A New Day

 

JJ Hart, Dining Out. 

This post is a little shorter than the recent ones I have posted but no less important and it involves last night's trip to a restaurant venue we always go to.

It seems, every day is always a new day for me. Last night, my wife Liz met her son for dinner at our favorite restaurant where we dine approximately every other week.

As luck would have it, since the venue is large, we have had the same server several times before. About three visits ago, I wore my new Margaritaville T-shirt I bought during our winter trip to the Florida Keys. Even though I thought it was appropriate to drink a Margarita when our regular server promptly called me the dreaded “sir” word. Sadly, my Jimmy Buffett Margaritaville shirt was not feminine enough for me to pass the gender test. So, I needed to relegate it to just wearing around the house. I was sad.

Last night was different. I wore one of my most feminine lace trimmed tops and our regular server seemed a little gender confused but did not call me “sir” and I was satisfied. Also, one of my favorite things about the venue is I never had any problems with being mis-gendered by anyone. I could just relax and be myself. It was one of the first venues where I could sit and ponder the old days when I struggled to exist as a transgender woman at all. I was revitalized every time I went. Which made it a new day.

In many ways the process taught me how far I have come in living my gender dream, but in so many ways can not give up or relax the process. Even though I don’t wear a lot of makeup, I need to make sure I wear the basics every time I face the public. No pun intended. The moment I let my guard down; I could be reverted to the “sir” word I worked so hard to put behind me.

In many ways, when I transitioned from a cross dresser to full time transgender woman, I knew every day would have to be the new normal for me. There would be no more planning ahead three days or so for the special days when I could face the public as a transfeminine woman. I would be doing it every day. I went into a major wardrobe expansion mode. Just to keep up being in a new gender world. As soon as I dropped my guard at all, I would risk slipping back into the world I waited so long and worked so hard to get out of. Fortunately, I was very paranoid about doing it and I was able to translate my fear into positive feelings about what I was trying to do.

There were many steps backwards on my journey to discover how uplifting and pleasurable my life could be at the age of sixty when I seriously began my transition. The longer I was able to live this new life, every day turned out to be exciting and I was less vulnerable to outside threats to going back to my ingrained old male life. Eventually, life took care of itself as I found new friends and part of my family accepted me. I was able to live long enough and escape the self-destructive behavior I exhibited. Life was just a huge circle, and I was on the slippery side of the circle. I could risk everything to selfishly live my life and make everyday a new one. Or stay the same and wither away.

Naturally, making every day a new day was a challenge. Waking up every day addressing a new life was all I asked for and all I ultimately received. It was who I really was and proved to be a wonderful overall experience of gender transition.

The Clash of Gender Ego's

 

Image from Sherest Gupta
on UnSplash. 

Through most of my long life, I needed to deal with the clash of egos, doing battle for my existence.

On one side, I had my well-worn and battle tested male ego who was doing his best to make it in a world where he did not want to be. On the other, I had my deeply hidden feminine side who only made her appearance in front of the mirror and then went back into hiding. In other words, my male ego attempted to dominate while at the same time, my female ego was hiding, just exactly where she did not want to be.

For the longest time, to make matters worse, I did not think women had much of an ego at all. Except maybe with their appearance. As I made my way through life, I discovered how wrong I was. On several levels, As I always warn about, my male ego dictated how I dressed early in my life when I was going out in public. I fell in love with several compliments I received about my legs when I went to Halloween parties and made sure I showed them off to the extreme when I was going out for the first time. The idea was all well and good except I was doing nothing to overcome my broad shoulders and torso. I had no fashion balance, and it showed with the number of times I was made fun of in public. My male ego had failed me. I was dressing to his tastes and was failing.

It took years to do, but my female ego finally took control and slowly but surely, I began to blend in with the other women around me. For a moment, I even thought my clash of egos was over, but I was completely wrong. My male ego was very stubborn and still thought he had some sort of control over my life. He refused to believe he had lost all his male privileges and nearly got us in trouble several times before he learned the hard way what problems could exist.

One of the biggest issues was the idea of my sexuality and how it would or would not change with my new transgender life. Of course, Mr. Macho recoiled at any thought of intimacy with a man, but Ms. Self wasn’t so sure. Like many women, she had a spectrum of ideas about sex which were not so rigid and paranoid. In fact, I made a concerted effort to date a few men to see what (if any) excitement would happen. It just so happened women turned out to be much more interested in me as a trans woman, my choice was easy to make. For once, my male ego won. For the wrong reason.

One of the earliest instances I can remember of a lesbian woman approaching me happened one night at a mixer/party I went to at a friend’s house in Columbus, Ohio. At the mixer, I ended up approaching another woman and having a brief conversation before we decided to leave for a while and go to a big lesbian club to mingle even farther. We ended up having a good time that night, but since I still had a wife to go home to, I could not stay long enough but visiting with another ciswoman who happened to be a lesbian was a wonderful experience and would set the path for my future. Although, I did not know it at the time, primarily because my male and female egos were still clashing.

By now, you may be asking the question, who was winning the struggle? My woman was, even though my male self would win every now and then, it was as if he would take one step forward and two steps back. On the occasions when my second wife would catch me coming back from a night on the town, he would jump forward into purge mode. Vowing to never wear any female clothes ever again. All the time knowing there was no way possible he could ever keep his promise. I had crossed too many lines in my gender sand to go back, and the fact was becoming increasingly evident to him and my wife, there was nothing they could do. They were waiting for me to face my own reality.

Solving my final gender issue was easier said than done. My male self was hanging on for dear life until the very end, and he nearly pulled all of us down in the process until therapy and suicide came into play. Finally, I needed to pick a winner in my gender ego clash, and I was wise and picked the only way I could go. I put my old male self completely aside and begin to live a transfeminine life I had only dreamed of. I wondered why I did not pick the winning side years ago and live my truth.

 

 

Riding the Gender Merry go Round

 

Image from Stanley Kustamen 
on UnSplash. 

Catching the gender merry go round when it was in mid-spin was never easy. As I always point out, I had no workbook on how to achieve my feminine desires that were available to me.

I often wondered what magical experiences were available to the girls around me but were off limits to me. What did the girls really learn about being feminine from each other? Was makeup one of them? I was jealous because I had none of the early basics of applying makeup. The closest I came when I was painting the model cars I had. I never was very good at skillfully painting cars, so I wondered how I would ever be good at painting myself. Enamored, I remember watching my mom apply her makeup as I looked for any small hints I could follow but I never seemed to learn.

Of course, there was much more to jumping on a spinning merry go round than just skillfully applying makeup. There were clothes to worry about too, and how could I afford them on the very limited budget I was on. I resorted to taking any small jobs I could as a kid to augment the meager allowance I received at home. In fact, my major source of income was a neighborhood newspaper route I took on. When I added all my funds up, I usually had enough money to buy my own makeup, panty hose and other rare items such as a pair of shoes I was lucky to find.

