The sun slowly baked us into different degrees of already varying skin tones.  This was perhaps the third round as we sat with silly giggles and nonsinsical chatter.  As the afternoon progressed, the roof top jammed more tightly with the typical chicago chic urban crowd basking in the much anticipated warmness of the afternoon.  

 

The line began to wrap down one then two flights of stairs.  We sat center of the roof deck with the cityscape smack in front of us and laughter dancing between the tables. 

 

She…stood out from the crowd immediately.  There, in the middle of the floor standing alone, dressed in a wildly printed green polyester dress.  Her hair hung past her shoulders in a blazing hue of red.  Her makeup layered thickly enough that the creases and streaks were noticeable even a table away.  Despite the 80 degree sun, she wore nylons and cloppery black heels.  Her makeup shone in electric hues of hot pink blush, sky blue eyeshadow and apple red lipstick.  It is not an understatement to remark that manequins are less made up than she was.  Also hard to not notice was that the woman wearing rings draped on almost every finger, built in stature like a football player, adorned on every inch by something that screamed “I’m a woman,”…was actually a man.

 

Perhaps I had too much to drink.  Perhaps this was the moment when the darkness that lives in me won out…but I looked at my friend and immediately made sneering comments in regards to the absurdity of her being there.  My friend cracked a joke that she looked like Wilma Flinstone, and I laughed so hard I almost fell from my chair.  Another friend tapped my arm and gently reminded me how unkind I was being.  She asked if I would want my daughters to behave the way I was; and I poutingly concurred.  In that moment, I whispered internally…it didn’t feel wrong

 

I sat with my counselor the following Monday and he asked me to explain what prayer and faith looked like for me these days.  I told him about the woman that day and how I had behaved.  “ Prayer and faith for me were summed up in that moment when I knew it was wrong; though I couldn’t feel it; had given myself permission to be juveniley, bitchy and ridiculous … then when charged to look at it; my internal think tracks altered  and  I searched instead for the right, the kind, the human…”  I later had the opportunity to talk with her and was grateful for the brief exchange.  

 

Afterall, I explained to my counselor, “  I  realize that I have sometimes been her.  in life, social settings, love, sometimes anywhere.  I have been the absurd one who did not belong or fit in.”  And I cried, because I realized that we…really are all the same.  Some of us just have the courage to be.