Which Closet was It?

Restroom Photo from the
Jessie Hart 
Collection

 Is your perception of the gender closet you lived in (or live in) masculine or feminine?  Until I really began to think about it, I always thought my closet was built by my false masculine self to keep my stronger feminine inner being well hidden. I'm sure most of you faced the same problems as your old male became very proficient at laying new bricks in your closet as fast as your girl was trying to find ways to escape.

Because my girl self was the one in the closet, I considered it a feminine enclosure. I even went as far as remodeled a room in the house we were restoring as my makeover room. As I remember, I painted it a pastel shade, bought a used vanity and mirror and then decorated the walls with vintage pictures of beautiful film stars such as Marilyn Monroe. For some reason which will now be never known, my deceased wife went along with my idea of having a room my girl could call her own. Maybe she thought giving in and letting me decorate my own room would help alleviate my gender stress for awhile by allowing me to express myself.

The problem became was when (of course) just having a room for my clothes and makeup just wasn't enough.  No matter how nice it was, my new closet could not replace the allure of getting out in the world and finding out if I could exist in the world as a transgender woman. For the longest time I was able to stay in and interact with my wife or the mirror before I could stand it no longer and had to open the door of my cage and see the world for the first time. All went well when we set up new boundaries for awhile when we got together and decided once a week I was allowed to go out, rent a motel room out of town and dress as a woman. From there I could go out and explore my new exciting world. Sadly, for the sake of our relationship, none of what I was doing really helped. The more I was out of my feminine closet, the more I wanted to do. Essentially,  I was beginning to live my lifetime dream. The process felt so natural I never wanted to go back and rebuild a male closet to live in. 

In a very short span of time due to my new expanding life, my old life became shambles when I started to seize every opportunity I had to dress up and head out the door. What I was doing was breaking our agreement in regards to my gender expression and putting extra unwanted strain on our relationship. However, the more I was able to spend time out of my old male closet, the ripping and tearing of my overall life became unbearable.  In other words, the more I tried to live a portion of my life in each of the two main gender binaries all the time  the worse life became. Which eventually led me to a suicide attempt. It turned out to be just the latest in a string of incredibly self destructive events I attempted before her death from a sudden heart attack. 

I was so fortunate I was able to have a happy ending of sorts when I finally was able to escape all the negativity as well as my gender closet. In the end, it didn't matter if my cage was masculine or feminine. Only that I was able to escape all the problems which came from within the closet and live my truth as a full time transgender woman. 

All the Gender Baggage

Image from UnSplash

 Sometimes I feel just like "Paris Hilton" in a recent hotel commercial when she had to reserve an adjoining room for all of her extra baggage. Completing a male to female gender transition often produces just as much baggage we accumulate from a life time of experiences.

Often, the older we are the more baggage we have to account for. In order to hide our feminine instincts and try our best to live as a male, we had to resort to extra ordinary measures to protect ourselves from bullies and bigots in the society around us. By doing so, our baggage became immediately very bulky and/or heavy. The problem was compounded by adding spouses, family and employment as we went on to live our lives. Before we knew it, we needed an extra room (similar to Paris Hilton) to keep and hide our baggage.  The problem becomes, when we finally decide to change our outward gender, what are we going to do with the male person who helped me to get to the transition point.  

In my case, my baggage involved having a wonderful daughter I didn't know would accept the authentic  new me, a very successful job and a loving wife of twenty five years to deal with among other things. To make matters worse, I knew my job would not accept me transitioning along with my wife who said our marriage would be over. She didn't sign up to be with a woman.  What happened to me was my daughter accepted me when I came out as transgender to her, I left my job to start my own restaurant and my wife sadly passed away. I guess you could say destiny opened the doors to put my major baggage issues aside and move towards living my impossible dream of living as a full time transgender woman. The closer my gender transition came to reality, the more baggage I discovered which needed to be considered and taken care of.

