A tale of two roofers

I wanted to find a good local roofer to fix the damage to my roof from the storm last month, and I had seen that other houses in my neighborhood had been damaged and fixed, so, a couple of weeks ago when I was out walking and saw the owner of one of those houses getting out of his car I called out a "good morning" and he came to talk with me.

He was a young fellow, solidly built, a touch pugnacious but polite.  When I explained what I was looking for he told me that his guy was good but was going to be out of town for the next couple of weeks (odd thing to know about a roofer, I thought...maybe they're friends), but that he had the card of the guy who did the house next door.  I copied down the name and number from the card, thanked him, and continued on.  Then, as I passed his house again a little later, he came back out and gave me a slip of paper with the name and number of his guy after all.  I thanked him once more, shook his hand, and came home to Google the names. 

I checked the name from the card first and found a business listing for a contractor at a local address.  I checked the other (an unusual name, so it was unlikely there were two of them) and found no business listings.  Instead, I found the that second roofer was affiliated with the KKK and had, in my local area, been convicted and had served time for threatening to kill a black man.

So.  I have a neighbor who might be friends with a guy who traffics in hate.  This does not mean, I keep reminding myself, that my neighbor shares his possible friend's views.  Still, I keep feeling anxious about how femme I might have seemed to the man.  I was dressed entirely in man-clothes, but there was still my long dyed hair, plucked eyebrows, and jeweled ear studs.  If he drew a conclusion it was probably that I'm gay, rather than trans...but if he is a basher I know this distinction will not matter to him at all. 

I have not seen or heard anything from my neighbor since our conversation.  It was the first time in three years living in the neighborhood I had talked with him.  He doesn't seem to be around much.  There have been no words, no actions, no threats.  But I am afraid. 

I didn't truly understand when I was a man - I don't suppose most white men do - that the absence of fear is a privilege.  The possibility of violence will always be with me now, because I am trans, and because I will be a woman.  My friend Deb gave me a good word...she said I need to become wary.  I hate that, but I see that it is true, and I am learning. 

One thing though:  I refuse to be ruled by, or silenced by, my fear.  I will be prudent and watchful...I am going to start locking my house, for instance...but I am determined neither to flee nor to live in terror.  I decline to cower.

Easy to say that...hard to do.

Needless to say, with regards to getting my roof fixed, I called the first guy.

Comments

[Deb]

Dear Dee,

Another wonderful post. A quick suggestion that I know you'll welcome:

"I didn't truly understand when I was a man - I don't suppose most [white] men do - that the absence of fear is a privilege."

[Lisa Bunker]

Yes, you're right. Edit made.

[Dawn on MDI]

mmm. now you're getting it. Good. Be safe.

[zaq from mpg]

Hi Dee,
just saw this, nice post. one formatting tip: just one space after a period when using a computer (as opposed to a typewriter) because these machines automatically format for you. Otherwise it looks weird. Like this.
Zaq (from MPG)