When Julie Met Hayley        an interview by Samantha

How old are you?

28, believe it or not! My wig and anorak age me considerably older and people are often shocked to learn I'm not in my 40's.

Where were you born, and educated?
Accrington, Lancashire born and bred. Moorhead High School, Accrington + Rossendale College, London Academy of Music + Dramatic Art ( LAMDA)

When did you decide to become an actress, and why?
There's always been a tug of war inside me between the 'girly' girl who loves to dress up and dance around, and the nauseatingly right-on part of me who has always wanted to change the world. So I was genuinely torn in my late teens between acting and social work. It took a couple of inspirational people in my life (my brother and my drama teacher) to point out that art and entertainment have a huge part to play in the development of a culture and that going into acting with a big fat social conscience, would probably be something that could make a difference to people's lives Little did I know!!

I get asked quite a lot, but mostly by children and stupid people, so I'm terribly patient and explain. What they normally say is, 'Are you really a man ?' To which I reply, 'No. And neither is Hayley.'

When you find the time, how do you unwind? (music, pastimes, interests).
Traveling, reading, films, theatre, pop! I'm starting an Open University degree in social sciences next year.

What are your favourite things? (pets, hi-fl, etc)
I'm just buying a little flat with a garden in London, and that's my obsession right now.
My little 1988 Fiat Uno car, Betty, is definitely up there - I love seeing her amongst all the Mercs & BMWs at Granada, and it's my favourite thing to rattle along in her singing my heart out to Madonna or Pulp. And I have a little wooden chest with all my special mementos in it that I keep by my bed - that's very important to me.

How like Hayley are you? I like to think I'm slightly more funky than Hayley, but there is definitely a bit of 'anorak' in me too. I like pottering around in museums and exhibitions, and I am too very eager to please. I try to strike a balance between being rock 'n' roll and real prefect material.

What would you tell your children if they asked 'what is a transsexual?'
I'd say, 'A transsexual is a person who feels they have been born in the wrong body. So although they grew up looking and acting like a little boy, for example, they know deep inside that they are really a girl. There's an operation you can have to change the outside to match the inside. A man's body can be transformed into a woman's body, or a woman's into a mans.
and finally, what would you say is the best thing about being a girl and the worst?!!
Best: 'girly' nights, dressing up, red lippy, girl power. Worst: Periods, people's conventional standards of beauty, 'Jobs for the boys'.
Any additional info you would like our magazine to print about you that you would like to share...
Blimey! I think I've said enough !!!
Good Luck with all your work and very best wishes from me to all your readers, 
Lots of

Eddie Izzard - Dress to Kill     By Samantha

I don't think there are many out transvestites in the public eye - transvestites in the sense of male tomboys. I've been looking to find them. There are a lot of gay and lesbian people who are out and there's drag per se, dressing up as women, and there's rock stars who'll put on eyeliner and could well be TV - but I don't think they are. I don't know where Mr. David Bowie stands at this time. I always thought it would be quite good fun to play a girl in one of the school plays, but I never did, and this was in my cute days when I could have passed for a girl more. I was 17 at college, when  they said: 

'Right, you're playing the girl,' in this revue we were doing. I said: ' Oh, wow!' and then psychosomatically I got ill the day before the show.

My brain couldn't deal with it. I got flu, or a cold or something. I was quite incapacitated. It was just not being able to deal with this situation. I remembered when I was 21 this one friend of mine saying - chit chat, chat chat - ' Have you ever worn women's clothes?' And I remember my mind going, that's one question that's right at the heart of the problem, and my voice going: 'Ahh...ggh...hyuh...uhh...no.no! No!' It's going all the way in and alarm bells are going off - AWOOP AWOOP! Dive, dive, dive'. I had to sit there. I was trying to think, why? Why do I feel there's this boy/girl fight going on inside? Why? 'Why' seemed to be very important. I still haven't got an answer. I just pulled the curtains and lay in a room and tried to go through it - real self analysis. I worked out that I'd better come out and I just did it. 

