Statement from Tony Barreto-Neto, Camp Trans FTM
or...
THE SHOWERING PENIS S-P-E-A-K-S!!!

The Shower:

Little did I know that my Jewish mother's upbringing, which taught me 
that 'cleanliness is next to Godliness,' would cause as much 
controversy as it recently did when I attended the Michigan Womyn's 
Music Festival. And I don't mean because of the size of my forearm, 
but of its placement. But more on that later. My privates, which are 
no longer private, are the subject of a lot of controversy since the 
festival. I can't tell you how shocked I was when awakened abruptly 
and told I had fifteen minutes to meet with four or five of the 
festival coordinators. I am, by nature, not a charming person in the 
morning before coffee on the best of days, let alone after sleeping in 
the woods all night. But, I said Ok, I'll be there. 

A couple of minutes later I was again told that I was to BE there in 
fifteen minutes... Again, I really don't like anyone dictating my life 
before or after coffee, but, for the sake of our cause which was to 
test the womyn-born-womyn-only 'policy' at the MWMF, I dragged myself 
out of my daughter's tent to be met by the coordinators. I was sure 
they had spears and were cousins of Xena, but no, I wasn't afraid. 

They met me with, "We have had very disturbing news that since 'you 
people' have come onto the land that several transexuals are going 
around showing their penises to the womyn." My mouth literally dropped 
in amazement as I remembered my shower. 

I explained that no men were over there showing their penises, that it 
was only me in the shower at the Twilight Zone Area taking a shower. I 
also told them that, before disrobing, I asked every woman there if 
they would mind if I had a shower. It was really a hygienic thing and 
it had been days since I had had one (me who takes at least two 
showers a day on a cool day), but that if it was a problem, well, I 
would just go off by myself and pout. 

All of the womyn there, bar none, agreed with the one who said, "No 
problem. We saw you yesterday walking around without a shirt on and 
think your body is just fine." I said, "But you know I have to take my 
pants off and I, uh, do you know, I have an outy and all." Again, the 
consensus was, "Go ahead, don't be silly. Take a shower." 

I proceeded to the shower area wearing my shorts and went into the one 
with the curtains, but, as my luck would have it, after taking off my 
shorts, I couldn't figure out how to turn on the water. To make a long 
story short, a woman did it for me. The water was freezing, so the 
womyn in the shower next to me, after trying to throw warm water 
around the curtain, said, "Come on over here where it's warm." I did 
and now the world thinks I walked around with a hard-on the whole time 
I was there. 

I was told that a man was seen taking a shower in the Twilight Zone, 
showing off his erection to the womyn there. Now, first of all, in 
that freezing water, if I could get an erection I would have walked 
all the way back down through the main street in Tonotosassa, Florida 
where I patrol as a deputy sheriff; and, secondly, I would be rich 
today for being the first person ever to have a forearm getting an 
erection. I tried to explain this to the coordinators but they would 
have none of it. They said that it wasn't me, that many men were 
walking around exposing themselves. Well, I knew who I came with and 
knew this wasn't true. 

The crux of their policy, which was designed to exclude transgender 
women from the festival, went from 'womyn-born-womyn-only' to 'no-
penises-on-the-land.' This presented difficulties for me because the 
skin of my forearm was re-arranged on my female-born body to make a 
penis. I mentioned to them that I wished my boss and most of the men I 
worked with thought of my private parts as being as much of a penis as 
they did. They were not amused. 

So, erect-penis stories abound and all because a caring Jewish mother 
wanted to bring her Jewish American Princess up right while my Native 
American father didn't care if I wallowed in animal guts as long as I 
was happy. A bit of gender disparity here, eh? 


The Land:

In the workshop the Lesbian Avengers so eloquently held at Camp Trans, 
I was asked why I was there, since I was a man, and what did I care 
for womyn-only space? I told them that for forty-five years I lived as 
a lesbian. I went to jail countless times in the 60s and 70s for 
'appearing in public disguised,' for wearing the clothes of the 
opposite sex, which all us dykes did back then. We were the ones along 
with the nellie fags getting our asses kicked and going to jail while 
all the white collar business and professional people who are here 
enjoying this festival were staying home and hiding behind a guise of 
heterosexuality. 

I was an activist in the lesbian community when we didn't like being 
called lesbian and everyone was 'gay' (such a nice word). I put out a 
newsletter in New Orleans, called AWARE, for women only. I was the 
first female co-chair of the Louisiana Gay Political Action Coalition 
(LAGPAC), which is still in existence and whose current Executive 
Director sits on the Board of Governors or Regents or Directors 
(whichever) of HRC. I was an openly gay student at Louisiana State 
Medical School in 1970 when that wasn't as easy thing to be. When I 
wasn't getting beaten up and thrown out of police cars I was helping 
my friend Pat, who later died of breast cancer, make dildoes on the 
black market because all the dykes were too scared to go into sex 
shops to buy them. 

Then, on to Europe, where I started another rendition of AWARE in 
three different languages and sent it all over the continent and Great 
Britain. I helped join the womyn's movement to the men's because I 
knew that united we stand and divided we falla realization we 
evidently still haven't come to here. I did radio and TV shows and 
talked to anyone who would listen. Amazingly people listened. I can 
tell you that Belgium and a lot of the places that weren't so tolerant 
before my lover BJ Scott and I got there will never be the same. 

And speaking of womyn's festivals, I played in an all-female band for 
years called Original Bleus, and we played Gay Prides all over the 
place. We played at the San Francisco Womyn's Center in 1980 in front 
of I can't remember how many beautiful womyn and then onto Market 
Street for about half a million. I marched in the first Gay Pride 
March in Washington, the first Womyn's March with NOW, and on and on. 
So please, please don't tell me I don't belong at the MWMF just 
because I had surgery on my body. I have paid my dues. I have gone to 
jail and paid with the same body I had surgery on and, by God, I have 
paid with my blood and my soul and with all too many friends who've 
been lost because womyn didn't have control over their bodies. Don't 
tell me I don't belong in a womyn's-only space. I lived the fear and 
the tragedy and the pain, the ecstasy, the joy, and the beauty of it 
all and you can never take that away from me.