Whom Can You Trust?

As a “nominal” boy growing up in the foothills of California’s Sierra Nevada Mountains, I indulged the passion that seemed to overtake all boys of a certain age; I climbed things. Growing up in central California there was no lack of opportunity.

I climbed all sorts of things, trees of every imaginable shape and description as well as the crumbling sandstone cliffs that were within easy walking distance of my home on the hill. What was often lacking, not surprisingly, was the common sense to know what were attainable goals and foolhardy ones. I most clearly remember the foolhardy ones. These were the ones that, more likely than not, could land me, often abruptly, with broken bones.

Later in life when this apparently nonsensical behavior would reassert itself, I would often be asked in conjunction with the questioner’s knowledge that I was transgender, “do you think all this daring-do is just your ‘female self’ overcompensating?” I usually consider the question carefully, then I respond nonchalantly; “nope, I just enjoy doing it – I like the rush”. They generally wander off, as dissatisfied with that “truth” as I was disgusted with myself for propagating yet another “lie”.

This is a bit closer to the truth; being closeted and in deep denial for many years I was pushing back on that closet door by seeking to answer the question; “Who Can I Trust?” Even as a kid, I was attuned to the notion that climbing mountains was more about trust, than about attainment. Moreover, if I was ever to attain some enduring sense of peace and wholeness, I was going to need to learn to trust someone. Yet trusting another would require that I hand the other end of the rope to them and with it my life. On a steep and windswept alpine headwall with a thousand feet of air between my legs or a wildly crevassed glacier in a howling whiteout, our trust in each other as partners could be nothing less than complete.





© 2008 Renée Thomas all rights reserved