So he was going, 'Ooh Tracy, ooh Tracy,' and I was going, look seriously, have respect. Why do you need to do this?' And he hit the 'Ooh Tracy' line a third time - magic three - and I said, 'You're a cunt who deserves to be cut with a knife'- which I repeated in court - and then he went for me. I was doing quite well, I was blocking away. And then four other guys were suddenly there. And I just thought it was me and him, but of course the way to win battles is superior numbers. So they were all beating away and my friends were trying to pull them of me. I was doing well with this bloke, I got about four hits in. And at the end I was still vertical. It was probably over in about 30 seconds. Then they sauntered off and went into this pub disco about 50 yards away. So we were all staring at each other and they were talking to their bouncer friend - who turned up later as a witness for them. He told the court,' Yeah, he attacked five men at once,' then he went and sat down and joked with them at the back of the court. The police turned up and said,' Was it squaddies? Was it squaddies?' Squaddies? Two Oxford dons, mate.' They kept saying,' Was it squaddies?' like it was,' Oh, we have tons of squaddie fights. They're constantly beating up transvestites round here.'  Anyway, two of my friends went into the disco to point them out, and there was a kind of hyperactive bouncer there. 

They couldn't find the troublemaker. I went in there and I couldn't see these guys and the bouncer asked me, ' is this him?' And this guy, who was one of them but who was the pacifist, appeared and he was saying,' Look we didn't want any trouble.' I thought, oh, if you're here, the other guy must be here. And I looked round and there he was, dancing in the crowd, Happy Mondays-Kind of dancing. So I picked them out. And in the police van on the way back, he apparently said,' Yeah, I did it,' and he admitted everything. The police never told me that. I felt more bashed up than I looked. We had to give the police all the details and for some reason I had to show them the physical evidence so they could note it down. The bruises. And then three months later, when I had forgotten everything about everything, I had to hire a car and go to court. and everybody was going, 'I've forgotten what everyone looks like. It was just some guy you saw for two minutes three months ago.' You can't remember what you said in your statement because it was three months ago. They said,' can you identify the man in court? Are you sure it was this man?' 

They put the witness and the defendants about 50 yards apart. It wasn't a great situation. Intimidation is common, especially in the toilets, which you share. It would be very logical to put the witnesses on one side and the defendants on the other so they don't meet. Think about what intimidation serious villains could do. Anyway. We couldn't remember what the bloke looked like, but he was stood there, going 'Ello darlin'! Argh!' being the chirpy lad he was, and we went oh it's him! That's the guy.' He'd identified himself when we couldn't remember him. He decided not to talk in court. And we'd all seen Crown Court on TV, so everyone was there ready to do their thing: 
Me It was him, m'lud.
Magistrate It's not m'lud.Me All right.
Magistrate And only answer when your spoken to.
Me All right.
Magistrate And don't point out anyone in court.
Me Oh, right. Can I say what he looked like?
Magistrate Yes.
Me Well he looked like him. It was very important to wear make-up for the court case or their imaginations would have run riot.' What did he look like?' 'Oh, he was up to here with the stockings and a wig on.' The image of transvestites is so negative. It's like American television; I have to do every interview with make-up to tell them,' This is what it's going to look like, guys. This is going to be the Marc Bolan end of transvestism.' I went to Downing Street in make-up. I was pleased New Labour had won. I've learnt that you've got to be really non-apologetic. 

'I dared myself to go to all of these places because I thought if I did it, my confidence would grow. So I did. It was scary, but scary is interesting if it's positive. Once you've done it, you realise that it's not as scary as you thought it would be, therefore your scary receptors change. Fear is the mind killer': one of the great lines in Dune. I love Dune. I took a train back to Sheffield, where I was a student, and I had a friend there I thought might kill me for being TV but he just turned up at the station and picked me up on his motorbike. Lucky I wasn't wearing a skirt.

My website, www.izzard.com, has just won second best website from Yellow Pages. It's good. People log on and say what they want. It had 6000 hits in six weeks. I think it might be eight people just constantly logging in." (OK which one of you BS members is responsible?) He looks at some photographs and sighs." You can't look like a tomboy with a powder puff in your hand," he says. In 'The Avengers' I only had these little scenes with Sean Connery. It wasn't, 'You talking to me? I don't see anybody else here.' It was more like, 'You're obviously not talking to me as I  have no lines.' I didn't quite have enough to get my teeth into. They said, 'We'll put some more lines in,' and gave me three more lines and I said, 'No, no more lines, we'll take 'em out.' Because Steve Mc Queen used to take lines out. I think my character was expected to say a few lines - stuff like don't you do that, John Steed.' But it was more powerful if I wasn't saying
anything. So I thought, I'll just stare at people and be enigmatic in some way. Some sort of silent guy who stares at people, hits them, chews gum and controls killer bees... 

