Bruce above, is on the right
No, I am not about to tell you I have a thing for trannies. I am always looking for something new and intriguing to write about in this rough outback town. When I was a younger lad, the people I hung with would bash trannies for fun and amusement. Times have changed now and the community is much more accepting and understanding. This was originally going to be a book, but in the end Bruce Johnstone, a local transvestite, didn't have a long enough life, nor had he done enough in his life to fill a book. In any case, he has Youtubed most of what I could have written about, so there was no point in continuing. Instead of publishing a book, I have published what I wrote here. It's quite an interesting story.
Chapter One
A chance meeting with a transsexual
This story is not about me, it is about a man called Bruce Johnson. A man not really considered normal in our society but an extraordinary man nonetheless. If I could give you a bit of advice I would say that life passes by too quick. You must grasp any opportunity you can and run with it with all your might. In Bruce Johnstone I saw not only an amazing person. I saw the opportunity to tell his riveting story.
I first saw Bruce while I was doing volunteer work for the Yamatji Aboriginal Patrol. The patrol toured the streets of Geraldton in people movers at night, and gave the wandering indigenous people of the town a lift home, either from the hotel, or from the hospital or just off the street. Some were quite drunk, although you could not enter the van carrying alcohol. Our passengers couldn’t afford a car let alone a taxi fare you see. I was in the van with Gerald and Narelle, two indigenous volunteers.
It was about 9 pm and it was a humid, summer night with a slight sea breeze coming in off the sea. We were just coming onto the foreshore road which runs parallel to the beach not fifty metres away. We drove into the Port authority car park. There in the car park was a pink four cylinder Camry. It was all hotted up with mags and fat tyres, flairs over the guards and it was covered in gay rights stickers. The number plate was a pink, personal one reading- “Goddess”. Alongside the car standing in his high heel Stilettos was Bruce Johnstone, although I didn’t know his name to begin with.
To match his black stilettos, Bruce was wearing shiny, black tights that had an alluring sheen to them. This was matched to a pink, faux metallic spandex top. To cap his glamorous outfit Bruce had shoulder length pink hair, with a slight wave in it and looked a bit like Kylie Minogue from a distance. His androgynous Bowie like features were smooth and accentuated by his cheekbones, which had been rouged over his faultless foundation. His lashes were long and obviously false, and his eyes were decorated with light blue mascara, which contrasted well with his pouting, Ruby red lips.
The first impression I got was that Bruce was flirty and slutty. He was holding court with a group of admiring, young female friends. Bruce was of course a transvestite. I don’t really favour that label because it sounds demeaning in a way but how else do you describe Bruce in one word. Bruce, for all of you that lead sheltered lives is a woman living in a man’s body. Was I shocked or intrigued? No not at all, I come from cosmopolitan, liberal Melbourne in Victoria, the second home of the Gay Rights movement after Sydney. I myself am not gay or for that matter bi-sexual. I have worked as a bouncer and lead a pretty wild life.
There is little I haven’t seen, but still sometimes on rare occasions I can be shocked. Bruce amused me and I was slightly curious. I put it in the back of my head to ask questions if he ever popped up in my life again. By a strange coincidence I had the opportunity, Bruce came to me. One day my 19 year old son Dene came home, he said “Dad, you know Bruce the Tranny, he says he had sex with my mate Justin, Justin’s hell pissed off, he reckons he didn’t do it”. I advised my son to tell Justin to just laugh it off. “But Dad Bruce is spreading it all over Geraldton and has written about it on Facebook”
“So to get the gist of it son, Justin has been going around fucking trannies now he’s trying to shore up the damage, mate best he don’t fuck chicks with dicks”, I chortled in fits of laughter.” “Nah Dad, Justin swears he didn’t do it” he said in defence of his kinky mate. “Bullshit Dene, I reckon if Bruce says it happened then there’s a good chance Justin has been getting his kicks with a bit of a twist, where there’s smoke there’s fire son” I countered, now a bit bored as my street smarts told me Justin was guilty as charged, the penalty supreme embarrassment.
We dropped the subject, but about a week later I came home to find a thick A4 package in my letterbox, it was addressed to my son Dene on the front in large purple block letters. I opened it and found about 20 pages of a computer printout showing a fairly extensive posting on Facebook between Bruce and a fictitious name which was Justin which allegedly lead to Bruce having sex with Justin. Things were starting to get interesting, I wondered what Bruce’s motive was, but did I really care, not really so I simply forgot about it all. If Justin wants to fuck trannies then that’s his business, each to their own.
Before I go further into my story I must put things in perspective for you in regard to Bruce and his social acceptance into the community of Geraldton. Geraldton is about five hundred kilometres north of Perth in Western Australia. Perth is the most isolated city in the world. Geraldton, also known as the windy city is a rural city that really resembles a large country town. It is also a fishing and cargo port. Tonnes of cargo, consisting of wheat, live sheep, cattle and iron ore and other precious metals, comes and goes from this port. It is also a stopover for luxury liners so there is a big tourist market.
The town on the flats at the foot of a series of low, flat hills, fronts beautiful, windswept, sandy beaches that look straight out to the Indian Ocean. Geraldton is right in the middle of a desert, the place is isolated, surrounded by flat farming land, interspersed with rolling hills and bushland for about a 100 kilometres until the bush and hills peter out to flat scrubby desert. Beyond this the closest towns are about five hundred kilometres away in any direction. The sea of course is in the west. The town of roughly 30,000 is populated by fisherman, farmers, dock workers and fly in fly out mine workers, and their families. About a quarter of the population is indigenous, with most suffering either domestic violence or alcohol and drug problems combined with abject poverty. These are hard men in a hard drinking town.
The town has a large, shall we say religious population and the townspeople are extremely conservative. A person like Bruce would be sure to suffer prejudice and ridicule in this harsh outback environment. So taking into consideration the likely attitude of the people in the town to be little better than adversarial we move again to yet more information my son bought home with him a few weeks after Bruce Johnstone put his Facebook letter in my letterbox. (Good Euphemism, but no Bruce has not physically put his letter in my box). “Bruce has been posting videos on youtube Dad”, my son Dene whined as he burst in the door and thrust a scrap of paper towards me, on it was scribbled- “outback goddess, straight man diaries”.
I fired up the laptop and punched in the info on Youtube. Bruce Johnstone came up with a series of about 15 videos posted. I clicked on the first one and was confronted with Bruce sitting there in all his finery, all made up and gorgeous and flirting directly with his captive audience. He started telling the viewers that he had picked up a young man off Facebook when Bruce had offered to suck him off. This was Dene’s mate Justin. Bruce says he hooked up with Justin in the back of a car parked in a public car park and they kissed passionately, before having anal and oral sex. I had heard enough, I knew the type of video it was and it’s not that I’m not into porn. I am hetero straight down the line. Before my son left, he told me that Bruce had also been invited to the local Nagle Catholic College Ball by a student named Brieonny Wickens. Now this would be interesting.
I knew Breeny. That was her nickname, Breeny. She was a friend of my sons and through them we had become friends. She was polite, witty, bohemian and eccentric and very attractive, she had a bright personality and a fiery independent streak. She had teamed up with Bruce and they were close friends, on her Facebook page she had her status as “engaged to Bruce Johnstone”. She had also posted a message saying “Thanks to all the fuckheads who complained about Bruce coming to the ball and wrecking her night”. She stated she had spent a lot of money and bought a dress and everything. The post had set off a predictable shit fight. Half were in favour, citing narrow mindedness and homophobia.
The other half were downright rude and scathing, calling Bruce a freak and a poof, with one even stating that if Bruce were to turn up, he would force him into a dance off. They also wanted to know if Bruce would wear a tux or a dress, an intriguing question I think. I decided to add my view into the pot and stated that, because of Bruce’s sexually explicit Youtube posts this was not the sort of character a conservative, catholic school would want at its annual formal ball. I was not against gays or even against Bruce, but was just looking at the principal of the thing. Some shouted me down in a tirade of abuse and some used the argument that the Youtube posts were his right to express his opinion.
