A T-girl at the piano bar
Posted: Sat Oct 28, 2006 4:27 am
Hi All—
Tonight I facilitated our TG support group, and then went over to the restaurant across the street for the socializing afterward. That broke up, and I took two of the women to mass transit points.
I was winding my way through the neighborhoods of Oakland, rather than the freeway. So when I hit Grand Avenue, I decided to stop in at the Alley, a piano bar.
It’s a warm night, and I was wearing a two-piece red cotton dress that I like a lot. It’s the dress, and then a short-sleeved top that matches it. I remember my mother wearing dresses like this one (she was in her fifties when I was 10), and I’m in my fifties now.
Then I had on open-toed white sandals with 2” solid heels on them. My hair was swept back and clipped with small hair clips and bobby pins. I felt very attractive and comfortable.
The bar is safe—mostly older folks and college students who hang out there, and both genders. I was certainly noticed when I came in, but no one stared. One woman commented to her husband as they left, but her tone was very neutral—“Did you see that guy?” Mentally I corrected her--"If I'm dressed like this, I'm a gal, thank you." It's what I always try to say (with a big smile) when someone 'sirs' me when I'm out and about. But I'm still not always quick enough to catch it, and I was distracted by the bartender right at that second.
I got my drink, and went over to the far side of the piano. I had been there before as a woman, but it was probably over a year ago. There were four men and one woman sitting there, and the singing was in progress. The pianist at the bar, Rod Dibble, has been doing this gig since the mid-60s!
I started out with “Blue Skies,” and got a good hand. Then I did “Close to You,” “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning,” and “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on my Head.” I grew up with Broadway tunes, and then I listened to a lot of pop and rock in the 60s.
So all this comes very easily. I kept my voice in the upper part of my throat, which makes it lighter, more airy. I wanted to keep the voice in line with my appearance.
People talked to me, and complimented me on the music. I could sense them opening up, after they saw that I was comfortable being there. They really don’t know how to treat us—how often does someone see a CD out in the world? So I try to be open and friendly, so they know that we’re just “people.” Music helps, of course; it truly is a universal language.
There was a man about my age, long gray hair and beard, and I sensed that he was fascinated with me in some way. I kept catching him staring, but it wasn’t hostile—just curious. I can never tell where someone is coming from unless I talk to them, and he was across the piano, so I never found out. There was another man at the bar further back, who also stared—but his manner was more troubled. I made a note to keep an eye on him, but he left long before I did.
I was especially touched by a young man in his mid-20s, who was there for the first time. He sat down after I was already there, and announced that maybe he’d sing some other time, but was just testing the waters on this night. He was very socially savvy, and I could see him as an officer at his frat house. As I was leaving, he touched my hand and said, “You really made those songs work.” It surprised me, and I was very moved. “I’ll see you again,” I said, “and maybe you’ll sing next time.” The other people at the bar all smiled and said good-night, and I walked out. It still is a good feeling to know that I can show the world that we are different, yes, but we’re still approachable.
Tonight I facilitated our TG support group, and then went over to the restaurant across the street for the socializing afterward. That broke up, and I took two of the women to mass transit points.
I was winding my way through the neighborhoods of Oakland, rather than the freeway. So when I hit Grand Avenue, I decided to stop in at the Alley, a piano bar.
It’s a warm night, and I was wearing a two-piece red cotton dress that I like a lot. It’s the dress, and then a short-sleeved top that matches it. I remember my mother wearing dresses like this one (she was in her fifties when I was 10), and I’m in my fifties now.
Then I had on open-toed white sandals with 2” solid heels on them. My hair was swept back and clipped with small hair clips and bobby pins. I felt very attractive and comfortable.
The bar is safe—mostly older folks and college students who hang out there, and both genders. I was certainly noticed when I came in, but no one stared. One woman commented to her husband as they left, but her tone was very neutral—“Did you see that guy?” Mentally I corrected her--"If I'm dressed like this, I'm a gal, thank you." It's what I always try to say (with a big smile) when someone 'sirs' me when I'm out and about. But I'm still not always quick enough to catch it, and I was distracted by the bartender right at that second.
I got my drink, and went over to the far side of the piano. I had been there before as a woman, but it was probably over a year ago. There were four men and one woman sitting there, and the singing was in progress. The pianist at the bar, Rod Dibble, has been doing this gig since the mid-60s!
I started out with “Blue Skies,” and got a good hand. Then I did “Close to You,” “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning,” and “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on my Head.” I grew up with Broadway tunes, and then I listened to a lot of pop and rock in the 60s.
So all this comes very easily. I kept my voice in the upper part of my throat, which makes it lighter, more airy. I wanted to keep the voice in line with my appearance.
People talked to me, and complimented me on the music. I could sense them opening up, after they saw that I was comfortable being there. They really don’t know how to treat us—how often does someone see a CD out in the world? So I try to be open and friendly, so they know that we’re just “people.” Music helps, of course; it truly is a universal language.
There was a man about my age, long gray hair and beard, and I sensed that he was fascinated with me in some way. I kept catching him staring, but it wasn’t hostile—just curious. I can never tell where someone is coming from unless I talk to them, and he was across the piano, so I never found out. There was another man at the bar further back, who also stared—but his manner was more troubled. I made a note to keep an eye on him, but he left long before I did.
I was especially touched by a young man in his mid-20s, who was there for the first time. He sat down after I was already there, and announced that maybe he’d sing some other time, but was just testing the waters on this night. He was very socially savvy, and I could see him as an officer at his frat house. As I was leaving, he touched my hand and said, “You really made those songs work.” It surprised me, and I was very moved. “I’ll see you again,” I said, “and maybe you’ll sing next time.” The other people at the bar all smiled and said good-night, and I walked out. It still is a good feeling to know that I can show the world that we are different, yes, but we’re still approachable.