To Own The Libs

 

“Touch your chest. Try to say something,” Skylar, the voice coach, said.

“Something like what? What do we say?” someone to the left of me asked.

Skylar smiled. “A normal sentence is fine. What you’ve just said works perfectly, actually, though I usually go for the classics.”

“Classics?”

“Heat from fire, fire from heat,” Skylar recited; then her smile turned into a smirk, as if she’d just let us in on a secret. “It’s one of the best sentences for testing resonance.”

“Huh,” I mused. “Okay. Heat from fire, fire from heat.” Everyone else in our group – a bit over a dozen people – imitated me, speaking the sentence.

Skylar nodded. “Now, did you feel your chest vibrate?”

“Yes, actually,” I replied.

“This is called ‘chest resonance,’ and is typical of male-coded voices. It’s the timbre, the sound quality, for those of you who know that term.” She paused, and looked around the group. “Female-coded voices, on the other hand, have what is called ‘head resonance;’ it means that instead of vibrating here,” she touched her chest, “they vibrate here,” she concluded, touching her upper neck and chin.

I looked at her for a moment, thinking about what she’d just said. “So, you mean raising your pitch is useless?” I asked. “If it’s all about resonance…”

“Raising your pitch can help,” Skylar answered, “but it’s resonance that does most of the work. Resonance is what differentiates between male and female voices. After all, plenty of women have a deep, low voice, and yet you’d never mistake them for men. Look up Gianna Nannini sometime.”

“Who?” someone piped up.

“Italian singer,” Skylar said, smiling.

“Or Shorheh Aghdashloo?” I said.

Skylar turned her smile to me. “I see someone likes The Expanse. Now, try to raise your pitch, just a little bit. Find a tone where you’re comfortable speaking, but still have chest resonance.”

There was a cacophony of voices, as we all tried to find the tone she’d mentioned; after a little bit, I thought I’d found it. “Like this?” I asked, in a pitch which was maybe two notes up from my normal speaking voice, my hand still on my chest to feel the resonance.

The voice coach nodded. “Exactly like that,” she said. “Now, here comes the tricky part. One hand on your chest and one on your throat, and slowly go up in pitch, like this. E-E-E-E-E-E,” she sang, raising her voice by several notes each time, “until you’re just about to break into falsetto – that would be the squeaky Minnie Mouse voice – but you haven’t yet.”

I nodded back, and together with my classmates, imitated her, until we’d reached the same point she had.

“Good,” she said. “Now, keep going. EEEEEEEE, feel the resonance. You have it?”

Again, I nodded.

“Okay. Now, the trick is: lower your pitch again, reaching the same note you started from, but keeping the resonance you have now.” She smirked. “I’ll buy dinner for anyone who manages to do it on the first try.”

Again, there was a jumble of sounds, as each of us tried to follow her instructions. I was feeling confident at first: it didn’t seem that hard. But after lowering my voice’s pitch just a little bit, I found that it automatically dropped back into chest resonance.

We all gave it several more tries, and I got maybe a little bit better, but in the end I still couldn’t manage to do it.

“Guess I don’t have to buy dinner this time,” Skylar said, laughing a bit.

“This is too hard,” someone complained.

“Of course it’s hard. It’s called voice training, after all,” the voice coach replied. “You’re meant to keep at it, to actually train. You don’t run a marathon right after being a couch potato for several years, and you don’t speak like a girl right after speaking like a boy for several years.” She smiled. “But I know you will get it. I have faith in you all.”

I smiled back at her.

“So, what do you say we keep on going, and I show you a few more exercises?” she continued.

-----

About an hour later, the lesson was over, and I was feeling really good about myself: I had made some good progress. I still sounded mostly like a toad choking on a frog whenever I actually tried speaking in my ‘girl voice,’ but I was confident I would get it down sooner or later. And there were still two free group lessons to go; after that, I could always pay Skylar for one-on-one lessons – or practice on my own, maybe with Vicky’s help, since she’d been down the same path as me before.

I waved goodbye to Skylar and to the other people in my class, and left the room, starting down the corridor.

“Hi.”

I turned around in surprise: Nora was leaning right beside the door I’d just come out of, smiling at me.

