Of course, many would simply label such behaviour hypocritical, yet one would be better served by seeing the latter as varying manifestations of a condition known as multiple personality disorder. Who would argue that we are the same person at 10, 20
or 50 years of age? The changes that take place in a person over his or her life course are no less significant than those which drive someone else to wear boxer shorts one day and bloomers the next.
It is not clear when it began to be taken for granted in the West that one must have a unified personality if one is to be seen as normal.
Freud of course contributed to this state of affairs when he theorized that the path to a „normal‟ heterosexual existence can only be reached by passing through a number of discrete psychological „stages‟33. However, be this as it may, the little work that has been produced on the subject cannot lead anyone to the conclusion that cross-dressing makes one either a healthier or sicker individual34. In short, transvestites dress as women for numerous reasons, not all linked to the desire to be sexually attractive to men. For example, homosexual cross-dressers go in drag to gay bars where the men have no interest in them. Others wear women‟s clothes at home, when no one else can see them.
For many, pleasure is derived simply from the acquisition of make-up, wigs, jewellery and accessories. As Pepa would argue, transvestites aspire to a different state of being.
Feeling like a princess
41
-
There are people who would say that you‟re mentally ill.
How would you respond to that?
-
I really enjoy what I do. As well, I‟m a productive person, and I like my work as a journalist. I‟m not doing anything wrong by cross-dressing. When people criticize me, most do so less for dressing in drag and more for doing what I want. Of course, the reality is that we all have deep, hidden desires to do crazy things, but we‟re generally too scared to actually go ahead and do them. Some people would like to make love stark naked on a beach but are too scared to do so. Others dream about stealing a whole bunch of money but are afraid of being caught. Thus, when people see a transvestite, they‟re angry and jealous that here‟s somebody who has the guts to do what he wants and doesn‟t care what society thinks. This is what triggers the anger more than anything. They feel that we‟ve got the balls to do what is forbidden. This is why they call us sick, perverts, criminals. What‟s wrong with a man wearing women‟s clothes? Who said that pink is feminine and blue is masculine? That‟s all bullshit. In Scotland, men wear skirts and it‟s seen as normal. Priests go around in these long black dresses and no one says anything. Why is it that a monsignor can dress in pink and I can‟t?
-
But you have to hide from people. You can‟t be Pepa and José at the same time.
-
I can‟t be both because of prejudice. Nonetheless, there are people who know both faces.
-
What do you feel when you are José?
-
I feel like anyone else, whereas with Pepa it‟s different.
-
How do you mean?
-
When I‟m dressed as a woman I have another personality.
I am happier, sexier, more seductive. I feel more sure of myself and can attract straight men who are looking for a woman. It‟s a different relationship. We talk about different things and I even feel my body temperature is different. However, one doesn‟t dress like a woman only to attract a man. Not at all! One does it because one wants to experiment with something new, get into one‟s feminine side, and be emotional, soft and sexy. One wants to look pretty. Of course, straight men also have these tendencies but they‟re afraid of letting them out, and so they look for drag queens so that they can vicariously experience what it‟s like to be a woman. With us, they can let themselves explore their feminine side. They‟re so cowardly and 42
frustrated!
-
Do you think transvestism makes people react to you differently?
-
Of course. In the first place, when I dress like a woman, people respond to me as though I really were one. Even my friends, who know that I‟m a man, when they see me wearing a dress they don‟t talk to me like they usually do.
They are softer and more considerate. They light my cigarette for me or help me down the stairs. These are learned reactions that we all have when we are with a woman. My clients are straight men. They‟d never dream of having sex with a man. But they see me as a woman.
They treat me differently, kinder and more gently than a gay man would. They whisper romantic stuff into my ear, and they‟re more careful when they‟re having sex with you.
-
What do you feel when you take off your make-up and wig and become José again?