The more I was able to live my new exciting feminine life, the more baggage I found which needed to be considered, added on to my life or just discarded of. My biggest piece of  extra baggage I needed to deal with was my love of sports. Over the span of my life I had used my love of sports to drive a wedge between me and any possible bullies. I tried along the way to play football and became a fan of the sport as well as having a passing interest in baseball and basketball. I found out quite early in my life transition, I would have a difficult time bringing my interest in sports with me. It took me several ill fated attempts at enjoying myself in male gay venues to get the idea I was going at my problem all wrong. To be accepted as a sports fan all over again, I needed to go where there were other possible woman sports fans. In other words, big sports bars with many televisions and large cold draft beers. Not exactly the environment I envisioned myself in during my formative gender years but on the other hand the whole experience felt natural and I had solved one of my huge gender baggage issues. Very soon I was accepted as a regular patron in several popular venues and I was able to enjoy myself.

The other big issue I needed to deal with was my sexuality. Since I had never been really sexually attracted to any other man, I wondered what would happen to me as a new transgender woman. The answer didn't come long in being answered when I did briefly date men and still didn't have much of a spark except when I had the luxury of being on the arm of a man and enjoying the ease of acceptance I received in public from society.  Looking back, none of the lack of real acceptance from men mattered because my acceptance from cis-women soon dominated my life. I never had to worry about my sexuality changing because it didn't. 

In any other items of interest I had when I was desperately trying to live as a man were left behind. All the experience I had gained restoring an old house was a prime example. I became decidedly unhandy around the house. 

Once I had decided which baggage I was keeping and which I wasn't, life became full again and I could concentrate on building a new life by writing more and enjoying myself.  

It Takes a Village

In My Messy 
Gender Closet from
the Jessie Hart
Collection.

Even the most secure transgender person (woman or man) would probably admit transitioning was never easy. Some would admit to having transitional help while some transgender individuals had very little assistance. In my case it took a village after a certain point. By that I mean I spent my formative transvestite years very alone to experiment with my mirror.  Every time I was able to afford a new piece of feminine clothing and/or makeup, I was certain I was the prettiest girl in the room. Which was easy to do because I was the only person in the room to start with. I spent my life fearing going out in public but on the other hand wanting to so badly.

In many cases, what happened next in my transition was predictable. I learned the hard way the mirror wasn't my friend and when I finally faced the public. I write often about my poor fashion choices which led to abuse. Even with all the rejection I was facing, I still pushed forward on my own petrified of anyone close learning of my gender secrets. This continued into my days in the military when my appearance as a woman at a Halloween party led me to coming out as a transvestite to several close friends, including my first wife. Once I admitted to them my "costume" wasn't a fluke, it felt like a tremendous load had been removed from my shoulders and it was possible to begin to locate and build what would turn out to be my transgender village. Sadly, I wasn't able to seriously work on my village for years after that. I even attempted to come out of my closet to my Mom but she slammed the door shut.

It wasn't until I began to have success presenting as a woman did my village began to change. As it turned out I did not find the village as much as it found me. The more I ventured out into the public as my new feminine self, it seemed the more the public wanted to know about me if I went to the proper places. I started slowly when I started visiting certain clothing stores and malls on a regular basis. Very soon I grew tired of those places and needed a challenge to see if I could exist as a transgender woman in the world. That is when I began to stop places for a sit down lunch to interact with the staff. I was shocked how fast the public seemed to think I fit in and wanted to even communicate with me.  Communication with the public was something I had never considered because the mirror had never talked back to me. 

Amazingly to me, chances came along for me to build my new village fairly rapidly. I began to be invited to girls nights outs as well as being accepted into small  mixed gender groups in the venues I became a regular in. Looking back, I am sure I had the opportunity to easily stand  out in the crowd, even if it was only because I was bigger than most women. I found once I had reached this point of acceptance, I needed more help in building my village and I found it with the help of several cis-women I used to hang out with repeatedly. My formative gender days with all of them helped me to set the foundation to become the new woman I always dreamed of being. I can never say enough how much they all helped me when it came to me leaving my new village and venturing out. All of a sudden, my closet became a village and it was time to move on with all the help I found. I think my future wife Liz said it best to me when she said very few people have the chance to start over in life. It was my chance to make the best of it.

I did try to make the best of my new life by allowing my long suppressed feminine soul to take control and enjoy her chance to live. She definitely made the most of her chance to shine...with tons of help of my old village.  

Power is Fleeting

 

Image Courtesy Markus Winkler
on UnSplash

Transitioning from male to female in the world is an very specific way to understand the basics of gender power. By power I mean gender privilege. I know it didn't take long for me to experience the loss of my male privilege's.  

