thinking that if he took up his parents’ offer to move back home, at least he’d be able to eat some real food. But he’d talked it over with Philip and Chanelle, and he realized he liked living with Melissa and visiting his parents on weekends. He could walk to school and to his meetings and not have to worry about daily encounters with kids from his old neighborhood as he went through his transition. And his parents were on good behavior when he visited. Carolina still felt guilty about the lie, so she babied him, and Manny avoided the topic of anything trans but still came home for dinner. Just last weekend, they’d talked about college.

  “You hear from any schools yet?” his father had asked. He’d brought home some Junior’s cheesecake and was slicing up healthy portions for each of them.

  J shook his head slowly, careful not to trip the thin wire his family was walking on.

  “He will,” Carolina asserted. She was becoming more comfortable with the he pronoun, though Manny desperately avoided any third-person reference to J. Carolina traced the raspberry icing on the cheesecake and delicately licked her spoon.

  “We’ve saved a lot of money for you, kid,” Manny continued. “And just because you’ve got this, this thing happening… doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get an education. You can’t stay at your girlfriend’s house forever.”

  J protested that he’d applied; he was just waiting to hear. Carolina backed him up. “These things take time. And Melissa’s not his girlfriend.”

  Like the old days, J hated it when his parents started in on the slow simmer of a fight, but he felt newly supported by his dad, somehow. At least he was taking an interest.

  “Don’t worry, Pops, I’ll get in,” J had said. And he believed it. Karyn had pulled the star card from her tarot deck, which she said was the card of hope. Charlie, his English teacher from school, had written him a recommendation that made him sound like the king of a small nation. And Melissa had been having one of her “good feelings,” which were almost never wrong. Melissa had always been intuitive, but ever since she’d stopped cutting, she said she felt downright psychic. And she claimed she owed it all to J. When Karyn made her go to a residency program for traumatized teenagers, Melissa was resentful at first, even angry at J for encouraging her to dance about her cutting. But now, she said, she felt access to a range of emotions she never knew she had. Which, unfortunately for J, she could never shut up about. She felt free now; she felt that the cutting was some abstract way to get even with her father; she felt that her body was her temple and she would honor it forever—on and on went their late-night talks until J’s head would drop in exhaustion. Melissa was postponing college for a year so she could volunteer at the residency program and keep up with her therapy; she said she would live vicariously through J. She was positive he’d go away to school.

  “I’m not saying you won’t,” Manny had answered, scraping the last bits of cheesecake off his plate and reaching to finish J’s. “I guess I’m just a little anxious about this whole thing.” Manny paused. He licked his fork. “Or excited. Maybe I’m excited about you getting to go to college.”

  And that was it. J had gone from feeling like the most alone person in the world to someone people believed in and were even a little bit excited for. He remembered Marcia from the hotel; she had told him to be patient with his family, and that’s what he was being—Manny still had a long way to go, and J still hadn’t fully forgiven Carolina. But he was like a camera before things went digital; the film in its roll could imprint any picture at all. People could project images into his line of sight all they wanted, but he was the one who pushed the shutter.

  Back in the kitchen, Melissa ignored J’s comment about the stench emanating from her cooking. “Envelope’s on the table,” she yelled, and dropped a pot into the sink.

  At first he thought there had been a mistake. Next to Karyn’s books and a few flyers for someone running for the city council was a manila envelope. It was addressed to “Mr. Silver.” Why is my dad getting mail here? he thought, but quickly corrected himself. It was from the college.

  J sat down and peeled back the seal. Dear Mr. Silver, he read.

  We’re delighted to accept you for our incoming fall term and our prestigious photography program in upstate New York. Enclosed you will find material about housing, financial aid, and registering for classes. We welcome you with our warmest congratulations.

  J let out a whoop, s
tartling the cat.

  “I did it!” he shouted to Melissa. “Get ready to miss me, ’cause I’m getting my own room now!” His new, deep voice didn’t crack.

