Why Do Some Gay Men Hate Transsexuals?
by Pamela Hayes
But my thoughts drifted to SOME gay men . Why do they hate trans women? I stress that SOME are like that. I know some wonderful gay men who have been respectful and kind to me.
But some of them.
Ugh!
In my teens, I was friends with Phil, a gay guy. We hung out together. Went to the movies. We would treat each other to outings. We were a couple of fems.
I wasn’t happy being a male, so I decided to change my sex. I worked and saved a chunk of money. I went to electrolysis. Later on, I got on hormones. I grew boobs. My hair got longer. Naturally, I was wearing female attire. And if I must say so myself, I looked pretty damn hot.
Everybody complimented me. Guys whistled at me. Asked for my phone number. I lived in an apartment and I’d take strolls to the pharmacy or an A&P superette. Guys would offer me rides. I recall this man offered to buy me lunch. “I have a husband,” I lied, not wanting to be bothered with that dude. At the time, I didn’t have a husband. “Yeah, but you still gotta eat,” he said.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I told him.
Phil went out with me. Men checked me out and Phil HATED all the attention I was getting. One afternoon, he called, “Hey, wanna go to Morrison’s for lunch?”
I didn’t have anything else to do. “Sure,” I said.
“I’ll see you in about thirty minutes.”
When he arrived, I had on jeans, a top and tasteful makeup. This queen said, “I didn’t know you were going like that.” Like that? Hmm. I had been living “like that” for about nine months. What the hell did he think I’d be dressed in? A three-piece suit.
The woman who stood before him was who I had become.
Later on, we were in line at the cafeteria, looking at the food they were offering. I don’t recall how it happened, but Phil referred to me as he to the server. Now, this queen and I were effeminate gay men, who always referred to one another as she and her among ourselves.
I thought this guy was my friend, but he tried to embarrass me in front of that server, who didn‘t catch his slur.
Later on, I met Deshaun, a tall mug of hot chocolate. At the time, I was a pre-op, but D, as we called him, accepted me, making my life easier. He bought me hormones, clothes. Paid the rent. He was great to me.
Phil was jealous. I quit working. Around that time, the minimum wage was increased. Phil made some snide remark about how I should get a job because the minimum wage had gone up. “You up in there relying on Deshaun. One day, Deshaun’s hands are gonna get cold. What are you going to do then?”
“Get a job. What else would I do?”
Deshaun and I moved into a townhouse and I decorated it, using a picture from a magazine. Phil came in my new home, looking jealous. Later on, there was a black greasy smear on the sheers in the living room. I could not fathom how it got there. I took them down and couldn’t get rid of the stain, so I replaced the sheers.
A few days later, I was polishing the furniture and there was a long, hideous gash on the coffee table. When my back was turned, I believed that jealous ass Phil scratched that table. He could have done while I was upstairs. I could have gone upstairs and he could have gone in the cutlery drawer, took a knife and made that carving on the table.
It didn’t affect Deshaun’s job.
One night, Deshaun and I went to a gay bar and I saw Phil. We had drifted apart, but out of graciousness, I spoke to the queen. “You get out of my face,” he snapped. “Don’t be coming around me with that stuff on.” He was referring to my clothes and makeup. “As long as you dressing like that, we aren’t friends.”
“Who gives a shit?” I said. “You put that grease on my sheers and you scratched my table. You’re nothing but a jealous queen. You’d like to do what I’m doing, but you know you couldn’t pull it off. You ugly motherfucker.”
He pushed me into a table, which was occupied by a throng of lesbians. “Hey, hey. Watch it,” screamed this butch girl.
Of course, I was going to get that queen. Nobody pushes me and gets away with it. But before I got to him, Dehsaun saw what happened and Deshaun, who was/is a masculine man proceeded to whip Phil’s ass.
Another time, I “befriended” Tony and Melvin, two jealous queens. God, they were envious of me. They slashed my car tires. Sprayed silver paint all over my auto. Threw eggs on my door. I swear to God, I didn’t do anything to these guys. My only crime was being an attractive trans woman, who had a man by my side.
Tony tried to seduce my boyfriend, Deshaun, who rejected him. Tony was a cute gay guy, who was sufficiently masculine. He thought that gave him some kind of sway with gay men. A lot of gay boys are hung up on this masculine mumbo-jumbo. I suppose this is why so many fems pretend to be butch.
But my boyfriend didn’t want anything to do with Tony. And boy, did that piss Miss Tony off.
He actually brought a want ad to me, saying that he circled some jobs that he thought I could apply for. “I’m not interested in a job,” I said. I went to school, read popular novels when I wasn’t in class. And practiced writing.
“I think you need to get a job,” Tony said.
“Why do you care? If it‘s not bothering Dehsaun, why in the hell is it bothering you?”
“I just hate to see somebody waste their life.”
I was not wasting my life. I went to school and I wrote about five hours a day. “Don’t worry about what I do with my life, okay? It’s none of your business.“ Tony was a pathetic, jealous asshole. It didn’t stop there. He actually tried to make me think that he was in love with me. He told me that he had always loved me and he wanted me to leave Deshaun and be with him. It was bullshit. He was trying to bust up me and Deshaun.
I could sit here for hours and share countless stories about things gay men did to try to screw up my life.
For some reason, a lot of gay men HATE trans women. Only they know why.
