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Michael Caven is a practicing psychotherapist in Da Nang, Vietnam. He co-founded Out on Main, the nation’s first LGBTQ themed restaurant in Columbus.
My beloved Granchar was my very own Auntie Mame.
We had our secrets because she understood me.
“We were all born bored, Mike-o,” she’d tell me. “We need some excitement! Keep things interesting.”
Granchar knew I was different.
In secret, we’d apply clear nail polish to my dainty little fingers because I liked how it all made me feel—putting on nail polish and Granchar’s Shalimar perfume were our delicious little secrets.
But soon enough, my grandfather would realize what we were up to.
Opinion: Dublin classmate’s message wrecked me. We learned from same cruel teacher.
“He’ll grow up to be a fruit!” he would bellow.
But Granchar and I didn’t care. Still, I liked the femininity of these games.
“Such a pretty girl,” she’d say.
“And I smell so pretty, too!” I exclaimed.
Granchar was short for Grandma Charlotte Moore (I stuttered as a kid, so we settled on a shortened version). My grandfather, James Moore, was a judge in Marianna, their small town in the Florida Panhandle.
From Granchar and my grandpomp’s lips
The French Quarter in New Orleans and all the strange and weird happenings were catnip for my grandparents in the 1950s.
They had a regular drag haunt, and on every visit, the flamboyant emcee planted a huge, wet, and drowning-in-red lipstick kiss smack on Grandpomp’s lips, to his absolute delight.
During my summer respites in Marianna from Long Island — my hometown — Granchar would take me to Tallahassee to see the latest John Waters film.
Her best friend Eloise was the mother of drag icon Divine’s longtime make-up artist Van Smith.
“I love my specials,”Granchar would say, curating pink flamingos on her front lawn on Green Street in Marianna as a sign to local folk who don’t fit in that they are welcome to share their stories with her.
She’d listen intently with a cigarette in one hand and a whiskey neat in the other.
Sucker punching the bully
“Hey Trans.”
I shuddered when the neighborhood bully back on Long Island called me that name.
My parents were doing the best they could to bulldoze the “homo” out of me, despite my frequent adolescent fantasies about Bruce Jenner.
My deep fear that classmates would hear that name and taunt me came true, and I was devastated. I tried to kill myself with mom’s tranquilizers and pain pills, but only got sick.
My stepfather took me to the garage and had me punch the punching bag over and over with instructions that the next day I’d sucker punch the bully on the school bus.
I did, and we pummeled each other all the way to school.
I never heard the name “Trans” again.
I’m not condoning physical violence. Still, I found the physical altercation terrifying and strangely empowering.
Granchar found her court
Years later, I’d co-found Out on Main, the nation’s first LGBTQ themed restaurant, in Columbus.
And, of course, Granchar loved sitting at our bar, cigarette and whiskey in hand, and hold court surrounded by a dozen admirers.
“You have the coolest grandmother ever,” one of her fans told me.
“I know,” I replied. “I am so lucky.”
And I no longer shudder when I hear the word trans.
I wish everyone had a Granchar to champion them.
If you are questioning your gender, identity, or sexual orientation, there are supportive organizations in central Ohio like Stonewall Columbus, Kaleidoscope Youth Center and Equality Ohio,to name a few.
And if you look hard enough, you’ll find your very own Granchar.
My Granchar rests in peace in St. Luke’s Episcopal Church cemetery, off Lafayette Street in Marianna, alongside my grandfather. Nearby is Gov. John Milton, a villain of the Civil War.
I prefer to think that Granchar is spilling the tea at the Out on Main in the sky with her special angels.
Happy Pride, everyone.
Michael Caven is a practicing psychotherapist in Da Nang, Vietnam, and co-founder of Out on Main, the nation’s first LGBTQ themed restaurant in Columbus. His memoir-in-development, “Spilling the Tea,” chronicles his adventures at Out on Main and a Texas gay bar empire. His website is michaelcaven.com.
