Breaking Barriers Ch 01

0://Pre-Production

Kip's Blog:

I always knew I was different growing up. I know what they try to teach you in kindergarten, that everyone is different and everyone is special. That's not the kind I mean. I don't even mean the kind of special because I couldn't hear, and I was fitted with large, colorful hearing aids before I even nailed down the alphabet. I mean a different kind of different. There was clearly a distinction between me and them. They were normal. All of the other little girls I saw loved playing dress-up on the patch of ratty carpet in the corner of the classroom, and they adored pink and cute cartoon ponies.

That's not to say that boys couldn't do that, but at the time and the ones I observed, they didn't. I kind of wish a few had. Then maybe I wouldn't have been so opposed to it. Even though I'm fairly certain I wouldn't have enjoyed those games that little girls typically played, I was never even open to it, so I'll never know. I wanted to play with spaceships and fire trucks, and I would make elaborate stories with my stuffed animals and transformer toys. Perhaps this kind of play is what eventually lead to my career.

All of that is superficial though, and ultimately not why I was different. It doesn't matter what kids play with, whether they're boy or girl toys. That has always struck me as a silly distinction to make. What truly made me different was something deeper.

None of the other little girls had a problem with using the girls bathroom or getting changed in the girls' locker room for swim class. None of the other little girls took on an inexplicable look of disgust or deep shame when someone used she/her/hers pronouns on them. None of them made up fake boy names they wanted to be called for a pretend game. Just pretend, right? None of them wanted to play games where you got to pretend you get to do your entire life over, and start over as a different gender.

None of the other little boys were forced to use the girl's bathroom. None of the other little boys had to wear glittery girls clothes that their grandma bought them. None of the other little boys had to sneak back into the play-place at the local restaurant where they held kids' birthday parties, just to sit in the special birthday throne when no one was looking and turn it to say Birthday Boy at the top. Because it didn't matter if people saw them do that. They wouldn't get yelled at, or teased, or have their parents exchange worried looks, but ultimately bury any potential conflict while it festered beneath the thin veil of peace in their lives.

None of them had to go through what I did, and would continue to do for the rest of my life.

None of them were transgender.

---------------------------

1://HighConcept

The only sound in the cramped office of the video game design firm was the dusty old fan, whirring incessantly as the only reprieve to the Midwestern heat wave. Just a few more days, everyone told themselves. They were more optimistic than the young programming intern that had to endure that particular office and creaking fan that clicked loudly on every third swivel. He didn't care much for that part, since he had long given up on wearing his neon-green hearing aids in the sweltering heat, and instead laid them out on his metal desk to air out the plastic tubes that trapped the tepid moisture.

Kip brushed the longer locks of his dirty blond hair forward and scratched the close-shaven parts around his ears, where his hearing aids usually laid. It felt freeing to not have to worry about them, but even more freeing to not have to worry about trying to hear anyone. However, the emptiness of the lack of weight made him feel exposed. At least the barrier between social interaction was one of the perks of his isolation, and it also allowed himself to be wired in mentally for coding. With an eye on the clock, he zoomed in to the game he was working on building a platform for and starting laying down planes. He double-checked his notes in the browser window and then minimized it again. It felt fresh to work on a new concept, especially since the previous one had been a dead-end.

As much as he loved his work, by the afternoon all he could think about was going home to his studio apartment and enjoying the air conditioner and maybe watching some shows he had fallen behind on. He also had some imitation crab left in the fridge which would go great in a salad. His mental capacity turned to focus on his food inventory, and it ended with a single thought. A good dinner would be better shared with someone. If only he had someone, he lamented.

Looking around to make sure his boss wasn't in the vicinity of his closed-off office, Kip took out his phone and swiped it open. He started digging into one of the folders he kept buried on his phone, and then he opened the latest dating app for gay men. He had tried most of them, sometimes more than once, and this was the latest demoralizing endeavor. The app opened silently to show his own profile picture, that of a unicorn.

It wasn't just any unicorn, for if Kip was anything, he was picky about his unicorns. Only the traditional variety would do. It had to have a slender, deer-like body with cloven hooves, a long lion-like tail with the tuft at the end, light feathering on the dainty hooves, and a wispy beard hanging off the chin. The last part was the horn, which had to arch away from the forehead like an instrument of war and not just a decoration to top off a little girl's daydream. Kip's unicorn had to mean intimidation and majesty for him to adopt it as his personal emblem.

He swiped through a couple of other profiles on the app that he had been looking at. He wasn't much surprised to find a few of his conversations gone, zipped away into cyber-nothing. He recognized the ones that were missing from his drop-down list. They were the ones where he had shared his picture. It didn't take long to block him. He sent a few other messages to the remaining conversations he had open. Some would never be responded to, and others would be gone later. He sighed and put the phone away. Perhaps it would be best to delete the apps again. Perhaps it would be best to take to the mountains and live like a monk for the rest of his days. He would be able to catch up on his reading list, at least.