First of all, learning to present as well as possible as a woman was sort of a double edged sword. Of course being able to get out of my closet and live feminine was a new, exciting yet scary experience. And, being able to be accepted as a woman in a group of men taught me several immediate lessons. One night, somehow, I don't remember why or how I became part of a conversation between myself and three other men. Immediately and predictably I was ignored and my opinions discounted simply because I was there to start with and feminine in looks. I thought at the time, so this was how my life was going to change more dramatically than I thought when I began to feel comfortable as a transgender woman in public. Then, there were the times I was approached because I was transgender and appealed to a certain kind of man. Sadly, many times I faced only fitting into a sexual adventure with them and nothing else which never appealed to me. 

I think overall these days many men are panicked about being men in the classic sense.  Perhaps it is part of the reason an overwhelmingly amount of old white men are attempting to erase any or all of the very few transgender rights. Down deep these men are threatened by strong women and trans women by nature are the strongest of all. Because we had to be to survive. All along as we transitioned, educational and employment opportunities became very rare. Plus these were a few new of the gender lessons we had to learn made us a tribe full of survivors.  As I said, I learned my lesson early when I gave up my hard earned male privileges to live as a second class gender citizen in the mind of many men. I was fortunate in that I experienced being "taken in" by understanding women who told me welcome to their world when I was "mansplained" by a man. 

Also, it is no secret cis men are by nature more insecure sexually than women.  Their insecurities could be why the death toll among transgender women tragically continues to rise year after year. Too many men are attracted to trans women then their insecurities step in and they become violent. Of course far too many cis-women have to deal with violent men who think their only real power over women comes from their physical ability to over power them. The men know deep down the women are intellectually and emotionally stronger. In other words, they can survive on so many levels without a man.

I also think the gender political bigots are scared to death of the younger generation who, for the most part is more liberal and gender blind than their parents. The same parents who are quibbling over drag shows instead of the real issues which threaten our society. As the bigots strive to hold on to their power which is slipping away, they don't realize transgender people have always existed and always will. No matter the obstacles which are thrown in our way. 

Even though my overall dealings with men as a transgender woman have been few and far between, I still remember the early days of losing my male privilege's. Some were down right shocking (safely) while others were more mellow (communication) but all of them proved to me how gender power can be fleeting.   

Plan B

Image Courtesy 
Jessie Hart
Collection

On occasion I think my writings here on the blog make it seem as if I had too many good times and too few mentions of the dark moments I experienced.  The truth of the matter was I experienced many, many dark days when I desperately needed a "Plan B" to get by. 

In addition to desperately hiding my secret wardrobe of feminine items, I needed to figure a way to work with my collection to practice the only way I knew being a girl. All my sneaking around led me to many close calls with my slightly younger brother and my parents who unexpectedly came home early. The only positive which came from those experiences was I learned the process well of quickly removing makeup. The thought of being caught was always on my mind and often ruined the whole experience. At the time, the only ultimate "Plan B" I could ever consider was a purge of all my girl clothes and accessories and go back to the very unsavory idea of being in a male life fulltime.

Even though I managed to go through very few purges in my life, I did put myself in other various potentially devastating situations. The earliest I write about often. Those were the nights of severe fashion mistakes which  led me to scurry back to my home through teary eyes from strangers laughing or staring at me. At that point "Plan B" amounted to going back to the drawing board many times before common fashion sense kicked in. I needed to style myself to present well and then blend in with the community at large. Even though I was finally learning how to conduct myself, I found there were many other ways to prove I needed a "Plan B" to get by. Perhaps one of most embarrassing moments I went through since one of my heels became stuck in a sidewalk crack and I nearly broke an ankle was when one of the water balloons I was using as a breast form exploded in a popular sports bar I was a regular in. Back in those days I couldn't afford good silicone forms so I made the ill fated decision to fill balloons with warm water because I thought the feel approximated having real breasts.  I know you are thinking now. how did that work out for you?

