A Place to Feel Safe

At Forest Perk

I returned to Forest Perk Coffee a couple of days before Thanksgiving, two weeks after my near disaster with the keys.  As as I ordered my coffee and scone, the barista grinned at me and said "Don't lose your keys this time," and I got a warm and fuzzy feeling, thinking "he remembered me!"  Then I thought, well wouldn't anybody remember an largish t-girl who'd had him on the floor moving furniture last time she was in?  We are, if nothing else, memorable.

I smiled back and accepted my change, and I was totally disarmed, totally relaxed.  He'd made me feel at ease, but more than that: I was beginning to make acquaintances as Liz.  He did not know me as my other half.  As I noted before, he surely knew I was trans, my voice was all over the place (how much harder it is to control in random conversation!) and it didn't matter.

On my last visit, I was nervous as a cat -- wary and guarded.  I tried to read a book on my trusty Kindle, but didn't get far.  I could not relax, and it doubtless played a part in the losing of my keys in my own handbag. This visit was different: nibbling at my scone, I edited a paper on my tablet, then read a good chunk of the novel I was working on.  I felt comfortable and calm and at ease.  And as I walked out with a cheery "take care," waving my keys in the air with a smile, I reflected on how lucky I was.  Because of combination of circumstances and friendly, truly kind people, I found what many in our community never do: a place to feel safe.

I hear a lot about how when we're out at "T-friendly" places -- gay bars, t-girl nights, support groups -- that we're just in a "bigger closet," and I suppose that's true.  And some might categorize Forest Perk that way, even though I didn't know it was t-friendly going in: I just liked the looks of it and took a risk.  But if it is a bigger closet, it's a lot bigger than the one I was in, and a lot less lonely too.  And I'll take that any day of the week.