“Nora! Hi,” I replied, walking forward to meet her; I lifted myself on my tip-toes, and gave her a peck on the lips. “What are you doing here?”

“I was lonely, and I wanted to see you.”

“But we saw each other at the GSA yesterday,” I said. “And we’d planned to go to lunch tomorrow.”

“Two days is a long time, Lily,” my girlfriend said, shifting her smile into a grin. “I wanted to see you now, so here I am. You look lovely, by the way. Did you do something with your hair?”

I felt a blush creep up my face, from my neck to my ears, but I nodded. “I swept it a bit to the side, used a bit of hairspray to hold it in place,” I answered, tilting my head to the side to give her a better look. “I’ve been practising. Is it really that noticeable?”

Nora leaned forward and whispered, right in my ear, “It is for me, since I look at you all the time. You’re so cute, I can’t help myself.”

My blush intensified; I looked away, and stammered a few words in protest, along the lines of me not being that cute at all, but Nora just looked at me, an amused smirk on her face.

“You should really learn to control your reactions, Lily,” she said. “When you’re like this, it only makes me want to tease you even more.”

I bit my lip. “Did you come all this way just to make fun of me?” I asked.

“Oh, no, absolutely not,” Nora said, waving her hand. “I actually wanted to talk to you, about this weekend. There’s a concert in a pub on campus, not far from the quad; wanna come?”

“Yes, of course,” I answered without hesitation. “When, exactly? Saturday or Sunday?”

Nora seemed to hesitate. “Uh… Friday, actually. Which is tomorrow evening.”

“Okay, let’s do it.”

“Are you sure? We usually have movie night on Fridays.”

I shrugged. “I’m sure the others won’t mind us missing one night,” I said. “It’s fine. Let’s go to the concert.”

“Great!” Nora exclaimed. “It’s a date then.”

“I’m already looking forward to it,” I said with a smile.

She nodded, and wordlessly offered me her hand, which I took: I knew from experience this was her way to tell me she wanted to walk me back to my dorm, and I readily accepted the invitation.

We walked in silence to my dorm, hand in hand, just feeling the connection, the closeness with each other; when we reached the building, we were both reluctant to let go, but we did after exchanging a kiss.

“Can I come pick you up tomorrow?” my girlfriend asked. “So we can walk to the venue together. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Why would I mind?”

“Well, you know…” she began; then she glanced around, and leaned forward. “Since you’re not out yet, I don’t know if you want to risk running into someone when we’re together.”

I immediately understood that she was talking about Joe, of course.

“It’s not a problem,” I said. “It’s true that I’m not out, to him or to anyone else outside the GSA, but I’ve already told him I have a girlfriend.”

“You did?” Nora said, blinking in surprise; when I nodded, she continued, “And how did he take it?”

“As well as he could, I guess. He was his usual self, the first thing he asked me was if you were hot.”

“Am I? Hot, I mean.”

I looked at her, saw her grin, and groaned. “Yes, Nora, you’re hot,” I said, rolling my eyes and jokingly punching her in the shoulder. “But still, that’s beside the point. The point being, we don’t have to worry about him seeing the two of us together. You can even wait for me in the dorm’s lobby if you want. We just need to be careful in how you refer to me, like, you can’t call me Lily, for one.”

“And what should I call you, then?” Nora asked. “I mean, I don’t even know what your deadname is, actually.”

“It’s–” I began, but stopped myself just in time. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. Just call me darling, or honey, or something along those lines.”

My girlfriend looked at me, a dangerous glint in her eye. “How about ‘princess,’ would that be okay?”

“Absolutely not,” I replied; though, truth be told, the idea of Nora calling me ‘princess’ was actually quite enticing.

Nora laughed. “Sorry, it was just a joke. Alright.” She leaned forward, and gave me a peck on the cheek. “See you on Friday, babe.”

I smiled at her. “See you on Friday, Nora.”

She turned around and walked away; I looked at her for a few moments, then I turned around, too, and walked into the dorm and right into an argument.

“Come on, man!” Joe’s voice came from the corridor leading to the room we shared. “It’s not fair!”