Once I was able to be confident in my ability to jump on the merry go round, then I needed to worry about hanging on. In the early days of my public explorations, I was having a very difficult time presenting well at all and I often was laughed at by others on the merry go round until I began to learn what I was doing wrong, and I could fill out my feminizing presentation workbook. It was a win for me when I could quit using crayons on my face and use them to color my workbook, I was less and less a clown in drag, and more and more an androgynous person for the public to judge my gender. For once, I could rightfully claim my seat along others on the merry go round because I had earned my spot as much as they did.

After a while, the spinning became too much for me and challenged my fragile mental health. The biggest problem I had was my refusal to face myself and my innermost truth. I was never a man cross dressing as a woman; I was a woman cross dressing as a man my entire life. The basic thought of who I really was consumed all my spare thinking. I am amazed now how much I still accomplished in my life as I suffered my mental duress. At times, it seemed my merry go round was spinning completely out of control. Plus, at the same time, I kept accumulating extra male lifetime baggage I did not really want. Sadly, the life I was living kept me from making very many close friends because I just thought I was knowing them under some sort of false pretense. I wasn’t the man they saw before them; I was a fake. Which I hated and added to my problems.

I finally came to the point where I needed to either slow down my merry go round or get off altogether. I just couldn't take it any longer. I certainly was not getting any prizes for putting myself through the anguish of staying on. I had given my ride the best shot I could, and I needed to grow in my transgender womanhood. I had tried my best to outrun and out drink my gender issues, and it was time to face the reality of who I was.

When my merry go round glided to a stop and I was able to look ahead to the new life I was about to enter. I was excited to see and live my feminine reality. I had filled out my workbook and paid my dues and was ready to go. The next time I was at an amusement park I could really enjoy the experience as a transgender woman. If anyone in the world did not like it or approve of me, I didn’t care. I had spent a major portion of my life thinking I was in the wrong. When in fact, the bigots were the ones in the wrong and they were the riders who needed to get off the merry go round first.

Gender Selfishness

 

JJ Hart, Key Largo, Florida.

Often as I discovered my transgender womanhood, I felt extremely selfish. Who was I to sacrifice my male life with others just to cross dress in the mirror for me.

At the time, I regarded myself as a clown in drag and ugly in every way possible. With those thoughts, how could I even think I could succeed of my dream of living as a woman someday. To have any success at all, I needed to be selfish and forge a one-way path to feminize myself.  

Defining selfishness was a problem also. I went from thinking I was merely in a phase, all the way to finally realizing I was a full-fledged transgender woman. Along with all the responsibilities of living a new life. I needed to face the reality of knowing every step I took would be different and others close to me would have to come along for the ride. Or be left behind. Mainly, I am referring to my second wife, who for several reasons drew the line at helping me femininize myself. The number one reason was one I had to totally agree with, which was she did not want to live with another woman and specifically one she did not like.

Through it all, I tried to discover why she did not like me. Since she has long since passed away, I can’t ask her for an honest answer. My best guess is she did not the amount of makeup I wore and the wardrobe I had acquired. Plus, she especially hated the idea of me leaving the house cross dressed as a woman anytime she was not around. Essentially, I was cheating on her with myself. I was the other woman. Naturally, I was torn too, as I just could not stop exploring the new world, I was excited to find myself in. All my efforts just put me in the cross hairs of my mental health. I was selfish and put myself in risk of losing a marriage of twenty-five years and give up the chance of living my dream of living as a woman. These days I make no secret of trying to take my own life with an ill-advised suicide attempt. I thought there was only one person who could truly help me, and I had burned that bridge with her. So, I was trapped.

Fortunately, with the help of a good therapist, I found my way out of the darkness I was in, and she helped me to understand the gender situation I was in. I started to take it for granted I was selfish, but I had to be to save myself and my mental health. At that point, I knew I would not have wished the period of life I just had went through on my worst enemy. My dark closet was even becoming darker even though I was beginning to explore the world as a woman. Transgender, or not because often gender borders were blurred. To focus on it, I needed to be more and more selfish in my life and every spare moment and thought had to be involved in feminization.

By this time in my life, my biggest hurdle was overcoming the loss of my second wife. Sure, she resisted losing me to another woman, but I still loved her dearly, and we did have many good times together. What happened was my long ignored inner female stepped in and immediately took over. She exposed us to many new social interactions to see what would happen and if when we conquered it, we immediately moved on to often more delicate social situations. She was really into testing me to learn how serious I was about the transition I was considering.

One of the main tests was when we decided to seek out gender affirming hormones. To do it back in those pre–Veterans Administration days, I needed to find a doctor to approve me. It was not given since I was nearly sixty at the time and had to have a health exam before I was given permission. I was approved for a minimum dose and soon was allowed to pursue a life changing hormonal program. Overall, the hormones turned out of be a wonderful gift to my inner self and allowed her to sync up her old male external male self with her strong feminine self to make a more complete human being for the first time in my life.

It turned out, my life of being selfish was the only way I could escape the male life I was born into. It was amazing how quickly my mental health recovered and for the first time in my life, I felt happy. The weight taken off my shoulders was amazing.

 

Friday on my Mind

 

Image from Kelly Sikkema 
on UnSplash. 

It is Friday and the day my Veteran’s Administration LGBTQ group meets…maybe.

I say maybe the orange TACO in Washington is still attempting to cut back staff at the Dayton, Ohio VA where the group is located. I became semi-concerned last week when the moderator did not end the meeting the way they always do. I wondered at the time if they were not telling us something. Then, this week, my fears grew when I received none of the advanced reminders for the virtual meeting. It is the only support group I have really enjoyed, so I would hate to see it go. Especially to someone like tRumpt. We shall see. Happily, my fears were put aside for another week because I just received my call in texts from the VA.

Also, summer has finally arrived here in Southwestern Ohio and with it, my chance to go through my wardrobe and pick out the items I can wear. The problem I have is, I am not supposed to be out in the sun because it increases the iron levels in my body past an unhealthy point. Since I have tried to increase my walks by a substantial amount, finding any long-sleeved tops which are lite weight and comfortable for my walks, is difficult to do. Having the neighborhood see me in the same couple of long-sleeved shirts in hot weather may be enough to attract unwanted attention.

Speaking of unwanted attention, I made a comment about pre-opt transgender women using women’s locker rooms to shower and change in. My example comes from a protest a couple of years ago in Xenia, Ohio which is a conservative little town not far from me. I had a comment from Pammie asking me why I chose only “pre-opt” and not “post-opt” trans women in my comment. First, thanks for the comment and my answer is a difficult one to write.  Because in many ways it will make me seem like a hypocrite.

How? Because I believe gender is between the ears and sex is between the legs but not too much of the rest of the public. It’s no wonder the trans woman was told to leave when she was in the women’s locker room, naked. Perhaps also, I could not imagine showing my body in a semi-public space for all other women to see. If they had any questions, I was a transgender woman, my nudity would wipe out any questions since I am pre-opt. Which means, I have had no gender surgeries. I think also, post opt trans women should feel more comfortable in their bodies. But that is up to them! I hope that answers the question.