-
Very sad. I think I would miss José if I had to give him up, but leaving Pepa is more difficult because she‟s more attractive. I feel empty when I‟m not in drag. My breathing, heart beat, metabolism, really my whole body functions differently. I‟m going to confess something to you. When I‟m in drag, I seldom pee because it‟s harder to do it in the street. So I‟ve got used to holding it. The same thing happens when I fall asleep with my make-up on: I have different dreams, with more intensity, more colour and feelings. My sense of humour and language are also different. As a man my humour is sharp and sarcastic. But when I‟m Pepa there are certain words, like „fuck‟, „bitch‟
or „queer‟, that I would never say as a woman. It‟s not conscious really, I just don‟t do it.
-
Are there people who know you as both a man and a woman?
-
One is my sister. She knows that I‟m a transvestite and has seen me in drag. At first, she almost had a heart attack, even though I had prepared her for the occasion. But little by little she got used to it. However, I notice that she still reacts differently to me depending on whether I‟m in drag or not. When I‟m a woman, she‟ll talk to me about emotional stuff, relationships, fashion. When I‟m dressed as a man, we talk about things like money, finances and even soccer. It‟s not on purpose, it just happens that way.
It‟s the same with my butcher. When I go dressed as a woman he‟s very sweet and gives me samples. But as a man, he‟s colder and more distant, and never gives me 43
anything. I‟m the same person but he cannot deal with José and Pepa in the same way.
-
What is it that you like most about transvestism?
-
I love to have two faces and be beautiful in one of them. It would never occur to me to have my penis removed because it‟s such a great source of pleasure. Really, I feel lucky for being able to have sensations that most people, out of fear, would never dare to have. There is nothing better than being able to make love to a man after he‟s done the same thing to you. This for me is like winning the lottery. There are thousands of men who would look gorgeous in drag but they'll never dare to make the leap.
They are going to be toads all their lives when they could have been princesses, excuses-moi, queens.
-
There are people who would say that man and woman are made for each other and their sexual organs are complementary.
-
That‟s the worst sort of bullshit. Men report to me that sex with women is not that good. In the first place, women have different organs than men. They last longer, and sometimes never come. Men have to rub their clitoris to arouse them, sometimes it hurts and sometimes they don‟t feel like it. Men usually aren't sure if they came or not because they're experts at faking orgasms. Female genitals, my clients tell me, are foreign territory and they don‟t know how they work. Men, on the other hand, feel tight when you‟re making love to them. When a woman starts lubricating, she sometimes becomes too loose. Some men tell me it gets worse after childbirth. With a transvestite however, you know when he‟s coming. You can also do it at the same time and you know what to touch because his body is the same as yours. Once you‟ve both ejaculated, you can then relax and not have to worry about your partner having multiple orgasms, as is the case with women. Do you think it‟s really better with a woman?
-
What‟s the down side of it?
-
Discrimination,
mockery,
harassment,
lack
of
understanding and, worst of all, the lack of large sizes in women‟s shoes.
A few succeed
Of course, some transvestites have realized their dream of becoming truly glamorous. Alma Stone, for one, met an Italian business man who took her to Rome, where she now works for an 44
exclusive clientele. With the money she is earning she plans to have a sex change operation in Belgium. The following is a passage taken from a letter Alma sent to a friend in Costa Rica: I am really happy in Italy. Men here are very handsome and there‟s little harassment. It‟s totally different from Costa Rica where you‟re always being hassled by the police or by people on the street. Enrico took me to a first-class joint called „The Night Out‟ which only employs transvestites. I charge $500 dollars for sex. Can you imagine how many Costa Rican dicks I would have to suck for that kind of money? Clients here really do treat you like a queen. Three weeks ago an entire team of soccer players came to the bar. They offered to pay $500 to the one who made them hard first. They all got undressed and their manager was chosen to be the judge. If you had been here you would have done it for free because they were all really good-looking. Gina was the one who won the prize since she dances and moves her tongue like a boa constrictor, which drove them crazy.
Doris Faye, another transvestite, now owns an upscale night club in Chicago. She has also been remarkably successful.
45
I came to Chicago without any money at all. I used to clean houses and work as a waitress or a receptionist in cheap hotels. I was illegal and all the money I saved I sent to my family in Puntarenas. One day I met this business executive who asked me out. In my bad English I told him that I was really a man and didn‟t want any hassles. He told me he knew and said that he wanted to get to know me.