He tried to tell himself in the past that whenever a guy blocked him just because of what he looked like (Too young? Too small? Too skinny?), which was the only inference he could make at the time, Kip realized that guy was just looking for a quick lay. He refused to let those assholes bother him. What really hurt is when he started targeting "nice guys" and they acted exactly the same way. If the nice guys were really assholes, and the assholes were really assholes, then who was left?

Many hours Kip would look at his reflection and wonder exactly what was wrong. He didn't consider himself handsome enough to be on a magazine cover (the gay standard, apparently), but he also wasn't Quasimodo's stunt double. He had a runner's body since he took up running in high school. He wasn't particularly good at it, mostly due to his height of not quite five feet. For every mile his peers ran, he had to run almost twice that, at least in terms of steps. He didn't really have any muscle to speak for, but he was waiting for testosterone to kick in since he had started it almost six months ago, right before his job. He had to shave occasionally, since it was still too patchy to let it grow and look good. When he did shave, he could pass for sixteen, or even younger. He could still order from the children's menu at twenty-two without even a second look.

For what it was worth, he did get a date or two out of the apps, but none of them really went anywhere. When they saw him in person, he could see the interest just fade out of their eyes, and the rest of the evening was spent making awkward small talk and waiting to leave, at least in terms of the other guy. Kip was good at spotting it now. The furtive glances towards the door. Possibly checking out the hot waiter. He was also getting good at expecting it and not letting himself get hurt. Sometimes he wondered why he kept doing it, and the only answer he could think of was the echo of loneliness in his soul.

It was even more demoralizing when the rejection came before he even got to the point where it felt appropriate to divulge that he's transgender, as if there's ever really a good time to do that. He experimented with it a little, to virtually no success. Sometimes he would be upfront about it (which usually led to an immediate block, or the friend zone), and sometimes he waited to see if the guy would genuinely like him for who he is. He tricked himself into believing that if the guy came to like him, how he had been born wouldn't matter. Unfortunately, the world didn't seem to work like that.

He had had his fair share of cyber backlash. Sometimes he didn't just get blocked; he would get chewed out first. He had screenshots of some doozy comments, just for the novelty. He had a collection of the full gamut that proved that the rainbow was divided, which was a serious issue. If those that were gay and transgender, all part of the rainbow, couldn't get along, then why would straight cisgendered individuals take them or their rights seriously? Especially if gay men felt that transmen didn't deserve them. It was a sobering reality to remember some of the comments by fellow gay men.

"Transgender people don't really exist. Biology only gave us two genders. That's a scientific fact."

"FTM are gross. They're just females trying to trick us."

"They're just self-hating lesbians."

"If I wanted to date a woman, I wouldn't be gay."

"Why would you just not date straight guys?"

"You're so gullible and naive for changing your body. You should try to find someone to love you for you."

Kip shook his head in disdain at all the rest he quickly scrolled through. It was disheartening. Some of the people he had tried to talk to civilly, and some he tried to educate, but it had always been a lost cause. While some showed ignorance, others had shown downright hate, and not been afraid to hide it behind the anonymity of the apps. He had endured the intrusive questions as well, just to be blocked or rejected later. He had tried to be open, but instead he felt like a freak show that wasn't in bringing in money by selling tickets.

He hovered over the folder of apps and then clicked. He held it until they were movable, and then he swiped them right into the trash. A pop-up said it would delete all data, and he pressed "Yes" without even considering it. Usually when he deleted the apps in frustration, he usually wandered back to them when his loneliness peaked, but this felt different. He felt a sense of numbness and quiet resolve. He had other things to focus on, like his career and the games he was making. Maybe he would get back into some other hobbies he had dropped when university got tough. This feeling had been building inside him for a while now, and it had finally come to a head. All he knew is that whatever future he saw for himself now, he was alone.

* * *

In the middle of the downtown cozy park that sat in the center of three little bistros and other shops, a young man sat drawing at the fountain. Occasionally, he would look up into the beautiful sky on that sunny day, dipping his fingers into the cool water and casting a few drops on the page to help smudge some of the graphite for effect. Brushing a few drops of water through his jet black hair also helped cool him down from the relentless sun's rays. He rubbed his neck which would cramp from his position while staring at the page, and the only reprieve was when he would look around or at his friend, who was talking to him.

"Vale, are you listening?" Kent said, swatting at the water playfully.

"Yeah, I'm listening about the same complaints you made last week," Vale said absentmindedly while he erased a line that had been laid down too dark. "When are things going to change for you?"

"Why would things change?" Kent said as he pulled out his phone. Vale eyed him suspiciously.

"Because you always succumb to the same patterns, and then you bitch about the guys five minutes later," Vale said with a smirk. "Does that sound familiar?"

"Well, if they weren't such fickle queens, I wouldn't have to bitch," Kent said, scrolling through his phone.

"I just don't think you'll find happiness through the screen of your phone. I could use a change," Vale said. Kent leaned over to see what he was sketching.

"That doesn't look like a change," Kent said, pointing at the classically handsome guy that was coming to life through graphite on the page. "That looks like your usual."

"And look how far it's gotten me," Vale said, erasing furiously, which caused smudges across the guy's face. "Every guy just like this has been so full of himself."

