NINA ARSENAULT
SAYS GOODBYE TO FAB
About a year and a half ago, fab’s then-editor Mitchel
Raphael approached me about writing eight columns for the magazine.
Now here I am, 36 columns later, saying goodbye. The stories I’ve
shared from my personal life have addressed provocative issues,
like my illegal cosmetic procedures, my masochistic relationships
with the hypermasculine men I adore, and my decision to remove my
testosterone-producing testicles while keeping my penis. The columns
also chronicled my experiences in the sex trade— prostitution, online
XXX shows and she-male stripping.
I had already shared events from my personal life for a smattering
of Canadian reality/documentary TV shows like The Lofters
and Kink, but it was always the producers at Alliance Atlantis
or Showcase TV who had final command over how my life was presented.
I always worried that they could make me look like an asshole by
taking certain comments out of context or editing out some of the
most revealing footage. For example, producers on Kink refused to
show me getting silicone injections (for legal reasons) and they
backed off from using certain scenes with an endearing-yet-drugged-out
former boyfriend.
I enjoyed the creative process of being on these series but I longed
for greater artistic control. Transpeople have been the subjects
of countless documentaries but we are rarely the ones in charge
of our own images and stories. In giving me that control, fab
set a precedent in Canadian media.
Many people have criticized me for promoting cosmetic surgery and
impossible ideals of feminine beauty. I have always believed that
each of us has the right to change our bodies if we desire, though
I would never suggest that transwomen should have to alter their
bodies to be accepted; nor would I ever dare to think that my experiences
represent the diversity of all transwomen.
For the record, writing about silicone injections doesn’t mean that
I endorse them. Silicone injections are potentially lethal and can
be fraught with unexpected side effects years later. Even though
this practice has worked out well for me, I have seen many devastating
outcomes from unscrupulous practitioners of this black market trade.
I wrote about this, and many other experiences, because I have tried
to present my life as honestly and openly as possible. Some of my
t-girlfriends have told me that I have revealed too many embarrassing
secrets about myself, but the autobiographical writers I admire
most—Augusten Burroughs, David Sedaris, John Bentley Mays—present
their faults, passions, obsessions and vulnerabilities without fear
of judgment. Sometimes, before a particularly-revealing column would
come out, I would sleep with their books beside my pillow, secure
in the knowledge that these compelling writers never tried to present
themselves as perfect or infallible.
And they have inspired me in other ways. Since I started writing
for fab, many people have encouraged me to write my own book. Every
day, I work on this project, tentatively titled The Silicone Diaries.
It will be a full-length memoir chronicling my journey— from a little
girl growing up in a little boy’s body in Beamsville’s Golden Horseshoe
Trailer Court, to my 60 cosmetic surgeries and procedures in my
impossible quest to become the ideal silicone woman.
 These stories
have been difficult to condense into a single page in a bi-weekly
magazine. I often have to skip over some of the funniest or most
shocking aspects of my tales. Some of my best stories—like my Crying
Game-esque encounter with rocker Tommy Lee, who handpicked me at
a bar from a posed pack of real women—can only be told in my book.
The details are too wonderfully-scandalous to fit into 600 words.
Within a long work, there’s also space to express an overreaching
character arc—the emotional and psychological transformations that
I’ve undergone since I began this journey. As I revealed more and
more lurid details about my life in fab, it became apparent to me
that these vignettes needed to be placed into a larger context if
I wanted them to be more than sensationalistic anecdotes.
I aim to complete The Silicone Diaries by the end of 2007. This
deadline demands a lot of discipline and time, and I still have
to shop my book around to publishers. This is one of the reasons
that I have chosen to leave fab.
I also want to take advantage of the doors the T-Girl column has
opened for me. I am proud to say I’ve had a couple of articles printed
in The National Post and I will continue pitching stories to national
papers. Eventually, I hope to leave the sex business completely
and make my living from writing. Before fab, I had never
seriously considered writing as a career.
I’d like to take this opportunity to say thank you to a few people—first
and foremost to Mitchel Raphael, who has proudly promoted my work.
He has pushed me to sharpen my abilities by reading more and dragged
me to Parliament Hill to test my interview skills on MPs. He has
introduced me to other editors and spurred me to write about topics
other than my personal life. On several occasions, I have needed
him to remind me that “a writer should never worry about what their
parents will think when they’re working.” I will forever be in his
debt.
I’d like to thank fab’s current editor Steven Bereznai
for asking me to stay at the magazine for such a long run, instead
of the few columns that were first commissioned. Steven has given
me free reign to write what I wanted, showcasing stories about my
intellectuallychallenged john wanting to pay me with his disability
check; my girlfriend turning herself into a real-life Japanimation
character through cosmetic surgery; and about me getting slapped
around by macho brutes in cybersex spectacles.
Thank you to Todd Klinck, fab’s former Trade columnist,
for urging me to be fearless. Thank you to Tony Fong and Jason Krygier-Baum,
the fab photographers who endured photo shoots where I wore little
more than false eyelashes. Thank you to my friends Tulsi, Rommel
and Toshina, who let me include them in my stories. And I’d especially
like to thank the people who have come up to me on the street and
at parties to say that they’ve enjoyed my work. fab magazine and
the T-Girl column will always have a special place in my heart.
nina arsenault
t-girl@fabmagazine.com
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