Stand-up comedy and film acting are very different. There's a certain purity about stand-up comedy. If you want to be original in stand-up you just talk about your own sad life and people go, 'Oh, that's interesting.' So you can be as sad as you want - ' You know, I can't tie my shoelaces and I still can't tie my shoelaces, because I was attacked by my shoelaces when I was a kid.' And people will love it. Whereas you wouldn't do that in a film. Unless you playing a weird shoelace guy. I was walking through Time Square in New York and this guy was looking at me and shouting, 'F***n' faggot!' And I was going, 'You're a f***n' faggot.' I shout whatever they shout at me. So some people were going,' I saw you on the telly,' and other people were going, 'F***g faggot,' and one person said, 'Are you funny? Say funny! Say funny now!' I was saying, 'I'm expensive, I'll only do it for $10,000.''Tell me funny now! ''Give me $10,000 and I'll be funny'. I thought, if he gets that money out , I'd better be funny... And I could feel the aggression coming off those  people. I'm no good at fighting but I just can't stick it if people shout shit. And it can happen anywhere. If I'm in Leicester Square at night, I'll get it. 

When I was younger, I broke into Pinewood Studios, I broke into
Elstree  Studios, I broke into the TV room at school... and I stole make-up. Yeah. The things I needed to get, I would get. Allure magazine just gave me 55 lipsticks to try out. That's a great irony for me, I have stolen lipstick from Bexhill-on-Sea Boots The Chemist when I was fifteen. I got caught, but I was too young to go to prison. I didn't buy it because I thought someone might say,' Why are you, a boy, buying make-up? You must be a transvestite.' It could be embarrassing. So I thought, I'll steal it. Then no-one will know... except me and the judicial system.'..... 
Dress to Kill is very easy to read, and a very well put together  biography with a 90s style. It's the sort of book which not  only is funny, but explains the background to the most famous  TV of our times, (with the exception of Janet Scott! ) who has  helped the understanding of the subject by being so 'out' about it.
The biographical nature of the book is quite disjointed, and jumps about; but this quirky style makes you turn the page, and it works really well. With some great gritty 'urban street-life' images, it is certainly one for the shopping list! And as the saying goes,' If you want to know more, then you'll just going to have to read the book.'

With thanks to Eddie Izzard, Ella Communications and Mike Watson at  'Hall or Nothing'.

This short piece appeared in the  BM September 1999

The article referred to in the opening paragraph dealt with an aspect of life usually left in the 'closet', namely relationships with men. This response from Claire (S2227) provided more food for thought. 

Joanne's article 'The Essential Accessory' published in the last BM was for me like a breath of fresh air. The Society has for many years dropped any overt or policy objections on the grounds of sexual orientation and that is all to the good. There is, however, a far more insidious undercurrent that is often felt. For those of us who are bisexual or gay, there is often a feeling that we are suffered only as long as we do not show any emotion in public. If a heterosexual couple kiss at a meeting, show affection for each other, there is not a problem. 

If I were to kiss my boyfriend, heads would swivel and the 'tut tutting' would start to clack like farmyard chickens. I have no doubt what the reaction would be if I took my boyfriend to the Rotherham Weekend. 'Do what you like in your room, BUT don't even hold hands under the table'.  In the June Bulletin (foot of page 7), I was appalled at the statement by an acting RO. Quote: 'I will make it quite clear though, that I am very cool to a too close association with the overt gay world. Use it when necessary', unquote. 

We are, or should not be, users of other people or groups. Substitute the word 'gay' for 'TV' and see how you would feel if somebody wrote that about you.  There seems to be a misplaced fear that we are either going to jump on any male (irrespective of clothing) that we see, or that our mere entrance into a room will break up marriages left, right and center.  It is no secret that the TV/TV Fetish world generally is not renowned for its homophobia, so why the reticence to accept us openly and publicly within the BS? The fear of wives and girlfriends wondering if their husbands or boyfriends might be gay or bi is a real fear; I appreciate that.

On the other hand, surely it is far better to be open than to be surreptitious. In this day and age I am sure that partners are more than able to accept the notion that not every TV has the same sexual orientation. It is high time that we realised that our partners have intelligence of their own and do not need to be told that virtually all TVs are heterosexual.  When I first led the campaign for the BS to include all cross-dressers/TVs/TSs irrespective of sexual orientation, I received dozens of letters from members who, like myself, had previously had to lie or be evasive on their BS membership application forms. We are not a vocal minority, but we do have feelings and exclusions do hurt us.

I have no wish to see the BS as an organisation become salacious or overtly ribald and would not encourage behaviour that would not be acceptable at any other public gathering. For the life of me I cannot see why actions and emotions that are acceptable between a woman and a male in women's clothes, are any different from those of a male in male clothing and a male in women's clothing; or, for that matter, two men in women's clothing.
Finally, before I get off my hobbyhorse for today, thank you Joanne for having the courage to go into print and also thank you Helen for having the open-mindedness to print it. 

