Anatomically Correct

The true-life tale of two boys and a monstrous set of blue testes

Kevin Sallows

 

e saw a lot of strange sights
in the six weeks that it took
us to drive from Kamloops

to New Orleans and back, but for some
reason a 30-foot high, anatomically-
correct blue ox stands out most vividly
in my mind. Maybe it was the resulting
events of our encounter with that ox, or
maybe it was just the somewhat odd
sight of a set of blue testes so large you
couldn't wrap your arms-around them if
you tried. I mean, hell, this was
America, a land so aggressively prudish
that even Barbie's Ken is denied his
jones. But there we were,
in the northern California
redwoods in a parking lot
crowded with family
vehicles, and not more
than 40 feet away from
the gift shop was Babe the
blue ox with all the goods, uncensored
and larger than life.

Something had to be done about this
situation, and it was my turn to go. I
conferred briefly with Justin.

“You want to shoot this time?”

“Sure. Maybe we should wait until
there's less people around.”

“When some of the families clear
away, I'll make my move. Be ready to get
away quick.”

“Tl leave the engine running.”

We were already charged up in
anticipation of this latest exploit, our
nervous energy amplified by the piss-
poor American beer we'd bought way
back in Newport, Oregon. (The
Bohemia Club beer, only eighty-nine
cents a quart, and so watery that we
were soon using it to rinse out our dishes
by the roadside.)

These shoot and run affairs started a
couple of days before our very public
encounter with Babe, the shameless
companion of a 47-foot tall Paul
Bunyan. Except the first one didn’t
involve running. It had been unex-
pected, as much by myself as by Justin,

who witnessed it.

Double life

continued from page |

simultaneously in order to keep her
women in furs and cars. She lived
what she describes as “transsexually
homosexually,” having sexual
relationships with women while
believing herself to be male.

Someone once asked her,
“Marjorie, are you going to marry?”

Hopper replied, “No! What do you
think I am? Queer?” Believing she
was male and marrying a man would
have made her queer in her own
eyes.

Sixteen years ago, Hopper hit low
tide when her homosexual relation-
ship of eight years, her last, abruptly
ended. Her partner announced she'd
met “the real thing,” a man, and left
Hopper. Hopper attempted suicide.
Failing that, she later found herself
drawn to church, where she says she
found her real identity in Christ and
her first revelation that she had been
created a woman.

But the transition from male to

We were standing by the Devil’s
Gorge looking out at the vast expanse of
ocean when, inspired by the anything-
goes vibe of a good road trip and the
sheer grandeur of those miles of Pacific =
stretching out to the horizon, I felt the
sudden, inexplicable urge to bare myself
to it. Without a word to Justin, I
climbed up on the sturdy wooden fence,
feet on the bottom rung, knees resting
against the top, and with one motion
undid my jeans and let them drop.
Throwing my arms above my head, I
arched backwards and let out a trium-

. phant yell.

“Whoooochoooo.”

The problem that now confronted
us was as plain as the balls on the
ox and nearly as large.

Ten or so feet behind me, Justin
echoed my yell with a howl of laughter,
perhaps a bit shocked by this spontane-
ous display of madness from a friend he
knew to be characteristically cautious,
even inhibited. Or maybe it was just the
sight of a long-haired crazy standing
bare-assed on a fence, exposing himself
to the elements for no good reason.

I heard him fumble around with the
camera briefly and then, in a split
second, the moment was preserved and a
tradition begun. We decided that this fit
of inspiration was a great premise for a
different sort of photo album. No, the
usual snapshots wouldn't do. We wanted
something with a little more edge.
Something you would be embarrassed to
show your mother.

So for the next couple of days we
improvised our own special portraits,
one for each geographic region we came
across. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't
pure, unadulterated, frat-boy nudity we
were going for here. The trick was to be

just a little coy, taking the picture in

such a way that our dangly bits would be
obscured. It may have amounted to little
more than a bare ass in the great

newly acquired women’s wardrobe, it
didn’t feel right.