  AUTHOR’S

  NOTE

  Dear Readers,

  I was inspired to write I Am J more than ten years ago, when I was researching my first book, Transparent, about transgender teenagers in Los Angeles. At that time, there were almost no books, movies, or television specials about trans kids; they had few ways to see themselves reflected and, at the initial stages of my research, I wanted to help give voice to all the dozens of brave, creative, and resilient kids I came across. As the book took form, however, I focused on fewer and fewer specific characters, to give the book more narrative depth. As transgender boys and girls (especially at that time) tended to run in very separate circles, the boys were largely excised from the work. At that point, I wanted my nonfiction to portray the history, culture, and challenges in the young, urban trans community—but I dreamed of one day returning to my notes and to the transgender boys. I imagined writing a book that would speak directly to them as adolescents—rather than about them in a book for adults. I wanted to write fiction, with all the flexibility that fiction affords, and thereby tell a different kind of truth—an emotional truth—that can cut right through to readers.

  In one way, the character J is an amalgam of some aspects of several transboys I know, and yet he’s evolved as very much his own person. Some of these young people are first- or second-generation immigrants, who struggle both with what it means to be trans as well as with what these changes will mean to their families and their ethnic identities. What all of these real people share with J, and what they have taught me, are the ways that anger and pain implode when one’s internal reality collides with an often unforgiving outside world.

  And yet this outside world is changing—especially in the urban areas of this country—amazingly fast, and it’s becoming a somewhat more forgiving, and definitely more dynamic, place. There are more out and visible young transgender men than ever before, and their growing ranks are bolstering the courage of the generation behind them (and in queer terms, a generation can be just a few years long) at an exponential rate. Definitions of masculinity and femininity are expanding every day, and adolescent transboys are finding more creative ways to discover, and be, themselves. As their ranks grow, I imagine, they’ll look for even more reflections of who they are and are becoming. And their teenage friends, who know them or wonder about them, need and often crave a way to understand their experience. That is why I’m so excited and hopeful about I Am J and about the many books that others are writing about themselves and their friends right now. There are still so many kinds of transgender stories to be told and cherished—and so much room on the shelves.

  Of course, it’s scary to take an imaginative leap and write a character who is not you. I have known and loved several people who are like J, but J is not me. I’m not of trans experience, and I know what tricky territory this is, partly because there are still not enough published works by transgender authors, proclaiming their lived experience. I can only know a kind of truth by proxy. I’m blessed that my foster daughter, Christina, is transgender, and my partner is gender variant—so my immediate family and my deepest ties are trans in nature (or nurture!). Aside from the benefit of having any of my residual gender assumptions challenged daily, my family keeps me open to the rich, brilliant, and often spicy dialogue that’s so vibrant in our growing trans communities. J is, at best, only one character, one voice, in an enormous ongoing conversation. I welcome your letters and your thoughts.

  Warmly,

  Cris

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many people helped bring J to life and helped me understand the interior world of a young transperson a little better. I’d like to thank my students at EAGLES Academy in Los Angeles for sharing their stories over so many years, and all the young people I profiled in my first book, Transparent. My primary acknowledgment goes to my daughter, Christina, with her courageous heart, who taught me about the street and about fighting for your life and then for your family, in that order. Foxxjazell provided early lessons about gender and heartbreak and the redemptive power of art. Chris Haiss shared writing and stories about his transition, as did Max, Eli, Jose, and several other friends: thank you for your trust.

  Alex Thornton read a very early draft, and Shawn Luby read a late one, and their critical insights kept me honest. Joy Ladin is a marvelous poet, and she helped me locate a more nuanced voice and point of view. Pascale and Louis Hurst fed me delicious meals during a key writing surge in Switzerland, Krystyna Srutek helped me understand the Polish immigrant community in New York, and Juan Miranda double-checked my Spanish. Merrill Feitell and Elyssa East provided vital theories on plot and structure, and Sharon Krum, who did it first, always cheered me on. Carol Paik, Kelly McMasters, and Jennie Yabroff read multiple drafts of multiple chapters and somehow managed to keep me laughing; thank you for your diligence, your patience, and your fiery pens. To Claire Hertz, thank you for listening.

