Transgender Truth

Image from Ava Sol
on UnSplash

Often as a transgender woman or trans man, we have a hard time find finding out our personal truths. 

Our truths can be hidden behind a maze of society issues which we have to work our way through. In other words, is what we are thinking a real truth or something acting like one. Did I really want to be a girl or just temporally look like one? I struggled to figure it all out. 

Worse yet, was the fact I needed to hide my emerging truth from the world. How was I ever going to discover if my gender life as a guy was indeed a lie unless I was able to take on the world as my own sense of femininity. Was it all an act or was it real, who knew? Little did I know, I was embarking on a lifetime trip to determine how true my gender issues were. As I went along, hiding became less and less of an alternative because I was finding out how natural I felt when I was playing in the girl's sandbox. All the bastions of sacred femininity were suddenly opening to me in the forms of being invited to girl's night's out and earning my way into having women's rest room privileges. 

When I did, the pressure started to mount to live my life more and more as a transgender woman. Every time I had to interact with the world as a man, I felt as if I was somehow an impostor and I was just going through the motions. Plus, my obligations to spouse, family, friends and work started to weigh heavily on my mental health. I did my best to enlist the aid of a qualified gender therapist to help me. There were very few of the therapists in those days who knew anything at all about gender issues, so mine was hard to find. Looking back, I think I saw her advertisement in an issue of "Transvestia" Magazine. When she saw me after a couple of appointments, she told me her truth which I did not listen to. She said, there was nothing she could do with me wanting to be a woman and somehow I would have to learn to live with it or accept it. Like I said, I ignored her advice and continued to ignore my basic truth.

Speaking of truth, currently, I am writing a book gift which was given to me on Mother's Day this year by my daughter. It is a year long project designed to answer questions from my family. The book will be given  to me after I am done and then passed on so others can understand my life and truths after I am gone. One of the questions from my trans grandchild is what has been the most ill-advised thing you (me) has ever done and I think ignoring my therapist's advice may have to be up around the top. Had I listened to her and told my second wife the truth, I would have saved myself so much turmoil over the years and I would have faced my truth. How bad could have it have been. I would have had to find other employment and new friends but rebuilding my life then could have been easier. 

I was stubborn and held on to my idea I ever was male for way too long and it cost me years of alcohol abuse and mental health problems. I was so fortunate I found and was accepted by women who I admired so much who embraced my idea of what an ideal woman would act like. Ironically, the evil TERF's were few and far between. I was allowed to flourish as I learned so much from the women around me who accepted me for what I was for the first time in my life. 

My truth was finally evident to me. I had never been meant to live a male existence and I just wish I had faced my transgender truth earlier than the age of sixty. Sixty is when I gave in and gave up any hope of ever living as a male again. In addition, I am so proud of my college aged transgender grand child for coming out so early in her life. Hopefully, my existence helped hers.

Gender Boxes

Image from the Jessie
Hart Archives.

When I was very young, my parents did what so many others do. They constructed a gender box and forced me into it.

As I grew up, I had no choice. I was a boy and was expected to do boy things. Even to the point of receiving gifts on Christmas I did not really want. My primary example came one year when I secretly wanted a doll or kitchen set and I received a BB Gun instead. I was the opposite from the "Ralphie" character in the "Christmas Story" movie. For you that don't know, Ralphie wanted a BB Gun in the movie in the worst way.

 As I grew and began to gain confidence in cross dressing as a girl, my gender box became smaller and smaller.  On most days, it was a struggle to just exist in the world as I knew it. The worst part about it was I never had a choice. It was like I was a round peg being driven into a square hole and being told to like it. I didn't like it and my struggles led to a worsening of my gender dysphoria and mental health. Perhaps the worst part about my situation in those days was I had no one to talk to about it and knew no one with similar gender issues. I was so alone in my little gender box.

As I struggled forward in life, I discovered there were others who were in their own gender boxes and struggling with similar problems also. I like to refer to those days as my "Virginia Prince" and "Transvestia Magazine" days. First I could not believe there were so many other cross dressers in the world and they even had a regular publication I could subscribe to. Looking back, I think "Transvestia" came every two months and I could not wait until I received my new issue. Just reading and gazing at all the other pretty transvestites in the issue made living in my box a bit more bearable. Especially when I learned there were regular "socials or mixers" being held in a location I could actually drive to. I was dazzled when I went to my first mixer and saw all the different people who attended. All the way from weekend cross dressers to transsexuals' heading for gender surgeries. 

Even seeing all those different people in their own little boxes did not help me with mine. Deep down I knew I still didn't fit in with most of the cross dressers I met because I was way more serious and certainly not with the transsexuals because I wasn't serious enough. So I remained in my little box, mainly trapped until the transgender term made it's way into the mainstream consciousness in Ohio. Once I heard or saw transgender, I knew it described me better than anything I had ever seen. Finally, I could take a big marker and write proudly transgender on my box.

