The Rise of Transfeminine Privilege

 

JJ Hart (Middle) wife Liz (Left)
daughter (Right)

When I began to seriously leave my closet and mirror and attempt to join the world as my true self, I quickly lost all my male privileges and gained very few feminine ones. In fact, early on, the only privilege I felt was having doors opened for me by the men around me.

On the other hand, the most extensive male privileges I lost were my intelligence and my personal security. When I was around men, I learned to keep my mouth shut until I was spoken to, which was not very often because I think most all men knew I was transgender and wanted no part of me. And as far as personal security went, I needed to learn what ciswomen know from an early age to keep themselves out of possible bodily danger by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

All along, during this time, I was wondering when and if the gender teeter-totter I was on would balance itself out and I would see the positives of what I was doing. It took a combination of things happening before I ever did. One was seasonal around Christmas, and the other one was when I decided to give up on men all-together and concentrate on knowing other women. A preferred topic in my mind, since I did not have to consider changing the focus of my sexuality, which had always leaned exclusively towards women. But I digress, the meaning of Christmas and what it meant to me as a transgender woman, is the real reason for this post.

To begin with, Christmas was always a major holiday for me and my second wife especially. Finding an exceptional, unexpected, rare gift was always the priority for me and even my brother’s family. The difference became to me was when I decided the Christmas shopping, I had been doing as a man would be much better accomplished as a woman. If I was able to pull it off, I could accomplish so much more during the Christmas rush I was in the middle of.

First of all, I needed to up my crossdressing game to give me the best possible chance to succeed in my shopping conquests. I went through my closet and pulled out my fancy, sleek, black pants’ suit for trips to upscale malls and my leggings, boots and sweaters when I combed through the huge local antique malls for just the right gift for my wife. I knew if I was to succeed, I had to be better than the average Ciswoman so I would not be potentially embarrassed. Also, the right makeup and hair was a priority because of all the up close and personal time I would be spending in the public’s eye. Through it all, I wondered where the magical feminine privilege would kick in for me.

The first major time it did was when I was shopping for a matching oak bookcase for my wife’s roll-top desk. One night, I found one which worked beautifully in an oak furniture store in nearby Columbus, Ohio. It just so happened I was returning from a shopping trip to a local Columbus upscale mall when I stopped into the store on the way home. After I found the bookcase I wanted, my old male self-wondered how in the world would I get it in my truck/SUV. Would anyone come to the aid of a tall blond in a black pants suit and heels? After I paid, I found out they would because for the first time in my life I was able to sit back and watch two young men load the bookcase carefully into my vehicle and finished their job off with a nice thank you mam. Because I had finally discovered a dose of feminine privilege, the half hour trip home went quickly, and I wanted to do more shopping, but I was out of time and money.

Sadly, once I returned home and had safely unloaded my prize gift, it was time to return to the place I did not want to be…my old male self. On the plus side though, the whole experience taught me (and provided the confidence) to move forward to my dream life of being a fulltime transgender woman and would not have to return home every night in a hurry to switch back into a gender I wanted nothing to do with. My feminine privilege was being established in the newfound senses I was feeling. Especially when I was doing something for others, such as buying gifts.

The experience made all the learning and trial and error experiences I went through during my male to female femininization process deeply worthwhile. There were other Christmas stories to share as I will do later. Such as when my wife decided we would have a special gift giving time for my feminine self.

 

 

 

 

Stopping was Impossible

 

Image from Edward Howell
on UnSplash.

For years as I followed my early cross-dressing path, I labored under the impression that someday I could actually stop and return to my male existence. Of course, the older I became I learned that stopping was going to be nearly impossible. The reason being, when I was forced out of the mirror and into the world, I began to have success.

To me, success was measured in the public reaction I received. Very early on I suffered scorn when I went out without the knowledge to blend in with other ciswomen. When I became successful, it took so much pressure off and stopping became less and less an option. Mainly because something clicked in my head that I did not want to ever go back which was different than wanting to. For example, there was the night at TGIF Fridays when I went into the venue with the mindset, I actually wanted to be a woman with other women, not some sort of an impostor. When it happened, I knew for sure stopping was never going to be an option again. I was firmly on the path to achieving my dream of possibly living fulltime as a transgender woman.