We had sex that same night. Next day, he sends me this beautiful ring. We dated for a couple weeks before he proposed to me. We finally got married with this gay pastor and I‟ve been with him now for nine years. Mike gave me this night club to have fun with. I‟ve made money with it and we organize great drag shows. Our girls live like queens.
In another case, Gloria Day, a boy from San Pedro de Poás in Alajuela, became a famous jazz singer in New Orleans. His effeminate appearance and delicate features made him look stunning as a woman. He had been brought to the United States by a sailor whom he had met in San José. In a similar vein, Augusta now works as a model in Milan and has started to design her own line of clothes. Although she has no plans to return to Costa Rica, she continues to send money to her family in Cartago so that they might buy their own home.
Thus, as is attested to by the stories outlined above, there are cases in which transvestites‟ dreams of riches and fame come true, even if the latter only last as long as they can preserve their youthful appearance.
For
most
however,
deep-seated
societal
discrimination ensures that they remain more toad than princess, with many retiring after a few years, if they have not already been killed by drugs, AIDS, gay bashers or at their own hands through suicide.
3
The Neighbours
Over the last ten years, a number of significant changes have taken place within San José‟s transvestite community. In the first instance, there has been something of a geographical shift. That is to say, in the 1980s most transvestites lived and worked in an area known as „El Libano‟ (so called because of the presence in the neighbourhood of a well-known movie theatre catering to gay men). Most were poor, as were their clients, who were either 46
working-class men employed in area stores, canteens and markets, or rural labourers who travelled in and out of San José via the local bus station. However, since 1990 growing numbers of transvestites moved to a new locale, known as Clinica Biblica, in the city‟s south-east. This area is attractive to transvestites engaged in the sex-trade for several reasons: not only is it quiet and close to downtown, but it is characterized by a more middle-class clientele.
As one might imagine, a number of factors were at work in inducing middle-class men to become involved in such numbers with the transvestites of Clinica Biblica. Transvestites themselves were at a loss when asked to account for the shift in client profile or why the „strip‟ had re-located at the time and in the manner that it did. Most referred to the increasingly tight housing market in Libano, leading many to look towards the city‟s southern and south-eastern neighbourhoods, where rented accommodation remained relatively cheap. Still, this does not explain the popularity of Clinica Biblica, located as it is between the two areas identified above.
What we do know, however, is that the growing numbers of relatively wealthy clients have served to drive up the price paid for sex, while at the same inducing more and more transvestites, many of them young, beautiful and middle-class, to become involved in the sex trade as well. Of course, this change in San José‟s sexual geography has not served the Libano district and the transvestites who continue to live there well. The bulk of the latter are older and retired from active involvement in the prostitution business, though they continue to suffer from its ill effects, including health problems, widespread substance abuse and, for many, grinding poverty in a run-down boarding house. As Laura put it, the
„Libano has become a garbage-dump and cemetery for transvestites.‟
The Libano
As has been suggested above, when we first did our first series of interviews in 1990, most of San José‟s transvestite community was concentrated in the Libano district, with the majority living in the neighbourhood‟s many cheap hotels, boarding houses and brothels; very few lived with their families.
The boarding houses
47
In the 1980s, one of the most well-known boarding houses for transvestites was the „Pension Romantica‟, a rambling old mansion with ten bedrooms; when I visited it in 1990, it was still in its prime. Each room was divided into two sections, and everyone shared the house‟s single bathroom and sink for washing clothes.
