Trans Woman at a Photo Shoot

 

Example of Liz's hand beaded work
from Liz T Designs,

This happened years ago when the world went through an all too brief softening on its views of different kinds of women. Way before the current orange felon/pedo came along trying to destroy our world.

As I remember, it all started with a few big brand beauty products moving away from the same old skinny models and began signing women who were closer to the norm for their commercials. I was encouraged when I saw new models who never looked the same and even closer to what I had achieved in my cross-dressing adventures.

At that time, our native Cincinnati had just opened its second huge crafters mall in an old shoe factory. It featured everything from artists painting to blacksmiths working their metal. So, you can tell, perhaps crafters was not the right word to use for these serious working people. It just so happens; my wife Liz is a very talented crafter of her own right. She went to art school, and she works on everything from painting to hand-beaded work to knitted clothing items which she sells online. She was very interested in everything which was going on in the mall and we stopped in many of the shoppes.

One of the unique stops we made was at a handmade book shop. Liz had been wanting to try her hand at trying to make her own journals, so she struck up a conversation with the owner as I browsed. It turned out the owner and crafter was interested in me too and was very nice to me. She also had a book to sign for any interested followers. We signed up and I thought that would be the end of it, but it wasn’t.

To my surprise, a couple of weeks later I received an email from the owner asking me if I would be interested in participating in a photo shoot, she and a photographer she knew were putting together a book project which featured women from different backgrounds to submit to an exhibition in Chicago. After the initial surprise and shock subsided that they had thought of me after such a brief meeting, I jumped at the opportunity. Even though the idea scared me to death. I just could not turn down the chance to have a professional photographer take my picture. Such a long way from using my old cellphone in a mirror.

Before I knew it, my appointment time had arrived and it was time to hitch up my big girl’s panties and head to the photographer’s studio, also in the big mall, so I knew how to get there. Once there, I was dressed in the requested neutral black sweater and ready for my leap into the great unknown. One of my first questions involved my makeup and was assured I looked fine, and I sat back and let the photographer do her work. My immediate reaction to everything was my ego enjoyed being the center of everything around me and outside of an old Glamour Shot appointment years before (remember them?), the only time this would happen for me in my life.

Then I had to sit back and wait for the next part of the process, when the book was actually published and sent to Chicago. I just hoped I could represent the Cincinnati transgender community well. Finally, the news came back that the book did not win the competition but there would be an official party for it to come up at one of Cincinnati’s smaller museums. As one of the models, I was invited. Of course I had to go, but what would I wear to a book unveiling party? To be honest, I don’t remember what I wore after going through my closet. I did not want to be too formal but look nice at the same time, and I think I achieved my goal.

For the first time, I was able to see the book put together and of course I was not satisfied with how I looked. Being the perfectionist I never was, I thought the photographer could have done a better job at lighting my face to de-emphasize my jawline. But she didn’t. As far as the other women in the book, there were a wide range of choices they made including women of color and heavy-set women away from the usual beauty stereotypes cisgender women must deal with.

Sadly, I don’t know whatever happened to the pictures I received from the photo shoot, so I can’t show them to you. All I have are the memories of being singled out in a positive way because I am transgender and the once in a lifetime chance to do a photo shoot because I was.

 

 

Painting a Picture

 

Image from Vinicus Amix
Amano on UnSplash.

During my life, I have never been accused of being an artist. In fact, I would mess up drawing stick figures.

The best thing I could do was connect dots. Which I needed to do quite often in my gender conflicted life. Basically, the main dots I needed to connect were, was I a boy or a girl. It ended up taking me far too long to finally connect those dots and attempt to draw my gender picture.

When I began to experiment with makeup, I learned the basics of facial artwork and even I could make myself look better in the mirror. Mainly, though, I struggled along until I summoned the courage to request a makeover from a professional makeup person at one of the transgender-cross dresser mixers I went to. He did a miracle job and transformed me into a woman who I only had dreamed of. Most importantly, he was able to explain to me what he was doing in a step-by-step format that even I could understand. I looked so good, I was invited along by the “A” listers, as I called them when they went out to explore other venues after the mixer was over. I even got the last laugh over all of them when a man tried to pick me up in a venue we were in, and they were not.

