Transphobia is a Bellybutton Mirror

Good evening. Let me introduce myself and my cohost.

My husband, Carlos, writes under his middle name, Arturo, having decided that a sufficient number of other men in Colombia are keeping the name Carlos alive and well. You may call him by either name, and he is not mad.

I just go by one name, Tucker. I was about 15 when I picked it and a few years older when I added the middle name Brent. I was changing my sex/gender. This seemed like the coolest possible name for me, mostly because I liked the sound and figured no one had any prior associations with the name Tucker (giggles into bag) (coughs deeply) (weeps).

Unbeknownst to me, another man with this first name was at that time switching jobs from the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette to The Weekly Standard; he wouldn’t join Fox for another decade and a half. Even if his early columns were online, I sure wasn’t reading them over dial-up internet for $5/hour when I came home from high school, so I was unaware of him.

My husband Carlos and I get to spend every day together, and for us, every day is the Tucker ’n’ Carlos Show. No one else needs to watch it. But here we are.

Here