On a positive note, my wife Liz and I are going through with plans to take a tour this fall up through Boston to Maine. The trip includes riding Amtrak as well as a couple of other dinner trains. Since I am a huge rail fan, I cannot wait for the trip. Hopefully, this time, I will not catch Covid and end up in a hospital far from home. Which is what happened to me last winter when we went to the Florida Keys.

Closer to now, my daughter is planning a big graduation party for the three grads in her family which Liz and I have been invited to. In addition to the graduation of my oldest grandchild from Ohio State, my son-in-law is graduating with a MBA from Wright State University in Dayton, Ohio and my youngest grandchild is graduating from high school. I feel old! But seriously, I am obsessed with what I am going to wear. I am thinking about wearing my yellow print maxi dress which would be very comfortable and would fit well because of the diet I have been on. But I still have some time to think about it since it is not until the July 4^th weekend.

Thanks to all of you for reading along every day and taking the time out to comment on my posts, your input makes it all so worthwhile.

Plus, as I said, the VA support group meeting is on for another week and I will let you know if something exciting happens.

 

 

 

 

Women's Spaces

 

Image from Tim Mossholder
on UnSplash.

As far as being included in the so-called women’s spaces in the world, the women’s restroom is the crown jewel of inclusiveness.

When I was in my earliest stages of transitioning into my transgender womanhood, being “allowed” to use the women’s room, seemed to be an impossible dream. What went on behind the closed doors of the women’s room was so special anyway? As destiny would have it, I was to find out. My journey began when I started to become a regular in the sports bars I write so much about. The nearest ones to my home were nearly half an hour away, so I needed to time my restroom visits carefully, once I summoned the courage to use them. You see, I had to because of the amount of beer I was drinking. One led to another. When I drank, alcohol gave me the courage to be more confident about myself but on the other hand I needed to go more often.

As I gathered my courage to use the women’s room, I tried my best to time my visits so it would be empty.  Sometimes I was successful and other times I was not, so I did my best to see and learn from what other cisgender women were doing in their “sacred” space. Most of the women I encountered were just there to do their business, wash their hands and touch up their makeup. Quickly they were gone.

For the most part, the first lesson I learned was to look other women in the eye and give them a greeting with a smile. Which would have been a huge no no in the men’s room. From then on, it was just a matter of having the proper restroom necessities handy to ensure I was able to follow proper etiquette. I made sure my cell phone was always handy in my purse so I could use it in case I needed to wait in line for a stall. I even went so far as to carry an extra small amount of tissue paper, in case I needed to loan it out to a desperate fellow user in the next stall.

From my days in the bar/restaurant business I knew how women were not always the pristine humans in a restroom they claim to be, so I knew to look before I sat down to check for any wet spots or worse. I was also careful to always check for a hook to hang my purse on, so I did not have to put it on the floor. A sure sign of a gender intruder.

Through it all, I did not see or participate in any of the brief gossip sessions I encountered. Except for one memorial evening when I needed to use the restroom in one of the bars Liz and I went to. When I went in, the restroom was tiny and packed with women talking about a certain man. As my luck would have it, one evil looking woman was blocking my way to a toilet stall I needed to use in the worst way. Without physically moving her, I needed to stare her down and say excuse me as she let me by. By this time, I did not care what she thought of me, and my revenge was coming. When I finished my business in the stall, I came out to wash my hands and check my makeup. In the meantime, she had moved to a spot near the electric hand dryer which I needed to use. As luck would have it, she was slouching against the wall near the dryer, and I was able to direct the air flow towards her hair. Naturally, she did not enjoy her new hairstyle, and I got my revenge.

I was not as successful as the time I mentioned when I was first visiting women’s rooms. Even though I tried to be a regular in the venues I visited and had no problems with using the room, I did have the police called on me twice a long time ago. To this day, I still have negative feelings about those police calls. Specifically, the one where I was called a pervert. I was deeply hurt but ended up being able to report the woman who ended up owning her own hair salon to the Dayton, Ohio LGBTQ alliance for being an anti-transgender business.

These days, here in my native Ohio, the Republican bills banning all restroom usage by transgender women and trans men are currently in court battles to determine their legality. Whatever happens, it has been decades since I have used a men’s room, and I will be damned if I will ever go back. Besides, using the men’s room would subject me to bodily harm which I certainly don’t need.

The bottom line (no pun intended) to all of this is, be careful when you use the women’s room and know the written and unwritten rules of the room. Above all, your basic confidence in yourself will be an integral part of your experience.

My disclaimer and limits on all of this comes with when a pre-opt trans woman attempts to use a women's only locker room. I can understand all the problems which comes with doing this and I agree. It should be a women's only space.  

 

 

Adjusting to Gender Change

 

Image from Fab Lentz on Unsplash.

Adjustment to gender change was never easy for me.  

Two of the biggest initial problems came when I realized that I had too few feminine characteristics to help me start. Being seen as a so called “normal” male did help me keep the bullies away but provided me no help when I was attempting to cross dress as a girl for the mirror. Plus, all along I knew the problem of looking like a girl was just going to get worse as I grew older and enter puberty. In the worst way, I wanted to add curves to my body and not the masculine angles I was getting. By this time, I was building a secure dark gender closet to protect me from the world, and it saved me many times from being caught.

The other big problem was, I did not know what I was doing when I was trying to femininize myself. I had none of the peer support (or criticism) from the girls around me to aid me in the way I appeared in the public’s eye. My makeup alone I feared made me look like a clown in drag. It took me years of work in the mirror before I had the confidence to go out in public as a cross dresser or novice transgender woman. Which was just beginning to be understood.

I also needed years to develop the courage to even try to go out into the world. Eventually, after quite a bit of failure, I experienced enough success to finally build confidence to build myself to a point I could own who I was. Being true to myself meant entering a room and feeling confident in my identity.  It also meant when I was ridiculously dressed as a teen and was getting laughed at or attracting unwanted attention, I still had to own it until I could make it home and change. From that point forward, I began to seriously adjust my wardrobe and fashion choices to dress to blend in with the other women around me. By doing so, I finally left the male in myself behind. I understood women ran the world in their own way, and to enter, I needed to change my thought pattern about my gender life significantly.

Out went the very short miniskirts and shorts and in came leggings, boots and jeans. I was haunting the thrift stores so often, I thought a few of them were beginning to know me. Ironically, I received pushbacks from others in the cross-dressing community for my fashion choices. Several went out of their way to tell me I could wear pants anytime I wanted as a man, why would I want to wear pants when I was a woman. I came to the point where I responded I did not need clothes to define my transgender womanhood. Or my gender is between my ears, and my sex is between my legs. Plus, it was not as if I was that butch when I dressed as a woman. I normally always wore my heels and makeup with my slacks and blouses when I went out. I did not know it at the time, but I was developing my later life as a femme transgender lesbian.