“T often felt like I was in drag,”
Hopper says. She didn’t understand

   

ACM Director, Marjorie Hopper

outdoors, but we thought it
the pinnacle of humour.
Cheap thrills.

The problem that now
confronted us was as plain as
the balls on the ox and nearly
as large. People. Until now,
our little adventures had been
private. But there were maybe
50 cars parked here, and at
least half a dozen families
milled about the lot, the gift
shop and, worst of all, the
bench so thoughtfully placed
about 15 feet in front of Paul
and Babe.

“What do you figure?”
asked Justin.

“I don’t know. Not yet.
Let’s see if those people at the
bench clear away.”

If anyone noticed us
lurking there in the car they
would have, doubtless, taken
us to be criminals judging by
our furtive behavior, and I
suppose if you take into
account puritanical morality
laws, we were. I began to get
more and more nervous as
the minutes passed by and
people left the bench, only to
be replaced by others. Finally,
an opening.

“OK, I’m going.”

“What about those people
over by the gift shop?”

“Ah, fuck ’em, they're
oblivious.”

I jogged discretely or so I
thought, towards the huge
blue ox, glancing around to
see if I had missed any
obvious onlookers. Tittering
nervously to myself, I skirted
around Babe's right foreleg
and headed straight for those
awe-inspiring testes. The plan
was simple: this was to be a
full-contact shot, a hands-on
experience, so to speak.
continued on page 4

Today, at age 66, Hopper doesn’t
place much importance on her
gender.

“T projected that [male gender]; it
wasn't real,” she says. “I had to work
hard against what I perceived to be real
and natural, to project something that
was not.” But gender is not an issue any
more. “Now, I put my emphasis on
being a Christian, not a woman.”

Hopper believes her strong
foundation of faith gave her the
courage to go against the tides and
through a lengthy, arduous healing
process. After accepting her innate
female identity in 1981, she spent
four years immersing herself in the
scriptures.

“God told me a few times, ‘You are
a woman,” she says. “He told me I
was His daughter, a girl child. He
affirmed that in me. Now I see every
woman as simply a woman and men
as men. I am not male,” she asserts, “I
am woman. How close I come to the

Getting in touch with the natural world

 

You've come a long way

continued from page 2

athletics for so long, a new problem

has arisen: homophobia. In a recent

Sports Illustrated feature on recruiting
female high school basketball players,
one of the points made was that some
parents don’t want their daughters
playing for a lesbian coach.

Mike Flynn, a top US Amateur
Athletic Union (AAU) coach, says, “I
know of some [gay] women coaches
who are some of the best coaches and
people I know. But people try to make
a bigger deal out of it than it is.” With
homophobic attitudes very prevalent
in today’s society, the issue of lesbian-
ism almost carries more weight than
the issue of sex, If the attitudes of
society don’t change, women’s athletics
could lose some very good coaches and
players.

Women’s sports have come a long
way from the archaic age of tennis
played in hoop skirts, as evidenced by
the increasing popularity of women’s
athletics and growing professional

Coming soon:
The Op
Women’s
Supplement

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Other Press by:

staarl|

submit@op.douglas.bc.ca

a
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In person
Room 1020, the OP

 

female was not easy for Hopper. She
often felt as if she was fighting against
the tides. At times, women shunned
her, refusing even to sit next to her.
And when she dressed up in her

women. “People said, “Well, you're one
of them, how can you not under-
stand?’ It has to do with imprinting,”
she explains, an insight extracted from
years of personal counselling. .

epitome of femininity...” (She laughs,
unconcerned). “There’s too much of
my life that’s dedicated to serving
God that that doesn’t need to be an
issue any more.”

sports opportunities for women.
Women will someday have the same
opportunities to play sports as men,
but it may be awhile before the
playing field is truly level.

Deadline is Friday,
February 27

 

 

The Other Press — Sexuality Supplement February 18, 1998 3

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