Kat posted this message on Facebook on Wednesday: "So, just got back from the courthouse. All the paperwork is done, and I'll have my name change finalized this next Tuesday! Huzzah!"
I looked up Huzzah in the Urban Dictionary: The crazy English version of hurray; Used to express joy, encouragement, and triumph; Used primarily, it seems, in the middle ages. Even without the huzzah, I was pretty sure that the news from Kat was good.
She told me months ago that she intended to change her name. The one I assigned her at birth no longer fits. I suspect it never did. In the last year she has redefined herself in so many ways: the way she dresses, the way she expresses herself, the friends she associates with, the place she calls home, the school she goes to.
At Evergreen, she is part of the "queer" community: young people who refuse to be defined by conventional notions of gender and sex. I admire their boldness and envy their sense of unity. They are a community of resistance.
Yesterday morning I reread her Facebook post. I was imagining her trip to the courthouse. She was no doubt accompanied by a ragtag band of nonconformists, there to support her because she is one of them. Even with their support, it must have taken real courage to hand over the paperwork and stand in her truth in front of a judge and all the world.
I was thinking about Kat and her courage when I went to get my hair cut and colored yesterday afternoon. As the hairdresser draped me in a cape, I declared, "I want to do something different, something bold."
"Oh," she said, looking surprised, "What were you thinking? Black? Red? How about an asymmetrical bob?"
"Oh, no, nothing like that." I was backpedaling now, looking for an exit. "How about blonder highlights and a few more layers?"
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