Then Breeny posted Bruce’s Youtube figures- 1.6 million views in less than a month. I was flabbergasted. The Nagle College in its decision to ban Bruce had stated “he was famous for all the wrong reasons”. I was flabbergasted at the figures he had obtained with his Youtube account, as I knew it was partnered with Google ads. I Googled “Bruce Johnstone, Outback Goddess” and a post came up about him driving in the Geraldton Speedway at age 15. They had made a TV documentary about it. This guy was becoming famous fast. Then an idea hit on me. I did a web search of the domain names for both brucejohnstone.com.au and outbackgoddess.com. I went to a domain supplier and purchased both domains immediately. We would need them later. You see, I was a writer, this was a fascinating story and I would love to do it.
The famous writer Hunter S. Thompson had lived with the Hells Angels for a year and wrote a book about it, albeit he got his head punched in. This would be just as exciting a project, but without the inherent danger of a drug crazed bikie group looking over my shoulder. Something meaty I could get my teeth into. I would do short interviews every week and record them then use them as a basis to write Bruce’s story. It already had a potential market of 1.6 million and if we did it we would need a web page too, so I checked the domain names brucejohnstone.com.au and outbackgoddess.com and they were available so I bought them. I then shot off a letter to Bruce in regard setting up a meeting to discuss producing a book on his life. In this book you will find the transcribed Youtube tapes entitled, Straight Boy Diaries number one- Mr. Lies.
I first saw Bruce while I was doing volunteer work for the Yamatji Aboriginal Patrol. The patrol toured the streets of Geraldton in people movers at night, and gave the wandering indigenous people of the town a lift home, either from the hotel, or from the hospital or just off the street. Some were quite drunk, although you could not enter the van carrying alcohol. Our passengers couldn’t afford a car let alone a taxi fare you see. I was in the van with Gerald and Narelle, two indigenous volunteers.
It was about 9 pm and it was a humid, summer night with a slight sea breeze coming in off the sea. We were just coming onto the foreshore road which runs parallel to the beach not fifty metres away. We drove into the Port authority car park. There in the car park was a pink four cylinder Camry. It was all hotted up with mags and fat tyres, flairs over the guards and it was covered in gay rights stickers. The number plate was a pink, personal one reading- “Goddess”. Alongside the car standing in his high heel Stilettos was Bruce Johnstone, although I didn’t know his name to begin with.
To match his black stilettos, Bruce was wearing shiny, black tights that had an alluring sheen to them. This was matched to a pink, faux metallic spandex top. To cap his glamorous outfit Bruce had shoulder length pink hair, with a slight wave in it and looked a bit like Kylie Minogue from a distance. His androgynous Bowie like features were smooth and accentuated by his cheekbones, which had been rouged over his faultless foundation. His lashes were long and obviously false, and his eyes were decorated with light blue mascara, which contrasted well with his pouting, Ruby red lips.
The first impression I got was that Bruce was flirty and slutty. He was holding court with a group of admiring, young female friends. Bruce was of course a transvestite. I don’t really favour that label because it sounds demeaning in a way but how else do you describe Bruce in one word. Bruce, for all of you that lead sheltered lives is a woman living in a man’s body. Was I shocked or intrigued? No not at all, I come from cosmopolitan, liberal Melbourne in Victoria, the second home of the Gay Rights movement after Sydney. I myself am not gay or for that matter bi-sexual. I have worked as a bouncer and lead a pretty wild life.
There is little I haven’t seen, but still sometimes on rare occasions I can be shocked. Bruce amused me and I was slightly curious. I put it in the back of my head to ask questions if he ever popped up in my life again. By a strange coincidence I had the opportunity, Bruce came to me. One day my 19 year old son Dene came home, he said “Dad, you know Bruce the Tranny, he says he had sex with my mate Justin, Justin’s hell pissed off, he reckons he didn’t do it”. I advised my son to tell Justin to just laugh it off. “But Dad Bruce is spreading it all over Geraldton and has written about it on Facebook”
“So to get the gist of it son, Justin has been going around fucking trannies now he’s trying to shore up the damage, mate best he don’t fuck chicks with dicks”, I chortled in fits of laughter.” “Nah Dad, Justin swears he didn’t do it” he said in defence of his kinky mate. “Bullshit Dene, I reckon if Bruce says it happened then there’s a good chance Justin has been getting his kicks with a bit of a twist, where there’s smoke there’s fire son” I countered, now a bit bored as my street smarts told me Justin was guilty as charged, the penalty supreme embarrassment.
We dropped the subject, but about a week later I came home to find a thick A4 package in my letterbox, it was addressed to my son Dene on the front in large purple block letters. I opened it and found about 20 pages of a computer printout showing a fairly extensive posting on Facebook between Bruce and a fictitious name which was Justin which allegedly lead to Bruce having sex with Justin. Things were starting to get interesting, I wondered what Bruce’s motive was, but did I really care, not really so I simply forgot about it all. If Justin wants to fuck trannies then that’s his business, each to their own.
Before I go further into my story I must put things in perspective for you in regard to Bruce and his social acceptance into the community of Geraldton. Geraldton is about five hundred kilometres north of Perth in Western Australia. Perth is the most isolated city in the world. Geraldton, also known as the windy city is a rural city that really resembles a large country town. It is also a fishing and cargo port. Tonnes of cargo, consisting of wheat, live sheep, cattle and iron ore and other precious metals, comes and goes from this port. It is also a stopover for luxury liners so there is a big tourist market.
The town on the flats at the foot of a series of low, flat hills, fronts beautiful, windswept, sandy beaches that look straight out to the Indian Ocean. Geraldton is right in the middle of a desert, the place is isolated, surrounded by flat farming land, interspersed with rolling hills and bushland for about a 100 kilometres until the bush and hills peter out to flat scrubby desert. Beyond this the closest towns are about five hundred kilometres away in any direction. The sea of course is in the west. The town of roughly 30,000 is populated by fisherman, farmers, dock workers and fly in fly out mine workers, and their families. About a quarter of the population is indigenous, with most suffering either domestic violence or alcohol and drug problems combined with abject poverty. These are hard men in a hard drinking town.
The town has a large, shall we say religious population and the townspeople are extremely conservative. A person like Bruce would be sure to suffer prejudice and ridicule in this harsh outback environment. So taking into consideration the likely attitude of the people in the town to be little better than adversarial we move again to yet more information my son bought home with him a few weeks after Bruce Johnstone put his Facebook letter in my letterbox. (Good Euphemism, but no Bruce has not physically put his letter in my box). “Bruce has been posting videos on youtube Dad”, my son Dene whined as he burst in the door and thrust a scrap of paper towards me, on it was scribbled- “outback goddess, straight man diaries”.
I fired up the laptop and punched in the info on Youtube. Bruce Johnstone came up with a series of about 15 videos posted. I clicked on the first one and was confronted with Bruce sitting there in all his finery, all made up and gorgeous and flirting directly with his captive audience. He started telling the viewers that he had picked up a young man off Facebook when Bruce had offered to suck him off. This was Dene’s mate Justin. Bruce says he hooked up with Justin in the back of a car parked in a public car park and they kissed passionately, before having anal and oral sex. I had heard enough, I knew the type of video it was and it’s not that I’m not into porn. I am hetero straight down the line. Before my son left, he told me that Bruce had also been invited to the local Nagle Catholic College Ball by a student named Brieonny Wickens. Now this would be interesting.
I knew Breeny. That was her nickname, Breeny. She was a friend of my sons and through them we had become friends. She was polite, witty, bohemian and eccentric and very attractive, she had a bright personality and a fiery independent streak. She had teamed up with Bruce and they were close friends, on her Facebook page she had her status as “engaged to Bruce Johnstone”. She had also posted a message saying “Thanks to all the fuckheads who complained about Bruce coming to the ball and wrecking her night”. She stated she had spent a lot of money and bought a dress and everything. The post had set off a predictable shit fight. Half were in favour, citing narrow mindedness and homophobia.
