At Transgéneros Unidas, Latinas find refuge and fellowship
LONG BEACH, Calif. - Brenda Del Rio Gonzalez scurried into the room, trailing her signature sound - the click-click-click of stilettos on tile. She stood silently in the doorway, waiting for the other women in the support group to spot her.
"ยกHermanita!" a woman shouted, hopping up for a hug.
"ยกHola reina!" Del Rio said, pointing invitingly at a steaming pot of chile con carne on a table against the wall.
No, thank you, the woman said, I'm on a diet. Del Rio rolled her eyes playfully, promising that a little meat never wrecked anyone's figure. Across the room, decorated with motivational mottos like "Si, se puede" (Yes, you can) and "You're a star," another woman swiveled in her chair and clipped the top of a plastic foam cup with her foot, sending a cascade of coffee across the tile.
"It's the hormones!" the woman squealed. "I blame the hormones!"
"ยกAyyyy, Diooooooos!" Del Rio trilled, drawing out each syllable with vibrato.
It was 4:15 p.m. on a late-winter day, time for another meeting of the Long Beach chapter of Transgeneros Unidas, a Spanish-language support group for transgender women.
For two hours every Thursday, the women, who range in age from early 20s to mid-60s, gather in a low-slung office building wedged between a seafood market and a pinata shop. Inside the pink-walled room, the women unravel old, painful memories of police abuse and parental rejection. They swap gossip and