From there, it was a matter of connecting the dots and removing the box altogether from my existence. Of course, learning to live a new life as a new gender was a major process and not one which was to be taken lightly. To make matters worse, sometimes I tried to jump into new gender boxes and missed my step and had to retreat to try again. Even still, life had taught me by this time, nothing was going to be easy when it came to escaping being pounded into the square hole I was in but when I did, I could be happy. 

I was fortunate in that I lived long enough to escape my gender box and enjoy a new world as a transgender woman free from many worries I used to have. The process was difficult but worth it.  

Intersections

 

Image Courtesy Transvestia Magazine

Over the years, I have realized I have experienced several important intersections in my gender development. 

Perhaps my first intersection came when I initially glimpsed my image as a girl in a full length hallway mirror I had at home when I was growing up. I was enamored and immediately wanted to do more. I was hooked to the point where I knew I wanted to do more than just look like a girl, I wanted to be one. Which turned out to be the first indication I had I was more than a cross-dresser, I was transgender. A key intersection into my future.

As I grew up, I faced the same problems other gender dysphoric youth faced too. Our gender closets were very dark and lonely. Particularly in the pre-internet and social media era. Many of you remember when Virginia Prince and her Transvestia publication intersected our lives and we discovered we weren't alone in the world. For me it was a life changing experience when I began to regularly receive my bi-monthly issue of the publication. Of course I wanted desperately to look as good as the models I saw in Transvestia. 

The next major intersection of my gender life came when I started to attend transvestite mixers I read about. Finally, I could meet like minded cross dressers and see what they were up to. What I discovered was a multi layered group of people who were much more diverse than the run of the mill cross-dresser.  I was very enamored with the group I called the "A" listers. Most of them were impossibly feminine and headed towards gender realignment surgeries but others weren't and even brought their girlfriends or spouses. Deep down, I knew where my intersection needed to be, I wanted to hang out with the  "A's" . Just not share their often arrogant attitudes. Even still, I felt I still didn't fit in with either of the groups. I wanted more than just looking like a woman or going under the surgical knife to somehow prove I was a woman. 

Even though I have been able to maintain my attitudes concerning gender surgeries to this day, none of it applied to the decision I needed to make when I approached the choice of undertaking hormone replacement therapy. Again the intersection of my gender life took over and I went to a doctor to be checked out and approved for my hormones. Finally I was on the external and internal gender path I wanted to be on. Externally I was feminized to help me get by in the world as a transgender woman and surprisingly there were many internal changes also. I intersected with my deep seated feminine self and suddenly I was able to feel the world in ways I never thought possible. 

Excepting gender surgeries I never had, I was intersecting with the world as my authentic self in ways I never thought possible. My days living in the mirror and wishing I was a girl were coming true. 

Secure Beginnings

 

1966 Transvestia Cartoon

This morning I read a post by a transgender man I follow on another writing format. 

The number one fact I took away from his post was how accepting his grandparent was when he was growing up. In fact, the grandparent took him to get his hair cut and purchased him clothes to match his authentic gender. After I read the post I responded by saying how good it must have been to have a supporting person in their life. 

Sadly, I was never able to take advantage of having anyone even knowing about or having any inkling about my gender issues. I knew without any shadow of a doubt, I was expected to be a boy in all aspects of my life. My parents were of the "Greatest Generation" which was the WWII and Great Depression generation. As a child growing up in the 50's, I was expected to fit neatly into a square male hole and survive the best I could. in a world I did not embrace.

The entire experience of being totally alone in the world as a boy who wanted to be a girl led me quickly to extreme cases of gender dysphoria. It wasn't until many years later when I learned of Virginia Prince and her "Transvestia" publication did I discover there actually other transvestites as they called themselves back then. Thinking back, I am fairly sure the publication was mailed out every two months and I couldn't wait until the next one arrived. Thanks to "Transvestia", I was able to learn about actual mixers which were close enough for me to go meet  other cross dressers or transvestites. As I began to see others in those mixers up close and personal, I learned how many levels of difference there were in a community which I imagined to be so similar. For example, the idea of the mixer being for only heterosexual transvestites only was quickly dispelled when too many of the participants disappeared behind  their hotel room doors too quickly.

Ironically, through it all, I still didn't feel as if I had found any sort of a home with others who supposedly were supposed to feel similar to me. Looking back, I think it was because the concept of being transgender had not been widely publicized at the time. I knew I did not belong with the cross dressers trying to deny their male selves or the transsexuals in the group considering radical gender realignment surgery. In those days, anyone who went down the surgical path was recommended to move away and begin a totally new life. As severe as my gender dysphoria was at the time. I couldn't imagine myself doing all of that.

