Eve

Chris Goode, Jo Clifford

• Publisher: Oberon Books
• Year: 2017
• ISBN:
  9781786822703
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literatur
• Subtopic: Britisches Drama

Eve tells the story of a child raised as a boy, when she knew all along that was wrong. That child grew up to be one of the 10 Outstanding Women in Scotland in 2017. With trans rights again under threat, legendary playwright, performer, father and grandmother Jo Clifford tells a story both gentle and passionate, intimate and political, to remind us that the journey towards our real selves is one we all need to make.

PART ONE

1.

This all began when I was a child —

when I looked in the mirror and saw a boy

and didn’t really know who he was.

And that made me so afraid.

I was very young then. Maybe four or five.
But old enough to know I could tell no one.

Old enough to know it was too dangerous to say.

It’s not true what they tell you, that children don’t know their own minds.

I knew. I just couldn’t give it a name.

Today I want to write a manifesto.

I want to write a manifesto because I feel militant.

Because I have been thinking about my life.

I’ve been looking through the photographs.

I have been making a list. A list of everything that happened.

I’ve been writing it all down.

This is when they sent me away.

This is when my mum died.

This is when I thought it was all my fault.

This is when no one spoke to me for months and months.

This is when I thought no one would ever love me.

This is when I wanted to die.

This is when Lorca taught me not to die and I went to Spain.

This is when I ate yoghurt for the very first time.

But at first there was nothing. It was like I didn’t exist.

My dad used to watch the boxing

and sometimes he’d let me watch it too, as a special treat.

I’d keep my eyes tight shut and listen to the commentator

because in spite of everything his voice was kind.

Shortly after my mum died

I got taken to the pantomime.

My first ever trip to the theatre.

I saw Billy Dainty as Widow Twankey in Aladdin. He was dressed as a ballerina — I don’t know why.

He did a striptease right down to his underwear.

Everybody laughed at him. What he did

could have been beautiful.

I wanted to be Princess Jasmine

who wore the most beautiful dresses.

But I must have known, somehow, deep inside:

known I was Widow Twankey

and that meant everyone would laugh at me.

My dad liked to watch the Black and White Minstrel Show.

I wanted to be one of the chorus girls

and have long legs in tights and wear a sparkly leotard and on the top of my head, a plume

and dance in high heels and always keep smiling.

But I couldn’t do that could I?

I wasn’t even supposed to think that was I?

Being a boy.

But don’t think I’m going to tell you a story of suffering.

A story of unhappiness and betrayal and being a victim of it all.

And I will not tell you the story of a girl born into a boy’s body,

whose troubles end when she meets a nice kind surgeon who gives her a vagina.

No.

Because a girl can have a penis. A boy can have a vagina.

We all have our bodies.

I’ve come here to tell you the story of a child.

A child who was frightened and angry.

A child who was lied to throughout their young life.

But who became someone beautiful:

the beautiful person they were all along.

I want the story I tell to spread hope

and communicate gratitude for the beauty and courage

and the riches we bring to the world.

And I know where I want to begin.

2.

Just look at this boy.

This boy looking out at me with bewildered eyes

This boy looking out at me

This boy who loves music

Loves music more than anything in the world

Except perhaps his mother

Look how much he loves the music on his Pixiephone

Look.

And here he is again.

The picture of boyhood.

Look at him — five, maybe six, in his woolly socks and his Start Rite shoes.

His hair cut short

and his old dark coat

standing in the stern of his father’s boat

watching the train.

Exactly what a boy should be.

Robert John

with his photo in Picture Post:

‘The Fascination of Youth.’

I was a star from a very early age.

I didn’t know this! I was told I was a problem.

But you can tell the photographer knows I’m a star.

I loved the train and I loved the boat.

On the boat I felt safe and I loved being me.

Funny how on the boat it didn’t seem to matter, being a boy.

I’ve been chosen to represent boyhood

but really it’s me-hood.

3.

Look how alone this boy is.

He’s been sent away to be made a man.

Sent away from his mother.

Because everyone knows

it’s bad for a growing boy to be too close to his mother.

The dormitories are all named after famous generals

and the beds are made of iron

and the blankets are all g...