Attitude is Everything.

Yesterday, was an historic day. For the first time in history, the sitting President of the United States, Barack OBama, stated publicly that gay and lesbian people should be allowed to marry.

Before you start the usual carping, the incessant criticisms and endless analysis of what this means -turning this moment into something smarmy and cynical- can we just take a breath and appreciate what just happened.

They were simple words.

They were smartly couched and eloquently delivered.

They were personal, they were honest, and they defined the issues in human terms.

"How do you look someone in the eye and tell them they are second-class citizens?"

I have seen a lot of people say a lot of things, in a variety of media, about the subject of gay-marriage, and, they all have a lot to say. I've heard more jokes on the subject of gay marriage then I care to -most lame. But, I've yet to hear anything that connects with me the way the Presidents words did.

By speaking about Gays and Lesbians and the struggle for equality, the President has elevated the LGBT community to the level of human beings, worthy of dignity and respect.

You can't take that back.

Pandora's box has been opened.

You can disagree. You can minimize it's importance in the overall schemme of things, doing what you can to diminish it. You can analyze, criticize, over-emphasize and lionize it. But, you cannot erase it. It is historic.

So, can I suggest -for just the briefest of moments- that we breath deeply, and take a moment to re-energize our hope for the future.

We'll have plenty of time to fall back into the abyss of depresssion and anger everytime a hate crime is reported, a child is beaten and a person is fired for being a human being.

We are continually bombarded with stories and narratives that turn our stomachs and break our hearts, and it's what we all fight against every day of our lives, but we can't continue if there aren't moments that we can point to that show that hope still exists.

I am proud of our President.

Not just for the words he spoke.

Because, after years of words that were filled with fear and hate, violence and intolerance, someone spoke words that we all yearn to hear. And, in so doing reminded us what our political and religious leaders have forgotten.

We all hope for a better tomorrow.

Otherwise, we truly are in Hell.

Dear Anderson Cooper,

I live my life as Clark Kent, but I wish I was Rita Hayworth.


That was the line that caught Leonard Nimoy's attention. It was what I had submitted as a 'short bio' to Mr. Nimoy in response to his call for people willing to participate in a multi-media exploration of secret identities, entitled 'Secret Selves', several years ago.


I had no expectation that he would respond. So, of course, he did.


I grew-up with Leonard Nimoy and his portrayal of the half-human/half-vulcan character everyone knows as Spock, from the populat television series Star Trek.


As a child, living in a broken and often violent home, Spock seemed to be the only other person who felt what I felt: Alone, but surrounded by multitudes
.

Eventually, I realized that he was just an actor playing a part. But, when you're a child, and you have nothing in your life to hold onto, that character on television made me feel that maybe I wasn;t alone. Maybe, I wasn't the only one who was different.


When I submitted my bio to Mr. Nimoy, I hadn't, yet, transitioned. I was living a life in two worlds. I was stuck and couldn't move forward. I was living and working during the day as a man, to support the two most important people in my life -my wife and my child.


So, it seems just as surreal to me, today, as I write this, as it did when I first spoke them to him on the fall day, several years ago.


My name is Tammy Twotone. I am a child of abandonment, divorce, abuse and hate. A great deal of my life has been spent living in fear. Most of it -especially the early years- was also with the certainty that I was unloved and unloveable (something no child should experience). My first hero was George Carlin. I was bullied. I am one of five daughters, who has only now become a woman. I'm German. I was U.S. Marine....for a very short time. I've seen my mother beaten. I'm an artist. I've sold books for a living and dreamed about being a writer. I've beena taxi-dispatcher on the over-night shift. I've worked with Special-needs kids. I am married. I am a parent. And, I'm a stand-up comedian.


Now, you have to understand that during all this, I'm standing in front of Mr. Nimoy dressed from head-to-toe as a Las Vegas Showgirl. My voice was deep and monotone and the five-o'clock shadow on my face was dark. Like I said, surreal.


From my experience, I can tell you that Mr. Nimoy is a warm and generous man, as well as a gifted artist. He calmed my nerves, and asked me about myself with patience and respect.


That was a seminole moment for me, and it was a point of clarity. He spoke to me as an equal, with genuine interest and concern, with grace and humility.


I spoke freely and clearly, only ocassionally babbling. I no longer felt like a freak, grappling with questions of my 'Secret Self'.


As we spoke to each other, I realized that a part of me was still that litle girl, searching for hope and understanding, who sat in front of the television set so many years ago.......and, Mr. Spock had come to save me.


I wasn't afraid at that moment. And, I haven't been since.


Since that experience, I've gone on to transition. I've been performing stand-up all over NYC. I've been involved in several film projects, performed in the vagina Monlouges, auditioned with NBC, modeled, worked with many amazing and talented people and performers, and, recently, was a guest at the GLAAD Media Awards in NYC.


I'm not sure what constitutes a 'good story, anymore. I do know, however, that the character of Spock, played by Mr. Nimoy, on the television series Star Trek, made a connection with a child who was frieghtened, lonely and unloved. And, I'd say with certainty, that there aren't too many Trans-women who can point to such a cultural icon like Leonard Nimoy, and say, "That man may have just saved my life".

