She was a blonde, leggy WASP from Connecticut who lived in a historic hotel with a grand piano in the lobby. Her skin was flawless and blonde peach fuzz glimmered on her arms in the right light. She showed horses on the A Circuit and was the wife of a famous NYC nightclub promoter. She was an East Village rock star and did cameos as herself in downtown art movies in the 90s. She vacationed in the Hamptons and designers Mark Jacobs and Alex Bittar loved to dress her. She was a member of the most elite club in Manhattan, hobnobbing with rock legends and movie stars. She sat on committees for mayor Bloomberg and launched a charity that gave horseback riding lessons on the Chelsea Piers to young girls living with AIDS. She ate raw or from Whole Foods and spent many hours a day pampering her hair and body.
She was a tranny living with AIDS in a welfare hotel. She worked, legally, for less than minimum wage in social services, subsidized by food stamps and public benefits. She had track marks and a Medicaid funded titanium hip. She wore second hand clothes and plastic bracelets ~ 10 for a dollar ~ that covered her hesitation marks. She spent a portion of her life in the hospital, often the Bellevue psych ward. She only left her 10 x 15 foot room to go to medical appointments, 12-step meetings or an event when someone remembered to put her on a list. She could only eat one or two easily digestible foods at any one time and spent the first half of the day doing what she could to relieve the pain in her body enough to get out the door.
She made beautiful paintings and cartoons, poems and prose that changed the way you mis-understood everything. She made every event and room that she walked into instantly glamorous. All of her widened the path to trans-euphoria and healed so many children.