On Wednesday we took a drive in to Brooklyn to attend a play that our Big Kid is currently stage managing. Missionary Woman, is billed as a campy transgender super hero comedy, a la 1960s Bat Man: ‘It’s absurd! It’s profane! It’s Missionary Woman!’ Bam! Crash! Zonk!

I hadn’t asked for any plot details because I wanted to be surprised. All I knew was that everyone in the cast and crew was transgender, non-binary, and/or queer. I also knew that there was a super villain named Professor Strapon. And that The Kid had said, ‘Probably don’t bring grandma to this one.’

When we arrived there were a handful of people out on the sidewalk. A few standing, and in a few wheelchairs, some smoking cigarettes, some vaping.  Young New Yorkers. Artists. Actors. The creative energy was palpable. 

The Kid introduced us to the writer, Meg Rosensweet, (her real surname, at least according to the assholes at Ellis Island who couldn’t spell) a tall, fabulously dressed woman with a great head of hair and a wicked sense of humor. After our five minute conversation I knew I was going to enjoy her work. 

As we walked in to the lobby, we were greeted with warm smiles by the director, and some crew members. We were checked in, and asked to pick a Super Villain name tag. I chose Chlamydious, while John grabbed Jalapeño Papa (made specifically for him, by The Kid). 

The television in the lobby was playing a black and white reel of an overly dramatic 1950’s style newscaster. The drag king Walter Kronkite was reporting on the happenings in Straightsville, including a segment on actual Women’s basketball, can you believe it? Females can also be very tall and very good. Who knew!? 

There were a few folks conversing in sign language near the Accessibility Table which was full of Colorful N94 masks and fidget toys for everyone. There had been such careful consideration for everyone’s safety, accessibility and comfort. 

We snagged seats in the front row on the floor, so John could stretch his legs out (cis-manspread), and so we could be part of the drag segment action. 

The director came out onto the stage and greeted everyone. Then he said something along the lines of ‘Make some noise if you love someone who is trans.’ Everyone in the audience hooted and hollered. 

I clapped and cheered. In that moment I was cheering for the star of the show, Missionary Woman, Ryan O’Dea. She is my kid’s musical writing partner and a proud trans woman. Her authenticity and strength inspire and amaze me. 

I was also cheering for my trans family members. And my trans friends, both living and dead. I was cheering for the trans friends of my kids. And the trans kids of my close friends. 

It struck me that I happen to love and care for a lot of trans people. And when I say I care for them I mean that I worry about their health, and their happiness, and their ability to move through this world safely. I worry about the way that they are othered. Politicized. Super-villainized. And I worry about them a lot.

But there, in the theater, the worry was gone. It was a powerful moment for me as a trans ally. And I imagine it was an energizing and empowering moment for most of the people in the audience. 

The mood was set. Our expectations were high. 

We watched as the story unfolded. We learned that the hero, Missionary Man (‘he always finishes first’) had been keeping the town of Straightsville safe, by fighting off the transgender supervillains and their evil agenda.

We watched as Missionary Man bravely revealed that she was, in fact, Missionary Woman. We watched as our friend Ryan publicly moved through the coming out process yet again. Brave and amazing.

We watched a cast of characters that were campy, cheesy and waaay over the top, but genuine, emotional, compelling, and so very talented. I laughed out loud, I got angry, and I choked back tears. 

It was a joyful night, in a joyful space. I was surrounded by gorgeous, talented, young people, proudly living their truths, in one of the safest, most inclusive, kind and welcoming spaces I have ever been in. We need more of these joyful, inclusive spaces.

The way the world seems, outside of this cosmopolitan area, the things we hear from our overly emotional newscasters, the hateful and hurtful rhetoric that comes out of the mouths of some people in charge, all make the world a scary and dangerous place for trans folks.

Our young people need these joyful inclusive spaces where they can create, interact, or simply exist in community, and in safety. They need to know that they are safe, that they are supported, and that they are loved. They need to know that they can grow in their authenticity, and thrive in this world. Their lives depend on it. And we need those spaces to be open and accessible, supported and frequented by allies.

I feel energized, blessed, and called to action by the cast and crew of Missionary Woman.

And I’m not sure if they know it, but these young people truly are superheroes. Kapow! 

[as of this writing there are still a few seats available for the Saturday 9/28 matinee. Tickets here https://www.ticketleap.events/tickets/missionary-woman-play/missionarywoman#/day ]