The other half were downright rude and scathing, calling Bruce a freak and a poof, with one even stating that if Bruce were to turn up, he would force him into a dance off. They also wanted to know if Bruce would wear a tux or a dress, an intriguing question I think. I decided to add my view into the pot and stated that, because of Bruce’s sexually explicit Youtube posts this was not the sort of character a conservative, catholic school would want at its annual formal ball. I was not against gays or even against Bruce, but was just looking at the principal of the thing. Some shouted me down in a tirade of abuse and some used the argument that the Youtube posts were his right to express his opinion.
Then Breeny posted Bruce’s Youtube figures- 1.6 million views in less than a month. I was flabbergasted. The Nagle College in its decision to ban Bruce had stated “he was famous for all the wrong reasons”. I was flabbergasted at the figures he had obtained with his Youtube account, as I knew it was partnered with Google ads. I Googled “Bruce Johnstone, Outback Goddess” and a post came up about him driving in the Geraldton Speedway at age 15. They had made a TV documentary about it. This guy was becoming famous fast. Then an idea hit on me. I did a web search of the domain names for both brucejohnstone.com.au and outbackgoddess.com. I went to a domain supplier and purchased both domains immediately. We would need them later. You see, I was a writer, this was a fascinating story and I would love to do it.
The famous writer Hunter S. Thompson had lived with the Hells Angels for a year and wrote a book about it, albeit he got his head punched in. This would be just as exciting a project, but without the inherent danger of a drug crazed bikie group looking over my shoulder. Something meaty I could get my teeth into. I would do short interviews every week and record them then use them as a basis to write Bruce’s story. It already had a potential market of 1.6 million and if we did it we would need a web page too, so I checked the domain names brucejohnstone.com.au and outbackgoddess.com and they were available so I bought them. I then shot off a letter to Bruce in regard setting up a meeting to discuss producing a book on his life. In this book you will find the transcribed Youtube tapes entitled, Straight Boy Diaries number one- Mr. Lies.
A Star is born
I arrived at Bruce’s parent’s home. It was a few miles north of the outback port city of Geraldton in a quiet, middle class estate. The house was a mock Mexican Villa, rendered in a dark earthy colour. It directly fronted the Beach and the Indian Ocean, the actual beach was only a stone’s throw away. I knocked on the double size, rough-hewn slab-wood door, with rough metal fittings and Bruce answered the door. He was dressed in pink, striped white shorts, with a girly T-shirt with some sort of motif on it, he had bare feet and little make-up. He greeted me with a smile and a handshake.
I entered the foyer, which was furnished in a Celtic, earthy style, lots of wood and just inside the door was a pile of new, packaged computer gear belonging to Bruce’s dad. I walked out through a large entranceway through to a long passage lined with glass on the left looking out into the garden and on the right were various doors leading to rooms. We walked in the first door on the right into a modern but sparsely furnished room, and a small one at that. A ginger cat purred on the double bed it lay on the bed-spread which was jet black with a gilt gold pattern, very tasteful.
The bed was situated with the head against the wall in the middle of the room. There were a few shelves with some toys and ornaments on them but nothing Garish. The floors were polished exotic wood, to the left was a small modern desk on which was situated a large computer screen. This was the nerve centre of Bruce Johnstone’s internet persona. Bruce sat on his chair at his computer and I sat on the bed and patted the cat who simply rolled over on her back and lapped it up as cats do. Let me say she was the only pussy in the room. Bruce and I chatted about his life as I placed a digital recording device on his desk and hit the record button.
I entered the foyer, which was furnished in a Celtic, earthy style, lots of wood and just inside the door was a pile of new, packaged computer gear belonging to Bruce’s dad. I walked out through a large entranceway through to a long passage lined with glass on the left looking out into the garden and on the right were various doors leading to rooms. We walked in the first door on the right into a modern but sparsely furnished room, and a small one at that. A ginger cat purred on the double bed it lay on the bed-spread which was jet black with a gilt gold pattern, very tasteful.
The bed was situated with the head against the wall in the middle of the room. There were a few shelves with some toys and ornaments on them but nothing Garish. The floors were polished exotic wood, to the left was a small modern desk on which was situated a large computer screen. This was the nerve centre of Bruce Johnstone’s internet persona. Bruce sat on his chair at his computer and I sat on the bed and patted the cat who simply rolled over on her back and lapped it up as cats do. Let me say she was the only pussy in the room. Bruce and I chatted about his life as I placed a digital recording device on his desk and hit the record button.
Bruce Johnstone was born in Concorde, Massachussets USA in ???????1996. He lived in a house built by his parents. As Bruce turned one year of age, the family then moved to Redwood City in the Bay area of California where they purchased a house. His father at the time was working as an executive for NQ cable TV. He travelled a lot and Bruce has distinct memories that he was never really home. Ironically the house in California perched on top of a hill started off painted orange but soon faded to pink, Bruce remembers that in winter it would snow. They lived in this home for seven years and Bruce attended Our lady of Mt. Carmel Catholic College an extremely posh and conservative institution, one that Bruce feels would put Nagel College in Geraldton to shame.
Bruce’s parents planned to send him to an all-boys high school, as they were very serious about education because they felt that in America, without an education you could not have much of a standard of living at all as there is no Social Security. Even at the young age of five Bruce had the sense that he was “different” When watching television programs Bruce was always interested in males and not females, not in sexual sense but just a general awareness, if you can have some sort of awareness at this young age.
As a young child Bruce played with all types of toys, including cars and monster trucks, toy soldiers and his young sister’s dolls, Polly Pocket dolls they were called. As children, Bruce and his sister were close, although surprisingly they talk very little now. Being teenagers they tend to do their own thing. Bruce had a great childhood, his parents pretty much let him have a free reign with what he wanted to do within reason. Bruce was not into cross dressing yet though, that would come later. He dressed as a young boy’s parents might dress a growing lad in modern America.
Bruce started changing the way he dressed at the age of fourteen when he was living in Geraldton, West Australia. He didn’t initially set out to look like a woman, his tastes were merely instinct. Whatever particular item of clothing he liked at any given time he would wear, whether it be male or female focused. Cute was one of the criteria. When Bruce was seven or eight in the year 2000 his family travelled to Australia for the millennium celebrations, on New Year’s Eve Bruce’s appendix burst and he was rushed, in a critical condition by ambulance to hospital. The family had to stay in Australia for three weeks while Bruce battled for his life. It was touch and go for a while but Bruce, ever determined, pulled though O.K. Bruce also has a love for the movies and the two movies that defined his life are, the Rocky Horror Picture Show, and Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Bruce particularly identifies with Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, it make him feel comfortable, in fact his speedway car was named after the character in the movie and had a sticker emblazoned over the bodywork reading “Priscilla” along with decorative stars and a drag queen painted on the bonnet.
When Bruce and his family moved to Geraldton in 2002, Bruce attended the local state school from grade four to grade seven, his time there was uneventful and he showed none of his feminine tendencies, he played sport and studied just like all the other kids. He then attended John Willcock High School, a rather apt name for a school attended by a promiscuous transsexual. Bruce’s enrolment at John Willcock High coincided roughly with the beginning of his transformation into a transsexual, yet nobody bothered him about his strange looks at school. With the advent of Emos and other such make-up clad groups, it seems there is wider acceptance socially in these modern times, amongst peers.
Bruce felt uncomfortable at the high School around the local indigenous population. They come from a lower socio-economic background as opposed to Bruce’s middle class life. The local aborigines have lived a hard life and can be boisterous and confronting when you come from a place like California, so Bruce was home-schooled by his mother for years eleven and twelve. Once Bruce completed school his father who did work for Geraldton university got him a job there as a secretary……………………………….
Bruce got into speedway in 2001 when he moved to Geraldton. His family were big fans of speedway so they would go to the local Geraldton track and watch it. One day, Bruce’s brother, Callan , saw a Datsun 120y speedway car for sale in a field somewhere. Callan is a year younger than Bruce at 17, and at the time was a little more into Speedway than Bruce .The race car had a hotted up A12 engine and could be raced in the Junior Sedan class. Bruce’s parents had a brief discussion about the car then they purchased it for Callan to race. Callan raced the car alone for one season.