My Story

My past is filled with abuse, with neglect, with back-hands and slammed doors.

Is That what defines me?

In the last few weeks, I have been honored to meet and work with so many amazing people. It began with my part in The Vagina Monolouges. Not only did I get to work with a pair of great directors (Erin Bigelow and Ege Maltepe), but I had the opportunity to work with an amazing, and supportive cast of women, that I now think of as friends. The fact that Lorelei Erisis was one of those people made it even better. It was a nice departure from the usual Stand-Up gigs and an experience I will treasure always.

Should I high-light That experience?, I ask myself. Or, should I contrast that particular experience with the fact that, as a child, I was told by my step-father that I was a worthless piece of shit that would never amount to anything? Does it matter that those voices still echo and reverbarate to this very day?

Is That the Story?

I don't think so.

Some people would have you believe that facing suicide, or a stint in the military is where I will find My Story. Maybe. They were defining moments of anguish and clarity in my life. Not to be easily trod over and forgotten, no doubt. But, not what defines my life.

As a comedian, of trans-persuasion, working in NYC over the past few years, I've been on quite a ride. I have met famous people, auditioned at NBC for a small part on 30 Rock, gotten involved in several film projects, and was recently invited to the GLAAD Media Awards -where I rubbed shoulders with people I've only known from film and television.

Not bad for someone who was told by a Club Manager that I was talented and professional, ............but he would never hire me, because I was trans. He said he didn't know how to market me. Was that hate, or a cold hard truth? Did he do me a diservice, or did he ignite a fire? (I don't like being told I can't do something. It just pisses me off and makes me more determind).

People often ask me why it is that I haven't shared my story. Where is my 'personal journey' to be found on the book-shelves? I usually respond that I have nothing new to add. And, I'm not being humble when I say that I don't think anyone really cares. Part of that comes from from my background (obviously), but part of it also comes from trying to avoid what's already out there. If only heart-ache and abuse are where you find your definitions, there is already a glut. No need for me to squeeze in.

The fact is that I am a survivor. Many people have not been so lucky. And, don't for a second think I'm not aware of That fact. They were no lesser than I and they most likely would have contributed more to the world than I ever will.

If there is a narrative, it begins with the look in my son's eyes, as I held him for the first time on the day he was born. Or, the walk down the asile on my wedding day, holding hands with the love of my life -20 years ago. Probably a bit too schmaltzie for prime-time. But, for me, truly important. And, defining.

When Leonard Nimoy asked me (during the shoot for 'Secret Selves') to describe my life, and how I was able to live it, I froze. Not because 'Spock' was standing in front of me and I was dressed as a Las Vegas showgirl, but because I was stumped.

I hadn't thought about it.

Survivors are generally too busy surviving.

But, it did get me thinking.

I've spent my life, surviving. I've spent it with one a foot in two worlds, in so many ways. Yes, my past is mired in ignorance, abuse, hate and neglect. But, that's not what defines me. It's certainly part of who I am. It informs me and it's the lense through which I view the world. But, that's not the whole story.

I'm not sure where it's going from here. Trans-woman, comedian, abuse survivor, sister, immigrant, ex-marine, taxi-dispatcher, parent, teacher, frieghtened child, artist and explorer. None of those are definitions. They're starting-off points.

Just ask me.

Have I got a story for you!

MY BIG RUBBER BUTT: Adventures of a Transgender Comic Part 7

I should've known I was screwed way before that. Not be becuase I'm untalented or transgendered (I can work around that). It's because I'm German.

After my audition, Debbs took me out on the town. She knew this great Japanesse place...... We ate, we laughed, we drank. She told great stories about her writing and the people she's crossed paths with. I was frothing at the mouth over just having spent the afternoon at NBC.

It was fun.

I wound-up on her couch, staring at something on tv, while her roomate drank wine and cleaned-out the fishtank. I was exhausted. And, a little buzzed. Debbs ran back and forth, changing, taking care of the bunny, checking her computer and checking on me (she's good like that).

I'm a cynic and a fatalist, at heart. I always will be. But, for one moment, I was on top of the world. "This is NBC Casting..", is a line that ran on a continuous loop in my brain that entire day. Hope rose in my chest for the first time in a long time.

It's almost impossible to explain how tired I was. Mumbling 'uh-huh', and ocassionally nodding was preferable to 'Please, stop talking....I'm having a hard-time focusing'. That required too much energy.

So, I just laid there, glassy eyes staring between a blurred image on a television screen and listened to the minute details of African Aquatics, by Debbs roommate. I'm not sure she realized just how exhausted I was. And, the second glass of wine did nothing to make her more aware, or slow her down. She was on a roll.

That's pretty much how I remember that day coming to an end. Surreal. But, somehow appropriate. I realized that, as I laid there, that I probably had reached the pinnacle of my success Whatever happened happened, I was going to savor every minute of it. Even fish-lady couldn't take that away.

Tonight, I was Sleepin' With the Fishes.