Moreover, the house was seldom quiet: „Mayela Maria,‟ screamed one transvestite, „where‟s padding I lent you?‟ „I‟m still using it,‟
the other replied, „can I keep it one more day?‟ „Fucking queen,‟
the first one shouted, „when are you going to buy some yourself?‟
For the most part, the bedroom walls are decorated with posters of naked men and Hollywood actresses, blown-up photos of the room‟s occupant in drag (usually in the pose of the starlet whose name she has taken as her own), along with assorted wigs and clothes hanging off of nails driven into the plaster. As I glanced through an open doorway, a fat man in a wig greeted me. „Hey there, my name‟s Elizabeth Taylor,‟ he said, holding up a large picture of the actress taken with her „Cat on a Hot Tin Roof‟ co-star Paul Newman I did not have heart to tell him, but I found he looked more like Don Francisco in drag than the famous actress with violet eyes. „The only thing he‟s got in common with Liz Taylor is his big ass,‟ interrupted another transvestite from down the hall. The fat man ignored the insult, and invited me into her room. I looked around as I went in, and saw four black wigs, all of which were worn out and singed, along with a dog-eared pink satin bedspread covering the bed. Some cheap nightgowns hanging in the closet were half-hidden by an old sheet covered with red roses.
She took out one of the nightgowns. „Richard Burton gave this to me for our second wedding. I‟ve only worn it once because of its deep sentimental value.‟ The nightgown was made of blue velvet, with fake black pearls sewn in around the neck; some of the pearls were missing. According to Liz, Burton bought it himself for her at Fashion Palace, a clothing store in San José. However, her friend Penelope offered a different account of its origins. In her version, the nightie was made from a satin curtain which Liz had stolen from the Libano movie-theatre.
Pension Romantica, like most of the boarding houses inhabited by Libano‟s transvestite community, had a steel door to prevent unexpected visits by disgruntled clients or the police. To be let in, residents were required to identify themselves to those inside; otherwise, the door would not open. It is for this reason that transvestites‟ houses were known as „bunkers‟.
„Open the goddamn door you deaf queen,‟ I heard one transvestite shout from outside, angry at the slow response to her knocking.
48
„Can you believe it,‟ she said as she was let in, „I didn‟t get a single trick today. I walked up and down all day and didn‟t make a cent. At this rate I‟ll be poorer than a bare-footed nun.‟ „Well, bare-footed you‟ll be if you don‟t pay the two thousand colones you owe me,‟ replied the gate-keeper.
The hotels
The typical establishment is characterized by a dirty curtain covering the door, through which one passes to a large room with red furniture (red being transvestites‟ favourite colour) and pictures of men with over-sized penises on the wall. Beyond this is the office where the hotel administrator works and sleeps. In it, one typically finds a mattress on the floor, a desk serving the dual function of clothes-drawer and deposit for articles by pawned by transvestites needing money for drugs (the administrator‟s second job is that of drug dealer).
I could hear a conversation going on as I pushed my way past the curtain into the first room, and upon poking my head into the office, saw a skinny transvestite, dressed only in panties, speaking earnestly to the man behind the desk: „Look, this watch used to belong to Prince Philip, son of Juan Carlos of Spain. I bought it in Barcelona four years ago, and since I‟m strapped for cash I have to sell it.‟ To my eyes it looked like an ordinary Seiko. „The second hand has disappeared,‟ she added, „but it still tells the hours.‟ Liz, who was by my side, interrupted her: „The only thing this watch has in common with royalty is the fact that there‟s a queen trying to sell it. Pepa stole it from a john last night.‟
Beyond the office, there was a long hall-way with bedrooms on either side. Interestingly, none of the rooms had doors; all had been removed and replaced with curtains. These, it seemed, proved useful at times when discrete entry and exit were required, for example when a transvestite wished to rifle through the valuables of a john who was in the middle of sex with someone else. Of course, there were those who would deny that any such thing takes place: „No!‟ exclaimed Penelope to one of her clients,
„how can you even suggest that somebody stole your chain? Here you‟ll only find honest, hard-working prostitutes, you must have lost it yourself. We even pay our municipal taxes!‟ „Listen to me, you fucking whore,‟ replied the john, „either you give me back my chain or I‟ll cut off your little shit-filled tits!‟ The transvestite thought about it for a moment, and then handed the chain over. „Oh yes, your chain! Here it is. I forgot that I found it on the floor a little while ago.‟ The man grabbed it and made for the door, 49
telling me as he passed, „if you‟re going to sleep with one of these faggots, leave everything you own at home.‟ After he had left, Penelope told me who he was: „That brute owns a stall selling chayote near the Central Market.‟
In general, each bedroom contains nothing more than a bed, a couple of chairs, a small table for rolling joints or snorting coke, and a roll of toilet paper. The walls and sheets are usually dirty.
