Queer Rock Love

A Family Memoir


Paige Schilt

Spoiler Alert: CURED

If you’ve read through the acknowledgements for Queer Rock Love, then you know there’s a brief addendum at the end:

In May 2015, Katy started taking Harvoni, a new med for hepatitis C. As of this writing, her viral load is undetectable.

The treatment ended in July, just as the book was going to print. We had to wait another three months for the final verdict. Two weeks ago, Katy’s doctor called. “You’re cured!”

That night, Katy and I just stared at each other. “Whoa. I can’t believe it,” we said again and again. Katy lived with hep c for more than 30 years. She endured multiple rounds of pyrrhic treatments that left her body worse off than before. Our entire relationship has been circumscribed by the fear that her time was short.


Of course, any of us could be felled any day by a bus or a bomb or a malignant cell. I believe that we should live each day as if it was our last, but I’m not actually very good at it. When Katy was at her sickest, I spent a lot of my time fretting over future funeral bills instead of enjoying the time we had left.

Eventually, Katy’s death and I came to a kind of detente. It was always there, a fact of life, but it didn’t steal quite so much from the present. Now I wonder what lessons I’ll carry with me in this new time horizon?

The technical term for Katy’s prognosis is SVR, which is short for “sustained virologic response” (not to be confused with SRV, which is short for Stevie Ray Vaughan, whose life was cut short by a helicopter crash).

Sustained virologic response sounds like a status update, not a final verdict. And I’m okay with that–perhaps even more comfortable than I would be with a more triumphant-sounding diagnosis, which might leave me looking over my shoulder, worried about getting sideswiped by some unforeseen circumstance.

Right now, I feel happy and relieved and grateful for the health insurance that made this treatment possible. (Thanks Obama!) I’m so glad that Katy doesn’t have to live with all the shame and fear that were hep c’s constant companions.

Sometimes I dare to imagine what a longer future together might feel like.

My heart feels like a hermit crab tentatively extending a tentacle beyond its shell.



Throwback Saturday

Well, I made it a whole three weeks before I reneged on my promise to post bonus content related to Queer Rock Love every Thursday! In my defense, I’ve been busy planning upcoming readings in D.C., Baltimore, Lake Jackson and Houston (see below for details).

I’m particularly excited about the Baltimore event on October 31 at Red Emma’s, because I’ll be with my friend Rachael Shannon, who designed the cover of Queer Rock Love and whose song “Dyke Hag” is the inspiration for the book’s title. The song is a celebration of queer creative community and the non-nuclear-family ties that bind. When I was writing the book, the title was like a string around my finger, reminding me to always keep the big picture of queer community in mind, even as I was writing about marriage and parenting.

Also, the reading’s on Halloween! My friend Monica Roberts has a great post about Halloween as the trans national holiday. We love to dress up in our family (Katy is always looking for a reason to wear facial hair), but now that the kid is getting to be a tween, I can’t go posting recent pictures of him willy-nilly (cough, unless you find me on Instagram). So here’s an oldie but a goodie: a picture with Rachael and fancy party hats from the day Waylon was born.

bdayTurn to the chapter titled “The Sun Shines Out of His Behind” if you’d like to read along.

If you live in the Mid-Atlantic or Texas, I hope to see you at one of my readings soon! Here are the deets:

Washington, D.C. — Thursday, October 29

The Cavity, 4820 13th St. NW


Baltimore, MD — Saturday, October 31 @ 4pm

Red Emma’s, 30 W. North Avenue

Freeport/Lake Jackson, TX — Saturday, November 21 (with BUTCH COUNTY)

Bad “S” Icehouse, 2315 Fm 523 Rd


Houston, TX — Tuesday, November 24 @ 2:30pm

University of Houston, Rockwell Pavilion in the M.D. Anderson Library

My Lily Dale Wedding Pic

Here’s an image from the day Katy and I married ourselves in Lily Dale, New York. This was before the advent of the selfie, so it’s only me in the frame. I would have included this picture in the book, but, you know, the Schilt propensity to blink at the camera. Read below for an account of our nuptials in “the town that talks to the dead.”


