| Very spur of the moment, I headed off to Guatemala a couple of weeks ago to help my friend Todd celebrate his birthday.
I have to say I was more than a little nervous about how I would be received. A small town in Guatemala didn't strike me as being the most cosmopolitan of places.
My unease wasn't helped by visiting Google as that returned a number of awful accounts of trans people being beaten and murdered, often with the local police as the main suspects.
But despite the abject misery which is US Customs (even if you're only in country for a couple of hours while changing flights they still get you) I had a really lovely time.
As someone pointed out to me, Guatemalas a fabulous, backwards, magical, violent place! Very true, its also quite unforgettable.
I was staying in Antigua which is an incredibly beautiful place. Built in the 1500's, its architecture has been preserved and its now a World Heritage Site. Waking up in the morning and looking out across the town to the active volcanos that encircle it and totally dominate the skyline was an amazing experience. A bit of a contrast to the congested grey streets of London thats for sure!
| Guatemalas a fabulous, backwards, magical, violent place!
|
I felt very lucky that Todds been living there for a year or so now, because it meant I wasn't just doing the tourist thing but spent most of my time with locals. Although I know zero Spanish and many of the people I met didn't speak a word of English, we somehow muddled through. And I found everyone to be incredibly warm and welcoming.
That was a real surprise to me. Bare in mind that this is a Catholic country where men are very much men, a place with a very traditional masculine culture. Yet the guys I met where all totally fine with me. You'd think they met trans people all the time, instead of me being the first one.
I met so many lovely people who took me under their wing and really looked after me. Even though I'd only been there a few days, it felt like they where old friends. And needless to say with Todd's friends hosting no less then three separate parties to celebrate his birthday, I had a few adventures!
The first time I went out on my own, I was very nervous. I only had to walk a few blocks but every street corner seemed to have guys hanging out on it. At one point I had to squeeze through the middle of one such group, and one of them said something in Spanish which was obviously an insult. I was gutted, I hadn't even made it out and I'd already been read and was getting grief for being a guy. Not a good start to the night. Dam it! When I finally met up with Todd I asked him what the phrase I'd heard meant, and I explained that I was sure I'd been called a ""bloke"" or something similar.
Todd translated this for his friends, and the next moment everyones laughing their heads off. Eventually, he stopped long enough to explain that I hadnt been called a ""bloke"", I'd been called a ""whore!""
Funnily enough, just to show how your mind works when you're trans, I was actually quite pleased. I'd been face to face with this guy and he hadn't read me after all. Yay! lol
Later someone tried to convince me that in Antigua its a kind of back handed complement, along the lines of "she looks dirty". I guess thats what I get for borrowing a skirt off my friend Claire! ;o)
Its only right to mention that I did have a couple of bits of hassle, but to be honest both instances where nothing more than the kind of thing that often happens when I'm out in London. I could have done without it, but I didnt fear for my personal safety. And thankfully they weren't expressing the pure visceral hate which I've occasionally experienced in London.
I may have pushed a few boundaries in Antigua but I also certainly pushed a few of my own. I'd gone there knowing I was in uncharted territory and concious that there was a real possibility that I would be at risk. But unfortunately thats the world I live in, whether in Central America or Central London, theres always a risk of something bad happening.
On my last morning there, Todd and I both commented on how well things had gone. That my fears had on the whole been unfounded. Ironically, that was just before we where arrested.
The following 10 or 12 hours where at times absolutely terrifying and at other moments so surreal that I couldnt help but laugh. The charges against us where absolute tosh, born of a couple of local policemens abject homophobia (all the more ironic given I'm heterosexual).
Not speaking Spanish and so not having a clue what on earth was going on, was a horrendous experience. I didnt actually find out what I'd been charged with until I was in front of a judge at the end of the day.
The main complaint against me was that I'd been taking "immoral" photographs. As far as I could tell, the argument seemed to be that the photograph was by definition immoral simply because I was in it. I have to say that I found that surprisingly damning, to be seen as less than a person really undermined me and shredded what little confidence and self belief I had left.
My own view of what happened was that we where attacked, then arrested (ironically we where the ones calling for the police) and I suspect that a charge was then invented retrospectively. And for the record, I was dressed very demurely when all this happened, no one would ever have called me a "whore" on that day.
My biggest fear was that I would be thrown in jail. All the wonderful friends who came to fight our corner that day warned that it was imperative that didnt happen as Bad Things would happen there. My lowest moment came when I thought I was indeed being taken to the jail, hand cuffed in the back of a van with a policeman pointing a gun at me. Not good.
I can't really say too much about what happened as we're still talking to the British Embassy and taking advice on what (if any) steps to take to clear our names.
But its no exageration to say that having seven policemen with guns surrounding you in a small room is more than a little intimidating. One day I dare say it'll be an amusing anecdote to tell the kids but its still a bit raw at the moment.
With hindsight I think the national police where probably rather bemused by the whole thing. Apart from robbing me and taking a zillion photos of me on their mobile phones, they where on the whole quite professional. The judge actually commented that the police must have taken a liking to us (could have fooled me!), as they often plant drugs on suspects to ensure that they get a prison sentence.
Bizarrely I was actually a little peeved that I was robbed and Todd wasn't, but then he ended up with all the cuts and bruises so I guess its swings and roundabouts.
But even at my lowest ebb, I couldnt help but be touched by all the trouble our friends went to, ensuring our safety and liberty. I was deeply moved when the daughter of one of them (who I'd never met before) came up, hugged me and said "I'm so sorry my country has done this to you".
Its no exageration to say that I was an absolute emotional wreck by the end of that day, but it still didnt ruin my visit to a beautiful country and my memories of the fabulous friends** I made there.
So that's what I did on my holidays, how about you? ;o)
**Actually I must also thank my fabulous friends Claire and Tom who got up at the crack of dawn to meet me off the plane at Heathrow and generally fuss over me. Absolute gems, the both of them. x x |
