I took this picture of Mena during our first holiday together, in Cuba,
in February 1986. We had begun our romance one month earlier, and
chose to celebrate this new page in our lives with sun, surf, and
socialism in the Caribbean. It was a glorious start to a relationship that
has survived turmoil and hardship, inspired immense joy and love, and given
us the gift of our daughters, Rachelle and Daniella.
I first met Mena in 1983, at a convention of the Young Communist League in Toronto, Ontario. I was an earnest and idealistic prairie kid. Mena was a beautiful and energetic punker in leather and spandex, with spiked hair and tons of attitude. We didn't meet again until 1985, when I quit my job as a reporter and moved to Toronto to work as central organizer for the YCL.
When we reconnected, Mena had just returned from a year of travel through Europe and Asia. I had just arrived in TO. I was overwhelmed and hemmed in by the size and the bustle of The Big City. But Mena befriended me, and helped me learn how to make Toronto my new home. And as I learned more about her, the more I fell in love.
Mena was born in a tiny fishing village on the coastal mainland of Portugal. Her family emigrated twice to the fishing communities of Nova Scotia, before settling in the fishing port of New Bedford, Massacusetts. But they moved without Mena who was, by then, eighteen years-old and already a rebel and a fighter in her own right. She headed in her own direction, to Toronto, nursing school, and a career as a Registered Nurse.
It was a gutsy move which meant defying the sexist and patriarchal expectations that were deeply embedded in the values of her Portuguese community. But then again, Mena was no stranger to struggle, for at the age of fifteen, she had been active in the democratic revolution of 1974 that toppled Portugal's fascist dictatorship.
How could I be anything but impressed? That summer, in June 1986, we set up our first home together. As comrades and lovers, we traveled Latin America and continued our struggle for a better world. Three years later, on December 29, 1989 we married in Kananaskis, Alberta, amidst the dramatic panorama of the Canadian Rockies, with our daughter Rachelle (then two months old) in attendance, along with our dearest friends and family members. Three years later, Mena gave birth to Daniella.
But there were undercurrents of trouble, too. Among other things, I was deeply troubled by my recurring bouts of cross-dressing. I did not understand why I cross-dressed, and I was terrified of a behaviour that had been pathologized in the medical literature and stigmatized by heterosexist social conventions. It is true that before we married, I had revealed my secret to Mena and it was the first time I ever told anyone. But I immediately fell into a prolonged period of denial, pronouncing myself "cured." Another six years were to pass before I began to understand that I was transgendered and that there was nothing wrong except that I was living in a heterosexist world.
In the meantime, I rode the roller-coaster of binging and purging, secretly
crossdressing, then disposing of all my feminine things in fits of guilt and
depression. I wrapped-up my gender identity tightly inside me, and hid it
from Mena and the rest of the world, afraid that it would destroy my marriage
and make me a social outcast. But the cost was high. I became increasingly
unhappy, angry, irritable, and secretive. I was in the closet, hiding from own
lover, and trying to pass as a masculine man. This charade was beginning to
ruin the trust upon which our relationship depended, and it was turning me into
a person that I never really wanted to be.
Of course, Mena guessed the truth, and by 1996 she had had enough. She too was riding the rollercoaster, a turbulent and unpredictable twister that she did not want to experience any longer. Mena insisted that I deal with my issues. I realized that I had to turn things around, or risk losing everything. We joined the Illusion Transgender Social Club and Tri-Ess in Calgary and began to unravel the layers of heterosexist myths and falsehoods that had obscured our understanding of the realities about gender identity and sexuality.
It was then that I found the strength to leave my closet and seek the light of day, to be proud of being transgendered, and to struggle for the right of transgendered people to be free of heterosexist oppression.
I owe so much to Mena. She helped make my life whole, accepting me and standing by me through thick and thin. We still struggle with each other over my gender identity. And that's unavoidable, since the values of the dominant culture still insist on pressuring us into conformity. There is a lot at stake, not the least of which is the wellbeing of our children. But we keep our eyes on the prize; we continue to develop and grow; we continue to struggle as lovers and comrades, in unity.
Mena and I celebrated our ninth wedding anniversary on December 29, 1998. On that day, I asked her to marry me again, in anticipation of our tenth anniversary. She said yes, and so we look forward to entering the year 2000 in the hope that this will hearken the millenium that finally ends the tyrannies of oppression based on class, gender, and race.
This page was last 
on January 19, 1999
Your comments and suggestions are welcome!
Get your own Free Home Page