Katy and I arrived just after the regular season, which lasts from June to August. The weather had turned wet and windy, and mud puddles clotted the narrow streets. Standing water glistened from bright green Astroturf on the ramshackle porches of aging Victorian cottages. It looked like several generations of American optimism had collided and fallen into benign disrepair.

Holding hands, we followed the path to a pet cemetery in a stand of ancient trees. Under their lush green canopy, Katy told me about the deaths of her dogs, Face and General Lee. She told me about her best friend Jane Ellen, who had promised to visit in dreams after she died. Sitting on a stump in the shade of the forest, Katy told me about her crystal meth days, when she could walk into a library or a metaphysical bookstore and literally hear books calling her name.

Normally, this was the kind of talk that caused me to roll my eyes.

As a teenager, I had been hostage to my mother’s New Age awakening, when she bought a condo in Santa Fe and consulted a psychic to help her find husband number three. Surrounded by tanned white people with positive vibrations, I had resisted with the only weapons I knew—sunscreen and a bad attitude. As soon as I could, I fled to the gothic mists of the Pacific Northwest. I vowed that folk art angels would never adorn my home.

Rather than putting me off, Katy’s mysticism made me want to get closer. Her drug-induced visions of talking books had a dark, malevolent edge that was missing from the usual New Age blather. The darkness allowed me to relax my constant vigilance and adopt a guardedly curious posture toward things that I habitually disavowed.

Ready to read more? Order Queer Rock Love: A Family Memoir.

Did love ever lead you to suspend judgments? To try something new? Whether it be blueberries or Buddhism, share your story in the comments.

Sequined Cork

Welcome to my weekly post featuring photos that didn’t make it into Queer Rock Love, but probably should have.

This week’s image complements Chapter 28, “No Shortage.”


One afternoon, Waylon was engaged in an art project of his own devising, which involved gluing a bunch of sequins to a cork. As he was working at the kitchen table, I heard him singing a little song that went “God is inside of every thing, God is inside of everything, God is inside of everything!” The melody sounded a lot like the Ramones, but the lyrics gave me pause.

“Who taught you that song? Did you learn that in Sunday school?” I asked. I realized I had no clear idea what he learned when he attended the children’s activities at Trinity.

“No one taught it to me. I taught it to myself.”

“Oh, okay. That’s good.” I picked up a few stray sequins and put them back in his pile.

“Mom,” he said, still gluing.


“God is inside of this table.”

Ready to read more about a gay, trans, rock-n-roll family raising a son in the South? Order the book or come to Naked Girls Reading Austin this Saturday to hear an excerpt read by a real, live naked girl.

#tbt Butch Boobs

Welcome to my weekly #tbt post featuring photos that couldn’t be included in Queer Rock Love: A Family Memoir. (Our archive is deep, but there was only so much space in the book.)

Today’s photo complements Chapter 12, “Fitted Shirt.”


“By age thirteen, it was clear that Katy had inherited her mother’s legendary rack. And since she refused to set foot in the lingerie department, Katy was at the mercy of her mother’s taste in bras. Thus, throughout the low-slung seventies, Katy was forced to sport Jayne Mansfield-style bras that launched her boobs up and out, like minor planets orbiting her chin.

It was not a style that complemented a softball uniform. Or a basketball uniform. Or any of the other sporty ensembles that might otherwise have offered androgynous refuge for a budding butch.”

Ready to read more about the journey from Playtex to man chest? Order the book.

Got a memory about butch boobs (or Katy’s mom)? Share in the comments below.