It took awhile but I eventually stopped blaming my parents for ignoring my gender issues. Part of it was my fault for never attempting to tell them what was really bothering me, so I took the traditional male approach and just bottled it all up. I hid it all so well until the night after I returned home from the Army. I came home late from drinking my share of beer and found my Mom waiting up for me. We started to talk and along the way, I tried to come out to her. She followed her instincts and offered to pay for mental health counselling and I followed mine and never brought it up to her again. She has long since passed away so the best I could do to honor her anyhow was to change my new legal middle name to hers nearly five years ago. 

I needed to realize the "Greatest Generation" was good at providing and not so good at emotional support,  at least in my family. Once I accepted the facts of my upbringing, I really needed to work hard to not repeat the cycle of my upbringing. Once I began to feel secure in my transgender life, I was able to  do it.    

Growing up Dysphoric

I may be biased but I can't think of anything worse than growing up with a massive case of gender dysphoria. Of course the problem was compounded by growing up in the pre-internet, pre social media era. Unless you were fortunate enough to discover and subscribe to Virginia Princes' Transvestia magazine, you were basically cut off from the rest of the gender dysphoric world. In other words, the dark ages of locating any gender support at all. Dark times indeed for those of us stuck in our closets wondering if we were the only one anywhere who wanted to express themselves as the other binary gender.

Through it all, I felt I wouldn't wish my gender dysphoric impulses on anyone. There were so many times in my life I wished I could go back to being a man full time. After all I had spent so much time and effort to survive as something I wasn't, it seemed so unfair I couldn't enjoy any of the fun aspects of being a man. As time went on, the more time I tried existing as a man I was suffering from a severe case of impostor syndrome. The more time I spent discovering my authentic feminine self, the more natural and detached I felt from the masculine self I had tried so hard to become a part of. Try as I might I just couldn't feel natural around a group of men doing stereotypical men things.

I tried along the way to live with a foot in each of the binary genders or how I could exist and live equal time as a man and a woman. Naturally it didn't work as I encountered all sorts of problems remembering which gender I was operating as. Plus another problem arose when I began to feel much more natural as a woman, which led to me having an extra amount of resentment towards having to try to be a man at all. To make a long story short the whole ugly process led me to attempt a self harm attempt (suicide). It obviously wasn't successful and ultimately forced me down the path of least resistance...a path to being a full time transgender woman.

Even though I eventually reached my feminine dream I still have to live with the scars of growing up with gender dysphoria. I still wake up every morning seeking the reassurance of having my own long hair and breasts. Every little bit helps to remind me I am finally living my dream. Even still, I still wonder what it would have been like to grow up as a guy who didn't want to become a woman. 

It will be a secret I won't know until I make the final transition to the other side. Maybe then I will find out why I was chosen to learn how both genders live and exist. Maybe I was blessed or cursed.    

Are There More Trans People?

Sometimes it seems to me there are more transgender women and men these days.

I back up my theory with two reasons. The first is due to the impact of social media and the internet. I still am amazed about the amount of material I run into as I research possible blog topics. Of course, at my age, I go way back to the days of Virginia Prince and her Transvestia Magazine being nearly the only sources of information for novice transvestites. Now of course, there are nearly too many outlets to mention where you can find information on trans people, 

Janet Mock

As an example, I just Googled "transgender" and received 173 million results. One of which one of the top trans activists Janet Mock. Indeed we have come along way!

Another example I can use is Angela Ponce who we featured a couple days ago here in Cyrsti's Condo.  She competed in Miss Universe in 2018 as Miss Spain. I can only imagine some of the feminine back stabbing going on behind the scenes with such a gorgeous contestant competing who was also transgender.

My second reason is an extension of the first. Overall, we are so much more visible because we all have a better idea we are not alone. Plus, as we have pointed out in the blog, it is increasingly easier to carve yourself out a place in the world.

So, there are probably not more transgender people in the world. Just more who are visibly finding their way.  No longer do we have to worry about transitioning and disappearing.

None of this though takes anything away from how difficult a gender transition can be. Let's not forget how gender dysphoria can tear away at a soul and how the whole process of learning another gender can tear relationships (family) and employment apart. 

Maybe, just maybe, if there are more trans people, they can have a chance to be happier.

Welcome to Hell

As I continue my Cyrsti's Condo post from yesterday, the best place to pick up the story is when I was honorably discharged from the Army. All of the sudden I had this incredible sense of freedom.

As in all freedom's though, this one carried a price. It all started with the naive notion I could continue to come out to others as a transvestite (the common term for a cross dresser) in the mid 1970's. As I have written about several times, I was soundly rejected by my Mom and from there mostly headed back into my closet.

