This Isn't a Costume...Or Is It?
Why I don't dress up for Halloween.
I slowly entered the elevator in the classroom building at law school, careful to avoid running over any feet. I used a rectangular mobility scooter so that I couldn’t turn around. It was only one floor up, so I faced the back, as I often did.
This guy I didn’t know said, “Cool costume!”
I said, “What?” although I thought I had heard him.
“I said, cool costume! Is that professional make-up?”
I held up a hand. “This isn’t make-up. This is my skin.”
I wasn’t angry. I just said it flatly. Factually.
“Oh.”
We got to the second floor, and his friends hustled him out of the elevator. I turned around and went to class.
Maybe I am always wearing a costume.
In a sense, I am always wearing a costume. My congenital skin condition, which I have written about here (see below), makes my skin look very “other” and not normal.
In a psychological sense, it is a costume because my internal life is “normal,” or as normal as it can be considering my life experience, in costume.
I am not going to shake hands with you!
I can’t remember the exact year, but I am sure it was 1977. I had been to the Clarion Writer’s Workshop that summer, and when I got back to the Bay Area, I fell in with many science fiction writers and nerds, most of whom lived in the East Bay. I worked, for a moment, for Charles Brown, the editor of Locus Magazine.
The Nebula Awards (for science fiction writers, etc.) were in San Francisco in April 1978. Several of us attended the awards, and one of my pals tried to introduce me to the editor pictured above. Dave Hartwell was an editor for Tor then. My friend introduced me, and I held out my hand.
Mr. Hartwell looked at me and said, “Oh no, I am not going to shake hands with you!” I just stood there and said, “Okay…”
A few minutes later, a friend rushed over to me and said, “Oh my god, Dave is so embarrassed!” She explained that Hartwell thought I was wearing “alien” makeup—as he had encountered that at science fiction conventions. He later apologized and was genuinely embarrassed.
I was not using a mobility aid back then, so he didn’t have a visual clue of a wheelchair, so… whatever.
Have costume, will travel.
Thank you for sharing this, Teri. I am glad the author was able to admit his embarrassment in real time, though it would have been good if he could have come up to you directly after.