„Here, we‟re both clean and ecologically friendly,‟ explained Carla. „How‟s that?‟ I asked. „Because we ask the johns to help us try to conserve water, just like the best hotels, and we only wash the sheets once a month.‟ In addition to sex, these rooms are also used for drug consumption by the transvestites and their friends.
Given that it was the hotel manager who sold them the drugs in the first place, there is generally no problem in consuming them on the premises. Through one doorway that I glanced, I saw three transvestites smoking crack. „Hey, do you want a pipe?‟ Rebecca asked me. “No thanks,‟ I answered.
Beyond the bedrooms is a kitchen. Like the entrance foyer, it is decorated with posters of men and rock stars, and contains a large, round table surrounded by four chairs, an electric stove, various pots and pans and a locked chest of drawers, used to keep pawned articles. An effeminate, jolly-looking man greeted me. „Hi there, my name‟s Tina Turner and I‟m the one who does the cooking around here. Right now I‟m in the middle of preparing a banana souffle for the queens of this castle,‟ she said seriously. „You know that they have very delicate stomachs and that they don‟t eat any salt at all because of their high cholesterol.‟ I didn‟t ask to see the souffle. The kitchen was dirty and disgusting, and while there I saw a number of cockroaches scurrying across the floor. The cook tried to reassure me: „If I serve you some food and you feel sick, don‟t worry. Their royal highnesses have already had some and they‟re still fine.‟ That‟s okay,‟ I said, „I just ate lunch so I‟m not too hungry.‟
When not being used to prepare culinary delights, the kitchen is also a place where the transvestites come to consume cocaine, an activity that will be explored in greater detail in subsequent chapters.
Like the kitchen, the bathroom looked as though it had never been cleaned, with old toilets and even older plumbing. Above the stalls (again without doors) were two crumpled signs saying „Adam‟ and
„Eve‟. However, everyone used „Eve‟ because „Adam‟ was backed up and not working. For those wishing to shower, they had 50
to stand on top of the toilet and use a hose hanging down from the ceiling. „Darling, where can I piss?‟ asked a john as he left one of the rooms. „The men‟s washroom is being renovated, so you‟ll have to do your business in this bottle,‟ Julia told him.
The apartment blocks
Meanwhile, other transvestites shared (and indeed in some cases continue to do so) apartments in the area of the Libano with one or more of their colleagues. In a typical case, Marie Antoinette lived in a complex with approximately 20 units. Upstairs were three bedrooms (she shares the unit with two others), while on the main floor there was a kitchen, dining room, bathroom and living room.
The apartment was filled with old, worn-out furniture, and the walls were festooned with posters of favourite artists or movie stars. Johns came to the house as though it were any other brothel.
Upon entering the living room, one‟s eyes were immediately drawn to the large rug in the centre of the room, originally red but now a mottled grey. Several candles, each dedicated to a saint from whom favours were sought, were burning in a corner, while the room‟s only table was covered with clippings from fashion magazines, old issues of Extra 34, along with a little bowl filled with potpourri and someone‟s leftover breakfast. The rest of the room was no less messy, with wigs and a large, cracked mirror hanging from nails in the wall, clothes draped over every available chair, several books about witchcraft and the occult lying on the floor, a photo of Marie Antoinette‟s lover turned upside down („because this was how I felt after he left me,‟ as she put it) and finally a few bottles of perfume and aphrodisiac potion sitting on a window sill. „This one never fails,‟ she assured me, pointing to one of the bottles. „I sprinkled some of it onto the food of a Member of Parliament I was seeing, and after that he couldn‟t get enough of me. He even sent me to Miami using money for his constituents. I just love corruption.‟
Moreover, from time to time one will come across true luxury items in the apartment, say a Persian carpet or some fine porcelain, only to find them gone by the time of one‟s next visit, exchanged for cash at the local pawn-shop. Generally, these items were all stolen from clients‟ homes. „This painting is an original César 34