ASSUMES NO ME AS A WOMAN (Published in the Daily Reporter on 09/08/1910)
rummage through your skin ... and see the scars that account for its many mornings Street making nest and anguish. Remove the dreams and encounters the same gasp of many years. Imagine the love ... and there are mud puddles their roadmaps. For many years it was discovered that was different from what it was. So when looking for some sign in the space of light, you feel more confused. Exercises, some say unnatural, most famously, censored, and ancient craft rescued the world. Wander the streets, looking for sustenance in return for his body lets loose a life. No man feels. But do not operate because their customers prefer it completely. In "business" should be asset-liability almost always. He feels that before, when he was in the 19 and now practicing in the Avenida Lara, the charm is being a transvestite and not transsexual. To this point, that if you do the math, he says, are the transvestite women in the profession ... well, he says, those with more customers. Therefore, when looking back, when he wants returned from the life he has chosen by chance, he always finds an old culvert where rolling your good wishes. The old passion that eats away at your life and gives no rest. The same hand digging his grave every day ... which will be buried too many times. She takes refuge at night. Where only the murmur accompanying the complainant wind. The dark side of its clients, which emerges in the midst of a rented bed for hours but it gives them the satisfaction itself denied. That many have, but I always fear that someone would discover. The secret the lewd fantasies. The double standard. Although he knows where it hurts, sometimes can not help feeling hurt after the customer leaves. Is in love. Have a crush on him, or her, how to be seen and how many see it when he was hired. But nothing for a long time. This convicted, or convicted, the telegraph love. In short obituaries. Of few words and almost no explanation. If the recipient of the secrets of others, but only to find themselves rent in a friendly host, the warmth of affection reciprocated even in the midst of the abject performance of a service. Delves beneath the skin and there is a feeling of broken glass relentlessly pierce beyond the pleasure of the flesh. Jumble of passions. Of the uncertainties they create their troubles, but feed the curiosity of his companions. It does not feel masculine. Neither a woman trapped in the body of a man. Feel female full-time. Emotional lady, full of testosterone. Operated, maintained a body that would like some mises he boasts. Hormones and the scalpel, with the money contributed by trading sexual ambiguity, has enabled them to shaping it with details of the artist. But it has operated or will operate, sex. It is still a woman, but male genitalia ... but alone, to please their customers!
"Very young, well-dressed, extroverted, if not say no hard to notice a woman .... different from the stereotypes about people of their condition one has created, I look after some email and several phone calls to my secretary.
- How is BA? Sorry for the times I have mentioned and I did not come, but it is not easy to talk about what one is or wants to be ... especially when that condition is bitterly censured by society. When very few people understand it, and when they do not fail to show any curiosity hidden evil or unhealthy criticism. But also because one assumes what is at some point, and simply live. Although few, is rarely confronted with a person like you chat and be X-rayed on what one is, the more rational level of being. In addition, to be shown and confronted by the vast legion of readers. Sure, and why I'm here with the respect that you treat your interviewees and the lesson of life that offers each time you get someone to discuss their particular history.
- Tell me, I ask ...
- I was born male, but since I use because I was female. My strength, my gestures and my attitude was a child. I was always very female and very cute, he says, recalling his life in those days. If you see my pictures of small, ever think it was male. I narrates his life through a series of episodes where the girl is different, misunderstood teenager, the heroine in danger, the woman warrior who overcomes tough challenges, the beautiful rogue who seduces everyone with her charm and incomparable beauty, Finally a history capable of justifying what you want to be. . When I was 12, I said, I got tired of the abuse that I gave my father, then fled to Barquisimeto from Chivacoa. After seeing me in danger at the hands of a sexual exploiter, I escaped and returned to my native Yaracuy, where my father was indifferent and continued coaxing me severely to follow his example and "be a male." But as I was female, which I liked the makeup and women's accessories. And perhaps by the influence of the mind and desire, I felt that my curves were rising. I could not see the men because my skin crawl. I knew what I wanted and how I wanted. That began my first steps transvestite, but had a long time before I could finally assume full-time in public.
- How was that process asumirte woman, when in fact you were a man?
- At that time in my imagination, my imagination, my desire, my name is Daniel. The name with which I identified within the inner world that have built, over tragedy to be different. So, all I had to live as a woman I was coming. Although I had spent every stage. Each step I took. Every inch that I moved. The first dance as "girl", the applause at the presentation of dances and even the first boyfriend, a college classmate, who could not continue attending the cruel dictates of my father, who refused to continue supporting a "queer ".
- What did you do then?
- With small-town mentality of the society they lived on me, I decided to come live in Barquisimeto aunts house. There I met a retired, married and father of two children, with whom I had an affair "very pure" because we were like girlfriend, 15. Back then it was all seriecita he recalls. Did not work as Daniela, but took her in, she says. It was, so to speak, a very feminine ... very tight jeans and very steep curves, with a tender derriere, and some boobs that started to grow thanks to the treatments, which were suspected to enter the aunts and everyone . Imagine degree, the body I have always have had. I care a lot ... referring to his silhouette, female eye, which must be carefully detail if you want to find some trace of its original frame male ...
- What's your name in your life man?