“I already warned you several times, Thompson,” Darrell’s voice came in response; as I walked towards the hallway, Joe’s two friends, Eddie and Tommy, came out of it and rushed past me – evidently Darrell had ordered them to go away, like he’d done before in my presence. “No ball games inside the building.”

“Oh, come on! It only happened twice!” Joe protested.

“What only happened twice?” I asked, as the pair came into view.

“Oh, hello there,” Darrell replied. “This guy broke a lamp playing with his friends.” He pointed along the corridor, and I saw the glass on one of the lamps which hung from the walls had been smashed.

I frowned. “Wasn’t it a table last time? A table that wasn’t even supposed to be there?”

“Yeah!” Joe exclaimed. “You tell him!”

Darrell shook his head. “Even if it only happened twice, that’s two times too many. I was lenient last time, but now I’m confiscating this.” He held up Joe’s football, and walked a bit down the corridor to a closet, which he opened with a key hanging from his belt; he tossed the ball inside, and locked the door again. “I’ll give it back in a couple weeks, if you’re on your best behaviour until then.” He turned back towards Joe. “And don’t even think about buying a new one. I’ll know, and I’ll just keep taking your balls away.”

“Fuck you, man,” Joe said; he turned around, and stormed into our room, slamming the door behind him.

Darrell gave me a look and shrugged. “Sorry,” he said.

I looked back at him, puzzled. “For what?”

“Even though it’s my job, I made him angry. I hope he doesn’t take it out on you.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said with a smile. “The worst he’s ever done was be grumpy in my general direction, and I know how to handle that.”

Darrell nodded. “Still, be careful.”

“I will,” I replied, though I had no idea why I needed to be careful, exactly. As Darrell returned to the lobby, I walked to my dorm room, opened the door, and walked in.

Joe was pacing back and forth in the middle of the room, obviously fuming. Well, at least he couldn’t blame me this time.

I sat down at my desk, pulled out my notes, and began studying; but I just couldn’t concentrate, Joe kept pacing up and down, mumbling to himself.

Finally, I sighed, and turned around. “You alright?” I asked.

“No, I’m not alright. Obviously,” he snapped. “It’s just… that goddamn fucker. Who the hell does he think he is?”

“…Our RA?”

Joe made a face. “Yes, I do know he’s our RA. Thank you,” he spat out. “How dare he take my ball away?”

I blinked, and looked at him. Suddenly, I had an idea: I thought of a way I could ingratiate myself with Joe. Connect with him, if even a little bit.

“Come on, let’s go get the ball back,” I said, standing up from my chair and grabbing my purse.

“Get it back… how?” Joe asked, giving me a puzzled look. “You heard him, he’s not going to give it back before two weeks are up.”

“Then we’ll take it back,” I replied, smiling at him. “Where… oh, there it is,” I said, pulling out my lockpick set from my purse. “Come with me.”

I walked back out of the room into the corridor, and to the door to the closet Darrell had put the ball in; Joe followed me, clearly puzzled. “What are you doing?”

“Keep watch, and tell me if anyone’s coming,” I replied, as I started fiddling with the lock. “Alright, now, let’s see…”

It took me some minutes: while I’d kept practising, I was nowhere near as good with locks as Nora was. But in the end, I managed to set the pins, and the lock turned smoothly. “Here,” I said, opening the door and bending over to pick up the football.

Joe looked at me in surprise. “You know how to pick locks?”

“My girlfriend taught me,” I said, tossing the ball to him and closing the door again.

“Huh. She sounds cool.”

Thinking of Nora made me smile. “She is.”

“Anyway. Thanks,” Joe said, gesturing at me with the ball. “I’m really grateful.”

“If Darrell catches you, though, I’ll deny everything,” I said, raising a finger in warning, but smirking at the same time.

Joe laughed. “Yeah, of course. Come on, let’s get back to our room.”

-----

I stared at the screen for a moment, then sighed, put my face into my hands, and massaged my temples a bit. It was Friday afternoon, I had some free time to work on my paper, and I was completely stuck: I just didn’t know what to write.

No, scratch that, there were several things I could write: like, about my experiences with transition, how I found relating to queer people easier than with cishets, or how, despite being a cis man, HRT had done wonders for my mental health – I’d almost completely stopped drinking, and I was doing much better with my studies.

