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I posted it to Instagram.
I captioned it me.
The week after that, I transitioned.
Carmela made me trans.
Well, obviously, its more complicated than that.
But soon after I watched that episode, I had a nervous breakdown.
The alternate, possibly better lives she had given up to make her current life work.
I could not imagine being a woman who was happy and free.
But I could imagine being Carmela.
This is changing; the bonds of transness between generations are strengthening.
Nonetheless, transitioning is still a deeply isolating experience.
To vastly oversimplify it, you start at point A and need to get to point B.
At first, the Grand Canyon seems to separate those points.
Eventually, you learn to build a bridge to get across.
But Carrie did not feel like a point B to me.
I grew up in New York City.
My mom is from New Jersey.
She is, to me, the ultimate example of a kind of vaguely ethnic white womanhood.
Carmela, like both my grandmas, had pride in the stoicism she exhibited as she carried her pain.
But Carmelas repression felt closest to mine, felt closest to that of my family members.
When people tell her to allow herself peace, she chastises herself for how bad she is.
Allowing what I know is evil in my house.
Allowing my sweet children to be a part of it.
Because I wanted a better life for them.
Because I wanted this house.
I wanted money in my hands.
Isnt this the Betty Draper problem writ large?
Longing for the lobotomization of the Stepford Wife yet trapped in the trauma of being?
I wanted the girlboss attitude.
I wanted to strut confidently down the street in designer clothing and have people recognize my power.
I wanted the oppression and the complicity.
I wanted the whole package.
But when I rewatchedThe Sopranosrecently, I felt a new distance from Carmela.
I am a trans person in 2021, a committed anticapitalist, someone who believes in gender liberation.
Look at the little babys hand against her cheek, she says.
Shes so at peace.
Beautiful, innocent, gorgeous little baby.
She retreats into her corrupt comfort.
Now I find it kind of sick.
I know I dont have to do that.
I can move on, past the beacon at point B to something better.
I wrote it while wearing a leopard-print top.
There are still a few things Carmela got right.