As stubborn as I always was, I still was insecure in my own way and needed reinforcement in my transgender womanhood. That is when going out to the new venues I had discovered helped me along. Repeating the same movements repeatedly as a trans woman, helped me along towards my goal of living fulltime and I could see the results of my efforts in life very personally in the public’s eye. When I discovered my lifelong dream of living as a woman could be within reach, I needed to go for it.

At that point in time, my battle of genders really set in. To put it mildly. My male self was not ready to give up what remained of his life at the age of sixty. Essentially, he wanted to know if I could afford to make the transition and give up all the white male privilege, he had worked a lifetime to build up. On the other hand, my up-and-coming feminine side was arguing at my age, it was now or never as far as a gender transition was concerned. The hardest part of my gender work was already done.

I had spent the greatest part of fifty years having to adjust to gender change, and I was more than ready to attempt the final jump to start HRT or gender affirming hormones to aid in the process. Your results may vary but, in my case, my entire life was never easy. As I view it now, it was worth the effort to adjust to a gender change.

 

The Gender Comfort Zone

Image from Thomas
Vitali on UnSplash.

 It took decades to reach a point where I could say I was comfortable with my gender issues. The point where I could look at myself in the mirror and say I was satisfied with the image I saw.

Before that time, I always just saw my old male face staring back at me. Finally, I glimpsed the beginning of seeing a femininized version of myself. I had hope for the future. The frustrating part was trying to figure out what to do with my new gender life. Up to that point, I felt my gender desires for the most part was unreachable.

Even still. I worked very hard to take myself out of the world of being male and did see glimpses of seeing my authentic feminine self-hiding behind my everyday boring life. Before long, I was spending every spare moment thinking of the next time I could work on my femininized life. Little did I know at that time how long and difficult my gender journey would be. Up to that point, I considered a woman’s life to be mostly tied in with their ability to wear pretty clothes. Along with the seasonal changes to their wardrobes. At the time, my second wife was telling me the truth about pursuing my dream. In other words, a woman’s life was so much more than how you looked.

I found out the hard way, she was correct when I started to enter the world as a transgender woman. I needed to really begin to study the cisgender women around me if I was ever to be successful. I did not know it at the time; she meant learning all the layers of existence women go through in their lives. Such as having the man she was married to (me) go away because he wanted to be a woman. I have the utmost respect for her because she put up with me when she did during our twenty-five-year marriage before she passed away. From a totally unexpected massive heart attack. Tragically, the only unwilling gender mentor I had in my life was suddenly gone.

I ended up making the best of my new life without her and ultimately did find my comfort zone as a transgender woman. The most difficult time in reaching my new zone (as I always point out) was when I was forced to communicate one on one or face to face with another woman. I was so scared to speak I tried not to talk at all. Quickly I learned that idea only portrayed me as being either unfriendly or worse yet, bitchy. No way to make new friends as I found my new comfort zone.

Once I began to arrive totally at my transgender womanhood, I was unbelievably relieved. Even to the point of wondering if I could finally be happy for the first time in my life. Happiness was never a priority in my family, and it took me shedding my old male life to find how it was to be happy.

On occasion, I think I oversimplify the transition process I (or other transgender women or men) go through just to live their lives. Especially, these days when so many roadblocks are thrown up in our lives by the orange hater in the White House. But that is another topic all together, since my views are known.

Wherever you may be in your life of gender transition, don’t despair too far if your closet is dark and locked to the world. You never know when your life can change, and you can achieve your own level of gender comfort. Plus, your level of comfort could be vastly different to mine or anyone else’s. There is no right or wrong when it comes to any of these.

It has also seemed to me; I leased my old male life and was simply looking for my deposit back when I was allowed to finally go behind the gender curtain and cross the border. What the ciswomen gatekeepers did not tell me was I not going to get much of my deposit back I had built up as my old male self. Male privilege was gone, along with any security I had built up. In the end, I was able to give up and sacrifice all I had lost in order to enter the comfort zone I had gained.

 

 

The Inner Girl I Never Knew

 

JJ Hart, Club Diversity, Columbus, Ohio. 

As I was growing up, the girl I saw in the mirror did not seem to be quite real. Mainly because I was still caught in the male world I was born into. It seemed the more I struggled with my reflection, the more depressed I became. It did not seem fair I could not enjoy all the perceived benefits I observed from the girls around me. I say perceived, because it was not until I was able to go behind the gender curtain to see life was not always easier for the women around me.

Life moved on and I discovered always being the pursued by the opposite gender (males) was not often good. The problem was being pursued by the correct male. Not a scary, creepy or toxic one. Another problem I had learning from the females around me was I was so very shy and afraid to talk to any girls at all. So, I watched the dating scene from afar and wondered why I couldn’t be a part of it.

The main problem I had other than being shy was the gender dysphoria I was always suffering from. I was riding a dual edged sword. On one edge, I was struggling to meet the demands of my parents as their oldest son, and on the other hand, was the fact that some days when I woke up, I did not know what gender I wanted to be that day.  Problems I would not have wished upon my worst enemy. Finally, I did the only thing I knew how to do to survive, I went exploring. Or I should say, as I was growing up, I saw the girl looking back and then my transgender side went exploring.

My male self-stayed home as my feminine side attended transvestite – cross dresser mixers searching for answers to my true self. Ironically, the mixers just added more questions than answers. I discovered more layers in the cross-dresser community than I imagined existed. There was everything from male admirers at the party, all the way to impossibly feminine transsexuals I never knew existed. The biggest surprise was that my inner girl was again having a hard time fitting in.

One of the problems was, the transgender term or the knowledge around it had not been widely known at the time. When I finally heard of it, I thought it really described me, and I began to research it more. The tipping point came as I began to explore the public more and more. As I began to experience a new life I only dreamed of, the more natural I felt, and my missing girl was finally freeing herself from the confining world of my closet’s mirror. At that point, my pressure of transgender womanhood began to increase. It was less and less a fun game and became a very serious journey. The real reason why was the trip to my dream was becoming possible and was I going to risk everything my male self-had worked so hard to achieve.  

Nothing turned out to be easy as it seemed as I entered the world as a transgender woman. My focus needed to be dealing with other women on a one-on-one everyday basis. Over a relatively short space of time, I grew into the woman I needed to become to survive. Or my inner girl was growing up into a woman and I needed the gatekeepers to allow me to play in the alpha girls’ sandbox. Very soon, I reached the point of no return, and I had lost most of my past anyhow, so I had nothing to lose. My second wife had passed away along with many of my close male friends, so there was no better time to put my old male self completely in my past.

For the longest time, I never understood what my inner girl was observing and learning from. I found out when she finally had the chance to emerge into the world, she knew what to do. I thought in a small amount of time, she made a major gender adjustment and began to enjoy the dream I had attained. By I, I mean my male self was needed to propel the changes I went through. He provided many of the materialistic necessities I needed such as fashion, hair and makeup to get by. At the least, the entire process was very complex when I put my life into a gender mixer and hoped for the best.

