Travel Privileges

Mostly, this blog is about the ins and outs of living fulltime in an RV.  That means lots of posts about the mechanics of the rig, adapting to small spaces, and being on the road.  One thing I haven’t written much about but that has been on my mind a lot this summer is how different this trip is for me than it is for Alexis and why that difference exists.

I’m forty years old, white, and look for all the world like somebody’s mama.  Except for my short haircut and the fact that I don’t wear makeup, I comply with our society’s gender norms.  In other words, I can “pass” as straight if I want.  Since I was raised in South Texas, I can put on my “good ole girl” persona anytime I want, my twang surfacing, my language suddenly peppered with a whole lot of “y’alls” and “yes ma’ams.”  Except for the fact that I’m so darned fat, not many folks will look twice at me.  As far as society is concerned, I’m basically an invisible, frumpy, middle-aged woman, and as such, I present no discernible threat to strangers I encounter.

This means I can walk into just about any establishment and not worry about how people will look at me or what they will think or might say or do to me, unless they have a crack about my size, which doesn’t happen that often.  Let’s face it; fatties are becoming the majority in this country! This summer as we’ve traveled throughout the South, I’ve been able to move about with a sense of security.  If anything, people will come to the aid of someone like me if I’m in trouble (as was evidenced when I got stuck in the sand in Port Aransas).

Alexis, on the other hand,  is Black, and that is the first thing white folks are likely to notice.  She also appears to be what is called “butch.”  In other words, her clothing and outward appearance are rather masculine by our society’s standards.  While she is quite content to be a female, she doesn’t always look the part, at least not at first glance.  She has been called “sir” by store clerks more than once.  I even had a saleswoman in a clothing store ask me if she was my son!  I’m not sure who should have been more insulted by that. Lex cannot pass as straight the way I can, so she’s always out, even when being out might not be the safest or easiest thing.  It takes a lot of courage to live life that way, and I give her props for that.

Despite her more rugged appearance, Alexis is anything but.  She doesn’t like bugs, being sweaty, or getting dirty.  I’m actually the tougher of the two of us, at least as far as things like that go.  She also doesn’t care for conflict so  she tries to avoid people and places she considers unsafe. This means I usually get to be the one to talk to strangers or to walk through the door first when we go into potentially unfriendly establishments.

While I can be oblivious to people or situations that might make Alexis very uncomfortable, I try not to be when she’s with me.  Sometimes we can’t avoid those things, and Alexis ends up being the only person of color in the place.  There have been uncomfortable moments when all eyes have been on us when we’ve walked into a shop or restaurant.  I know she doesn’t care for that at all, but sometimes we have to just suck it up and plow through.

I suppose that because of my position of privilege, it’s easy for me to believe that most people are good.  Alexis doesn’t always assume that, and I can certainly understand why.  The world just isn’t as safe for her as it is for me.  That’s the truth of it, like it or not.  I do believe, though, that if we go looking for the bad in the world, we will find it, so I try, even in the face of cold stares and barely-concealed hostility, to glue on a smile and pour on the sugar.  Killing ‘em with kindness is my usual MO, and I find it quite often works.  When it doesn’t work, though, I’m not afraid to go from zero to bitch in 1.7 seconds. I haven’t had to go there this summer, and I hope we get safely home without my having to.

I know a lot of folks are inclined to believe that the South is full of folks running around in white sheets just looking for someone to lynch, but the truth is that there are a world of people in this part of the country, the vast majority of them decent human beings. Hateful bastards can be found anywhere, and while I try to keep my eyes open for them, I won’t let fear of that hate rule my life.

Take, for example, the fact that the gentleman in the camper right across from us is flying both Texas and Confederate flags at his campsite, big ones.  He drives a golf cart which also sports these flags, albeit smaller ones.  That’s what Lex gets to look at every time she steps outside the door, and I don’t blame her if she’s a little afraid or even angry.  Historically, that symbol hasn’t meant good things for Black people.  I’m determined not to let the flag man get in the way of our good time.  He drove by our site the other day in his cart, smiled, and waved.  I returned the gesture, knowing that doing so is a sort of acquiescence.  I’m not afraid of him; he’s just a guy with a worldview I likely do not share.

If we start avoiding all those who fly their Confederate flags or stick their “Palin 2012″ stickers on the backs of their trucks, our world will get very small, indeed.  I don’t want to wrap myself up in a fantasy world where everyone agrees with me and approves of who I am and who I love.  The real world isn’t always comfortable or safe, but it is interesting and beautiful enough that it’s worth the risk. As long as Alexis is willing to continue taking that risk with me, we’ll keep facing the world together.

Tags: being out, gender, race, sexual orientation, Travel