Sadly, the success I felt from the mixer did not last long when I had to go back to the real world, I was a part of. When I did, I became mean and nasty to my wife and others around me. All the way to almost losing jobs because of my attitude. No way to paint a picture. Somehow, I needed to get better before I self-destructed my life.

I hung on until I did get better when I had the chance to leave my closet more than once a year for Halloween parties. I was aided by the fact that my artwork with makeup and clothes continued to improve until I looked better than some sort of a circus clown in drag. I simply had to if I was ever going to have the chance to live my dream. Through it all, it did occur to me how difficult the process was going to be. I was painting two pictures at the same time, one as a transfeminine woman. One as a successful man. The stress of doing so nearly killed me. Being a man was easier because of all the white male privileges I had gained but being a transfeminine woman felt so exciting and natural when I painted her.

By the time I had gotten this far, I found I had painted myself in a corner. I could see the finish line for a change, while at the same time, I had a wife I loved, a family I loved and a good job to protect as a man. Decisions, decisions were wearing me down. Primarily because it was so frustrating to me to have worked so hard throughout my life to paint two pictures, only to have to finally choose between the two. What I did was let the public choose which picture they preferred. Since my transgender woman had an unfair advantage, she won the contest easily. She got to start all over again and learn from all the mistakes her male counterpart made and go from there. Time and time again, the public picked her.

Putting the finishing touches on my feminine portrait proved to be easier said than done. First, I needed to come out of my closet to what was left of my blood family. I received a 50/50 reception when I was accepted by my daughter and rejected by my brother. By this time both of my parents were deceased. Predictably, both coming out events were scary and quickly resolved. My daughter wondered why she was the last to know while my brother did not have the courage to stand up for me to the rest of his extended family. We have not spoken now in over a decade. Sad but true, he never wanted to see my finished portrait. Conversely, my daughter and I are closer than ever.

But then again, are our portraits ever finished until we die. Shouldn’t we always be making small upgrades the best we can? Plus, age should put us in a better position to do it. Sure, painting two completely different gender portraits at the same time was difficult and at times required tons of skill to keep one hidden. But somehow, I was able to gain the artistic skill to make it happen.

The powerful draw of an overwhelming dream was all the motivation I needed to become a better artist and provide the background I needed to live a life as a transgender woman.

Warhol Revisited

Actress Candy Darling 

Years ago, I joined several transgender friends for a short drive to The Ohio State University for an exhibit they were hosting on the works of  Andy Warhol. 

To begin with I made the decision to not wear heels like most of the other friends I went with.  Since I had some sort of an idea of where the exhibit would be on the spacious Ohio State campus the decision saved me quite a bit of pain. While my friends were crippled, I was comfortable in my flats. Probably, most importantly, I was able to enjoy most all of Warhol's varied works I saw, not just his transgender followers.  

Such as, at the time, we knew of the connections between transgender women and Warhol. Specifically the beautiful trans actress "Candy Darling" who tragically died at the age of thirty from lymphoma in New York City. Not being totally into the Warhol at the time, I really had no idea of everything the artist was into. The exhibit was massive and quickly a few of my friends seemed to be getting bored. So much, to my chagrin one of the trans women flashed the world on an escalator between floors when I was immediately behind her. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice her obscene act and no harm was done. From then on, I kept my distance since the exhibit's audience included many kids. As far as the public was concerned, they were not paying us any attention and I wanted to keep it that way.

From then on my bored trans friends decided upon leaving Warhol behind and going to a nearby gay venue. Following my experience with one of the women at the exhibit, I wondered how she would act following a couple of drinks so I did my best to again distance myself from her at the bar. Plus, I knew from my experiences in male gay venues, most of the other clientele would not be interested in her and her new genitals anyhow. 

From then on, since we had nearly a forty five minute drive home from Ohio State, we didn't stay too long and headed for home.

Far from being any sort of an art critic at all, I was surprised how interested I was in the entire collection of Warhol's work. As far as the rest of the transgender women I went with, I never saw a couple of them again and just stayed in contact with Racquel who I mention here fairly often. I always respected her for her trans journey to living an authentic life. 

If I had the chance, I would revisit Warhol again and I am sure my wife Liz would also. She is much more an appreciator of the arts than I am. Sadly today, with my mobility issues, I would struggle to enjoy his work again.