There were plenty of times when I had the opportunity to purge my feminine belongings and return to a male life I never really wanted. When I kept coming back, I finally learned my inner girl was screaming at me to do the right thing. The right thing was to live out the remainder of my life as a transgender woman. Destiny led me to success.

My Gender Workbook

 

Trial and error were my main learning directions when I was initially following my gender path in public. As my workbook on how to be a girl or woman was never filled out at all, I had no other recourse in which way to go. I just didn’t know, which meant I never would unless I had the courage to learn myself.

Missing the peer pressure other girls my age had when they grew up really hurt and I was jealous in so many ways. I missed sleep overs and other times girls came together and discussed so many secret issues I was not allowed to know. Which included when they compared makeup routines when I was left to experiment all alone.

Survival as a novice cross dresser became my inner motto as I struggled ahead in my male life which presented its other set of challenges. Such as dealing with sports, cars and bullies. Having interests such as sports helped to keep the bullies away, especially in my male dominated family. If I was careful in staying in my closet, no one had any idea of who I really was as I was filling in my workbook. Many times, I was in despair because it seemed I was not gaining any ground towards my dream of living as a fulltime transgender woman. First, I needed to discover if I had any possibility of success to succeed at all. Which started the so-called bucket list of things I needed to do as I pursued my workbook.

The biggest problem never changed. I never had much help when dealing with the basics of femininized fashion, hair and makeup. It seemed to me, every woman I met expected me to already know the basics and it was like a “C
atch 22” of being a woman. If I did not know the basics on my own, no one was stepping up to help me and If I did know, I did not need it. Sort of like when you cannot land a much-needed job because of no experience and you cannot find any experience because no one will give you a chance.

Perhaps, I am more fortunate than other cross dressers of transgender women because quite early in my life, I persuaded a cisgender woman to help me dress up head to toe as a woman. I thought if a woman with a lifetime worth of experience could help me, I could fill out my workbook, with help. Ironically, after the makeup was over, I was not impressed and felt all the time that I was on the right path and could do the same feminine work on myself. Of course, I need to point out I had already put years of time and effort into refining my fashion and makeup techniques.

Just when I thought I had reached a success point in my gender transition, my teen cross-dresser years set in. The problem was, I was already a testosterone poisoned thirty something man seeking change. My transition out of my teens was painful and not easy to do but I finally made it out after many tears from public abuse. On the other hand, my gender workbook gained another chapter I gladly filled out.

On another slightly different topic, I heard from “Michelle” who is working on her own gender workbook and was commenting on my “Seismic Gender” on the lesbian culture and transgender women: “I really love how you described finding your place along that femme spectrum. It makes me think about how much of this journey is trial and error—figuring out what to wear, where to go, how to be in these spaces without losing yourself. And yeah, sometimes it really does feel like the universe nudges the right people into our lives at the exact moment we need them.

Honestly? Reading this gives me hope that I’ll find my own version of that someday.”

Thanks for the comment! If it helps, at that point I had given up on ever finding another special person for the rest of my life, and the most amazing thing happened. I did find my wife Liz, or I should say she found me. It happened primarily because I gathered the courage to repeatedly put myself out in the public’s eye.

Just be careful when you do it and take your time to properly fill out your workbook and you can be successful on such a major undertaking as living as your authentic self.

 

 

 

Seismic Gender Shits...from Gay Bars to Sports Bars

 

My Trans Friend Racquel and Friend.

In many ways, this is only a continuation of yesterday’s post about seismic gender shifts. This time though, I am going to focus on my foray into leaving gay bars behind and beginning to go to several of the major sports bars in the area where I live.

As I see it now, going to lesbian bars was more of a learning experience but being accepted in sports bars was a dream come true. As far as the sports bars were concerned, I can break them down into two types. The smaller more diverse ones such as TGIF Fridays (which catered to single women) and the larger ones which catered to more of a beer drinking, wing consuming male crowd. I knew quite a bit about both from my male days being out and about with my drinking buddies. Not to mention, I had managed a major competitor to Fridays in the area. I only knew the number of times I was jealous of women who took advantage of going to both venues.

It was not until I seriously began to consider going to a sports venue where I enjoyed the cold beer and sports on the big screen televisions, did I begin to look around and see many other cisgender women mixed in with the rest of the patrons. I began to think, if they could do it, why could not I?

Before I even considered my adventure, I needed to insure my femininized presentation was up to the challenge of being in an atmosphere where I would be one of the very few transgender women (or cross dressers) in the venue. All in all, the process took every bit of courage I could summon and still was very scary. Even though I was scared, I pushed forward to see if I could achieve my dream. From my business experience, I knew if I could make it to the bar without being noticed, most of my risk would be averted. Bartenders are greedy creatures and are primarily focused on service and tips which would not be a problem for me.

My biggest problem was acting as if I was not a single woman in the bar area. One of my tricks was to always use my cell phone as a prop to act like I was expecting company. For the most part I think it worked until I began to meet another transgender woman for drinks and there was strength in numbers. I was fortunate too; in that I was slightly ahead of the curve of cisgender women enjoying sports as much as men. When my lesbian friends and I were together enjoying the games, no one cared, and we fit in.

Through it all, there were only a few occasions when I was called out and embarrassed. One of which occurred when I was in a red neck leaning sports bar and had the local police called on me for using the women’s room. After a brief discussion with a female cop, I was sent on my way to a venue up the road where I knew I had rest room privileges.

Probably the most glaring and potentially problematic time I had was one night at a smaller sports bar I had gone to often with no problems. That night, my transgender friend Racquel and I were sitting at the bar minding our own business when suddenly, “Dude Looks Like a Lady” by Arrowsmith comes on the juke box. Not once, not twice but four times in a row, and to make matters worse, the new manager came up to us and said it was time to go. So, we did and went up the street to a bigger venue where we knew we would be welcome. Never to come back, or so we thought.

Several weeks later, one of the bartenders from the venue we were kicked out of found me and apologized. She went on to say, the manager who had banned me had been fired for drug abuse and I was invited back. I happily went back and never had another problem except a bathroom experience which I will save for another blog post.

More than likely, all the success I had in establishing myself in sports bar venues had to do with knowing the people on the other side of the bar were there for the money as much as the store clothing clerks I used to see in my old shopping days in malls when all they cared about was my attitude and the color of my money. On the other hand, the people in the gay bars treated me much worse and often I had to wait for service altogether.

At the end of the day (or several) my transition into the big sports bars was much easier than I ever thought it would be.

What an Adventure!

Image from Phillip Rawstron
on UnSplash

 Admittedly, at the age of seventy-five, I spend a lot of time looking back at my life, attempting to look at all the successes and failures that I went through.

The end result is normally wow! Did I do all of that? I remember the adventures I went through when I first left the house in my short skirt with freshly shaven legs and felt the cool night air on my body. At the time, I felt as if there was no other feeling like it and I could not wait until I could do it again. Then, there were all of the Halloween parties I went to cross dressed as a woman from head to toe. The parties were exciting to say the least but also showed me I could possibly make it in the public's eye as a transgender woman in the near future. It is important to note, I went through the stages of trying to dress sexy as a woman to trying to encourage the others at the party I really was feminine. 