The following season Bruce joined Callan, when his parents also bought him a race car and soon after that Bruce’s 10 year old sister Kathy started racing too. This unusual, family racing team travelled in a fully kitted out bus which had a kitchen and sleeping berths and carried two of the cars. The third car was towed by a trailer. Bruce quit speedway last year as the ages for the Junior Sedan class are between 10 and 17 years. Bruce felt he had done his thing and had his fun, so decided not to move up a class and continue. Bruce’s brother Callan is now in a higher class called Street Stock, he races a Holden Commodore with a V6 engine. Bruce does not go to the speedway to watch, he feels there is a lot of drama involved in the sport.
It’s much like High School with all the cliques; you might be in in a particular clique, and everyone likes this person, or hates that person. A lot of dirty looks go on in the pits. As far as Bruce’s treatment by his fellow competitors in relation to being gay, nobody ever did anything physically or emotionally to him to try and hurt him, it was all very much behind his back. Amongst the cliques in the pits you would quite often hear them running other people down behind their backs. There was though, an underlying feeling felt by Bruce that they weren’t too into the fact that he was a transexual. Bruce and his family travelled all over Australia racing cars and did not receive the same reception at other tracks as they did in his home track in Geraldton. The family travelled to many tracks, including Albany, Perth, Mildura and Tasmania.
At other tracks Bruce was quite often treated with disdain and abused, for no reason. You see, the competitors at Geraldton had become comfortable with Bruce’s supposed eccentricity as the locals would rather call it, as he slowly began changing his looks over several years, and transformed into a transsexual. One particular announcer who is from Geraldton but travels around to work at different tracks is actually gay himself. He took great pride in informing the crowd that Bruce was gay and sported pink hair and was not afraid to show his true colours. He would then regale the crowd with various yarns about Bruce and get the crowd involved, by paying Bruce special attention, when they were at the same track. When Myspace was really big, before Facebook came along, the Myspace road tour competition was announced. It was the search for Australia’s ten, most extraordinary Myspace users.
Myspace approached Bruce to enter, it began in June 2011, thousands applied from extreme unicyclists to Ninja gypsies, rocking Grandma’s to celebrity stalkers and a Star Wars loving nerd. Ten people were chosen, two people from each State, and Bruce was one of them. The speedway-racing transsexual from outback Geraldton, on the coast of Western Australia. A film crew complete with sound man flew over to Perth from the eastern states and then travelled up to Geraldton by bus. The promo film they produced was shown as an ad on MTV. The crew spent three days with Bruce, filming his daily life as they did with the other nine competitors.
The ten videos were then edited into five minute clips which were then uploaded onto the Myspace Road Tour web page. People got to make comments and vote for their favourite Myspace user. Originally comments were allowed, although they have been taken down now. Some people disliked Bruce and attacked him with a vile hatred, rarely seen on the internet. Others were kinder and became supporters and fans. Scarlett Faith Saramore, a female professed pansexual, (whatever that means) and a drummer in the band Chain Gang, from NSW, who was spending eight hours a day on Myspace, won the competition and the $10,000 prize.
The following season Bruce joined Callan, when his parents also bought him a race car and soon after that Bruce’s 10 year old sister Kathy started racing too. This unusual, family racing team travelled in a fully kitted out bus which had a kitchen and sleeping berths and carried two of the cars. The third car was towed by a trailer. Bruce quit speedway last year as the ages for the Junior Sedan class are between 10 and 17 years. Bruce felt he had done his thing and had his fun, so decided not to move up a class and continue. Bruce’s brother Callan is now in a higher class called Street Stock, he races a Holden Commodore with a V6 engine. Bruce does not go to the speedway to watch, he feels there is a lot of drama involved in the sport.
It’s much like High School with all the cliques; you might be in in a particular clique, and everyone likes this person, or hates that person. A lot of dirty looks go on in the pits. As far as Bruce’s treatment by his fellow competitors in relation to being gay, nobody ever did anything physically or emotionally to him to try and hurt him, it was all very much behind his back. Amongst the cliques in the pits you would quite often hear them running other people down behind their backs. There was though, an underlying feeling felt by Bruce that they weren’t too into the fact that he was a transexual. Bruce and his family travelled all over Australia racing cars and did not receive the same reception at other tracks as they did in his home track in Geraldton. The family travelled to many tracks, including Albany, Perth, Mildura and Tasmania.
At other tracks Bruce was quite often treated with disdain and abused, for no reason. You see, the competitors at Geraldton had become comfortable with Bruce’s supposed eccentricity as the locals would rather call it, as he slowly began changing his looks over several years, and transformed into a transsexual. One particular announcer who is from Geraldton but travels around to work at different tracks is actually gay himself. He took great pride in informing the crowd that Bruce was gay and sported pink hair and was not afraid to show his true colours. He would then regale the crowd with various yarns about Bruce and get the crowd involved, by paying Bruce special attention, when they were at the same track. When Myspace was really big, before Facebook came along, the Myspace road tour competition was announced. It was the search for Australia’s ten, most extraordinary Myspace users.
Myspace approached Bruce to enter, it began in June 2011, thousands applied from extreme unicyclists to Ninja gypsies, rocking Grandma’s to celebrity stalkers and a Star Wars loving nerd. Ten people were chosen, two people from each State, and Bruce was one of them. The speedway-racing transsexual from outback Geraldton, on the coast of Western Australia. A film crew complete with sound man flew over to Perth from the eastern states and then travelled up to Geraldton by bus. The promo film they produced was shown as an ad on MTV. The crew spent three days with Bruce, filming his daily life as they did with the other nine competitors.
The ten videos were then edited into five minute clips which were then uploaded onto the Myspace Road Tour web page. People got to make comments and vote for their favourite Myspace user. Originally comments were allowed, although they have been taken down now. Some people disliked Bruce and attacked him with a vile hatred, rarely seen on the internet. Others were kinder and became supporters and fans. Scarlett Faith Saramore, a female professed pansexual, (whatever that means) and a drummer in the band Chain Gang, from NSW, who was spending eight hours a day on Myspace, won the competition and the $10,000 prize.
Youtube- A sex life documented
By this time, Bruce had been busily filming his life and his transformation into a transsexual for several years and uploading the sometimes bizarre results on Youtbube, and his rise to fame had started. To get a contemporary perspective of Bruce and what makes him tick, we must first learn how it all started. One Christmas Bruce’s parents bought him a web cam. Santa had absconded long ago in Bruce’s mind. The web cam was to communicate with his sister who still lived in the States.
So Bruce started to film himself, and record small, silly things, he would then upload the video on Youtube which was still in its infancy and had just started. This was before he had pink hair, even before he had started cross dressing and wearing make-up. He started to get a tiny following on Youtube of about five regular people. We must crawl before we can walk. Bruce would then communicate with other users who were way more popular than him and they would give him tips and hints on how to improve his video posts and therefore his audience.
Slowly, bit by bit Bruce started to get more and more of a following, a captive but unusual audience to say the least. Bruce met another transsexual on-line with a similar, modern outlook and androgynous appearance and struck up a friendship. Bruce commented to his new friend that he wished he could shave his eyebrows off, and draw them on to look the same way as his as his. This guy apparently has an amazing reputation for doing great make-up. Bruce’s new gay friend told Bruce, there is no reason you can’t do your eyebrows, what’s stopping you, just do it. This was a turning point for Bruce and he held this bold, brave attitude from then on, and it showed in his sense of style and fashion.
He waxed his eyebrows off and made a video of it for Youtube. So Bruce started uploading more “How to”, make-up videos and created this now, world famous persona, called Outback Goddess. Now, Bruce’s sixty five Youtube videos are an interesting, humorous and eclectic collection that covers his life’s exploits, both in his car and partying out in public. Bruce has a twisted, dry sense of humour. Fans either love him or hate him. Quite often, huge spats break out in the comments section of his postings, and these can sometimes be more interesting than the video itself.
This is certainly the intent Bruce has with his videos, to encourage debate and discussion. You can watch Bruce and his zany antics, out on the town New on Year’s Eve, doing drifties in his car, rolling his speedway car, his “how to” make-up and hair series and of course his intimate and revealing sex diaries, amongst many other hilarious subjects. Bruce’s own descriptive comment on his Facebook page reads “Inspired by madness, a deranged teenager posting his life online”.