How it worked out was one night I made one hell of a mess on the floor on the way to the bathroom. Luckily no one else was around and I was able to pay and leave before anyone else attributed the mess to me. I thought at the time the best excuse I could have come up with was I was pregnant and my water just broke. Other times I wasn't so lucky with being alone when I needed a "Plan B." There was the time I was wearing my new high heeled boots to my regular venue on a snowy night. After a drink or two I got up to go to the rest room and promptly slipped and fell on a wet floor under my bar stool. The bar was packed and I was very embarrassed needless to say. After I got back up, I reassured everyone I was alright and finished my restroom trip and then left. With a new found respect of dealing with wet floors in my new boots. I made it home without any further problems. 

As I remember now, most of my other embarrassments were relatively minor and I was able to learn from each one. Such as carrying extra toilet paper and/or an extra tampon in my purse. This all came because of other women surprising me with questions in restrooms mainly when their stall ran out of toilet paper or they needed an emergency feminine hygiene product. 

The moral to the story is my "Plan B" was a huge learning experience and a necessary evil, as I pursued  my path to achieving my desire to live as a full time transgender woman.  I really made many mistakes. 

Pleasing Your Parents as a Transgender Woman

 

Photo from the Jessie Hart
Collection

Growing up it was extremely difficult to please my WWII era/Great Depression generation parents. It seemed to me whatever I did well, they always thought I could do it better. I am fond of saying they were long on being great providers but extremely short on providing any sort of emotional support.  As you can guess, or possibly went through, the whole parental process was complicated by gender issues. Especially when a well meaning adult would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. Even back then, I knew the true answer and I also knew I couldn't tell anyone. The main thing I wanted to do was to grow into a woman. With the complete lack of outside interaction with anyone who may have felt the same, I felt completely alone in the world. My gender closet was very dark and lonely.

In the meantime, life went on and my parents made it very clear what they expected of me as I grew up.  Short term they expected me to attend some sort of at least a mid level prestigious university and/or college. In no way did they ever let on they knew anything at all about my desire to change my gender. I always thought my Mom just had to know I was exploring with her clothes and makeup but never said anything. Until I finally came out to her after I was honorably discharged from the Army, we never discussed me being a transvestite (as it was called then) and I found I shouldn't have discussed  my needs then.  She only volunteered drastic psychological interference in my life. We never discussed my primary issue again.

As my life progressed, I did my best to seek the approval from my parents as a faux man. I worked hard at my two careers, had a child and even completed my military duty. In the meantime I tried to duplicate my Dad's success in building his own house by restoring an 1860's era house of my own. Through it all, two things sadly happened. The first of which was I never heard the words they were proud of me and secondly my desire to be a woman never went away. In fact, the desire just became stronger the older I became. To make matters worse, the more successful I thought I had become in my parents eyes made my desire to transition to a full time transgender woman  even more complex. I had a successful job and a loving marriage at stake if I attempted any radical changes to my life. The whole process caused me to push many people away from me which resulted in having fewer and fewer close friends.

I seriously doubt if I pleased my parents. I was just stubborn enough or selfish enough in some eyes to please myself.  My parents passed on without ever having an impact on my gender issues, so they became a non factor. I was fortunate in that my most important immediate family accepted the true me and the rest who didn't just didn't matter. Plus I was able to locate a whole new set of friends who again accepted the new me without ever knowing my old male self. 

A part of me wants to think all my parents really wanted for me was to have a happy life. Which is what I hope for my daughter and grandchildren. Perhaps being a part of their so called "greatest generation" precluded me ever achieving my goal of pleasing them. Just like being transgender, the deck of life was stacked against me.  I just had to overcome it. 

A Day at the Salon

 

From the 
Jessie Hart 
Collection:
My first Salon
Visit.

My first visit to an all woman beauty salon was an unforgettable experience. It happened shortly after I transitioned into a fulltime feminine life when I decided I was transgender. At first, when I came out to her, she responded overwhelmingly positively and volunteered to take me out shopping. Seeing as how my wardrobe wasn't in too bad of a shape, I politely turned her down.

As it turned out, my birthday wasn't too far in the future and my daughter made me an offer I couldn't refuse. She asked if she could make me an appointment to her upscale hair salon for a cut and color of my hair which thankfully was reaching the length to actually do it. It became the best birthday present I ever received except when she was born. Which happened exactly a month before my birthday. So I accepted the gift not fully realizing what I was getting myself into.