When I started to try to enter the world regularly, I found I had many adventures ahead as I went from being laughed at to my face to at least presenting well enough to blend in with the world at large. Out went the short miniskirts and in came the jeans and tops which other women were wearing on a regular basis to the venues I was going to. At the time, it was less fun for me but at the least, my new fashion choices were saving me the torment of coming home in tears. For the first time in my life, the public was not laughing at me for simply trying to be who I felt I should be. 

From there, the adventure really started for me as I made the second big transition in my life. From part time cross dresser to fulltime transgender woman, if only in my mind. The entire idea was huge in that it took me back to the earliest days of admiring my girl-self in the mirror, and thinking that was good, but there was still something missing. The missing part became evident over the years; I wanted to be the girl I saw in the mirror. Little did I know at that time; my gender path would be a long and intense process. Nearly fifty years to be exact before I was able to come to terms to who I really was as a person. 

Before I was able to build a small number of friends I saw on a regular basis, I was intensely lonely, and on many nights was just going out to be alone. Hoping no one would bother me. Fortunately, they did, and my life took an adventurous turn for the better.  I ended up being invited to lesbian mixers, the women's roller derby and even an NFL Monday Night football game. To say I was scared would be too easy a term. Excited would be another appropriate way to think about what I was going through. Where had all of this been all the time I was stuck in my closet? 

Another big adventure was evident when I discovered I had more than one gender closet to escape. There was the physical closet of fashion, makeup and presentation to overcome, and then the major hurdle of the intense mental closet I lived in. I experienced major problems with overcoming the life my male self-had built for me. He was intense and did not want to let go. By then, it was too late, and I was never going back. 

All my adventures proved to be worthwhile, and I succeeded in living my dream of transgender womanhood. Plus, for those of you who think you have waited too long to live your dream, I waited until I was sixty before I started. 

Not Ready for Public Consumption

Porsche Boxster.

 As I made my way into a feminine world for the first times, I was amazed how different it was.

My male self-had grown used to pretty much getting his own way. He was successful in the business world even to the point of buying a new Porsche sports car of his dreams, primarily through the substantial restaurant bonus checks I was earning. Little did anyone know, my female side wanted the new car as much as my male side. She wanted to be the blond in the fancy new car.

New car or not, I was not sure I was ready for public consumption as a transgender woman. After all, I was still new to the world and was afraid to being discovered and ridiculed. So, I continued on through the recesses of my mind, until I presented well enough to get by in the world. 

One of the first major moves I made was to leave the confines of gay bars behind except for the lesbian ones I enjoyed so much. As with anything else, there was a learning curve to be dealt with. I learned there was nothing much I liked about the gay bars who for the most part either shunned me or treated me as some sort of drag queen. Oddly enough, the venues I did learn I was ready for public consumption were the big sports bars I was used to going to as my old male self. It was as if I flipped the switch and was able to go and enjoy a beer and watch my favorite sports as a trans woman and not a man and I loved it. 

Very quickly, I began to also love the attention I was getting in the new venues. I fit in quickly because I was friendly, made no trouble and tipped well. Once the staff at the venue's I went to understood I was only there for a good time and not any nefarious reasons, I was embraced as who I was and all of a sudden, I was ready for public consumption. One thing I need to point out was, none of this came easy to me. I started out with very little in the way of feminine features and I was used to surviving in a male world the hard way. I needed to work hard to feminize myself. Before I began to have an idea of how to feminize myself, I needed to understand how to do it. I spent many long hours in front of my mirror trying my best to perfect my makeup and fashion before I even had the courage to leave the safety of my own house. 

Once I did summon the courage to go out in the world, I also needed to figure out exactly what I needed to accomplish.  Early on, I was just trying to see if I can make it in the world, then it became more refined. Fairly quickly, I went from a man just trying to look like a woman, to actually exist with cisgender women in the world as an equal. Needless to say, the entire idea frightened me completely. I was totally out of the only comfort zone I had ever known as I explored a new feminine world. The good news was freeing myself the toxic relationship I had maintained all those years as I gave my best effort to live as a man. 

The best part was my dream did not turn into a nightmare when I transitioned into the authentic life I always should have been living. When I was finally ready for public consumption, I was ready. 

Not an Act, not a Phase

JJ Hart Speaking Up at a Trans Wellness
Conference.

Very early on in my crossdressing experiences with the mirror, the vast majority of feminine fashion and makeup I could find came from my mom. As I grew of course, I was guilty of stretching her clothes and ruining some of her makeup.

For some reason, she never brought up my passion for being feminine. Plus, she never found my secret hiding places for my clothes. I think now, rather than confront me about a problem so intense, she chose to ignore it, thinking it was a phase and would go away as I grew up. If the truth be known, there were times when I wished my gender issues were a phase too. Those were the times when I "purged" or threw away my feminine clothes and makeup, swearing never to cross dress again. Of course, every time I purged, the pressure would build again, and I would start all over again to femininize myself. Over the years, I came to learn my connection with the feminine gender was anything else but a phase. It ran much deeper in me. Ignorance was bliss until I began to face the reality of who I was. 

It certainly was not a phase in my life which made my cross dressing anything but an act also. My experiences helped to reinforce the fact I was not trying to fool anyone when I first entered the world as who I labeled as a novice transgender woman. 

So, if I was not in a phase, or just acting like a woman to fool the public, who was I? I was in a personal struggle to search for any idea I could latch on to until I finally had to face the reality of my transgender womanhood. Yes, I went through all the questions of just being in a gender phase, all the way to thinking I was just trying to fool the world when I attempted to present myself as an attractive woman. 

Once I did come to the point where I truly accepted myself as who I really was, the entire process helped me to establish myself in the world and make new friends. My worst fears of being viewed as just a man who put on a dress and makeup as a part time basis were never realized. On the other hand, I played upon the fact I was different from the rest of the public as a transgender woman. If I was to be unforgettable, I most certainly needed to make sure I was making a positive impression. I spent much of my time listening to other women. Trying to pick up the smallest nuances of a ciswoman's life and how I could apply it to myself. 

As I advanced along my long gender path, I needed every small boost I could get to get me by with several close calls in an unfavorable world. It took me years to understand my gender issues were anything, but a phase and I was not a glorified drag queen in the world. It just took me more time to prove it to others. Basically, because I was scared of the knowledge of who I really was and feel secure in my transgender womanhood.

The End Result?

 

Picnic time with my wife Liz on the right with
JJ Hart. 

Even though I write often about reaching my dreams of living as a transgender woman, sometimes I wonder if I had made it at all.

