Gender Awakenings

 

Image from UnSplash.

Gender awakenings came early and often for me. I say early because from my earliest days of conscious life, I knew something was not right about me. As I always point out, this was in the 1950’s in the dark days of the pre-internet era when any gender information was difficult to come by. To make up for it, I experimented wearing my mom’s clothes and trying to apply her makeup the best I could. Then I would wear out the carpet in front of the hallway mirror admiring myself. Somehow, I convinced myself I was a pretty girl ready to go out into the world.

When I finally broke out of my closet and tried out the real world as a novice cross dresser, I received a rude awakening. Initially, it came from groups of teenaged girls I encountered in the malls I went to. They were brutal and not shy about laughing at me. Too many times, I was sent home wondering what the problem was with my image or presentation as a woman. One thing was for sure; the mirror was lying to me when it told me I could pass with no problem. I just had to do better if I was to survive in chasing my dream of living as a woman. In fact, at times it looked as if I had no chance of ever making it at all.

Fortunately, as dreams went by, I found I had an achievable one as the years went by. But achievable never meant easy. I had many negative transgender awakenings mixed in with just enough gender euphoria to keep me moving. It could be as little as encountering a group of teen girls with no reactions, all the way to having lunch when I went out to shop. What I was slowly doing was replacing my mirror in the hallway with the world. Maybe this male to female transition trip was not going to be so difficult after all.

At this time, over confidence got to me on several occasions when I had left the relative safety of the gay bar scene and tried to move to more familiar venues such as sports bars and even lesbian taverns. The problem was, I became too comfortable when I was accepted and had a tendency to slip too far back to old unwanted male roles. Keeping track of where I was in my new life and taking too many chances. I was guilty of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and nearly suffered from it until I learned my male privilege of safety no longer applied. I also was not prepared for how fast I lost part of my intelligence when I was dealing with men. Very early on, I found myself being completely ignored when I ended up with a group of men. Even though, I knew more than they did.

As I learned I would have a much easier path to acceptance from other women than men, I discovered the hard way that was not always the case. The well documented times when I had the police called on me for using the women’s room at one venue, all the way to being called a pervert in another place come to mind. Those were deep wounds to overcome but somehow, I did and found stable places to go to which accepted me for who I was. Even to the point of protecting me as their token transgender woman. The basics of smiling often, causing no trouble, and tipping well did wonders for me.

Even still, I had to be careful because I had a wife, family and job to come home to after my dream evenings as a transfeminine person. Soon, the delicate gender balance I was trying to maintain became too much to bear. I was to the point where I was just waiting for the next high heeled shoe to fall, or the next gender awakening to occur. I just knew I had come too far to turn back now, and my dreams were within reach. Only my big three stood in my way and destiny was coming along to take care of them.

My wife suddenly passed away, leaving me free of anyone except myself to answer to when it came to my gender awakenings. Plus, the only person I really cared about in my family (my daughter) became my staunchest ally when I came out and I took an early retirement, so I did not have transition on a job of any sort.

Once my gender awakenings started to come, they came fast and furious like a runaway train. The best part was, the whole process felt so natural, I never wanted to turn back.  Somehow, I kept the train on the track.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What Would Mom Say

Image from Jenna Norman
on UnSplash

This week my question to answer on the year long bio I am writing for my daughter and family as well as my wife Liz involved what parent I learned the most from.  

As I compared my Mom and Dad, easily I learned the most from Mom. Outside of the usual circumstances, I found I could find many more opportunities to spotlight Mom's influence on me. For example, I remember at a very early age watching Mom put on her makeup. Being a product of the "greatest generation" she was not shy about dressing up. However, I don't think watching makeup being applied led me to being a transvestite or even a transgender woman really mattered. Somehow the gender issues I faced went much deeper. Perhaps as deep as the medication Mom took during her pregnancy (DES) which was offered to women at the time to prevent problem births.

It turned out, I was successfully delivered just before my parents had decided to give up after three still births and adopt a child. I think because of all of that, my Mom put an extra emphasis on raising me and my brother who came along two years later. So much so, I wonder now what would have happened if Mom would have realized she had a daughter rather than a son. In all fairness to her, the fifties during my youth had very little information on gender issues. When it was available, gender issues were known as mental illness. 

Throughout the years, I always mistakenly thought girls had all the benefits in life I always wanted. Girls were able to wear the pretty clothes I wanted, be gifted the dolls I wanted and even never had to worry about being drafted and serving in the military. Male privileges were not known to me in those days because I had not yet earned any. As a side note, once I did earn the benefits of being male, I learned some of them were automatic and I did not want them anyhow.

I have forever wondered what my life would have been with Mom had I been born a biological female. Being as similar personality wise as we were, we fought quite a bit as mother/pseudo son and I have to think it would have been worse as a daughter. Mom was very headstrong and I am sure we would have had battles over fashion styles in the 1960's as well as when I could begin using makeup. In fact, when I was sneaking around using her makeup, I was probably younger than I would have been had I been her actual daughter.  I am sure too, Mom would have tried to influence me into going to her college and joining her sorority. She would have done her best to push me down a certain path which was certainly going against my generation's rules at that time in history during the upheaval in the later 1960's.

By this time, you may be asking where was Dad during all of this. It was not like he was not an influence in my life but he was not as hands on as Mom was. He was long on providing and short on emotions which I struggled with for most of my life. One thing I remember most about him was how desperate I was to never disappoint him and since I rarely if ever heard a positive from him, I never knew what he really thought of my life. He was blessed with excellent health and outlived my Mom by ten years and I never came out to him before his death from Dementia.

I did try to come out to Mom but it was a dismal failure for both of us. Predictably, when I told her I wanted to be a woman, she offered up mental health counseling. The conversation took place just after I was finished with my military duty and was never mentioned again until her death fifty years later. I used to hold her thoughts against her and was quite bitter but I gradually mellowed with age and came to realize she was just a product of her generation. 

To honor all her sacrifices, I used her first name as my middle name when I legally changed my gender markers nearly ten years ago. Had I had the opportunity to be accepted as her daughter from the beginning, it would have been interesting how our lives would have intersected. Way past the pushback I would have received for wearing my skirts too short and wearing too much makeup when I was a teenager. I know what Mom would have said. You aren't leaving the house looking like that. Maybe I should have thought of that when I tried and failed to dress that way later in life.