As the day of my appointment approached, I rapidly became more terrified of the unknown which awaited me. I was so new to the opportunity coming up, I wondered what I would even ask for as far as a style when I arrived at the salon. It turned out I didn't have anything to worry about other than containing my fear. When I arrived, my daughter was waiting for me to guide me through the process which both embarrassed me but at the same time relived me because I had at least one friendly face to fall back on if I needed it.

I found most of my fears would unfounded because everyone, starting with the receptionist was very nice and even asked if she could help me to a glass of wine or coffee. I wanted to say, just leave me the bottle of wine but settled for a cup of coffee. As I nervously sipped my coffee my daughter arrived  and I found it was time for me to walk the "gauntlet". In other words, the salon seemed to be a huge line of stylists and chairs which reached out to the front door. In order to meet my stylist I would have to walk clear down the aisle of other women in chairs who had nothing better to do than stare at me. To say I was uneasy was an understatement. Once I was seated I began to relax and enjoy what would become one of the most unique experiences of my gender life up to that point. It turned out I had plenty of input into the color and style of my new hair. Since I had always admired red heads, I decided on a reddish streaked coloring with very little of my hair length taken off. 

Before I knew it, my hair was full of aluminum foil and my body was reacting to an overdose of estrogen in the room. Once I fully settled down, I felt I had as much of a reason as any other woman to be there.  Immediately I knew why cis women spend so much time and money on their hair in salons. It was truly a feminine reinvigorating experience. I felt bad about all the times in my male days when I didn't notice my wives' hair following their salon visits. Once I had gone through the hair pampering the first time, I couldn't wait to go back. The problem was affording it on my limited finances. In no way could I pay the bill my daughter gifted me on a regular basis. It wouldn't matter anyway because shortly I would be moving away from the area and in with Liz in Cincinnati. 

Once I settled in, it took me awhile to find another local stylist. Ironically I found her at one of my transgender-cross dresser support meetings I was going to.  The group brought in a stylist with a transgender son and I ended up making the first of many appointments. Sadly, she retired from the business not long ago and I have relied upon my wife Liz to trim my long hair. One thing for sure is, even though others continue to do a great job with my hair, nothing will ever match the wonderful first salon visit I experienced. As I said, I could have skipped a weekly dose of estrogen after going.

Why Trans People will Win

 These days as we transgender women and transgender men are under unpresented attacks from unresponsive bigoted politicians across the country, our future often seems dim. With all which is going on, what everyone against us doesn't realize is, we as individuals and as a community have been through this all before. An example would be how many of us grew up with no family support when we thought of attempting to express our authentic gender selves. We were "born" into our gender worlds with extreme problems on how to survive. As an example, I was born into a very male dominated family where any femininity on my part would have been dealt with drastically. I learned the hard way how to exist with no outlet to my gender needs. 

Equally as important was the fact I had little to no information from the world concerning others who may have felt the same way as I did. I didn't know how many ancient societies actually held transgender individuals in high esteem. Some to the point of worshiping them. In todays' western societies difference is bad and often gender is regarded as one of the most different personal differences a person can face. But face it we do and I use the "tunnel" example to explain why. Once we are able to finally take the steps to open our gender closets and explore, we are faced with looking down a long tunnel with a small light at the end. It takes all of us differing amounts of time to recognize the light at the end of the tunnel is not actually the train but actually an exciting new world.

Now we have the public knowledge and information to never go back into our gender closets. We as a transgender community are also realizing the time to put away petty differences is behind us because the bigots are coming after us. ALL of us, including cross dressers who comfortably (or not) stay hidden away in their closets. Many are now learning the chance to ever escape and live their truth may be taken away. The rejection of drag shows in states such as Tennessee could be just the start of going back to the 1950's and early 60's when merely being dressed in public as a member of the opposite sex could get you arrested. I was a pre teen during those times and remembering it happening where I lived near Dayton, Ohio. Something all cross dressers should think of. 

Another reason we will win is even though we as part of the LGBTQA community are taking the countries bigots best shot, we are becoming more organized than ever before. Even the rather conservative non political transgender-cross dresser support group I am part of came out in public against all the anti-transgender propaganda and legislation. It is very real to those of us who live in Cincinnati, Ohio just across the river from the Commonwealth of Kentucky which just over rode a veto by it's governor to pass a strict anti trans bill. 