Queer Rock Love to Launch at Gender Odyssey 2015

paigejune2015If all goes according to plan, I’ll get to see and touch my book for the first time this Friday, August 21, at Gender Odyssey in Seattle. We’ve had our share of last-minute publishing trials and tribulations, so I’m not 100% sure that this baby will show up on her due date–but I do know I’ll be reading a selection at a free public event that evening. Here are the details:

Transgress Press – Meet the Authors
7:30PM | Washington State Convention Center – Rm 611
Come and schmooze with our 2015 authors, Rex Butt, Seth Jamison Rainess, Paige Schilt, and Dr. Michael Brownstein, and celebrate their recently published and forthcoming books. Get discounted copies of their books personally autographed for you. Light refreshments will be provided.

I’m thrilled to be part of Gender Odyssey this year. When I set out to write Queer Rock Love, my goal was to write a trans family/partner memoir that wasn’t focused on discovery, coming out, or surgery. I knew Katy was trans from the moment I first laid eyes on her. Her transness was an integral part of the person I fell in love with, and I wanted to write a story that focused on the ups and downs of our everyday life. I’m hopeful that lots of folks at Gender Odyssey will be able to identify with our unorthodox, not-a-poster-family family.

Throughout the conference, I’ll be facilitating workshops on higher education, parenting (with Katy Koonce) and the “rules of attraction.” Check out the schedule here, and come say hi if you can.

In the meantime, I’ll be updating this website to be more of a book-related website. Stay tuned for reviews, bonus photos, and information on how to order Queer Rock Love: A Family Memoir from Transgress Press.

BEARING WITNESS TO VIOLENCE: a therapist’s tips for transgender day of remembrance

This year, the organizers of Austin’s annual Transgender Day of Remembrance memorial have asked psychotherapists from the LGBT community to be available at City Hall for participants who may need support after the event.

Their request is a recognition that bearing witness to violence—both physical and systemic violence—can be emotionally devastating. It’s crucial for communities to come together, mourn their dead, and organize for the future. But how can members of a vulnerable community remember acts of violence without becoming re-traumatized?


More than 200 names will be read at 2014 DOR memorials all around the country. That’s 200 human beings, many of them trans women of color, who have died because of anti-transgender violence in the past year. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. No one knows how many deaths go uncounted.

“It’s a difficult event to attend,” says blogger Autumn Sandeen. “It’s a difficult event to plan.” In a recent article for San Diego’s LGBT Weekly, Sandeen wrote about the numbness that some long-time trans activists feel in response to the ongoing violence.

My wife, Katy Koonce, has been attending Austin’s TDOR since the beginning. As a trans-identified psychotherapist, she has helped countless clients sort through their feelings after Day of Remembrance. I asked Katy for her tips on emotional self care for folks who are attending this year’s event. Here’s what she had to say:

1. Look around. This may be the most transgender people that you’ve ever seen in one place. Remember that, despite all the violence and discrimination, our community continues to grow and organize. They can’t keep us down.

2. Talk to people. Generally speaking, trans people like to help other trans people. If you’re new to all this, ask about what else is going on in your community. If you’re an old-timer, pay it forward.

3. Resolve to use TDOR as a stepping stone to more community and more action each year. Make a plan to attend the monthly TGQ Social or volunteer for Transgender Education Network of Texas. Ask other people you meet what they’re up to.

4. Observe yourself with compassion. Take note of the things that trigger you. Sometimes the hardest thing about TDOR may be hearing from PFLAG parents and thinking about your relationship to your own family or hearing from trans youth and thinking about your younger self.

5. Remember to breathe. Take in the faces around you. Make eye contact. The anxiety you’re feeling is most likely not about the now. You’re here, surrounded by other people who have come out for similar reasons. Let yourself be in the moment.

Transgender Day of Remembrance
Thursday, November 20th, 2014
6:30 PM
Austin City Hall, 301 W 2nd St, Austin, TX 78701

Photo courtesy of

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Friendship as a Way of Life at the Dog & Duck Pub

Last night was the final Sunday night at the Dog and Duck Pub on 17th and Lavaca.

IMG_4625My sweetie Katy and her best friend Nancy have been spending Sunday nights at the Dog and Duck Pub for twenty-one years.

That’s longer than my parents were married.