But none of those were things I wanted to write. None of those things would lead the reader of the paper to the conclusion I wanted to make: that many people only transitioned for clout and to improve their social standing. After all, I’d spent nearly five months immersed into queer society, and yet out of every single trans or non-binary person I’d met, there were none who fit the bill. After talking to them extensively, I was sure every single trans or non-binary person I’d met was actually trans or non-binary, none of them were cis people pretending to be trans.

It was as if I was the only person at Bradford McKinley who was basically transitioning without actually being trans.

But that couldn’t be the case, right? It was impossible.

I’d simply not gone deeply enough. There were still things I could do. Stuff that would surely lead me to a deeper understanding of the issue, and which would make me see the truth.

Things like…

I smiled, closed the text editor window, and brought up a browser. I typed a few words in the search bar, clicked on the link that seemed most likely to yield the answer I was looking for, and started scrolling through the page.

“Changing your legal name in New York state,” Joe’s voice said from behind me. “Huh. What’s this about?”

I jumped in surprise, and swivelled my chair around to face him: I’d been so focused on what I’d been doing that I hadn’t noticed him walking up behind me.

“Nothing!” I exclaimed; then, recovering from the shock, I repeated, more calmly: “Nothing. I’m just doing some research for social studies class, that’s all.”

“Huh,” he mused. “Is this still about that whole transgender stuff?”

“It is,” I nodded.

“Okay, alright,” he nodded back. “Listen, I wanted to tell you, I’m going away for the weekend.”

“With Tommy and Eddie?”

“Yeah. I’m leaving right now, I’ll be back on Sunday afternoon.” He paused. “Do you want to come with?”

I shook my head. “No, thank you. You know I don’t like that kind of stuff. And besides, I have a date tonight.”

“With your girlfriend? What was her name again?”

“Nora.”

“Nora, right,” Joe said. “Okay. Have fun then.”

I smiled. “I will. You have fun, too.”

He nodded. “Just one thing, can I borrow ten bucks? I need to pitch in for gas, and I only have a fifty. I’ll pay you back on Sunday.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said; I reached over to my bed and opened my purse, pulling out my wallet. I extracted a ten-dollar bill from it, and handed it to Joe. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, buddy,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “See you on Sunday.”

He picked up his duffel bag from the floor, waved goodbye to me, and left the room.

I looked at my watch, and saw it was just about time for me to get ready too: I closed up my laptop, grabbed my bag of toiletries, make-up pouch, and a clean set of underwear (including my good bra) from my wardrobe, and made my way to the bathroom.

As I showered, I thought about my girlfriend. God, I really loved her, and I was really looking forward to our date. It would be my first concert, too, I’d never been to one before: I didn’t really enjoy live music, to be honest, but the company more than made up for it.

I towelled myself dry, and put on my underwear. I noticed my bra felt a bit snug: I’d probably need to buy a new one soon. I briefly wondered what size my breasts were now – the bra was an A cup, and I was just about filling it completely.

I dried my hair, styled it a bit, and then I carefully applied my make-up; I looked in the mirror, and smiled. Cute.

I looked around the bathroom. Now, where did I put my clothes? Oh, right: I’d been so lost in my own world, thinking about the upcoming date with Nora, that I’d all but forgotten to bring them with me into the bathroom. Ah well, no biggie, I could just get changed in the bedroom.

I stepped out of the bathroom and walked over to my wardrobe, opening it and looking at the treasure trove inside: over the previous few months I’d been expanding my clothes collection, and by that point I could put together several outfits I really liked. Not that I had much occasion to do so, what with Joe and not being out to him. But now, with him being gone for a couple days…

My lips drew back into a smile.

My eyes fell onto a pair of leggings. Yes, those were good. I could pair them with a nice top, and they’d make a very nice outfit. Unmistakably feminine, of course, but I had no reason to worry.

I pulled the leggings on, and passed the top over my head, smoothing it down, flattening the wrinkles until it fit perfectly. Yes. Nice.

I was confident I looked really cute. Nora would surely–

The room’s door opened.

I turned around just in time to see Joe walk in.

“Sorry, man, I forgot my–”

He froze, staring at me. I stared back.

His eyes widened.

“…What the fuck are you wearing?”