What all the bigots don't realize is how hard we have worked and how much we have sacrificed to live as our authentic selves. We simply won't go back. The more we transgender people are out in public and into society the more people will understand what we are really about. It may take awhile but we still will win. 

Trans Reflexes

 

Cincinnati Skyline
From the Jessie Hart
Collection

Quite early during my transition I found myself needing to develop a whole new set of public reflexes to use when I was out in the world. No longer could I fall back on the tried and true old male actions I had crafted over the years to get by. Primary examples include having an interest in sports and owning muscle cars. Anything I could do to prove I was worthy of being called a male which of course, deep down, I always resisted. The benefit was I could participate in the many available male privileges such as job preference. The whole process was helpful in hiding my feminine tendencies and keeping the bullies away. 

Anytime I was faced with some sort of confrontation, I was able to "puff" myself up (since I was never really a small person) and fend off many possible disputes. It became my go to reflex which had to radically change when I began to live as my authentic feminine self. Nearly immediately I was shocked when I was naïve in thinking I would be accepted in man-centric conversations. No one cared about my amount of expertise or success at my job or my overall knowledge of the world. I quickly discovered the art of "mansplaining" and how it was an insult to all women. A prime example came when I needed to have my car towed one time and couldn't even be allowed to explain to the tow truck driver and the policeman where I lived. On the way back home in the truck, to make conversation I tried to play the dumb blond and ask questions about how the tow truck worked. It seemed to do the trick because shortly the driver started to comment about what his wife packed him for lunch. Who knows, maybe he thought I was trying to pick him up. 

Of course the biggest reflex I needed to change (and quickly) was when my personal security was threatened as a woman. Transgender or not. No longer could I rely on my size as a man to keep me out of possible danger. I went from the protector to needing the protection. I was cornered once in a hallway during a party I was attending with my second wife by a much larger man who was coming after me when he found me in a space where I couldn't escape. Luckily, my wife was there and ironically became my protector and he left me alone. I paid the price with her by hearing the lecture of being more careful. Still I didn't learn quickly. There was another night when I was stupidly walking alone between gay venues in downtown Dayton, Ohio. Two men approached me asking for money and all I had was a five dollar bill which satisfied them for the moment and I quickly left and made it to my car. From then on, I made sure I had friends walk me to my car when I went back there plus I made sure I took advantage of closer lighted parking. Security lessons learned. 

Following all of those immediate personal reflex changes, future reflex differences were easier to accommodate and learn from. As my communication skills improved, I was able to be more skilled at reading passive behavior skills from other women. Which helped me anticipate when some other woman was going to claw or knife my back. For the most part men left me alone so I didn't have to worry much about them. Which was ironic since my history with men should have given me more skills to deal with them but then again, I was mostly socializing with lesbians so I was insulated from men altogether. 

Through it all, my inner woman took her cue to live and ran with it. Seemingly, she made up for a lifetime in the closet in a few short years. It was almost as if she was waiting patiently for her time and quickly made the most of honing her reflexes quite quickly when it happened. 

  

Transgender Visibility versus Liberation

Image from Elyssa  Fahndrich
on UnSplash

 Recently I read a post from my statewide organization "Trans Ohio" which made the point Transgender Day of Visibility's  name should be changed to Day of Liberation. I thought what a great idea. Even though due to weather and mobility issues I did not attend the annual local TDOV event this past Saturday, I was there last year and several trans people are still stuck in my mind who were more liberated than just visible. 

Primarily, the one I remember the most was a young transgender girl. Probably around the age of fourteen who was there with her Mom. Seemingly she could not quite contain how proud she was to be in a safe space with many like minded individuals. I thought at the time how wonderful it must have been for her and her Mom to see all the supportive LGBTQA organizations who had set up there for the day. In the young girl's case, she was more liberated than just visible. The great thing was, she wasn't alone. There were many more in different age brackets attending too. 

