The Wednesday or Thursday of our weeklong tour of Southern Ireland, we finally hit the southernmost part of our trek. My sister and I were traveling with a tourist group made up of mostly elderly Asian sightseers and middle-aged white people with plenty of disposable income. Luckily there were four others in their 20s that liked to explore the nightlife. For the first time since our start in Dublin, we found a proper nightclub. Needless to say, my night was full of dancing. I'm not sure if it was the Irish beer (their mixed drinks are WEAK) or my feeling of anonymity, but I danced with a couple of strangers that night. However, for most of the night, my eyes were locked on the two pictured above.
As a gay man, I kept my sexuality hidden from my traveling companions but yearned to find a gay bar anywhere in Ireland. I didn't exactly know why, but I had a feeling the two of them were part of my tribe.
Everyone in my group, including my sister, went back to our hotel two blocks away before last call, but I stayed til closing. When I filed out to the parking lot, I saw the two I'd been spying on standing right in front of me. Filled with liquid courage, I walked up to them and introduced myself. I believe I still had my wits about me, because I asked them if they were trans before I asked if they were drag queens. They replied, "Yeah." I had found the extended members of my LGBT+ family in a strange land, and I did not hide my excitement.
Before I knew it, I asked them if they knew of any gay bars. Sadly, the nightclub was the closest thing to anything LGBT friendly in the area - or most of the Southern tip of Ireland - according to them. Disappointed to hear that, I kept my attitude up as I begged them for a photo to remember this occasion by. Immediately after it was taken, I departed, never to see them again.
For the past three years, this picture still haunts me. I honestly think I freaked them out. Possibly even offended them. It's not as if I asked to see their private areas or anything like that; even three years ago I had more sense than that (thanks to Tumblr). No, from my memories of that night, I don't think I treated them as humans. I used them for information and, even though I knew they were trans, treated them like drag queens there for my meet-and-greet entertainment. This was obviously not my intention, but that's not how offending people works.
I'll be honest. When I first learned about transgender people, I was confused. I think I was still subscribed to the "God doesn't make mistakes" narrative at the time. I've since grown out of it and think of trans people more as God telling us all that gender isn't what we think it is, but that's a post for another day when I have more time in my lunch break.
Luckily, since my experience in Ireland, I've met more trans people. I still feel weird around them because I want to make sure I give them the respect they deserve and use their preferred pronoun and not stare at them and a slew of other problematic things I occasionally have to shun myself for thinking. But I'm trying to learn and do better everyday, trying to undo whatever mental conditioning growing up in a black conservative community did to me. I'm almost positive it's working.
In the meantime, I'm continually sorry to the Irish women I may have offended that night, even if they thought I was just a lovable bloke looking for the craic*. I'm sorry to any trans person I may have met and said the wrong thing to. I'm sorry if I stare or look away completely. I'm just learning and doing my best to not be totally awkward. I hope you'll bare with me during this time.
Word.
* craic - a term for news, gossip, fun, entertainment, and enjoyable conversation, particularly prominent in Ireland. It is often used with the definite article – the craic – as in the expression "What's the craic?" [Wikipedia]
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