That’s longer than The Beatles were a band.

If Katy and Nancy’s Sunday night ritual was a person, it would be old enough to join them at the Dog and Duck for a drink.

Nancy and Katy actually met for the first time at the Dog and Duck. It was 1991, and Katy still had long, permed tresses a la Jon Bon Jovi. By chance, she happened to make the acquaintance of a group of gay girls from College Station. Katy was intrigued by these college-educated queers with their hairy armpits and Doc Martens and dark beer. She made plans to meet her new friends at the pub, and they showed up with Nancy in tow.

Flash forward a year. At the tail-end of a long and booze-soaked Pride weekend, Katy and Nancy were feeling the Sunday blues. They decided to meet for one last drink at the Dog and Duck, and the tradition stuck. Pretty soon, other people started to drop by every week too. The Dog and Duck was like Katy and Nancy’s living room. No need to call ahead or make a plan—if it was Sunday night, you could pretty much count on the fact that they would be there.

Sometimes people would come to the Dog and Duck regularly, and then life would pull them away. They might resurface years later and start attending the Sunday night sessions again without skipping a beat. I came along in 2001, which makes me somewhat of a newbie. Even after thirteen years, I still occasionally meet old-timers who are new to me.

The Sunday night tradition has outlived jobs, pets, apartments and more. Katy and Nancy both swear that more than one romance ended because of a girlfriend who didn’t respect Dog and Duck time. I’ll admit that when our son was a baby, I didn’t always relish the idea of Katy spending the difficult bedtime hours at a bar. But I’ve also felt pretty damn lucky to have a spouse who really nurtures her friendships. It takes a lot of pressure off when you know that you’re not your partner’s only means of emotional support.

Sunday night conversations at the Dog and Duck can range from raunchy to tearful. Last summer, when my family of origin was in crisis, the battered picnic tables in the courtyard were my refuge—a place where I could narrate the whole, complicated story without interruption and then ask for insights from my friends.

It would have been easy for the ritual to fall by the wayside when Nancy started traveling for work. These days, she’s out of the country almost as often as she’s home, and it takes more intention to keep track of the schedule, but Sunday nights at the Dog and Duck have remained the default.

The French philosopher Michel Foucault said that homosexuality wasn’t subversive as a way of having sex, it was subversive as a way of life. As queer people, one of our strengths is that we hold on to our subcultures and friendships. We don’t put away childish things, we weave them into the fabric of lives that don’t follow straight lines. But it’s not easy to maintain long-term relationships that aren’t legitimized by blood or matrimony or profit. (There’s a reason why we say gay couples who have been together for ten years are the equivalent of straight couples who have been together for twenty-five.) That’s especially true for adult friendships, because our culture lacks ritualized times and places that preserve and strengthen those bonds.

Last night, I raised a glass to Nancy and Katy, thanking them for making a time and a place for friendship in their own lives, and in the lives of so many others. Now the ground is shifting, but the roots are still strong. May we nurture them, and may they bloom wherever they are planted.


Read about the closing of the Dog and Duck Pub.

Do you have a favorite memory of Sunday nights at the Dog & Duck? Help create a virtual archive by sharing in the comments!

If you like this post, please support my homosexual agenda by sharing on social media. Thanks!

Trans Character in J.K. Rowling’s Latest Book

In the interest of full disclosure, let me start by saying that I’ve always been a huge J.K. Rowling fan. I’ve read the entire Harry Potter series aloud. Twice. When Rowling published her first post-Potter novel, The Casual Vacancy, I rushed to buy it and was thrilled to discover a multi-layered story animated by white-hot rage at inequality. Later, I devoured The Cuckoo’s Calling, the first detective novel that Rowling published under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith.

silkwormNeedless to say, I was excited to dig in to the pseudonymous Galbraith’s second novel, The Silkworm.