  Teresa Dinaburg Dias became a mama just as J was born; you are my sister and my light. Batyah Shtrum, my champion, was beside me throughout the entire process, and I am forever grateful. Diamond Patty O’Toole has kindly steered my career at more crossroads than I care to count; thank you will never ever be enough. Thank you also to Robin, Trista, Lacy, Karen, Lisa, and Gemma, my oldest friends, and my family.

  My agent, Amy Williams, is steadfast and true; thank you for believing in me and in this project and for finding J his rightful home. Thank you to T. S. Ferguson for your early edits and enthusiasm, and to Alvina Ling, for your fresh and insightful read. My editor, Julie Scheina, is a shining and thorough editor; thank you for your broad vision and your critical eye.

  My deepest gratitude goes to my beloved Lo, who shows me every day that gender can be fluid and curious, excruciating and intoxicating. And that when we’re lost in the madness, kindness is wisdom. This book is for you.

  RESOURCES

  The following resources are recommended by the author and are current as of the date of publication.

  FOR YOUTH

  Websites

  YouthResource

  By and for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and questioning youth

  www.amplifyyourvoice.org/youthresource

  Youth Guardian Services

  Safe space online for LGBTQ youth

  www.youth-guard.org

  National Youth Advocacy Coalition

  NYAC advocates for and with young people who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or questioning.

  www.nyacyouth.org

  24-hour Suicide Prevention Hotline for GLBTQ Youth

  1-866-4-U-TREVOR (1-866-488-7386)

  Female-to-Male Transition Websites

  FTMInternational Website

  www.ftmi.org

  Hudson’s FTM Resource Guide

  www.ftmguide.org

  The Transitional Male

  www.thetransitionalmale.com

  Books

  Beam, Cris. Transparent: Love, Family, and Living the T with Transgender Teenagers. New York: Harcourt, 2007. ISBN 978-0-15-101196-4 (hc) / 978-0-15-603377-0 (pb)

  Peters, Julie Anne. Luna. New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2004. ISBN 978-0-316-73369-4 (hc) / 978-0-316-01127-3 (pb)

  Wittlinger, Ellen. Parrotfish. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2007. ISBN 978-1-4169-1622-2 (hc) / 978-1-4424-0621-6 (pb)

  FOR PARENTS, TEACHERS, AND OTHER SUPPORTERS

  Websites

  Children’s National Medical Center Outreach Program for Children with Gender-Variant Behaviors and Their Families

  A basic primer on gender variance in children

  www.childrensnational.org/dcchildrens/about/pdf/GenVar.pdf

  PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays)

  PFLAG has a transgender chapter, too.

  www.pflag.org

  Gay, Lesbian and Straight Educat
ion Network (GLSEN)

  www.glsen.org

  TransFamily

  A support site for families and transpeople

  www.transfamily.org

  LAMBDA GLBT Community Services

  www.lambda.org

  Books

  Brill, Stephanie A., and Rachel Pepper. The Transgender Child: A Handbook for Families and Professionals. San Francisco: Cleis Press, 2008.

  ISBN 978-1-57344-318-0

  Ewert, Marcus, and Rex Ray. 10,000 Dresses. New York: Seven Stories Press, 2008.

  ISBN 978-1-58322-850-0

  A great picture book for young children

  Lev, Arlene Istar. Transgender Emergence: Therapeutic Guidelines for Working With Gender-Variant People and Their Families. Binghamton, NY: The Haworth Clinical Practice Press, 2004.

  ISBN 978-0-7890-0708-7 (hc) /

  978-0-7890-2117-5 (pb)

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  Describe J. What makes him a dynamic character? Is he the type of person you would want to befriend? Why or why not?

  How would you describe J’s family? Are they in any way similar to your own? If so, in what ways?

  In I Am J, fear both motivates and incapacitates J. Consider how he deals with his fears. In what ways does he acknowledge them? Is he able to turn to others for help? What are the consequences of his reactions?