"Then why are you drawing him?" Kent teased, tilting his head which made his soft red hair glint in the sunlight.

"Because I don't know any better, miraculously," Vale said, and with that he started packing up his art supplies into his messenger bag. When he started to get up, Kent touched his arm.

"Hey, there's no reason to be so upset," Kent said. "It's all good fun, isn't it? You're not looking to settle down, are you?"

"Kent, you've been my friend for years now, and you've seen the best and the worst. You should know me well enough by now. I'm exhausted by the games. I'm not saying I want to get married next week, but I do want more than a few one-night stands that peter out into nothing. I want a connection, and I'm starting to think I'm not going to find it. I've been thinking that a lot lately, actually," Vale revealed, his hazel eyes blazing with emotion.

"I think you're just overreacting," Kent tried to soothe him, but Vale backed away, ready to head home and finish some illustrations for work.

"I'm just tired of playing the field, unlike you," Vale snapped as he turned sharply to walk around the water fountain.

* * *

Kip packed up his briefcase with work notes and the breakdowns for how the game he was working on would develop just like he packed them away in his mind. Before he left, he glanced at his work development schedule written on the white board over his desk while he clipped his hearing aids back into place behind each ear. They were slightly muffled as ambient noise flooded back into his realm of perception, but he would have a chance to clean them at home. What came to the forefront of his mind was something else that had been weighing on him that day, such as what he would be having for dinner. The two applesauce squeeze packs that usually served as his lunch just wasn't doing it today. He tossed the shriveled, used up tubes into the wastebasket and then set on his way at the end of his shift. He was finally home free.

The office was more quiet than usual, with everyone feeling the heat wave that oppressed the small city. Nevertheless, he dodged between cubicles and stepped lightly past other closed-off office rooms. He kept an eye for a friendly smile or wave, but none came. He didn't blame them. He didn't exactly stand out in a crowd, he knew, and being as short as he was, he was used to being underneath everyone's direct line of sight. Instead, he made sure to absolutely stay out of the way of Leopold Nelson, who had quickly become his rival. He hadn't known exactly what he'd done to get on Leo's bad side, but the chilly reception had been palpable.

It was most likely just a work thing, but of course Kip had to wonder. Did he sense that Kip was gay? Could he tell that Kip was transgender? Was it in the way he walked, or sat? Was it in the way he held his shoulders? Did he notice his lack of an Adam's apple? Kip rubbed his neck self-consciously as he made his way out of the building, luckily Leo-free.

He still wasn't comfortable with scrutiny, although he had been passing as male since high school. Sometimes even in middle school, the first time his mother had finally relented and let him get his hair cut short. He remembered how that had felt. He had looked into the mirror and seen himself for the first time, and he marveled at it. How can you be alive for more than a decade, and still never had truly seen yourself in a reflection? It had been empowering to share that moment with other trans-individuals online, and know that he wasn't alone in that feeling.

The noise of people rushing past on the streets roared to life as soon as he got outside the doors and into the sunlight. He turned and walked his routine route, which was usually a pleasant jaunt through downtown, cutting only briefly through a park before he would reach the high rise where he lived. Today, it was hard to get going before his shirt was matted to his back. He thanked every obscure deity that he could name that he had already had his top surgery, because going through this in a binder would have been torture.

The thought of food spurred him on and before he knew it, he reached the park, thankfully the halfway point, and he could see the high rises just beyond the cut-off of greenery. A couple bistros dotted the one edge that held the fountain (with two hot guys sitting on it and talking, he barely noticed) and he powered on with strength in his stride. He briefly remembered his running days and told himself that he had been in worse than this, and even with a heavier pack. This modest briefcase was nothing compared to that, he told himself.

He rounded the edge of the fountain, and through the spray of the water in his peripheral vision, he saw the dark form too late as it slammed forcefully into him. The next thing he knew, he was submerged in water and struggling to get upright. A strong hand reached through the water and grasped the front of his shirt awkwardly and pulled him into a sitting position, where he was squatting in the water and scampering out of the spray's range.

"Hey!" Kip wiped his eyes and then looked around. Something felt different. He felt naked, and he couldn't figure out why.

"I am so sorry," said the guy who had pulled him out. Kip sputtered and felt hotly embarrassed as soon as he saw those tantalizing hazel eyes underneath that mop of black hair. His own darkly golden hair was slicked down with water, and he wiped it backwards out of his eyes.

Another guy, who had been sitting on the fountain's edge, now stood and had a very amused grin on his face. Was that this guy's boyfriend? Kip wondered, and then immediately admonished himself for such a forward thought. It wouldn't matter if he was, he told himself and started getting out of the fountain, but the guy immediately reached for his arm to help balance him. "I didn't mean to knock you in. I wasn't watching where I was going. Stupid me."

"What?" Kip said. It sounded like the guy was talking through water. He tilted his head to the side and shook it, and then he realized what was wrong when he felt behind his ears. He shot a look of horror into the fountain and saw two splotches of neon-green sinking fast.