'The Essential Accessory' 

We reached our destination at last. Hampton Court Palace is a magical place. I love its old brickwork, its gabled and pinnacled roofline, its ornamental chimney stacks and its sense of history - Henry VIII, Thomas More and all that. I hadn't been there for years, but nevertheless we decided not to go in this time. It was partly my apprehension about being at close quarters with other people on a guided tour, but it was mainly the glorious weather. It was simply too nice to be indoors. Instead, we took a stroll through the gardens and along the river bank.

But the brighter and warmer the weather the greater the chances of discovery. Today it was sunny and hot and, to make things yet more challenging, I was wearing the sleeveless dress. The hairs on my arms were plucked and bleached and I'd taken care all summer not to allow a short-sleeve sun-tan line to develop, but I had to admit to myself that my arms constitute another  'not-sufficiently-feminine-feature'.
All this weighed on my mind as we started to stroll through the gardens. Don't make eye contact, I told myself, and for a while I stuck to that rule. But the temptation to see how you're doing is too great and I started to look at the faces of passers-by. Why was I worrying? There was not a flicker of recognition. 

Set against the bulk and height of Lionel the male features counted for little. I really was petite. This accessory was working a treat.
Another concern I had was whether wearing a dress would be over-dressing. So often casual dressing means tee-shirts, shorts and sandals. Again, I needn't have worried as there were sufficient women looking lovely in skirts and summer dresses for me not to look out of place. The weather was now seriously hot and it was time to take a rest. We found a shady spot under a tree and Lionel got out the blanket he'd been carrying for us to lie on. "How thoughtful of you" I said again admiringly. There was a whisper of a breeze to take away the almost oppressive heat, and it was wonderful just to lie in the shade and watch other people go by - real men and real women. They had no idea that the couple lying under the tree were not all they seemed.

Another accessory which I like to use on the right occasions came out - my camera. In fact Lionel had been carrying it along with the blanket. After all a handbag is quite enough for a lady to have to carry. I took photos of him and he took photos of me. Later we took photos of each other in front of the Palace, in the gardens, on the river bank and in front of his car. It was tempting to stay in that lovely spot all day, but I felt the need to explore further. This time as we set off I put my arm through his so that we looked like a perfect couple. We had a much-needed drink and an ice cream at the cafe. My confidence had grown and I had no worries about sitting at a table surrounded by other people.

On the drive back home we stopped at a small tea shop for another drink and a bite to eat. The wry smile on the waiter's face suggested I had been read - the only time I can recall it happening all day. It would be nice to think that it was only my voice that gave me away but I'd be fooling myself I didn't care anyway. The day had been wonderful and I had a reservoir of self-confidence to see me over one tiny incident.
Lionel invited me into his house but I made my excuses and left, kissing him on the cheek as I got into my own car. But I was hooked. The day had been wonderful - no, perfect - and I knew that there would have to be repeats. All that remained was to await the return of the photos as a reminder of the day. Unfortunately, I was in for a disappointment for the photos of Joanne showed her headless, or leaning at an impossible angle, or a fuzzy blur in front of a razor sharp background, or a distant dot on the horizon. Lionel is no photographer. However, here is a tasteful shot of the front of the Palace instead.
And now for the serious bit. It wasn't long after that glorious Sunday that Lionel and I became lovers. I am in that minority amongst TVs who can be turned on by a man. In my case it only happens when I'm dressed. In fact I'm bisexual. There, I've said it.
Lionel, too, is turned on by men packaged as women. But there is more than physical attraction between us. We enjoy each other's company and we respect and trust each other. He is kind and gentle and has a nice sense of humour. He has no qualms about taking me out for walks in parks and gardens, to museums and art galleries, to pubs and restaurants, and on public transport. He treats me like the woman I want to be. I feel comfortable and right with him. In fact, when I'm with him I am a woman. It's bliss.
Men are a feature of many TV events - clubs, bars, dances etc, and there are ambivalent feelings amongst TVs and TSs towards them. To some they're a nuisance, an intrusion, an unwelcome reminder of the sexual nature of cross-dressing of many TVs. To others they add excitement to an event. It can be flattering and ego-boosting to be chatted up, bought a drink and asked to dance. Naturally I'm in the latter category, although chatting and dancing with some men can be dreary and embarrassing. Of course, it depends to a large measure on your sexual orientation as to how you view men at events.

A man!