The Origin of My Alter Ego, the Victorian Adventuress
In a grand ballroom, sometime in the late nineteenth century, a strange scene caught Richard Willoughby’s eye. Was the cousin of the great William Steele CUDDLING with his friend, Reginald?! His mind spun, “They seem way too happy! I wonder if that means they are homosexual. Because I would be happier if I was homosexual. Wait, WHAT?!?”
And then, out loud, he remarks, “Ahem, William? Doesn’t your cousin seem a little too….gay?”
William slides his eyes to where his cousin Archibald huddles with his bosom friend, Reginald. Archie’s hand lingers on Reggie’s as they share a private joke. His hand drops as suddenly as the laughter when Archie notes William’s surveillance.
“I think you may be right, Richard.”
Eyebrows raise. Judgment comes down. Archie and Reggie are forbidden to associate.
And “gay” begins to mean “homosexual” for William and Richard (or Willy and Dick, as they called each other in their passionate youth).
Their secret code spreads quickly, and now “gay” equals “homosexual” for everyone.
I must admit, Willy and Dick knew what they were talking about. Whenever someone flings off restrictions on gender and sexuality, their happiness rivals the glittering joy of a perfectly choreographed firework display.
My alter ego, the Victorian Adventuress, sighs with pleasure to witness such gaiety.
But in 2025, old Willy and Dick are sneaking back into the light in an attempt to subjugate our queer community once more.
Not to fear! The Victorian Adventuress is having none of that nonsense!
The transformation begins in my belly. Her energy rises through my feet and up my back, straightening my spine, dropping my shoulders, and lifting my head to confront Willy and Dick’s nasty new laws.
“Balderdash!” I sneer as this virago takes over my body. “Bathroom use based on sex assigned at birth? Obstacles for my trans siblings to play sports? Birth certificates needed to vote?”
A corset wraps itself around me, the boning holding my core steady and strong. Silk and satin envelop me in bespoke Parisian finery.
“Those dratted muffin-wallopers are selling you a dog.”
My sturdy cane conceals a sword, cold sharp steel released from its sheath with a quick twist.
“Have you ever wondered why Willy and Dick made up these laws? When they take away trans rights, they take away your rights! Use your brain!” The sharp point slithers between their ribs.
Poke-poke!
The Victorian Adventuress catches sight of the modern-day Archie and Reggie, deep in what looks like a spirited argument with a soldier of this opposing army.
“Not on my watch!” I bellow.
I swoop in, a spinning top of lace and steel, and scream to the hapless victims, “Behind me, boys! I will dispatch this ruffian and then we will retire to my snug.”
Which, full confession, is where the Lesbian Housewyfe comes fully back to life. She’s there now, pulling a fresh batch of her oatmeal-butterscotch-cranberry cookies out of the oven. The air fills with nutmeg, cinnamon, and cardamom. A full pot of hot tea awaits by plumpy cushions draped in warm knitted afghans.
But Archie and Reggie balk. “We don’t need you to save us,” they wave at the person now cowering just beyond the point of my sword. “We were just having a conversation. And they (please note the pronoun!) want to come with us.”
“What?!?” I stare into the hopeful eyes of the person. “You…want to join our side?”
“If I could, ma’am,” they whimper, turning as red as the MAGA cap they twist in their hands. “I didn’t realize how evil Willy and Dick were being until Archie and Reggie pointed it out to me.” They cast a longing look behind me. “They’re ever so nice.”
Well, shit. Now I don’t know what to do. The Victorian Adventuress always knows what to do, where to go, how to proceed in order to rearrange reality to suit her own sense of comfort and justice. So…
“What do you think, boys? Shall we keep them?” Reggie and Archie perk up, nodding. The now-ally leaps forward. “So be it,” the Victorian Adventuress sheathes her sword. “Let us depart. The Lesbian Housewyfe has snacks waiting for us back at the snug.”
”Drop the hat if you want cookies.”
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Tally Ho!