By "mostly" I meant, only my wife really knew anything about my cross dressing desires except for a few Halloween adventures when perhaps I looked a little too accomplished as a woman in front of a few of my friends. Amazingly though my normal macho exterior I worked so hard for carried the day.

As you can probably guess, the yearly Halloween adventure and dressing up at home behind closed doors wasn't nearly enough. The formula was fairly simple. The more I cross dressed the better I became at it and then I felt more and more natural which led to more gender confusion.

Virginia Prince 1940

About that time I learned of Virginia Prince and her Transvestia Magazine. I quickly learned I was not alone and I felt it was time to meet others like me. I also found there were mixers going on within driving distance of me.

As I attended the mixers, I learned quickly there were layers of different people. All the way from the cross dressers who were desperately trying to hold on to their masculinity by smoking big cigars in drag all the way to impossibly feminine figures.  This created yet another quandary for me. Where did I fit in?

I was far removed from most of the macho cross dressers but was curiously attracted to the fabulous feminine creatures. Of course at that time (and in many instances still do) I ended up in a middle niche I carved out for myself.

The problem this all created for me was it caused me more extreme gender dysphoria pressure. My answer was increasing my alcohol consumption, getting a divorce, losing a business and moving from Ohio to the New York City area. In other words, I was out of control...sort of. Out of the chaos came another marriage to a woman who knew of my cross dressing desires and who I was destined to be married to for twenty five years. She passed away quite unexpectedly from a heart attack at the age of 50.

The problem with all of this was, slowly I was coming to grips with the fact I was probably more of a new term I was learning more about. Could it be I was transgender? 

Being transgender meant all kinds of potential problems and changes.

The pressure became so intense it led me to try to commit suicide.

More on that in my next post.

Transgender History

J.M. Ellison 

One of the pleasant surprises this weekend at the Trans Ohio Symposium was the interest in transgender history. I guess rarely do I think of myself as a person who matters as an interesting link to our community's transgender past.

J. M. Ellison was the keynote speaker on Saturday. As I mentioned in a previous post, their presentation leaned heavily on transgender history. All of a sudden I was reliving my days of trying to follow the exploits of  Virginia Prince and her Transvestia Magazine.

The more I heard, the more I started to remember the Pre Stonewall Days when men could be arrested for simply dressing like women in public.  Remembering back, I had to have heard or read about the arrests during my pre teen years in the 1950's/early 60's primarily in Dayton, Ohio.

Of course, this was all before Al Gore invented the internet and any news concerning being a transvestite was extremely difficult to find.

As we (J.M. Ellison and I) spoke later, I went into my memories of my resultant Tri Ess mixers in Cleveland and Columbus, Ohio. My earliest days (Late 1970's) of finally meeting others of like gender persuasions. To my knowledge Tri-Ess is still in existence today. One of my earliest learning experiences had to do with the "layers" of "cross dressers" I encountered. All the way from men in dresses smoking big cigars and wearing cowboy hats to ultra impossibly feminine creatures who I couldn't believe were ever male at all. Even back then, I had a difficult time figuring out where I belonged in this setting. These were the years before the transgender label was even used at all. One way or another though, I was always able to go when I could and learn more about my gender conflicted self each time.

Back tracking a bit to J.M. Ellison's interview with me, one of the more intriguing questions they asked me was...was I a feminist?

A question we will discuss in another Cyrsti's Condo blog post which involves us all!

Alone on an Island

On the rare occasions anymore when I get the question on how it is to be transgender, I reply, it used to be like being alone on an island.

Back in the day, in the pre internet dark ages, it was really the case. I know I felt so alone. I just had to be the only boy ever who wanted to cross dress and be a girl. Slowly but surely though, I found out other boys wanted to be Shirley too. When I discovered Virginia Prince (right) and the term transvestite.

One of the first "facts" I discovered was most transvestites were not gay. Much to my relief at the time. Little did I know, I was just not having sexuality issues, just gender ones.

At any rate, as soon as I could... when I got out of the Army, I paid for a subscription to "Transvestia Magazine." From the magazine I learned of an actual chapter within driving distance of me in Cleveland, Ohio. From there, I set out to actually meet other inhabitants of my island which I discovered wasn't so uninhabited after all. Plus I learned not all were so called heterosexuals either.

From the group in the days before transgender was even a popular term, I discovered there was a real cross section of inhabitants on my island. I met everyone from cross dressing bitches to guys in dresses smoking cigars. But most intriguing to me were the very few participants who just seemed so feminine and natural. It seemed, they had found their true calling in life as women. I often wondered at the time if I could (or would) ever be able to explore such a path.

The more I did explore, the more I found my little island wasn't so little anymore, and was full of very interesting critters.

Along the way, the search led me to more than a few twists and turns. Plus life turned out to be exceedingly difficult at times, but never boring. I came to like my island!