The entire TDOV process took me back to the actual day when I decided to put away my male life for good and assume a feminine lifestyle. This included a personal pledge to myself to begin hormone replacement therapy to help me as much as possible femininize my exterior appearance to match my internal feelings. When I did it, I could not believe the amount of weight and stress which was lifted from my shoulders. In other words I was liberated and was coming home to an exciting and new transgender life. Not so different than the young trans girl I talked to at TDOV. From that point forward so many years ago, I started to wonder why I waited so long to do it. 

The main reason was my increasingly complex and pressurized male life kept getting into the way. Successes in my job, having a child and loving my wife all provided road blocks to me jumping off the gender transition cliff and liberating myself after living years in a dark closet. To make matters worse, once I thought I had liberated myself from my gender closet, I discovered I had only became visible in the world and the entire liberation process had a ways to go. Those were the terrifying yet exciting days of learning how to react to and communicate with the rest of the world. As this brand new person within me I thought I knew so well but didn't until I was able to liberate her. I guess you could say I was visible first and liberated second.

During the current wave of anti-LGBTQA and primarily transgender legislation from often crooked politicians it would be difficult to consider changing any of the regular annual trans events such as TDOV to Transgender Day of Liberation but it certainly does deserve a second thought.

Once I Started

 

From the Jessie Hart
Collection...The Ohio State
Student Union

I discovered quite early in life my gender identity was in flux. From the first time I felt the allure of feminine clothes to the first time I glanced at my girl self in the mirror, I knew I could never go back. In the classic feelings  of if I knew then what I knew now, I would have saved myself a ton of gender angst and unrest. Primarily I would have understood why the gender euphoria I experienced when I dressed as a girl was so fleeting. Before I knew it, I was back to my same old struggle to be everything male. I know now all of these feelings were the very beginnings of my desire to look more than like a girl. I wanted to be a girl. Long before the term was even invented I was transgender.

If I was wise enough to write down my deepest secret somewhere and hide it away, I am sure I would have told my future self to relax and enjoy the trip because in the end I would have no choice. No matter how hard he tried, my feminine self would in the end win and I would end up living full time as a transgender woman. Of course there was no possible way I could know all the twists and turns my gender journey would take me. My younger self would have known I would experience transitions in the middle of living in a major transition itself. My primary go to example is when I was living as a very serious cross dresser, I decided to transition again. This time to hormone replacement therapy and into a transgender life. There was no way my early self could predict what she was really asking for. She wanted me to uproot all the hard earned, unwanted gains I had achieved in the male world and finally realize they were all for not. Once I started I should have realized I should have fought harder to let my inner feminine self win and get on with living a better life. 

The major problem I would experience was all of the male gifts I experienced as I lived life as a guy. The biggest gift I experienced was the birth of my daughter who I love deeply to this day and she has been behind my transition since I told her tentatively years ago. I consider the whole experience as I said as the pinnacle of my life as most of the other so called accomplishments were rather shallow, such as success in my working world. 

My fondest hope I should have ever asked for was the wisdom of knowing my dominate gender was female in nature and even though trying to change it nearly killed me, I could never change who I truly was. The whole process was nearly miraculous in how a new wonderful feminine world was opened to me.  Once my she was given the chance, she quickly took over and established herself . Once I started my transition early in life it was a long project but one which was worth it in the long haul.

Transgender Survivors versus Victims

 

Image from Jen Theodore 
on Unsplash

There is a huge difference between being a survivor in life than a victim. Perhaps an over simplification of the two is a survivor takes what is given to them, lives with it and in the end result make it all better.  On the other hand, a victim becomes a martyr in their own mind and is slow to make improvements. It is very easy for a transgender woman or trans man to be a victim. After all, why were we "chosen" to live such a difficult life. Often it takes years to realize we are not victims after all. For some reason we were given the opportunity to explore two sides of the binary gender spectrum. 

By years I mean the struggle we go through to just fit into a society which seems increasingly hostile against us. I went through some of it yesterday when I was running my errands.  My first stop was at the Post Office where I stopped to mail one of Liz's (my wife) packages which contained her handmade beaded jewelry she makes. I could only describe the woman at USPS behind the counter as older and somewhat bewildered with her meeting a transgender woman probably for the first time. But, since it was the weekend of  Transgender Day of Visibility, it was a good as time as any to be exposed to the real world. In a matter of seconds I dropped off Liz's package for it's trip to California and the clerk turned her attention to her next postal patron. 