So Bruce started to film himself, and record small, silly things, he would then upload the video on Youtube which was still in its infancy and had just started. This was before he had pink hair, even before he had started cross dressing and wearing make-up. He started to get a tiny following on Youtube of about five regular people. We must crawl before we can walk. Bruce would then communicate with other users who were way more popular than him and they would give him tips and hints on how to improve his video posts and therefore his audience.
Slowly, bit by bit Bruce started to get more and more of a following, a captive but unusual audience to say the least. Bruce met another transsexual on-line with a similar, modern outlook and androgynous appearance and struck up a friendship. Bruce commented to his new friend that he wished he could shave his eyebrows off, and draw them on to look the same way as his as his. This guy apparently has an amazing reputation for doing great make-up. Bruce’s new gay friend told Bruce, there is no reason you can’t do your eyebrows, what’s stopping you, just do it. This was a turning point for Bruce and he held this bold, brave attitude from then on, and it showed in his sense of style and fashion.
He waxed his eyebrows off and made a video of it for Youtube. So Bruce started uploading more “How to”, make-up videos and created this now, world famous persona, called Outback Goddess. Now, Bruce’s sixty five Youtube videos are an interesting, humorous and eclectic collection that covers his life’s exploits, both in his car and partying out in public. Bruce has a twisted, dry sense of humour. Fans either love him or hate him. Quite often, huge spats break out in the comments section of his postings, and these can sometimes be more interesting than the video itself.
This is certainly the intent Bruce has with his videos, to encourage debate and discussion. You can watch Bruce and his zany antics, out on the town New on Year’s Eve, doing drifties in his car, rolling his speedway car, his “how to” make-up and hair series and of course his intimate and revealing sex diaries, amongst many other hilarious subjects. Bruce’s own descriptive comment on his Facebook page reads “Inspired by madness, a deranged teenager posting his life online”.
“I guarantee you, nobody is straight, I am not trying to get really disgusting or anything but the amount of people that have messaged me that have girlfriends that have kids sometimes. I mean you think they are living the dream, they are sort of happy with their life. I believe everyone wants to experiment, or has a sexual thought about the same sex in their life”. Bruce Johnston, February 2012.
Bruce’s sex life started at the relatively sexually immature age of eight, he would play with a young friend on the building sites around his home, here the sexual trysts would occur amongst the various building materials that surrounded them. Bruce and his friend were giving each other head and both were climaxing too. This went on for several months until Bruce’s sexual co-conspirator moved away. Bruce remained abstinent until he was fourteen. Bruce has a strict policy of safe-sex, he is quite promiscuous and enjoys giving head and anal sex which he finds quite pleasurable. Bruce has never slept with a woman and prefers to keep the name Bruce, as that is who he is, he feels that if he changes his name he will be trying to change himself and this is probably one of the reasons why he does not feel the need to have a sex change, he is a male dressing as a female and that is the way it will stay.
Bruce picks his sexual partners up off the internet, usually Facebook, he has had a total of about twenty partners, some single some with girlfriends, some married and some married with kids. He has never picked up a sexual partner in the real world. After Bruce is approached on the internet for sex, it usually occurs in the back of his car in a car park somewhere and if not there, in some other public place.
Bruce picks his sexual partners up off the internet, usually Facebook, he has had a total of about twenty partners, some single some with girlfriends, some married and some married with kids. He has never picked up a sexual partner in the real world. After Bruce is approached on the internet for sex, it usually occurs in the back of his car in a car park somewhere and if not there, in some other public place.
Straight boy Diaries Number One- “Mr. Lies”- (transcribed from Youtube).
So I am going to do a selection of new videos which I am going to title “The straight boy diaries”. Purely because I have a very strange sex life and I think that it would actually interest a lot of you. So for the first edition of the “Straight boy diaries I am going to detail a situation that has spanned across a few months and has caused a lot of drama, so I’m going to explain my side of the story and explain why I’m correct and I think you’ll all love it I really, really do. So I am going to start off by telling how me, and the straight boy met. And of course I won’t mention any names, however if you know, or do recognise who this person is then you know the story and you know who it was.
OK so now I’m going to read you word for word some of the highlights of our conversation. It was a quiet March 29 evening when I got a message from a guy on Facebook, he said, “Hey do I know you, or do you know me, question mark”? And I replied “No, you’re not even on my list”, and then he said “yeah, you just came up as someone I might know so I added you as a friend”. And then I replied, “Do you want a blow job”, sort of as a joke, but sort of serious, we were just laughing like me and my friend were having a laugh, and he was like “yeah that was pretty forward”, and I replied saying sure and he said, “do you just give anybody head”, and I said “Yeah cos I’m good at it”.
So as the night progressed we were having more sex talk and more sexting and stuff and anyway it got serious, he really did want a blow job so I said whatever I’ll do it I have only known him for two hours but I’ll suck his dick, whatever, and so I went to the street corner where he lives, because of course, whenever I sleep with a straight boy they never want me to know where they live . I’m cool with that. So I picked him up off the street corner then he showed me where he wanted me to go. It’s like this little beach car park very close to where he lived, and so we went there and you know, I’m sucking his dick and you know we’re doing our thing and then he literally, he was kissing me like crazy kissing like licking and biting and kissing, it was crazy it was really good, and then he asked me “Can you fuck me”?
So I did, so then you know he fucked me then we sucked some more dick, and then we sucked some more dick and it was really like sexual and I won’t go into too much detail but we went for about two hours, I am not even kidding it was like, probably the best sex I have ever had. Regardless, I dropped him home and it was like whatever, and we didn’t really speak for about a month and then after that he messaged me again on Facebook and we slept together about two more times and then I didn’t hear from him at all until I was in the U.S. on my holiday. And he messaged me, he just asked what I was doing probably for a booty call but it’s a bit hard when I am in the U.S. and he’s in Australia.
Anyway I come back from the U.S. and I met this girl called Brieonny, and it turns out that her boyfriend at the time, was actually really good friends with this guy and it was a bit awkward. Like I realised this and I was like Brieonny, this guy, we had sex , like I know he’s straight but we fucked, and she was like kind of giggling about it, you know we were just giggling, like it was funny, I wasn’t judging and then her boyfriend read her messages on her iphone. And then one of his room-mates overheard a conversation between Brieonny and her boyfriend and instead of being a good friend and asking this man, ”did you have sex with Bruce”, or asking Brieonny about the situation he actually he actually went into the lounge room and just shouted it to everybody, like all of their friends, like everybody’s going “Oh my God Bruce is saying he had sex with you”, and in no way did I mean for this to get as crazy as it has.
I didn’t tell anybody anything expecting it to get back to him, I just told Brieonny I was like “Oh whatever, it’s funny like, ha ha ha”. And it was going to come out eventually because you can’t be friends with someone and like not see their boyfriend’s friend’s like it’s going to happen eventually. Although I do kind of feel bad because I did tell him on our Facebook messages, “Oh no-one has to know” but people do know. And so of course this man is saying that it didn’t happen, which is fair enough, he can deny it that’s OK, whatever I wouldn’t mind that, but all of his friends, this is where it gets bad, OK? All of his friends are personally attacking me, when they see me in town they abuse me.
On New Year’s Eve we were dropping our friend Sam off at a party and they all threw bottles at my car. They’re very lucky I’m not fucking pressing charges against them. And so the gist of the situation is, do you think what I did was wrong? I had sex with a guy, I didn’t really care if he denied it but all of his friends have gotten involved, his friends are hating on me and abusing me for this because apparently I have made all of this up, and I don’t appreciate being made out to be a liar. Hate me for something else but don’t hate me for being a liar because I am not lying. I know it’s true, I know what I did, I know who I had sex with, like I just hate the fact that people think I am a liar. I cannot stand to be called a liar, I just can’t do it.
