possibly can. We say, 'take us or leave us.' In a way our position is more manly than that of any other part of the male homosexual population. Wouldn't you think that we would gain some respect from this open stand? Most of the masculineacting homosexuals that I know shrink and hide, and slink and cover. and dodge along-desperately avoiding what they are even to themselves, constantly fearful of exposure. I find this hardly a very manly pose. Of course you may question why a man who is homosexual should feel anymore feminine than one who is heterosexual. I can only answer that my whole outlook and point of view has always been that of the female. My physical body has never stood in the way of this consideration. So why shouldn't I act what I feel?

"I was born in Trinidad, Colorado, at 3:00 a.m., September 1, 1936. But I was raised in a mining camp called Starkville, which may explain many things. My parents brought me to California when I was six. I can remember as far back as when I was three.

into my

At that time I got first drag. I was absolutely fascinated by men-particularly because I knew they were something different from me. I simply loved my mother's clothes. I couldn't imagine why she dressed me as a boy. Even then I wanted to talk to her about my feelings, but I just couldn't. My mother and father loved each other very much; they still do. They seemed to share each other completely. I felt left out; I couldn't express my real temperament to them. But they taught me love by example. My father was easy going; my mother was the organizer. I tremendously admired her commanding presence, her perfect taste. I wanted to dominate men, not as another man, but as my mother dominated my father. I saw that he loved it. For awhile, in fact, my mother and I competed. But I got my first real chance at playing this role a little later when I discovered Pershing Square.

"Pershing Square has a masculine aura about it. Hollywood, on the other hand, is all feminine. If you are looking for a man or a 'husband,' as it were, you go downtown to Pershing Square, or downtown between Olive Street on the west and Stanford on the east on a parallel with the Square. If you don't mind doing your 'sister' trade, you go to Hollywood. And even in Pershing Square it is hard to find a real man anymore. Certainly the male hustlers-those that John Rechy calls the studs-don't fall into that category. They are a peculiar breed of homosexual even more difficult to diagnose than the queen. We all have our own theory concerning them. You many not agree with mine, but here is my opinion.

"As you know, Pershing Square is the haven of the delivered; that is, it is the meeting place of all those who have somehow emancipated themselves from the straight-jacket of con-

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