I mentioned not long ago that I have signed on as a part of a group that will be responsible for KGNU's LGBTQ program, "Outsources." Well, last Friday, I got a sort of baptism by fire into this new gig.
The previous Monday, our group, which we have dubbed the "Outsources Collective," presented our first program. In this program, one member of our group interviewed author Molly Haskell about her book "My Brother, My Sister: Story of a Transformation." As you might gather from the title, Haskell's former sibling recently transitioned—at the age of 59—from a male to a female gender identity. A few of us in the Collective thought that some of Haskell's comments would evoke a degree of resistance from other members of the LGBTQIA community.
This seemed like a perfect opportunity to bring to life one of the goals we hold for this program: to invite a variety of perspectives on complicated issues that affect the LGBTQ and ally community. We agreed that it would be good to do a program that would offer a different point of view on trans issues and, especially, on family members' responses to variations in gender identity. So we decided to do an interview with a local mom of a trans child. This would give us another perspective from a family member—this time a mom instead of a sister, and this time, a family member with years of learning about trans issues and years of involvement in trans communities.
And I got tapped (largely because I had the time ... ah, the risky benefits of retirement!) to do the interview. My conversation with the mom was energized and informative. She is so comfortable, so solid, so clear about her child's place in the world—the result of an open, loving heart and a life spent beside a child who transitioned early in elementary school and is now almost finished with high school. Along the way, this mom has spent much of her adult life working to convey her principled clarity and solidity to others.
As you might imagine, her experience and that of her daughter have been quite different from the experiences described by Molly Haskell the previous week. To get a feel for both, you can listen to the interview—which also includes excerpts from Molly Haskell's comments—by clicking right here and then playing the 10/21 show.
This mom has thought so much about these issues, has so many personal stories about the difficult path she and her daughter have traversed. Not to mention the challenges that lie ahead. Many of their experiences have been oppressive and arduous, as is clear from our discussion. Some encounters and some recurrent obstacles (bathrooms, legal records, medical personnel) have been extraordinarily—and unnecessarily—painful. Nonetheless, her comments convey strength and resolve instead of despair, and she seems satisfied about the trajectory of her life.
And then our KGNU mentor notified me that the next step—editing the recording and turning it into a show—was up to me. He had given me a lesson in editing earlier, so this wasn't out of the blue. But I can't say that I felt ready to take in on alone. Still, KGNU is largely run by volunteers, and I'm one of them. So, as if I were an actual "producer," I spent 5 hours in front of the computer screen transforming a 36 minute interview into a 29 minute show. Basically, deleting 20% of the interview. I couldn't believe what time it was when I finished. Five hours! And I'd have been there much longer if I hadn't had an evening commitment. Still, I was as finished as time allowed, and we had a show. That I produced ... mostly.
What a great (if fiery) experience it was! I mean the interview, of course, but also the editing. I actually love fiddling with things techie. And I was delighted (if a bit daunted) to be set loose on a learning-by-doing project to convert the interview with this remarkable woman into a fragment of its former self while still maintaining the integrity of her comments. And in the process, resisting the temptation of what our mentor called "vanity editing," i.e., editing out all my own "uhs" and "ums."
When I was done and told our mentor how long it took, he assured me, chuckling, that 5 hours was actually not a record. He also said that in the first few efforts at editing, it's typical to spend about 20% of your time producing the show and 80% learning to edit. He meant these comments to be reassuring. Still, framed another way, this would suggest that of the 5 hours I spent, only about an hour was "productive." Actually, though, after many years teaching, I know better: time spent learning is productive time. In fact, those exciting moments of getting it, of mastering something—or even moving in that direction—are exactly what gave me such pleasure during this slow process. It's also what kept me returning to school in the fall every year for 50 years. (What a nice thought: I've had a happy lifetime of 20% to 80% days.)
I've gotta say, this was like a day in the sandbox for me, a chocolate ice cream cone melting down my arm.
And now, the Outsources Collective moves on to the next show. It turns out that, in addition to being a lot of fun, this is a lot of work! No time to kick back and enjoy the sandbox. There's another show to be produced for next week. And then the next. With several of us working on it, at least that doesn't mean that any one of us has to do a full production every week. But we are all in it ... and it's always waiting to be tended to again. For now, it looks like I'll get to do a big part of another show in a couple of weeks. Including hours of editing.
I can hardly wait.
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