So I want to know personal opinion on the situation. I am sure lots of gay people or gay female or male have had a situation where they have had to have sex with a straight person and they are in denial. Like I’ve said I wouldn’t mind if he was just denying it but it’s his friends who have gotten involved and are standing up for him because he is saying it didn’t happen, which it did OK. And he’s told me I was the best that he ever had so obviously he enjoyed it. So I hope I didn’t gross any of you out but I just felt like that this is a situation that needed to come to light and if you recognise this story you obviously recognise who it’s about and you obviously know it’s true. I’m going to have some more sex with straight people so I can make these funny little videos
The list videos are as follows- 1. I’m so cute, 2. Morning Routine May, 2008, 3. Morning Routine August, 200,. 4. Hookers, and what’s that? I’ve had, 5. How to clip-in hair extensions, 6. Best friends, shave and lick its wh, 7. How to dye hair extensions (pink, 8. Sweedish package from Neelccia, 9. Rollover (oopsies), 10. My speedway rollover, 11. Bubble bath bitches, 12. Young Gurls attacked, 13. How to glue in hair extensions, 14. UKPART 1. Michael, James and Internaat, 15. Itchy pedophile, 16. UKPART 2. Condoms, dead people and a…, 17. Remove glue in weave, how to, 18. I HAVE A PENIS, 19. Dead in a ditch! 20. Dog Cupcake, 21. 2012 DEATH, 22. Spanish Love, 23. You aint a diva!, 24. Mother tried to drown me, 25. I use people for money$$$, 26. Police mistake me for a prostitute, 27. How to dye Neon Pink hair, 28. Drunk, blitzed and cute, 29. A re-born church virgin, 30. How to- Glitter nails, 31. Bitch I’m a cut you!, 32. I’m just a booty call, 33. It’s not easy to run from a Demon, 34. Myself performing live 2011, 35. A Nun set me on fire, 36. Safely Remove Acrylic/False/Gel nails, 37. Glitter space ship alien, 38. New Zealand Volcano water trave…,39. California baby- Travel Diaries USA, 40. I need a Vegas Sugar Daddy, 41. What happened in Vegas, 42. I’d rather get some head, 43. Male order bride, 44. Ho in the Sno, 45. FAQ- Surprise between my thighs, 46. How I came out, 47. White trash rap battle, (Kreayshaw, 48. Memories Smell, 49. Ghost hunting goes wrong, 50. Riding Drunk Leprechauns, 51. HOW TO: Healthy blonde white hair, 52. It aint the worst thing I’ve licke…,53. Tattooed, flavoured cum, a regular. 54. Classy prostitute goes to London, 55. F*ck Bitches- Get famous, 56. Painful Tattoo Adventures, 57. OFFICIAL Paranormal Activity 4, 58. HOW TO: Care for healing tattoos, 59. Gays can drift too, 60. Live while you’re alive.. New Year, 61. Straight Boy Diaries #1- Mr. Lies, 62. Straight Boy Diaries #2- Mr. Tennis, 63. Straight Boy Diaries #3- Mr. Kum, 64. Straight Boy Diaries #4-mr. $ur…, 65. Straight Boy Diaries #5- Mr. Cry, 66. Straight Boy Diaries #6- Mr. Mile, 67. Meet my jeep.
Chapter Four-
Sticks and Stones Will Break my Bones
In our modern day and age, it would appear that we longer have prejudice against minorities any more. We had the civil rights movement in the sixties who, although they lost Martin Luther King, certainly made a lot of headway to pave the way for the Gay Rights movement to make their statement in the seventies, and stake a claim in society. Our modern Society has laws governing sexual harassment and prejudice in the workplace and you would think it has been eradicated. This though, is an idealist’s view. If you want to look at an example of homophobia in Australia, you only have to look at both, the Military services, and Australian Rules Football. The army has a policy of don’t tell, don’t ask.
They are extremely conservative and will never admit that there are homosexuals in the force, let alone accept them with open arms. As far as the Australian Football League, the governing body for football in Australia, is concerned, out of sixteen clubs, each consisting of at least sixty players, not one of them has admitted to being gay, yet there is no doubt that some are. Such is the ribbing and stigma it would carry in a man’s game if they admitted it. Bruce has experienced extreme prejudice just like this and one incident comes to mind, as it resulted in serious legal action in order to protect Bruce. It was an exciting time in Bruce Johnson’s life, he had just turned 18. A month ago he had successfully obtained his driver’s licence after 12 months of driving around with his Mum or Dad while displaying “Learner” plates.
He already knew how to handle a car, as by this stage he had been a professional speedway driver for several years. He had also his little four cylinder……… spray painted lipstick pink, to match his long, shoulder length hair. He had purchased pink, matching personal number plates, spelling “GODDESS” from the local licensing branch. Bruce was off to see Alecs Smith, a friend at the local auto parts store, one of three in town. He had on a little pink miniskirt and a white Dolce & Gabanna T-Shirt. He was wearing stylish, flat, plain-leather sandals that laced up around his ankles and he was fully made-up, foundation, eye-liner, mascara and lip-stick, he was feeling confident and sexy, after all life was good and there was a lot happening in his life right now. Bruce was about to learn that being a transsexual in a little conservative country town like Geraldton could sometimes put your life in danger.
Bruce was driving on the North West Coast Highway towards Super Cheap Auto to take Alec out for lunch. First Bruce had to go into town to post some letters at the Post Office. The Highway was parallel to the main road through town, you simply had to make a right hand turn and drive for about 700 metres and you were there. As Bruce was driving along the road at about 60 kmh, he noticed a car in his rear view mirror coming up behind him at speed. Bruce has a good knowledge of cars so he knew it was a Holden Monaro, a hotted up V8 racing version of the Commodore. The car veered onto the other side of the road as if to try and pass Bruce, but when both cars were side by side the Monaro, full of hyped up young hoons, careered into Bruce’s road space and forced him off the road into the gravel.
Only Bruce’s speedway driving experience saved him from a serious accident. The Monaro took off up the road at speed with its moronic occupants sticking their hands out the windows making rude gestures and giving the bird. The determined aggressors then jammed on the brakes, they slowed down and waited until Bruce approached from behind. Just as Bruce was a car length away, the Monaro driver slammed on the brakes almost causing Bruce to have a rear end collision. Bruce was frightened and confused. What had he done, why were these idiots doing this? Surely they couldn’t be so small minded, in a free country like Australia to attack a man for his dress or his sexuality? Experience had taught Bruce a lot.
He knew that groups of young, wild abusive men like these classed themselves as straight. Yet it was from young groups of men like these that Bruce quite often picked up sexual partners. Many young men felt that they were totally straight. Around their mates they were boastful of their female sexual conquests, yet they thought nothing of picking Bruce up and sucking his cock or being fucked in the arse or vica versa. Bruce was thinking “Wouldn’t it be ironic if some time in the future I found myself in the back seat of a car having my cock sucked by one of these guys in the Monaro”.
These types of men didn’t even consider themselves bi-sexual, as if fucking chicks with dicks was under a different category! Bruce made a right hand turn onto Durlacher Street and continued on into town, while the Monaro and its occupants continued to be aggressive and rude, making hand signals, slowing down and jamming the brakes on to try and cause a collision. After about five minutes of this, they came upon a round-about. Bruce had three cars behind him but the Monaro slammed his gears into reverse and started backing up towards the little pink car, Bruce started backing up as did the three cars behind him. Bruce put his blinker on as if he was going to turn right and then he turned left instead, losing the hoons.
It appeared as if Bruce had lost his aggressors and he heaved a sigh of relief. Bruce continued on, he dropped his mail off at the Post Office and then retraced his steps back towards the North West Coast Highway.” Blow me down with a feather, it’s them again”, Bruce squealed as the Monaro full of hoons appeared in a side street about 100 metres ahead of him. As Bruce passed they jeered and yelled obscenities from the open windows of the Monaro, while making agitated and amplified hand signals. “Fuck this” cried Bruce, “I have to try and get away”. The Monaro turned onto the main road and motored up behind Bruce, tailgating him. The Monaro then moved over to the right hand side of the road as it passed Bruce at speed, they then pulled in front of Bruce and continued their little braking game.