Ironically, on my way back home, I needed to stop and reward myself for all the errands I attended to. So I stopped at a coffee shop drive through for a special coffee brew. One for each of us. As I pulled up to the window at the drive through, I was waited up by a cute, tattooed obviously young queer girl who was very nice. Perhaps she noticed we were distant cousins on the LGBTQA spectrum. To keep the line moving, I quickly paid and exchanged pleasantries with her and was on my way. Looking back, she reminded me of my transgender grandchild. I left with the hope she has a bright future of life ahead of her.

So, in the matter of two stops I had seen both ends of the public gender spectrum. One bewildered older person and one friendly energetic queer person. By now you may be wondering what all this has to do with victims versus trans survivors. I learned long ago, I couldn't run and hide if I was ever able to progress in the world as my authentic feminine self. I needed to overcome all the nights of coming home crying after being laughed at or stared at in public. I think being a survivor to me was when I came to the realization if I could never be mistaken totally for a cis-woman, I could still live a life as an out fulltime transgender woman. I wish I could tell you where I came up with the strength to be a survivor rather than staying home and feeling sorry for myself. Perhaps my best trans girlfriend at the time said I passed out of sheer willpower. I believe it was because deep down I felt what I was doing was right and felt so natural. Just to be able to go out and free myself from my gender closet encouraged me to not be a victim. Perhaps for the first time in my life. 

The urge turned out to be so strong for me to live as a woman, I was able to overcome the false idea that women have an easier life than men. When in realty, the opposite happened. I learned a cis woman's life was a many layered often difficult existence and I wanted to learn more and more. As I did I became more of a survivor than I ever thought I could ever be as I lost all of my male privileges. No more could I expect to be respected because of my white older maleness and be called the hated and unwanted "Sir" word. I needed to start all over again in a feminine foreign world and prove once and for all I was a survivor versus a victim. Now we all need to be survivors to battle all the gender bigots seeking to erase us. Perhaps now more than ever before.    

It's Not All About You

During my often one sided obsessive goal to be a better transgender woman, my second wife often told me it all wasn't about me. The truth be known, it was all about me. At the time my one sided gender obsession only included her when I wanted to go out with her to dinner dressed as a woman. It was normally all good when she caved in and decided to go out with my feminine self. The problem was,

Photo Courtesy
Jessie Hart

she didn't like my woman self. I believe now it all started with my propensity to dress as what I considered in a sexy nature. To no avail, even when I attempted to dress down for her, it was never enough. It was probably because she felt I hadn't learned enough about what being a woman was all about for me to be considered worthy to be one in her eyes. Along the way she had always accepted the fact I was a cross dresser but never entertained any thoughts of me going on hormone replacement therapy and transition my exterior self to a woman. 

All along I learned and accepted it was all about me. The end result was it was my life and I was attempting to live it the best I could. It just so happened my internal problems with life centered on my gender dysphoria which could be a very visible problem to conquer in public. As I tried my best to present as a woman, I would do things such as wearing sunglasses to see if others were staring at me all the way to trying to look in a mirror at peoples reflections to see if they were looking at me. Eventually I learned it indeed wasn't all about me. The great majority of people had their lives to lead and didn't really want to include me in their lives. 

In other words, my wife was right for perhaps not all the right reasons. She of course was considering the future of a possibly fast disappearing relationship to consider. While I was considering if I could salvage the marriage at all with my gender issues weighing me down. She had to decide what the future would hold.  Since I dearly loved her the entire process was torture for me. 

By now you probably have considered the fact it all was all about me. Call it selfish or not I ended up doing what ever I could to survive. My premise all along was gender was one of the most powerful decisions we ever have to consider in our lives was proven to be correct so many times. The fact the vast majority of people don't have to worry about it at all was a benefit to them. They never had to wake up in the morning wondering what gender I would have to be that day. I would not wish the experience on anyone. 

Perhaps, most importantly I learned the hard way I finally made the right decision as far as my gender transition was concerned. When I became a full time transgender woman I became a better person. Partly because such a weight was lifted off of my shoulders. I was so tired of living a life cross dressed as a man. I say that because it turned out my dominate personality was female. A fact I knew all along but didn't have the personal courage to face. 

It was all about me.