One of the problems I faced was thinking once I made it to my goal, there was always something else which was challenging me on my gender journey. When I was younger and so naive, I labored under the impression, looking like a woman should be my main goal. After I made it to the point where I could successfully blend in with the other women around me, I found there was so much more to do. I grew impatient with mediocrity and continually looked for more. There had to be so much more for me to discover around the next corner of my life. My prime example always was when going to the malls and clothing stores became too easy for me to do, I sought out other more difficult releases for my transgender challenges. I began to stop at restaurants to order lunch which forced me to interact one on one with employees. It all taught me the basics of communication with the public. 

I say the basics, because communication became the longest and most important part of transition which led to the end result of living my dream. How could I ever hope to live a fulfilling life as a transgender woman if I could not even talk to anyone else. I was also paranoid about anyone wanting to talk to me at all when I was out and about. First of all, I needed to relax and quit putting words in the mouth of the people I met and sit back and listen carefully what they were trying to say. For the first time in my life. The end result was I began to be able to interact with the over-whelming majority of the cisgender women who were curious about me. On the other hand, the majority of men I met wanted little to nothing to do with me, and vice versa. 

Once I arrived at a point when this transgender woman thought she had it all, something else would come along and proved me wrong. I learned the hard way; I needed to be careful where I went on my own as a woman in the world when my male security privilege was taken away. Navigation in a new world proved to be difficult for me. My theory of going out to be alone was at times dangerous as I actively sought out someone to be with. Overall, I was intensely lonely as a man and as a transgender woman. A complex difficulty to be sure in my life dealing with two genders. Primarily, I needed to choose what stayed and what went in my life. All I knew was, I was receiving more positive attention when I was out as a single transgender woman than when I was out as a single man. So, my choice became increasingly easier. 

The end result was, I made it to my goal of living as a fulltime transgender woman, I thought. Even though I was living my dream I never thought was possible, I found I had several other issues to conquer. All of a sudden, with all my male clothes gone and, in my past, I had to plan on what I was going to wear daily in the world. A big difference from the old days when I could look ahead a couple of days to my fashion choices. After several false starts, I made it to the world I always dreamed of, and none of it let me down.  Happiness was always fleeting in my life, but I finally found a slice of it. At times it was quite the adventure as I made my way from cross dresser to transgender woman. 

Even though my adventure had its ups and down to be sure but looking back there were more ups than downs as I made my way (or I should say, learned my way) to my ultimate end result.

The Forgotten Woman

Image from UnSplash.

 Over the years of gender infighting, I needed to carefully sustain my transgender womanhood because she often was the forgotten person.

To begin with, she began life as a second-class citizen in my world when I was born as a male in a male dominated family. Essentially, she had two walls to climb immediately to survive at all.   First of all, she did not have any on hands guidance from mom or girlfriends to show her the way through life and secondly, my male self was successful at all in the world, she was completely forgotten. The fragile complement between my genders had to be maintained at all times or she would disappear. Many times, I asked myself why I wanted her along to begin with, but the answer kept coming back, I needed her.

I discovered the hard way, the occasional trip to the hallway mirror dressed as a girl with full makeup, just was not going to cut it. I just needed more. If I could manage to look like a girl, why couldn't I be a girl, if only in my mind. The problem became, when I had to return to my male reality, I needed to forget my girl self altogether. Many days, it seemed like cruel and unusual punishment. when the only true punishment came at the expense of my already frail mental health. All too often, depression would set in when I forgot my feminine self and could not least appease her by cross dressing in the mirror. 

Another problem was, the more I appeased my forgotten woman, the more my male self-hated it. He fought hard when any portion of his life was threatened. He tried his best to make it easier in life by gaining white male privileges which were difficult to give up. I became successful as a male, but try as I might, I could not forget my inner woman. Who, at the time, was learning more and more how to establish herself in the world. Many times, my male self would win the battles in our life when along he was losing the war. A typical female move he was too blind to see as he blustered along in life. 

When my forgotten woman became less forgotten and more accomplished, my male self-started to panic as he could see the end in sight. Without being a winner. Basically, he teamed up with my second wife to attempt to save what they could of my life. At that point, decisions needed to be made in the worst way. My so-called forgotten woman had learned she could indeed live a life on her own terms. The ability to stand on her own two feet after all those years in a closet was so liberating, she knew she could never go back and, on the other hand, my guy knew deep down he was defeated. 

Living a transgender life she had always dreamed of was suddenly all that mattered. She dictated I start gender affirming hormones to feminize my body outside and inside and that was just the start to being accepted in the world. At that point my forgotten woman was not forgotten anymore, and she got her just due for all the years she waited for control. She loved every bit of it.

In the Passing Lane

JJ Hart.

Early on in my life as a very serious cross dresser before I came out as a transgender woman, I obsessed about my presentation as a woman. Or, in other words, was I "passing."

At first, I went overboard and tried to appease my male side and dress sexy. Naturally, I was a dismal failure with my choices and ended up attracting too much negative attention to myself. After too many disastrous evenings in the public's eye, I finally learned my lesson and began to blend in with the cisgender women around me.

The problem was, still trying my best to slip behind the gender curtain and survive as a transgender woman was very difficult. At the time, a transgender woman friend of mine said it best when she told me I passed out of sheer willpower. She was correct, and I knew I was never the most attractive woman in the room but none of that really mattered as I was beginning to live the life I always had dreamed of. If others somehow resented it, they would just have to get over it. 

Being the keen observer of women, I always was, I found out not all cisgender women passed in the classical sense either. The skillful ones worked around their physical appearance issues with fashion and makeup choices which flattered them. I figured if they could do it, so could I. Finally, my fashion and makeup became second nature to me. At that point, I was not passing out of willpower but more out of inner confidence in myself as a novice transgender woman exploring the world for the first time. Once I found myself in the passing lane, it became easier and easier to stay there.

Even though I had fewer and fewer accidents in my quest for transgender womanhood, I still suffered minor bruises along the way. Mainly from cisgender women who completely did not want me in their world and went out of their way to show me.  Many of the attacks I suffered from were passive aggressive in nature and they took me awhile to get used to, but I did. I developed the extra sense most women have for the world around them and went on with my life as a better person. Secure, I was doing the right thing in my life and did my best to stay in the passing lane. 

These days, I have the benefit of age on my side. The genders naturally blend with age, so with long hair and a little makeup, I can survive in the world. Also, I don't have the vanity about my feminine self I used to have. Plus, I am so fortunate to have my staunch ally and wife Liz by my side the overwhelming amount of the time. An example was the vacation we went to the Florida Keys on a tour bus. If you are not familiar, one way or another on a tour bus, you get to know others. On the trip, I knew I had it made in the passing lane when a couple of women asked if we were sisters. I immediately relaxed for the remainder of the trip.

Overall, since finding my way into the passing lane was a matter of sheer will power. I had always believed if you wanted something bad enough, you could achieve it. Deep down inside, I never had wanted anything more than to be a woman. To arrive at my dream, I needed to get into the passing lane and stay there. Using whatever feminine tricks, I could find and use.

As "Stana" from "Femulate" once said, make sure you properly signal before you get in the passing lane. Once you make it, you will love it.