- believe me I graduated not remember my name because the surviving male was Daniela, which fulfilled the dream of being "it" a triumph that I celebrate every moment
- Tell me then how developed Daniela?
- My success as Daniel began to take shape when I saved some money and decided to come to Barquisimeto. There began my life as a woman completely defined and risky, because not everyone is suited for this. You have to have balls, he says. And look what I am today, many years after me down the rickety bus that brought me from Chivacoa to take a chance and without pain or limitations, my female identity. Eight days after my arrival, had already found work as a massage therapist within one place close to the Avenida Vargas, a booth on the second floor of a busy business. Gained from 40 thousand to 200 thousand Bolivars per day. A man of great weight in the city became, then, my benefactor. Then I worked on a gay site in the city center. Although it was very crowded, it was crummy ... but it was the site where I got one of my greatest success as Daniela, to be elected when I was there, as the most productive local girl.
- Why then chose the street if there were so well?
- From there I went to another bar, where I remained the star of the show mimicking Ana Gabriel, Rocio Durcal and other audience favorite divas. Then I worked in a restaurant and later I went back to 'artistic life' where a customer tried to attack me drunk with a bottle because I refused to go with him and had to leave everything for the harassment of that dirty old man of great influence in the city. I began the job of a sex worker in the race 19. I had to start again. But with the luck of being sought by many and to produce enough money to have own house and car. With a clientele that is comprised of men from the upper strata of the city.
- What do you do with them?
- accompanying them. The pleasure. After many nights, I could draw my own conclusions about trends erotic each of my customers based on purchasing power and social class to which they belong. And look Degree, he says, people in the higher strata is the most evil, sick and morbid sexual've met in my life. Loves having sex with a transvestite. I think they are gay hidden. That excuse on my wife ways to unleash weaknesses they have. I believe that sexual perversions are fantasies. Because after being with me, they always ask me to accept the active role in copulation. And then, out the mufflers, outside the closet, living love, living happiness.
- Did you love?
- Yes, but there. Nobody wants to start a family with a transvestite. And though many tell me they love me, show me I'm sorry, but as is ... no one could at first discovered as such.
- Are you going to operate to be a complete woman?
- I am a woman 24 hours a day ... and night yet Moreover, she says, and I do not do sex change degree, simply because that is the great secret of transvestites to please men. And my job is to please. Look no more, and try to answer, why the vast majority of sex workers you see at night are transvestite ... why are not complete women? I do not think bisexuality is a problem because I'm in this world who do not believe in that. There are active homosexuals and homosexual persons. And a few others, social pressure, disguised as a heterosexual!
- Are you happy?
- I think ... you teary eyes and says, no! ... Nobody can pretending to be what it is ... Degree. And look at me here determined not to fall apart, if not convey to you the triumph of my will over nature and social pressure. But I feel I'm losing. Live enormous confusion. Nobody loves me but to satisfy their perversions or special fantasies ... but I was convinced that no one will try to build a family with me. Just as I buenota with the lolas operated, the derriere increased, false nails, nice legs, shaved completely, no woman I assumed to be full. Even those who share my bed. So much so that in the end, what they want is to be held by the man who I always tried to replace. I will not let to be a sex worker. My friends live secret. Although we won it, we live running of the police, thugs, suffering the excesses and aggression of some customers. Bachelor forgive, but not true that life is so easy and so beautiful as I told the principle. Nobody wants, nobody respects us. All of us abuse. Even those who say they understand, they just want to sleep with us for free. We are objects of desire, curiosity or contempt. No women. No men .... And sometimes I do not know if we are even in respect of all people. Forgive
degree. I came to speak of achievements, to show my success, to hope that my colleagues and I read my clients to know that I'm happy doing what I do ... and look at me here, crying for my weaknesses and failures.
- Why did you come?
- For wrong.
- But I think that deep down you have always been clear that sometimes the price you pay to be like you want to be
- Mine is a very high degree. I want to be a woman, but not those who want to hire me as such, they appreciate that it is. Telling cold, to my regret, I've noticed.
- What are you doing?
- Nothing. I do not want to return because I am woman. But I define this ambiguity but does not want to accept it hurts me.
left, or perhaps feel the same noise again ... the same feeling of confusion ... the old black shell, which no longer stand the eternal alibi. Back to what I thought passed, marking the extent of your skin carefully. The same warning cold night. The insomnia of always turning on the alarms. Misunderstandings scribbling the same dream to become daily nightmares. The same censorship lacerating bones, repeated injury after love and sex ... and over night. Seems bound to find the end of all roads. The awakening of fantasies. The freshen wrinkled old roses so much life lived. When rationalized what he considered his accomplishments, then discovered that there were no surprises ... just to appease those who invented the road. Not even own and lasting affections, only those of interest. The mutual commitment to trade temporary. Did not get the brush to strip paint the life he was fortunate, though that did make the erasures. The reality appeared alone, without help, and as the executioner. The charging life in sadness, the few joys collected. There was then no tables, no cutlery, and tablecloths ... the winter was served at the site where the feet leave their mark, even unwittingly. Why is not the memory of the pillows, or quarters, or the sheets ... because they were never own. Only your marks on his body when stood on end many times in the middle of a service. The discovery that life is just an excuse for hate ... using his best man as a decoy.
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