As both cars turned left onto the main coastal highway they were confronted with two lanes. The hoons took the right lane and Bruce took the left lane. Both lanes merged into one about 100 metres up, and right at this point, was a telephone pole along the verge of the road to the left. Bruce hit the accelerator and powered on up the road, determined to pass his attackers and sprint home to call the police before this all got out of hand. As he sped on up the road to where it merged the Monaro matched his speed and refused to yield, they were doing 90 kmh.
Not only that, they were now leaning out of the windows and throwing rocks and bottles. Bruce took evasive action and wrenched the steering wheel to the left to avoid the flying missiles. Bruce’s car slew sideways, the Monaro swerved in towards Bruce and misjudged, both cars hit side on, the cars bounced away from each other in an explosive shower of broken glass and crunching metal. Bruce’s car continued to lose control, the passenger side skidding straight towards the power pole on two wheels. Bruce, with his speedway skill and lightning fast reactions, saw the danger and dabbed the brakes. When all four wheels were on the ground, he wrenched the steering wheel right, and put the car into an ear screeching spin, the car shuddered to halt, almost lost in a dense, blue haze of tyre smoke.
It missed the pole by centimetres as well as other cars, how nobody wasn’t killed or injured is a miracle. The Monaro took off into the distance. Bruce was totally hysterical, almost physically shattered. Crying and upset, he tried to pull himself together and mustered the strength to continue driving his battered and damaged Pink Camry to Supa Cheap Auto where he could get help. When he arrived he was in a state, he broke down in tears and told is friend Alec what happened. Alec decided for safety’s sake that they would buy lunch and eat it in the storeroom out the back. Alec ate while Bruce tried to regain an appetite.
About half an hour later as Alec and a calmer Bruce were chatting, the occupants of the Monaro returned and entered the auto store looking for Bruce. Unable to locate him they left, although not before Alec, who knew the attackers, identified them all. A couple of days later Bruce took his car to be assessed for the damage. When the report came in $9,500 damage was caused to Bruce’s car; the bumper was ripped off, both driver side doors were caved in, his front wheel was bent, the headlights were smashed, and the rear quarter panel had heavy paint damage. It was later learned in court that the Monaro had damage to the front bumper and passenger side, to the value of $8000. Bruce went and filed a complaint with the police, determined not to let anybody attack him for just being him.
Violence restraining orders were issued commonly known as VRO’s and amazingly all seven boys involved filed motions to defend. The court day arrived and all of the boys arrived dressed in suits. Gone was the bravado and the abuse, but they were still cocky, making snide remarks and chatting with their solicitor, while pulling faces and smirking. Bruce and Alec gave evidence and simply told the truth. The seven abusive defendants, (Bruce calls them the seven dwarfs because he says they have little dicks) typically claimed it never happened and that Bruce was the aggressor. The judge of course believed Bruce and Alec and the restraining orders were issued, but in his closing address the magistrate curiously but cruelly stated that, “Bruce was in the right and was doing nothing wrong, but should expect this type of behaviour going around a town like Geraldton dressed like that”.
They are extremely conservative and will never admit that there are homosexuals in the force, let alone accept them with open arms. As far as the Australian Football League, the governing body for football in Australia, is concerned, out of sixteen clubs, each consisting of at least sixty players, not one of them has admitted to being gay, yet there is no doubt that some are. Such is the ribbing and stigma it would carry in a man’s game if they admitted it. Bruce has experienced extreme prejudice just like this and one incident comes to mind, as it resulted in serious legal action in order to protect Bruce. It was an exciting time in Bruce Johnson’s life, he had just turned 18. A month ago he had successfully obtained his driver’s licence after 12 months of driving around with his Mum or Dad while displaying “Learner” plates.
He already knew how to handle a car, as by this stage he had been a professional speedway driver for several years. He had also his little four cylinder……… spray painted lipstick pink, to match his long, shoulder length hair. He had purchased pink, matching personal number plates, spelling “GODDESS” from the local licensing branch. Bruce was off to see Alecs Smith, a friend at the local auto parts store, one of three in town. He had on a little pink miniskirt and a white Dolce & Gabanna T-Shirt. He was wearing stylish, flat, plain-leather sandals that laced up around his ankles and he was fully made-up, foundation, eye-liner, mascara and lip-stick, he was feeling confident and sexy, after all life was good and there was a lot happening in his life right now. Bruce was about to learn that being a transsexual in a little conservative country town like Geraldton could sometimes put your life in danger.
Bruce was driving on the North West Coast Highway towards Super Cheap Auto to take Alec out for lunch. First Bruce had to go into town to post some letters at the Post Office. The Highway was parallel to the main road through town, you simply had to make a right hand turn and drive for about 700 metres and you were there. As Bruce was driving along the road at about 60 kmh, he noticed a car in his rear view mirror coming up behind him at speed. Bruce has a good knowledge of cars so he knew it was a Holden Monaro, a hotted up V8 racing version of the Commodore. The car veered onto the other side of the road as if to try and pass Bruce, but when both cars were side by side the Monaro, full of hyped up young hoons, careered into Bruce’s road space and forced him off the road into the gravel.
Only Bruce’s speedway driving experience saved him from a serious accident. The Monaro took off up the road at speed with its moronic occupants sticking their hands out the windows making rude gestures and giving the bird. The determined aggressors then jammed on the brakes, they slowed down and waited until Bruce approached from behind. Just as Bruce was a car length away, the Monaro driver slammed on the brakes almost causing Bruce to have a rear end collision. Bruce was frightened and confused. What had he done, why were these idiots doing this? Surely they couldn’t be so small minded, in a free country like Australia to attack a man for his dress or his sexuality? Experience had taught Bruce a lot.
He knew that groups of young, wild abusive men like these classed themselves as straight. Yet it was from young groups of men like these that Bruce quite often picked up sexual partners. Many young men felt that they were totally straight. Around their mates they were boastful of their female sexual conquests, yet they thought nothing of picking Bruce up and sucking his cock or being fucked in the arse or vica versa. Bruce was thinking “Wouldn’t it be ironic if some time in the future I found myself in the back seat of a car having my cock sucked by one of these guys in the Monaro”.
These types of men didn’t even consider themselves bi-sexual, as if fucking chicks with dicks was under a different category! Bruce made a right hand turn onto Durlacher Street and continued on into town, while the Monaro and its occupants continued to be aggressive and rude, making hand signals, slowing down and jamming the brakes on to try and cause a collision. After about five minutes of this, they came upon a round-about. Bruce had three cars behind him but the Monaro slammed his gears into reverse and started backing up towards the little pink car, Bruce started backing up as did the three cars behind him. Bruce put his blinker on as if he was going to turn right and then he turned left instead, losing the hoons.
It appeared as if Bruce had lost his aggressors and he heaved a sigh of relief. Bruce continued on, he dropped his mail off at the Post Office and then retraced his steps back towards the North West Coast Highway.” Blow me down with a feather, it’s them again”, Bruce squealed as the Monaro full of hoons appeared in a side street about 100 metres ahead of him. As Bruce passed they jeered and yelled obscenities from the open windows of the Monaro, while making agitated and amplified hand signals. “Fuck this” cried Bruce, “I have to try and get away”. The Monaro turned onto the main road and motored up behind Bruce, tailgating him. The Monaro then moved over to the right hand side of the road as it passed Bruce at speed, they then pulled in front of Bruce and continued their little braking game.
As both cars turned left onto the main coastal highway they were confronted with two lanes. The hoons took the right lane and Bruce took the left lane. Both lanes merged into one about 100 metres up, and right at this point, was a telephone pole along the verge of the road to the left. Bruce hit the accelerator and powered on up the road, determined to pass his attackers and sprint home to call the police before this all got out of hand. As he sped on up the road to where it merged the Monaro matched his speed and refused to yield, they were doing 90 kmh.
Not only that, they were now leaning out of the windows and throwing rocks and bottles. Bruce took evasive action and wrenched the steering wheel to the left to avoid the flying missiles. Bruce’s car slew sideways, the Monaro swerved in towards Bruce and misjudged, both cars hit side on, the cars bounced away from each other in an explosive shower of broken glass and crunching metal. Bruce’s car continued to lose control, the passenger side skidding straight towards the power pole on two wheels. Bruce, with his speedway skill and lightning fast reactions, saw the danger and dabbed the brakes. When all four wheels were on the ground, he wrenched the steering wheel right, and put the car into an ear screeching spin, the car shuddered to halt, almost lost in a dense, blue haze of tyre smoke.