Adjusting to Change

 

Image from
Rafella Mendes Diniz
on UnSplash.

I am biased, but I think adjusting to a lifestyle in a gender you were not born into is one of the biggest changes a human can make.

As many of you know, I took nearly a half a century to adjust to my gender changes. Looking back, some of the changes were a blur while others were so very slow. The reasons possibly were there were so many changes I made to arrive at the spot where I could take the big leap. For example, the night I went to an NFL Monday Night Football game with a lesbian friend of mine and her family. I was just coming out as a transgender woman and was scared to death but knew I needed to make the move and go with her. Needless to say, after the evening, my life changed forever.

The other night I mention often was when I went to see the Christmas lights at a local grist mill, by myself as a woman. I was not as nearly afraid as I was at the football game and ended up enjoying myself immensely. I felt secure in my fashion choices for the evening and was warm and cozy when I went up to one of the hot chocolate vendors for a warm drink with extra marsh mallows. Most importantly, I did not run into any major problems at either venue and my confidence skyrocketed. Maybe I could be secure in my transgender womanhood after all and live out my dream. 

By now, you may be thinking was that all it took to propel my confidence forward into a new life and leave the old male life behind. No, it was not. It is difficult to mention all the nights I spent out alone as a single lonely woman before I found friends to share my changed life with. Through it all, I needed to be so careful to separate my old male life with my new femininized one. Which meant to separate everything I was talking about to new people. Plus, I did not want to create a totally false past in my life and ignore everything I worked so hard to achieve. I found I could bring in the family I had and just change the perspective I was speaking from, and it worked. At the time, fortunately, I was busy closing out my old male life anyhow which had for the most part collapsed, so the time was right for a major change.

Surprisingly, change did come easier for me than I expected. My femininized life was a pleasure to adjust to. Since, I should have been living it all along. It was like my feminine inner soul was telling me she was right all along. If I just had the courage to make the gender change and stick with it. 

All the adjustments I needed to make in life to survive were worth it for me. Finally, at the age of sixty, I had seen enough of the small changes I was trying to make as a stopgap measure and I decided to rid myself of all my male clothes, start gender affirming hormones (HRT) and live the life I was always meant to live. 

How did I know I made the right change? Because, after I did it, I felt so relieved and natural. I let myself go to fall off my gender cliff and had a very soft landing. All those years which started out as just me in the mirror had come full circle and I was able to live my desired life. All because of the changes I went through.

A Complex Day

 

JJ Hart. (right) Mother's Day 
last night. Liz on left.

Another Mother's Day is here and as always, it presents me with many complex emotions.

First of all, as I was growing up, my mom was many times the dominant parent in the family, I remember vividly watching her apply her makeup, heels and hose. She was from the WWII generation where a woman's appearance was very important. I think she did a wonderful job maintaining a family of males immersed in boyish struggles. Dad was always present, and was often the deciding factor in our family disputes but mom ruled in all the other areas such as day-to-day discipline between my younger brother and I.  

My mom and I were much alike in many ways. I resembled her except I was close to six foot tall, and she was only five foot two, which made it quickly impossible for me to squeeze into her clothes. Over the years, she never let me know that she knew anything about my cross-dressing habits. Looking back now, I do not think I could have hidden all my feminine collection of clothes and makeup so well from her. She was somehow just ignoring me and my gender issues as just a phase. 

My life as a "transvestite" (as it was known back then) stayed hidden as a topic between mom and I until I was back home after being discharged from the Army. The sit-down did not go well and ended with her offering psychiatric care. From there, the subject of me wanting to be a woman was never brought up again during her life. For years, I held her feelings against her but then started to slowly change after I started to mellow within my own transition. I began to realize, mom was just dealing with life under the only circumstances she had ever known, and change was not in the cards.

What I ended up doing, was honoring her when I legally changed my name. I femininized my maternal grandfather's name as my first name and used my mom's first name as my legal middle name. It was my way of honoring her for all of the sacrifices she made for me.

Then, there was the complex problem on what the kids in my life were going to call me on Mother's Day. Initially, my daughter referred to me as her "parental unit", then began to slowly change over the years. Several years ago, I wrote a blog post which mentioned the first Mother's Day when my daughter referred to me as Mom. Even I was embarrassed to refer to myself as a mom, but I was surprised and flattered my daughter did. 

Now, both my daughter and my wife Liz's son both refer to me as mom on Mother's Day. One way or another, the day will forever bring complex emotions to me. I did receive many negative reactions to my Mother's Day posts, so I will temper this one by saying whatever you believe and however you are referred to, have a wonderful day. 

Doing the Work

 

Image from UnSplash.

In my case, I spent decades doing the work to be able to express my true self as a transgender woman. 

Perhaps you noticed I did not say the work I put into changing my gender, because my gender was always set and it was never the birth gender (male) I was stuck with. The first reality I needed to deal with was I had no feminine characteristics to speak of, so I needed to work harder. When I became serious about women's fashion I could find to fit me, I better shed as much weight as I could. In a fairly short period of time, I managed to lose nearly fifty pounds which made it much easier to find fashion which fit me. 

At that point, I needed to go on a thrift shop shopping binge to show off my new femininized body. If I was careful and shopped well, I learned I could really find a few fashion gems at a price I could afford. After I was able to lower my body weight, I began to work on my skin. Since I was already exfoliating on a daily basis by shaving, I began to apply regular moisturizer to help maintain a soft appearance and use less makeup. Soon, it became apparent to me, my work was paying off to being able to jump the external gender border I was facing.

Little did I know, the real work was yet to come. I was sadly mistaken when I learned just appearing as a woman was not going to be enough. The deeper I went into my new feminine rabbit hole, the darker my journey became as I kept discovering new ways to move forward or back. As I let my gender lantern burn the surroundings finally began to look familiar. But it was only after I put in the work to know the people who were trying to interact with me. Mostly women approached me because I think they were just curious what I was doing in their world and were not afraid of me. Doing the work, I was doing, almost meant women in particular reacted to the honesty of living out the life I desired. Men for the most part just steered clear of me because I threatened their sexuality.

Little did the women know, I was learning as much from them, as they were from me. I was fairly sure I was the first transgender person they had ever met and when I repeatedly appeared in front of them was proof, I was more than just a guy putting on a dress for the fun of it. I was enjoying the entire process more than anything I had ever done in my life, and the time I spent learning was very much not like work. 

What I did learn was doing my gender work and had the opportunity to graduate from all the work and live my reward as a full-time transgender woman. The work was difficult but enjoyable because of all the layers of experiences I needed to master before I could move on. If I was to recommend any basics to a gender compromised person, it would be not to get disappointed with your progress. You can progress on your own timeline. Mistakes will be made, but you can learn from them. 

Perhaps, most importantly, keep in mind the gender work you put in represents your journey is not a sprint but a marathon. How you finish is the most important facet to consider.  Some will run faster and some slower but just finishing is the main goal if you want it to be.