I’m not an aficionado of detective fiction, but I do enjoy a good whodunit from time to time, and this one seemed especially compelling because the plot revolved around a book within a book, and all the suspects were literary folk. Was The Silkworm J.K. Rowling’s allegory about the London literary world? And if so, who were the real-life inspirations for the murdered author and his eccentric agent? Or the grammatically challenged erotica blogger and her sidekick, the aspiring transsexual memoirist?

Wait. What?

I have to admit, I held my breath when I first encountered Pippa, the transwoman who claims that the murder victim misrepresented and betrayed her. When Pippa first enters the action, she’s trying to stab The Silkworm’s detective hero, Cormoran Strike. Good lord, I thought, please don’t let J.K. Rowling go all Law & Order on me.

“Citizen’s arrest,” said Strike. “You tried to fucking knife me. Now, for the last bloody time—“

“Pippa Midgley,” she spat.

“Finally. Have you got ID?”

With another mutinous obscenity she slid a hand into her pocket and threw out a bus pass, which she threw to him.

“This says Phillip Midgley.”

“No shit.”

Pippa’s character is filtered through the consciousness of Strike, a former military man, and his assistant Robin, a small town girl trying to adapt to London life. Their impressions of Pippa include plenty of clichés. But Pippa’s violent impulses aren’t what sets her apart in this fictional world. In fact, they put her in good company.

Nearly everyone in the book has a reason to seek revenge on the dead man, and Rowling plays with our cultural preconceptions and the conventions of detective fiction, offering us a series of red herrings—the repressed gay publishing mogul, the cuckolded alcoholic editor, the promiscuous red-haired mistress, and the transsexual woman who’s been cast out by her family and then betrayed again by the dead man.

I didn’t know who actually committed the murder until the very last pages of the book, and I realized that my preconceptions about age and gender and ability played just as much a role in whom I didn’t suspect as whom I did suspect.

I think Rowling is poking fun at the genre and maybe even trying to make readers aware of their own prejudices and expectations. Have you read The Silkworm? What do you think?

Photo from the Hachette Book Group.

We’re Expecting! And It Looks Like Twins!

Dear Reader, you may have noticed that I haven’t been posting to Queer Rock Love lately.

It’s not that I’ve run out of stories about our queer family life—far from it—It’s just that I’ve been needing to conserve my energies. Now, after months of intensive gestation, I’m thrilled to announce that I’m expecting a baby…a book baby!

The book version of Queer Rock Love will feature tons of never-before-released material, and it will be published by Transgress Press—an independent, trans-led press based in Oakland. Their current titles include Letters for My Brothers: Transitional Wisdom in Retrospect, which was nominated for a Lambda Literary Award and Hung Jury: Testimonies of Genital Surgery by Transsexual Men, which features a foreward by Shannon Minter.

This book pushed me to question some of the received ideas I'd taken as truth. I like that in a book.
This book pushed me to question some of the received ideas I’d taken as truth. I like that in a book.

We were in San Francisco earlier in the summer and were lucky enough to attend a reading for another Transgress Press book, Manning Up: Transsexual Men on Finding Brotherhood, Family and Themselves. It was exhilarating to hear many different stories from diverse transmasculine experiences and perspectives. As an added bonus, I got to meet face-to-face with my editor, Max Wolf Valerio.

Transgress Press donates 40% of book sale profits to social justice organizations that work to empower marginalized communities and save our planet. They also ask authors to donate part of their royalties to social justice organizations. Stay tuned for more on that front!

But Wait, That’s Not All
When I said “we’re expecting,” I wasn’t just being sloppy with my pronouns. Katy’s been incubating a project too. Her band, Butch County, has been writing a whole bunch of new material, and they’re getting ready to record their next album.

In the meantime, if you have a hankering for muscle-rock-meets-genderqueer-swagger, you can listen to a couple of their greatest hits on bandcamp. You can also see them perform live. This weekend they’re performing on Sunday at 4:30 as part of Stargayzer Fest. And next weekend, on September 20, they’ll be melting faces at 1pm at Austin Pride.

Total hottie.
Check out Butch County at Stargayzer Fest.

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