Reunion

By Monika Kowalska

I come from a small provincial town, a lovely place to live, as long as you have a job. Without one, moving to a bigger city was the obvious choice for me. I completed my college education there, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when my mother, still living in our small town, told me she’d received an invitation for me to attend the school reunion. 

My first instinct was to ignore it. I never really enjoyed my school years. I was a short, reserved boy, constantly struggling with my identity, knowing deep down that I wasn’t meant to be a boy. I had few friends, I was effeminate, and I had no interest in the things the boys were into. And on top of all that, I knew my current appearance would turn heads, not just among my former classmates, but in the entire town. I might be the first transgender woman they had ever encountered in real life. It was daunting, but something inside me told me to go. So I did.

Here’s the thing. I had to give the organizers a heads-up before the event. You see, our name tags had senior class pictures on them, and the last thing I wanted was for some poor soul to do a double-take when they saw “Steve” instead of “Monika” on my tag. So, to avoid any confusion or wild rumors about a 'new' classmate, I casually informed them about my transition. No big deal, right? Well… that might’ve been a bit of a stretch.

So there I was, standing at the entrance of my school reunion, ready to face a night filled with stares, awkward small talk, and the inevitable “OMG, is that really you?” moment. For most of my classmates, this was their first time meeting the new me. For some, the transformation was no surprise. A few had kept in touch with me over the years, and, well, they already knew the scoop. But for others, I immediately became the center of attention. 

Now, let me tell you: being the center of attention is both thrilling and awkward in equal measure. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so scrutinized. There’s this strange energy when you’re the object of curiosity instead of just blending in with the crowd. I noticed one guy, let’s call him Brad, whispering to his buddy, “Is that really Steve?” with the same skepticism you’d reserve for seeing a unicorn in a Starbucks.

The evening was a mix of awkward moments and unexpected fun. Dinner was a highlight, especially when the conversation turned to those school memories no one dares mention, except, of course, at a reunion, where everything becomes fair game. A friend I’ll call Lisa (not her real name, but she knows who she is) decided to tell the table about that time she "accidentally" spread a rumor about me. Apparently, I was the subject of some “legendary” gossip back in the day, mostly because no one really knew what to make of me.

“And, like,” she said, “We used to wonder what was really going on with you, Monika, but I’m so glad you’re living your truth now. You always were a little mysterious.”

She gave me a knowing look, and I just laughed. Mysterious? Yeah, I guess that's one way to put it. I mean, sure, there were plenty of times when I struggled to act like a guy properly. But mysterious? I always thought I was just confused and slightly (totally) lost in my own skin. Still, I'll take it. It’s the type of compliment that doesn’t need to make sense to be flattering.

Now, let me tell you about the outfit dilemma. I wanted to look nice, but I didn’t want to be too flashy. I’m a medium-level girl in terms of attractiveness, nothing too eye-catching, but I do attract occasional stares (at least I want to believe in it). So, I went with a simple, elegant dress. But the shoes? High heels. As the night wore on, those heels were starting to feel like a distant memory of comfort. I was starting to feel the fatigue from all the dancing. And trust me, with so many guys wanting to dance and offering free drinks, it was hard to keep up. 

Don’t get me wrong, it was flattering, but with every song (and drink), my feet started to cry out in protest. I kept trying to enjoy it, but after a while, the constant tug on my feet became a bit too much. Still, I kept dancing because, honestly, there’s something about being the center of attention that makes it worth it, even if my feet were begging for mercy.

As the evening wore on, the group of girls and I continued talking about everything. Now, I was finally able to chat with them, and it was like I had unlocked a whole new world. I was enjoying every second of it, finally being included in the girl talk, asking about relationships, careers, and yes, the occasional “How’s your family?” But eventually, the conversation shifted to kids, husbands, and families. And that’s when I started to feel a little out of place. I mean, I can’t exactly join in on the whole 'mom life' conversation when I don’t even have a pet, let alone a toddler.

But then, I found my people. You know the ones, those fabulous ladies who had gotten divorced quickly, no kids, and still knew how to live it up. We bonded over the shared experience of being free (okay, maybe lonely), fabulous (in our own minds), and perfectly content with our own company (for the most part). Suddenly, it felt like I had a new group of friends who understood the joys of not having to worry about anyone else’s problems for a change. Or maybe I was lying to myself?

I couldn’t help but notice how much everyone else had changed too. The male classmates, oh boy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many bald spots in one room. Don’t get me wrong, they were still looking good (in their own way), but it was a far cry from the jocks I remembered back in the day.

As for the ladies, they were an interesting mix. Some still looked as good as ever, elegant and sharp, while others... well, let’s just say the years had been kinder to me than to them. So, my school reunion turned into more than just a night of awkwardness and self-reflection, it became a reminder that life is all about change. Sometimes it’s physical, sometimes it’s emotional, but the real beauty lies in the connections we make along the way. Plus, if nothing else, at least I walked out with a few free drinks, no complaints here.

Monika has been interviewing trans people in her blog, The Heroines of My Life, since 2013. Click here to see who she has interviewed lately.

Wearing Bebe

Bruce Payne, Denis Quilley and Joe Melia femulating in the British film Privates On Parade.