It missed the pole by centimetres as well as other cars, how nobody wasn’t killed or injured is a miracle. The Monaro took off into the distance. Bruce was totally hysterical, almost physically shattered. Crying and upset, he tried to pull himself together and mustered the strength to continue driving his battered and damaged Pink Camry to Supa Cheap Auto where he could get help. When he arrived he was in a state, he broke down in tears and told is friend Alec what happened. Alec decided for safety’s sake that they would buy lunch and eat it in the storeroom out the back. Alec ate while Bruce tried to regain an appetite.
About half an hour later as Alec and a calmer Bruce were chatting, the occupants of the Monaro returned and entered the auto store looking for Bruce. Unable to locate him they left, although not before Alec, who knew the attackers, identified them all. A couple of days later Bruce took his car to be assessed for the damage. When the report came in $9,500 damage was caused to Bruce’s car; the bumper was ripped off, both driver side doors were caved in, his front wheel was bent, the headlights were smashed, and the rear quarter panel had heavy paint damage. It was later learned in court that the Monaro had damage to the front bumper and passenger side, to the value of $8000. Bruce went and filed a complaint with the police, determined not to let anybody attack him for just being him.
Violence restraining orders were issued commonly known as VRO’s and amazingly all seven boys involved filed motions to defend. The court day arrived and all of the boys arrived dressed in suits. Gone was the bravado and the abuse, but they were still cocky, making snide remarks and chatting with their solicitor, while pulling faces and smirking. Bruce and Alec gave evidence and simply told the truth. The seven abusive defendants, (Bruce calls them the seven dwarfs because he says they have little dicks) typically claimed it never happened and that Bruce was the aggressor. The judge of course believed Bruce and Alec and the restraining orders were issued, but in his closing address the magistrate curiously but cruelly stated that, “Bruce was in the right and was doing nothing wrong, but should expect this type of behaviour going around a town like Geraldton dressed like that”.
A brush with death
On the 16th January, 2010 Bruce arrived in Tasmania to compete in the junior Sedan finals after a four thousand kilometre, four day drive from Perth, across the vast Nullabor plain to Victoria, then over to Tasmania by boat. When the family arrived Bruce had a disappointing and trying time with gremlins like engine problems and other troubles, little did he know, much worse was to come. Bruce was competing in the finals in one of four main groups, A,B, C and D. Bruce was in the B-main group. The start of the race was uneventful, the colourful, Junior Sedan class speedway cars had been racing around the greasy, slippery, dirt, oval-shaped track for about half of the allotted laps. B
ruce, throbbing along at great speed in his pink, hotted up Datsun 120y had got a good start and was coming second, not a close second, but about six car lengths away. Just as Bruce powered out of a corner onto the straight he felt the differential snap and he knew he was in a great deal of trouble. These cars have limited slip diffs, this means both wheels spin, when the diff snaps only one wheel turns and the car tends to ride up on two wheels through corners. As the diff snapped, the car slew right in a violent instant. Bruce continued to head right, toward the solid wooden wall, just on two right wheels, at close to 90 kilometres an hour, a devastating speed to hit anything.
Death was a distinct possibility. Many had been killed in this adrenalin junkies sport before him. Just as quickly the car slewed left at such speed it rolled over one and a half times and then slammed head on into the wall and bounced off as it rolled and lay on its side. The other racing cars zoomed past at speed, ever careful as you can be, in a dangerous sport like speedway, not to collide. An emergency vehicle, carrying a fire crew, consisting of four firemen, fully kitted out in fire suits and helmet’s, carrying powerful fire extinguishers, and three, red overcalled rescue crew, and a medic, carrying vital medical supplies and equipment, rushed to the accident, expecting the worst.
To their amazement after a short time, Bruce climbed out of the passenger side door and leapt to the ground in his black fire retardant driver’s suit and matching helmet. While all this was going on the commentators voice had echoed through the P.A at great volume as he had in his garrulous style, excitedly kept the crowd informed of what was happening. He was a total professional so he was commentating with some urgency through all of this to keep the crowd interested pensive with concern. The commentator explained that Bruce and his team of brother, Callan and father, were from Geraldton in Western Australia.
He made the observation that Bruce’s car was a total write off after hitting the wall so hard. Bruce was of course saved by his roll cage, made of high tensile steel tube, and his multi harness racing seat belt. Speedway cars have strict safety requirements and are strengthened extensively. Then the commentator made a rather inciteful, snyde comment. “Watch this folk’s, Check out the hair when the helmet comes off, you won’t believe it. Is it yellow or green, no it’s pink, just like the car”.
Then as Bruce took his helmet off, followed by his expensive, fire retardant Balaclava, his shocking pink mane came into view, his hair tucked down the collar of his fire retardant racing suit to protect it. The crowd gasped and then burst into laughter, some jeered and shouted derogatory insults, such as poof and homo. Hypocritical considering Bruce and his family had spent a large amount of time and money to come here and entertain the crowd. Entertain them he did, his crash was exciting and dramatic, just what the crowd had come to see. It was obvious that this crowd was, or parts of it had a red-neck element. So much for equal rights. Add the Speedway to the list with the Army and Australian Rules football says Bruce.
ruce, throbbing along at great speed in his pink, hotted up Datsun 120y had got a good start and was coming second, not a close second, but about six car lengths away. Just as Bruce powered out of a corner onto the straight he felt the differential snap and he knew he was in a great deal of trouble. These cars have limited slip diffs, this means both wheels spin, when the diff snaps only one wheel turns and the car tends to ride up on two wheels through corners. As the diff snapped, the car slew right in a violent instant. Bruce continued to head right, toward the solid wooden wall, just on two right wheels, at close to 90 kilometres an hour, a devastating speed to hit anything.
Death was a distinct possibility. Many had been killed in this adrenalin junkies sport before him. Just as quickly the car slewed left at such speed it rolled over one and a half times and then slammed head on into the wall and bounced off as it rolled and lay on its side. The other racing cars zoomed past at speed, ever careful as you can be, in a dangerous sport like speedway, not to collide. An emergency vehicle, carrying a fire crew, consisting of four firemen, fully kitted out in fire suits and helmet’s, carrying powerful fire extinguishers, and three, red overcalled rescue crew, and a medic, carrying vital medical supplies and equipment, rushed to the accident, expecting the worst.
To their amazement after a short time, Bruce climbed out of the passenger side door and leapt to the ground in his black fire retardant driver’s suit and matching helmet. While all this was going on the commentators voice had echoed through the P.A at great volume as he had in his garrulous style, excitedly kept the crowd informed of what was happening. He was a total professional so he was commentating with some urgency through all of this to keep the crowd interested pensive with concern. The commentator explained that Bruce and his team of brother, Callan and father, were from Geraldton in Western Australia.
He made the observation that Bruce’s car was a total write off after hitting the wall so hard. Bruce was of course saved by his roll cage, made of high tensile steel tube, and his multi harness racing seat belt. Speedway cars have strict safety requirements and are strengthened extensively. Then the commentator made a rather inciteful, snyde comment. “Watch this folk’s, Check out the hair when the helmet comes off, you won’t believe it. Is it yellow or green, no it’s pink, just like the car”.
Then as Bruce took his helmet off, followed by his expensive, fire retardant Balaclava, his shocking pink mane came into view, his hair tucked down the collar of his fire retardant racing suit to protect it. The crowd gasped and then burst into laughter, some jeered and shouted derogatory insults, such as poof and homo. Hypocritical considering Bruce and his family had spent a large amount of time and money to come here and entertain the crowd. Entertain them he did, his crash was exciting and dramatic, just what the crowd had come to see. It was obvious that this crowd was, or parts of it had a red-neck element. So much for equal rights. Add the Speedway to the list with the Army and Australian Rules football says Bruce.
No comments:
Post a Comment