My mom had a look on her face that I will never forget. It was an expression of anger mixed with confusion.

“Charles, do you know what you just said to me?” she asked.

I nodded my head yes.

“You sound crazy. Don’t you know that God will punish you for this?” she asked.

“Mom, there is no proof of that,” I said.

“No proof? Son, it is in the Bible. What more proof do you need? God intended for it to be man and woman. Not man and man! And the fact that you want to change your sex? That’s taking it overboard. You might as well slap God across the cheek with your bare hands!”

“I’m telling you this because you’re my mother and I need your support,” I whined. “Not so you could judge me.”

My mom turned back around to face the stove. “No son of mine will sleep with other men. And no son of mine will live his life as a woman,” she mumbled.

“So what are you saying, Mom?”

“I’m saying that I won’t approve! As long as you’re under my roof, you will be Charles, the boy God made you, and you will not have dealings with other men!” she shouted.

“Well, Mom, I made up my mind, and if that means I have to go live with Dad, then that’s what I’ll do,” I said.

My mom turned to face me again. She looked into my eyes. “Do you think your father would have you in his house looking like a woman? If it was up to him, you would have been sent away a long time ago,” she said.

“What do you mean, I would have been sent away?” I asked.

“Why do you think your father left? He knew you were gay all along. He wanted me to send you away to boarding school or somewhere. I’m the one who defended you. I swore to him that you were just going through a phase. We had many arguments over it, Charles. And eventually your father put his hands up. He walked out on us because of you, Charles. And now, ten years later, you come and tell me he was right! I lost my husband defending you, and you prove me wrong…”

When my mom told me that, I was so hurt and so ashamed. I felt unwanted and unloved. I remember being suicidal for a while after that day in the kitchen with my mom. It was then that I packed up my stuff and left my mother’s house. Tina let me move in with her.

Transitioning was difficult for me at first. Not the dressing-up part, dressing like a girl was so comfortable for me it took no time to get used to. But all the miscellaneous stuff threw me for a loop. Tina taught me that living as a woman took more than fashion and attitude. It took discipline and a hell of a lot of money. We first had to get several surgeries, which we needed money to pay for. That’s why Tina took me down Twelfth Street on a Friday night and introduced me to trickin’. I was in complete shock that night. There were all these gay guys posted up on various corners, some dressed like thugs, others dressed like girls. There was a heavy flow of traffic too. Cars were riding through continuously, stopping and picking up tricks. I was scared as hell the first night out there. I thought somebody was going to try to kill me, or an undercover was going to lock me up. Tina told me that I watched too much TV, and she assured me I would be fine. She said she had been working those corners since she was sixteen and nothing like that had happened to her or anybody she knew.

At that time it was obvious I was a guy and I was concerned that men wouldn’t pick me up, but to my surprise more men wanted me than wanted Tina. And even more surprising, they were usually older, married men. In fact, my first, the man who broke me in, was married. I’ll never forget him. His name was Ty. I offered to suck his dick like I did with every other guy that pulled up on me, but he insisted I let him fuck me. I explained to him that I was a virgin, but he was still with it. He said that turned him on even more. He was real gentle with me and despite the pain, I liked it-a lot. You can say I was turned out after that and not only by the sex, but by the money as well. He paid me three hundred, which was big change compared to the fifty to seventy-five I was used to getting off head. Ty was real cool, though. He showed me pictures of his kids and all. His oldest daughter was named Celess, which is how I got my name. I felt bad at first. But after six months of being out there I developed an I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. Besides, Tina and me had no intentions on being out there forever like those other transvestites and cross-dressers. We had plans-big plans.

It took every bit of six months to make the money we needed for our surgeries. By January 2000 we had silicone put in our chests, butts, and faces to get a womanly form. Tina had already been taking hormones, but I started on them after the surgeries. Ultimately, I had to change my diet, start exercising, and take all types of vitamins for my hair, nails, and skin. After about a year, I was a totally different person. I had gone through a lot, but I was definitely happier as a woman. I didn’t have to worry about being teased and looked at funny for being gay, like I had witnessed other gay men go through. I could walk around with a man and kiss him right in public without stares and hateful comments. That was probably the best advantage of dressing up.

I decided to call O after spending the whole day looking at old pictures, watching Lifetime movies, and crying. I finally got bored with myself. I wanted to get out of the house.

“Hey, O, it’s me. Hit me back, I’m tryna see you,” I said after the tone.

I waited for like an hour for O to call me back, and when he didn’t I realized that I was due for a new dude. Anytime I didn’t have a plan B, something was wrong. I got in the shower, threw on a royal blue and white J’adore sleeveless T, some Miss Sixty low riders, some royal blue stilettos, and a short royal blue leather jacket with cropped sleeves to my elbows. I grabbed my Dior clear-lens glasses and my blue Dior signature bag, and left.

It was a cool April night but nice. It was close to eleven o’clock. I went to Chrome nightclub on Delaware Avenue. It was somewhat packed. I peered through the crowd to see if I recognized anyone to socialize with. When I didn’t, I walked over to the bar and sat down.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

She was a tall white girl with long black hair that flowed straight down her back. She was very thin too. She looked like she could be a model.

“An electric lemonade.”

Sitting there in Chrome alone made me miss Tina so much. I was used to her being right there by my side on nights like that.

“Damn, shorty, what’s ya name?” a short, stocky guy asked.

“Naomi,” I lied, which meant I wasn’t interested.

“You fine as shit, what you drinkin’?”

The bartender placed my drink in front of me. I paid her and picked it up.

“This,” I told the guy as I extended the drink toward him.

“Well, I got ya next one, baby,” he said.

“That won’t be necessary,” another voice said.

“Oh, that’s you, cousin?” the short, stocky guy asked. “My bad,” he continued as he looked me over one last time and then walked away.

“Thank you,” I said to the voice I had not matched with a face yet.

“No problem,” the voice responded. “I knew he wasn’t your type.”

I finally turned around and asked, “What’s my type?”

And damn it if my type wasn’t staring me right in the face. He was light brown like honey with slanted light brown eyes and a head full of sandy brown curly hair. He looked good as shit. He had a gorgeous smile that revealed two tiny dimples and some beautiful teeth. I just wanted to jump on his lap and start tonguing him down. But I kept my cool, though.

“You look like you’re into a good-looking guy who likes to have fun and spend money,” he said, flashing that killer smile.

“Bingo,” I said softly, unable to take my eyes off of him.

He smirked and introduced himself. “I’m Darrell.”

“Celess,” I replied.

“Dance with me,” he commanded.

And I did-all night, song after song. I thought I had fallen in love.

It had been three weeks since I’d been talking to my newfound friend Darrell and it had been at least that long since I’d heard from O. I called him almost every day and left messages on his phones. I wanted to make sure he

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