“WE ARE ALL MEN HERE!”
RANDI STROLLS AROUND the dining hall on the first day of camp wearing a worn leather holster on his belt, but no gun. Instead, he’s packing an STP (“stand to pee”) device that helps men without penises urinate standing up. It’s made of deep-blue plastic, and its butt pokes out of the holster like a real pistol.
He walks up to Rocco. “Is this all right?”
Rocco is distracted and harried in the way of all camp directors. “Is what all right?”
Randi lifts his shirt, indicating the holster. “I just want to make sure it’s obvious it’s not a gun.”
Rocco stops flipping through paperwork. “Dude, it’s obvious that’s not a gun.”
Rocco Kayiatos, 38, is one of three founders of Camp Lost Boys, a weekend retreat for transgender men. He is compact, bearded, and tattooed, with a soothingly deep voice. His friend and co-founder Justin Chow, 37, is the tall, cool cucumber to Rocco’s nerveball of energy. The third partner is “stealth”—he keeps
