the work of an artist

I wore a dress to my grandfather’s funeral. It was the first time in my life I was able to come to a family ceremony as my full self. So many of us as trans people have our personhood compromised while grieving and while being grieved. Let’s be clear this is not just about our “appearances,” our “names,” our “pronouns” but about our dignity.

I do not take this lightly — in being here in my full self I get to access my full grief. Of course there was some confusion and misrecognition, but I had conviction knowing that my grandfather would have wanted me here in this form.

When I told him I was trans years ago grandpa said it made complete sense because “all great artists aspire toward androgyny.” He was always supportive and inquisitive about my work for trans justice. He came and saw me perform back in 2015 and sat on the front row with the biggest smile. After the 2016 election he told me that he was really worried about me and the trans community, and he would always tell me when he read about trans issues in the news or saw them on TV.

When he moved to New York with me at the end of his life we would take walks together all over downtown. I would come wearing the wildest looks and he would give his distinctive chuckle, smile, say nothing. When other people would stare at me on the street he would look at me with the most sweet and innocent ideas “Does this happen to you all the time?” “What is wrong with them?”

In his 90s he tried his best to use my gender-neutral pronouns. He would explain to visiting doctors and nurses at every hospital and rehab center that I was an accomplished artist he was so proud of who happened to be “a transgender.” At a fundamental level his acceptance of me mattered more than anyone else in the world. He was one of the first people to see me when I was born and I was one of the last to see him before he died. I’d like to believe that we saw each other for what we were, not what we had been told. I’d like to believe that’s the work of an artist — to see and feel beyond the surface.

RIP Krishna Vaid. I will always love you because in the most profound sense — I am you.