This article originally appeared on The Columbus Dispatch: Columbus’ LGBTQ+ people deserve a hero like my grandmother | Opinion
Michael Caven is a practicing psychotherapist in Da Nang, Vietnam. He co-founded Out on Main, the nation’s first LGBTQ themed restaurant in Columbus.
My beloved Granchar was my very own Auntie Mame.
We had our secrets because she understood me.
“We were all born bored, Mike-o,” she’d tell me. “We need some excitement! Keep things interesting.”
Granchar knew I was different.
In secret, we’d apply clear nail polish to my dainty little fingers because I liked how it all made me feel—putting on nail polish and Granchar’s Shalimar perfume were our delicious little secrets.
But soon enough, my grandfather would realize what we were up to.
Opinion: Dublin classmate’s message wrecked me. We learned from same cruel teacher.
“He’ll grow up to be a fruit!” he would bellow.
But Granchar and I didn’t care. Still, I liked the femininity of these games.
“Such a pretty girl,” she’d say.
“And I smell so pretty, too!” I exclaimed.
Granchar was short for Grandma Charlotte Moore (I stuttered as a kid, so we settled on a shortened version). My grandfather, James Moore, was a judge in Marianna, their small town in the Florida Panhandle.
From Granchar and my grandpomp’s lips
The French Quarter in New Orleans and all the strange and weird happenings were catnip for my grandparents in the 1950s.
They had a regular drag haunt, and on every visit, the flamboyant emcee planted a huge, wet, and drowning-in-red lipstick kiss smack on Grandpomp’s lips, to his absolute delight.
During my summer respites in Marianna from Long Island — my hometown — Granchar would take me to Tallahassee to see the latest John Waters film.
Her best friend Eloise was the mother of drag icon Divine’s longtime make-up artist Van Smith.
“I love my specials,”Granchar would say, curating pink flamingos on her front lawn on Green Street in Marianna as a sign to local folk who don’t fit in that they are welcome to share their stories with her.
She’d listen intently with a cigarette in one hand and a whiskey neat in the other.
Sucker punching the bully
“Hey Trans.”
I shuddered when the neighborhood bully back on Long Island called me that name.
My parents were doing the best they could to bulldoze the “homo” out of me, despite my frequent adolescent fantasies about Bruce Jenner.
My deep fear that classmates would hear that name and taunt me came true, and I was devastated. I tried to kill myself with mom’s tranquilizers and pain pills, but only got sick.
My stepfather took me to the garage and had me punch the punching bag over and over with instructions that the next day I’d sucker punch the bully on the school bus.
I did, and we pummeled each other all the way to school.
I never heard the name “Trans” again.
I’m not condoning physical violence. Still, I found the physical altercation terrifying and strangely empowering.
Granchar found her court
Years later, I’d co-found Out on Main, the nation’s first LGBTQ themed restaurant, in Columbus.
And, of course, Granchar loved sitting at our bar, cigarette and whiskey in hand, and hold court surrounded by a dozen admirers.
“You have the coolest grandmother ever,” one of her fans told me.
“I know,” I replied. “I am so lucky.”
And I no longer shudder when I hear the word trans.
I wish everyone had a Granchar to champion them.
If you are questioning your gender, identity, or sexual orientation, there are supportive organizations in central Ohio like Stonewall Columbus, Kaleidoscope Youth Center and Equality Ohio,to name a few.
And if you look hard enough, you’ll find your very own Granchar.
My Granchar rests in peace in St. Luke’s Episcopal Church cemetery, off Lafayette Street in Marianna, alongside my grandfather. Nearby is Gov. John Milton, a villain of the Civil War.
I prefer to think that Granchar is spilling the tea at the Out on Main in the sky with her special angels.
Happy Pride, everyone.
Michael Caven is a practicing psychotherapist in Da Nang, Vietnam, and co-founder of Out on Main, the nation’s first LGBTQ themed restaurant in Columbus. His memoir-in-development, “Spilling the Tea,” chronicles his adventures at Out on Main and a Texas gay bar empire. His website is michaelcaven.com.
This article originally appeared on The Columbus Dispatch: Columbus’ LGBTQ+ people deserve a hero like my grandmother | Opinion