Andy Semler

I was sitting at a local cafe with November yesterday. We're both of the transly nonbinary hormonal assortment (I was AFAB, they were AMAB), and it's pretty obvious that we're close to each other.  This particular cafe is one where everyone knows my mother's name, as she's been going there several times a week since it opened over a decade ago.  I rarely visit, but when I do, I can count on somebody recognizing me too, thanks to her.  We went there to caffeinate ourselves after an important morning appointment that left us with no time for our regular homemade coffee.  Of course, my mom stopped in and we chatted a bit and she left as quickly as she came, eager to get on with the rest of her busy day.  After she walked away, another decade-long regular approached us.  I remembered him from years ago, but he clearly did not recognize me. He asked us our names, and then asked if we were brothers.  I said no, we're actually going to be married in a couple months, and that Janice is my mother.  He got very confused, and attempted to ask some sort of question, but could not find the words. "So you're..."  "Not yet married, but will be soon. You know Janice, right?"  He stood there a few more seconds, noises squeaking out as though they wanted to be words, and then finally turned away to rejoin the table with his drink.  Honestly this is a pretty typical interaction for Warsaw Indiana.

I grew up in a very religious household; attended private Christian school k-9 (public school 10-12), went to church twice a week.  I read the Bible so many times in my childhood that I think I wouldn’t need to read it ever again and I’d still know way more than most people about what’s actually written in it.  My dad didn’t believe that gay people existed (I guess he thought they were making it up?).  So it took me a while to realize that I really was attracted to more than one gender, and that there really wasn’t anything wrong with me for not feeling like a girl/woman.

My first marriage lasted 4 years, and that’s where Mountain comes from.  I was in the Air Force, then we tried to move to Italy to live with his family (and failed), and it was overall a chaotic relationship.  I kept trying to be the perfect sexy wife for him, and while it was sometimes fun, it was really not a way I could live my life.  I kinda figured out who I was after I left him, but didn’t know what steps I wanted to take in life just yet.

My next marriage seemed like a step up, because he claimed to accept who I was and never questioned that… but he became more and more sexually abusive, so gradually I didn’t realize what was happening till after he finally left.  That whole time, I was at an insurance brokerage for 6 years, started out as a receptionist then got my license to be an insurance service representative.  I slowly eased into dressing the way I wanted to, and they didn’t exactly like it, but I was their best employee so they let it slide.

After we moved here, I vowed I’d never live that way again.  No more trying to make other people happy by changing who I am for them.  I’m really glad I finally have someone who supports me and loves me for who I am.  Our wedding was scheduled for June 4, but November is feeling like their anxiety disorder would probably not allow for them to have a relaxed and happy time with people watching them, so we will probably do a private ceremony June 3 and then re-purpose the building we reserved at the park for a picnic.  My friend suggested that since June is LGBT pride month, we should have a Pride Picnic.  I worried that family and friends would be sad that we uninvited them all (so to speak), but they are very loving and supportive.  I am overwhelmed with how much love I have in my life.  A decade ago, I felt so lost and disconnected, and now I am part of a supportive community.

November Kelly

I think the best way to describe Kosciusko County is "isolating and cultlike", in that everyone conforms to a certain way of thinking, and anyone who doesn't is sort of cast out of society and isolated.  It's very lonely.  There's only one kind of person who is allowed to exist.

When I moved here, I was fed up with organized religion, even though I was very much religious.  I still very much believed in god and thought that the ultimate goal of my life was to bring glory to god, but I saw that the church wasn't providing any useful function.  In fact, I thought that the church was standing in the way of my relationship with god.  Now I realize it was standing between me and my own humanity.  Moving here gave me a lot of time to be alone, because there was no one else to be with; for years I had no friends, very little human interaction for years.  It forced me to figure things out on my own.  No one here has ever enabled me to do anything.

Unfortunately it is very dangerous to engage in clandestine sexual encounters, because even the queer people here have been forced to internalize these fucked up ideas about themselves.  They're forced into hiding and they're forced into these clandestine encounters.  That's isolating, and isolation produces a dangerous 1-on-1 that is prone to becoming abusive.  It's not healthy to hide integral parts of yourself.  For a very short time I took part in those kinds of encounters, and I realized how dangerous it was and stopped.

I'm very private and very political.  I mean, I'm forced into privacy by nature of having my own thoughts and not conforming to whatever I'm told to believe.  I don't try to have a political influence around here; there's really no point.  It's not even a matter of hiding.  It's more a matter of there's nowhere to go, unless you agree that we should line up the Muslims and gays and shoot them.  There's no place for me here.  Every time I leave the house, every time I interact with someone in this city.  You just walk around and you hear people talking about how you should line up all the Muslims and shoot them, kill all the black protesters.

I go out being visibly trans and I get followed through the grocery store - it's every single time I go out.  I was fired from my job and denied benefits that I had earned, and I'll never see those benefits.  They lied about the reason they fired me.  They get away with it because I'm completely isolated and have no recourse.  Living here is a constant stream of bigotry and discrimination.

I can't imagine Kosciusko County has changed much over the years.  I don't know how it could have changed, because it's set up in such a way that it can't ever change, or at least I can't see how it could ever change.  It's depressing as fuck.  This whole experience has been very sad.

Being trans and being queer is just being who I am.  It's the way I experience the world.  I love who I am.  I'll never try to be someone else to win the favor of others, because I only have this one way to experience the world.  Trying to be anything else has always been impossible; it's always run me into a dead end.

25.  Nonbinary trans woman.  White.  Disabled.  Moved here in 2009.