With the Flick of a Thumb Part 3: Deserving of Love
By Giselle Byrd
J and I thought it would be great to see each other so he decided he would visit for the weekend. Keep in mind, we hadn’t done this sort of visit since we’d first met in January 2016. So much had changed over those six years: we’d both been in relationships, I’d gone through the loss of granny and surgery trauma, he’d moved back home, and I’d moved into an apartment all on my own.
As I opened my apartment door, it felt bizarre. It was just like the first time except we were both older and less afraid of each other, if that makes sense. We hugged and then in an instant, we kissed. This time it wasn’t alarming. It made sense. (I was already feeling vulnerable after being in a work session earlier that day with the director of a short film I’m starring in and had just cried my eyes out). In that moment, we both went back to that same place we did in 2016, when he kissed me after I shut the laptop. And once again it felt just as natural—actually, even better.
There was a significant difference in the way we connected. Our first encounter was caring and exploratory, but this one had love stamped on it. I was later told, “I started loving you four or five years ago, but now it’s even deeper.” He wasn’t wrong. After “reconnecting” (I feel like that’s a Beyonce song that is bound to happen) we went to dinner with some of my friends. They knew him as ‘Savannah J’ to not confuse him with any other person amongst our cohort with the same name. It was actually cute to see how everyone got along, because we all know when you bring any sort of romantic interest among friends, it’s an audition for them that they don’t know about.
We dragged him to karaoke, which he umm… wasn’t the happiest about, BUT we got through it together. He was especially impressed by my bestie/brother, Martavius’ rendition of “Rise Up” from Hamilton. The next morning, rolling with nostalgia, we decided to revisit one of our favorite places, Amy Ruth’s. It had survived the pandemic and was exactly as it was six years ago: amazing sweet tea, beautiful murals of famous Black folks on the walls, some of the greatest cornbread, and of course: the chicken and waffles. We then took a walk through Central Park and made our way to the new Target on Columbus Avenue, which was coincidentally next to the Home Goods he had dropped me off at almost two years before.
My cell phone rang, and it was my good sis, the divine Raquel Willis. When she calls, you better answer. “Gizzy, where are you?” she asked in a grandiose tone. “I’m in Target with J.” A pause. “I knew it… out there gallivanting with a man and you didn’t tell your sister.” She was loud enough for him to hear, and he laughed asking, “Who is that?” I later broke down my journey of sisterhood with Raquel to him, which made him want to meet her. He wanted to meet all the people I had spoken to him about over the years.
As his trip came to a close that Monday morning, he looked at me and said, “I want to do this again. I had a great time.” I was surprised but played it off with, “I’d love that.” We kissed each other goodbye and said “I love you” as he got on the elevator. As I shut the door I wanted to cry. I didn’t understand why, but I blamed it on my hormones. It was the same way I cried at the end of Sleeping Beauty or how when I watched my mama go off to board her plane after taking care of me post-surgery. Something about love being found or the people you love going on a different journey always tears me up.
Which leads us back to the beginning of our story. I woke up to the sound of snoring: J in my bed to the left of me, that pleasant expression on his face. We’d had a weekend visit of “just us” time. Watching shows on Netflix, walking to dinner in my neighborhood, him leaning in the kitchen entryway as I bake an apple pie and we talk with one of my best friends, Nate. Over the past eight months, something has shifted in our dynamic. We are no longer just friends. He’s spent Easter with me and my friends (basically my NYC family), went to my co-worker’s Euphoria-themed PJ party (after driving 13+ hours from visiting his kids down in Georgia), and even came to my 30th birthday celebration and met my mama, sister, and little cousin, who is basically like my little sister.
Yet somehow, I still felt that maybe I was too optimistic. I started to second-guess everything. Maybe this was a friendship with extremely great benefits. I was afraid of that. I couldn’t fall into that cycle anymore. It had happened too many times before: meet a guy, like him, get intimate, he wants to be friends only. No more, no less. I couldn’t do this with him. I knew I had to say something. Which, I’ll bring Audre Lorde’s golden gem back into the script: “Your silence will not protect you."
My mama gave me her word of caution as she always did, but also reminded me to follow my heart and acknowledge the length of time we’d known each other. Other friends assured me, “He wouldn’t have met your mama and all of these people had he not been really into you.” But Raquel said it straight: “You need to find out what commitment looks like to you and what that fear is around it. Are you exclusive for convenience or exclusive with intention?”
I had the biggest fear of it all. This was something I’d always wanted and yet something I didn’t know if I should grasp, afraid that I would crumble it easily. But Raquel was right when she asked, “What did commitment look like to me?” In my mind, it was him. After being on my own for almost three years, I wasn’t sure if I would be what he wanted. After dating someone who projected his own agenda onto me and wanted to put me into a position I didn’t wanna be in, I did not want to go down that road again. It was messy. It was dumb as hell. And I felt dumb for staying in it as long as I did.
My womanhood isn’t a flaw, an error, or a downfall to my livelihood and my romantic life. I have to be loved FULLY and if I don’t receive that, then I have to walk away.
So, I asked the question to him during one of our FaceTimes. There was fear looming over me, because I had this feeling that ultimately, I would get the response no one wants: “Well yeah we’re friends… is there more to this?” However, I paused fear, and I posed the question: “Are we good friends who are just having sex? Or are we something more? I’m just at a place where I need clarity in all aspects of my life.” I was quickly met with the response: “No, we’ll always be friends, but this is something much more than that and much deeper. I love you. I love all of you.”
And as the conversation furthered, here we are. In love. It’s scary to type that out. I still grapple with the fact that this six-year journey has led to this. I still fear that one day, I’ll wake up and my trans identity, which has healed me, will destroy something I care about. But I have to remind myself that the whole of who I am is not up for debate. My womanhood isn’t a flaw, an error, or a downfall to my livelihood and my romantic life. I have to be loved FULLY and if I don’t receive that, then I have to walk away. I feel that at times, as a trans person, when it comes to relationships we are loved to an extent. Our transness is okay up to a certain point with a partner and then all of a sudden, it’s an obstacle to overcome or even worse: an obstacle to be ignored, leaving me to pick up the pieces.
I can only operate from a place of truth. I am now learning to not operate from a place of fear. My mama tells me all the time, “What is meant for you, will be for you.” It’s the motto I’ve lived by since January 9, 2015, when I came out. This life is for me. This love is for me. And now it’s time for me to accept the given circumstances and inhabit it all. I have to define what Giselle in love looks like. She looks happy.
So, I think back once again to the words of Audre Lorde: “If I didn’t define myself, I would be crunched into other people’s fantasies for me and eaten alive.” I cannot define myself to anyone’s expectations. I am not a fantasy. I can simply be who I am.
And who I am is worthy and deserving of love. Q
Giselle Byrd is an advocate and educator on the journey of Black Trans people in America. Aiming to inspire members of her community to find their voice and showcase their greatness, Byrd represents clients who work across the entertainment industry through activism and social media. Her clients have recently collaborated with brands and organizations including Google, Burberry, Prada, Viktor and Rolf, WNBA, Callen-Lorde, The Ali Forney Center, Folx Health, GLAAD, ViacomCBS, and BET. As a producer, she holds the honor of being the first Transgender woman to be accepted into Through Her Lens: The Tribeca Chanel Women's Filmmaker Program. Her documentary film debut, Giselle’s Story, directed by Susan O’Brien, was accepted into the Imagine This International Women’s Festival.