MY BIG RUBBER BUTT: Adventures of A Transgendered Comic: Part 6

When I had originally read the one-page script then had been forwarded to me, a million scenarios ran through my mind -most of which had me and Tina Fey rolling in laughter. Since the other person in the script was identified as Liz Lemon, to which I am talking to, I just assumed.....

I dreamnt of hanging-out with Tina Fey for a week, even though the actual shoot would probably take an hour, or two, tops. I was surprised at all the emotional triggers that audition fired.

When the person from casting, came into the room and called my name, I was pretty much just glad I had a wonderful fall day in the city. I grabbed my bags, headed for the door, and announced, "Okay, Boys. I'm going In".

Captive audiences should never be under-estimated.

I went into the third, or fourth door on my left. As I entiered the room, I noticed two people sitting behind a desk. A man and a woman. I was directed to stand against the wall, to my left. The wall was covered with a blue curtain.

Everyone was introduced, and I immediately forgot their names. The man sitting behind the desk was also running a camera. The woman next to him said that she had seen me recently at the Broadway Comedy Club - a performance that I immediately remembered as not my best -furthere plummeting my soul into darker depths of despair.

"Oh, you were great that night. I loved it".

"Oh. in that case", I responded without missing a beat, "I was fucking brilliant.

It was all very pleasant. They were pleasant. I was pleasant. I read the line I had been three different ways. After each reading they seemed pleased. Then it was thank you for coming-in goodbye.

I was back outside, standing between the ice-skating rink in the process of becoming an ice skating rink, and the guy sprucing up the facade. People walked back and forth, and I just stood there..........hands in my pockets....cmera pulling back and arching up....leaves blowing past.....the last flickers of sunlight between the buildings......Jazz music and Woody Allen narrating.

Now What?!

MY BIG RUBBER BUTT: Adventures of a Transgendered Comic. Part 5.

I sat outside of 30 Rockefeller Plaza for about a half hour. It was a beautiful fall day, and there weren't as many tourists, as usual. I watched people go by, I watched a painter sprucing-up the facades over the entrances, while the moments ticked-away. The skating rink was in the process of being turned-into a skating rink.

At quarter-of, I grabbed my bag and headed inside. It was much darker inside. Marble walls seemed to turn night into day. I found the visitors center after a little direction. The girl behind the counter wasn't overly impressed. She took my ID (which had my legal name on it), gave me a once-over and issued me a badge. She was very business-like. And, I got the feeling that she'd seen just about everything.

The elevators took me to a floor I assumed would be bustling with activity. Instead, I got an old reggae janitor, who directed me. There was no one in the halls. There was no one in the offices. All there was was a sign, directing those who were there to audition for 30 Rock to have a seat in the green room. So, I did.

I looked out the windows at the roof below, and the street below that. I heard a phone ring in the distance. There was a sound of conversation in another room. I rifled the magazines and sat down.

After a few minutes, a woman wearing a tight red cocktail dress, and sporting bleach-blonde locks like Marily Monroe came in. She was stunningly beautiful, perfectly sized and shaped, with not a single wrinkle in her skin. I hated her.

She grabbed her bag, and coat, and split, without a word.

Before long, a 20-something-looking young man came in. We introduced ourselves and chatted. This was his "first audition, in years", he said. He did a lot of things when he was a kid, bur had taken a few years off.....and, he also said, he knew the casting director well. When he told me that he was also up for the part that I was up for, my heart sank.

Then another 20-something came in. Then another. Before long a trickle turned into a tide and I was surrounded by 10 young men, who could all have posed for the cover of GQ.

......And, there was me.

What's wrong with this picture?~

MY BIG RUBBER BUTT; Adventures of a transgendered comic. Part 4

I had a pillow on my face when the phone rang. I could hear everything around me, but my vision was filled with pillow. Except for the phone I was holding under the pillow, and the sound of my voice as I spoke to the person on the other end, it would have looked like I'd been smothered by anyone entering the room.

It was NBC/Universal casting, in NYC. And, they wanted me to come in and read for a small part on 30 Rock.

The pillow hit the floor, as I sat straight-up in bed.

That was late Friday. By Monday, I was back in the city.

If this were a filmed, the beat would kick-in at this point followed by a great montage of NYC sights -especially, Rockefeller Center. You'd see me arriving, just like Mary Tyler Moore,in The tv series the Mary Tyler Moore show would, when she emerged from her apartment building -throwing her hat into the air. Only, in this case, I'd be holding my nose.

That would immediately be followed by shots of me and Tina Fey, Tracy Morgan, Alex Baldwin and Judah Freedlander, as we made all manner of faces at each other as our Names popped-up under our faces, in a visually stunning, yet light and jovial way.

It would be a wonderful Cinderella story.

Instead, it turned-out to be a lot more interesting.

It was a great two day adventure that took me all over town with Debbs. It was my first trip into 30 Rockefeller Center, as well as the casting offices of NBC/Universal, and my flirtation with the NBC television show 30 ROCK.

And,for some reason, Elvis fits into this.