A year ago today I fled Texas, getting out before the worst of the anti-trans legislation was enacted. I moved to the closest transgender refuge state to my family, which was New Mexico. A year later seems like a good time to give you an update.
I think I should start by saying that I moved to Albuquerque knowing almost nothing about the city. I knew there were mountains on the eastern edge of “Burque” as we call it but that was all I knew. I had no idea the Rio Grande ran through the city. I had no idea the Petroglyph National Monument was on the western edge of the city. I had no idea that all of the Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul film sites were real places that locals drive by all the time. (I had a finger of bourbon with a coworker in Saul Goodman’s office and the drive thru at my CVS looks out at Walt and Skyler’s car wash.) I also had no idea that there are four seasons here, with snowfall in the winters and long, pleasant Springs and Autumns. I knew crime was bad thanks to Fox News screaming about it but I learned quickly that, if you keep your car empty of personal possessions and stay out of one specific part of town, you’re just as safe as you would be anywhere else in America… but I go into “the War Zone” all the time and I don’t feel unsafe.
Coming from the South, I grew up in a culture of surface niceness with lots of judgment lurking beneath the smiles. In New Mexico I was met with something completely new and refreshing: Kindness. Strangers would give me advice on where the best restaurants are, where to go hiking while I acclimated to the altitude (ABQ is higher than Denver), and welcomed me with open arms to their city and state. Customers at my retail establishment didn’t talk down to me. Three distinct cultures (Latino, Anglo, and Indigenous) live among each other with respect, despite their contentious and tragic history, which was refreshing to see coming from the latent racism I grew up around.
When I moved to China, I attended a seminar on how to be a good immigrant which focused on what values and traditions to hold onto and what to let go of. I came to New Mexico with the same intentionality I had when I moved overseas. I’ve tried to be a good Burqueña, learning and using as much Burqueño English as I can. I try not to be “pee pee hearted” when my a/c breaks. I end my questions with “or what” or “or no.” I use “all” instead of “very.” There’s a fun doubling of Spanish and English phrases like “mira look.” There is a surprising convergence of phrases between Cajun English and Burqueño English. We both “get down” from cars. We both want you to “come see.” I remember the first time I used one of my new phrases right. There was a massive monsoon coming down and a few of us at work were looking out the windows. I said, “Man, it’s all wet” with emphasis on the word “all”. My coworkers just nodded and then laughed when I asked them if I said it right.
Working alongside Navajo (Diné) and Santo Domingo Pueblo (Kewa) people has dramatically shifted my perspective and understanding of how whitewashed American history is. I will never say “Happy Thanksgiving” again. I now remember the National Day of Mourning instead. Albuquerque has an Indian School Road and, man, I wince every time I see that sign now that I know what the Indian Schools were trying to accomplish. I’ve tried learning a few words of Diné, which is easier than Kewa because Diné is written but Kewa isn’t. (When the Kewa youth finish their school year, they burn all of their notes.) My favorite Diné words are “chish,” which roughly translates to “what the hell” and “wah” which means “I don’t care what you think.” As with most languages, I learned the curse words first.
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When I moved here alone, I knew that I needed to find friends quickly. So, I got on the BFF app and swiped through a lot of people. I became fast friends with another transplant, m’girl Heather. She was with me through the grief of leaving my friends and family 650 miles away. I was with her through a divorce. We both say we’re going to die in New Mexico and I am so happy I found her. We try to go on an adventure every quarter. We took the train to Santa Fe and walked the art galleries on Canyon Road. We went to Tent Rocks and walked through a slot canyon with snow on the ground. She introduced me to walks in The Bosque and the Placitas Open Spaces. I’ve made quite a few other friends like Sunshine, Josey, Miranda, and Aubrai with half being from New Mexico and half being transplants. My life is full of friendship again.
I think about water every day here. In Texas you can stick your head in the sand when it comes to climate change. In Louisiana, denial is normal. When the Rio Grande was dry for almost two months last summer, it shocked me. There was almost no snowfall in the Rockies this winter and what we did get has already melted off. The entire West is in crisis. Wildfire season is bad this year, with the tradeoff being the most gorgeous sunrises I have ever seen in my life. While wildfire is a part of the cycle of life, what we’re experiencing is off of the charts. You can’t hide from climate change in New Mexico, which makes Project Jupiter and other data centers laughably offensive and the companies wanting to build them completely tonedeaf to anything other than their quarterly earnings reports.
I cried almost every day after I got here and I still get emotional every couple of weeks. The life Tiffani and I had is gone. Texas took it from us. We have something new, though. I use my cactus as a metaphor for our long distance relationship. It started as a cactus in her parent’s yard. We were given a cutting off of that cactus and have grown a new one that has all the DNA of the old cactus but is a completely different expression of that DNA. Tiffani’s and my goal is that we are joyful for the next decade that we’re apart and that we smile even wider when we can be together again. She comes to visit as much as time and costs allow. The sun is brighter and the air is crisper when she’s here. It makes me happy that she’s found a New Mexican dish that she likes (Frito Pie, which is completely different from the Texas version) and she has opinions on what makes a good one. We’ve ventured out to Jemez Springs, Bandelier, Valle Caldera, Santa Fe, and all over ABQ. She’s met most of my friends.
I recently flew back to Louisiana for my 18 year old’s high school graduation. I flew because Texas is officially a No Travel state for transwomen, along with Kansas and Florida. (Louisiana isn’t much better. I had to use the family/disabled bathroom at the airport.) It was great to see family that I hadn’t seen in two years and celebrate my son’s graduation. What shocked me was the tolerance. I don’t use that word in a good way, so let me explain. My time in New Mexico is my first time not living in The South. The South tolerates queer people. New Mexico accepts us. After a year of acceptance, I was rattled by the disgust and contempt I saw on the faces of people I used to count as friends. I had forgotten what it was like to be openly disliked and I sure as hell don’t miss it. No one here looks at me like I have an infectious disease.
Let me explain acceptance versus tolerance in a different way, too. Tiffani went to Dallas Pride two summers ago. It’s held at the Texas State Fairgrounds, which sounds great until you contrast it with Santa Fe Pride, which I went to last weekend. In Dallas, Pride is cordoned off with all the festivities taking place inside the Fairgrounds. In Santa Fe, the parade went through a few blocks of the city, starting at the state capital and ending at the Plaza, which was completely taken over by the festivities. The likely next governor of New Mexico, Deb Haaland, walked in the parade. Dallas Pride is what tolerance looks like. Santa Fe Pride is what acceptance looks like.
I still cry sometimes when I think about how I’ll never celebrate a holiday at my parent’s house, or how I’ll never cook Wednesday Family Meal for Tiffani and our kids, or that me, Lisa, Alison, and Ari won’t have Monday dinner together. But, I love New Mexico and I’m growing a life here that brings me joy.