The more I decided not to stop, the quicker the pressure mounted on me on what to do with my old male life. He had dug in deep and was refusing to go away easily. The worst part was he made good arguments such as what was I going to do about my spouse, family and employment. Just as a start. What did I do? I continued to internalize my inner woman and keep researching my future. Since my gender workbook was blank, I had a long way to go. Primarily when I needed to learn how to communicate one on one with other women when I was exceedingly shy to start with. To arrive there, I went to excess of taking feminine vocal lessons to attempt to learn to communicate better. As I was slowly succeeding in my efforts, again I knew for sure I could never go back.

Another main thing I learned was that I needed to control my emotions, not let them control me. Or when I hit the valleys of my journey (which there would be many), I had to pick myself up from being a failure and continually go back to my gender drawing board to figure out what I was doing wrong. I knew I had a testosterone poisoned body. I needed to work around but I dedicated myself to somehow doing it. I discovered from all the trips I was making to thrift stores; I could find the fashion I needed to make myself look the best I could under the circumstances I was working with. It all added up in my mind to I could never stop.

Along this way too, I quit purging for good. I had learned my lesson about the previous purges I had attempted. The lesson was, I could never go back to my old male self again. I was tired of throwing out all my hard-earned clothes, shoes and makeup only to have to replace it all again as soon as a month later.

What helped me was, I was learning over and over again how wrong I was fighting my instincts to be a transfeminine person at all. I always point out how wrong I was when I was fighting my true feminine self at all. I suffered from the brutal pressure I put on myself. So, stopping my transgender advance was never an option. I should never have waited as long as I did to go after my gender dreams.

I was fortunate that my basic personality never lent itself to stopping my search for my dreams. All my life, all I wanted to be was a woman and I just could never visualize myself not working hard to achieve my goal. I just never in a million years understood how difficult it would be for me to do it. I should have listened to my wife when she tried to tell me I was on the wrong path to achieving my goal. In a way, I did but not nearly enough until I did not stop until I was allowed to exist behind the gender curtain. Once I got there, stopping was never going to be an option again.

Then HRT and new feminine hormones shifted my mental thinking to match my external appearance which was improving all along. I never expected the changes to be so dramatic so quickly. I am glad stopping my male to female feminine transition was never a reasonable option.

 

Is There Really a Difference between Genders?

 

Image from Pea on UnSplash. 

Yesterday, I briefly wrote about how I saw the world differently when I went out for the first time to view Christmas decorations at Clifton Mill, Ohio as my feminine self. I said something to the fact that my senses seemed to heighten as I viewed all the decorations and people around me. To me, the whole evening was brighter and more festive than when I viewed it as a man, wondering how it would be to do the same thing as a woman.

Little did I know the experience would prepare me for later life as I progressed along my gender path. Perhaps, initially, the new senses I felt were psychological in nature because I was still years away from actually changing my gender hormonal balance from male to female when I added HRT or gender affirming hormones to my system. Which means, I guess, if I was in some sort of a scientific gender study, I would not have needed the hormones to increase my femininity at all. Which would be good news to all of you who for medical or spousal reasons cannot consider HRT.

One way or another, I felt a real difference in my world when I entered it as a woman rather than a man. If I was cold, I could react accordingly and not have to be macho and try to ignore it is a prime example. Then, quite possibly, the biggest change of all was what I was going to wear. I had so many fashion choices I could barely make up my mind. It seemed I was only limited to what I could afford to shop for and buy. The sensory feeling of the clothes was wonderful, and I just loved the big, warm, fluffy sweaters I was able to wear because they were in fashion at the time and paired perfectly with my denim mini skirts I was able to find at my favorite thrift store. I discovered that I was perfectly comfortable when I wore a pair of tights or even leggings with my sweater/skirt combo in cool Ohio weather.

Even though the clothes did make a difference for me, the buzz quickly went away and the reality of what I was attempting set in. I have always believed that attempting to change the human gender is one of the most difficult things a person can attempt because there are so many roadblocks in the way.  Such as current misunderstandings of trans women or trans men’s lives. No matter how you cut it, it is just difficult to explain to a “civilian” what is going through our minds when we made the monumental decision to jump the gender border. What could possibly go wrong? Ha ha!

Sometimes, we end up surprising even ourselves with the gender changes we have to go through to be successful. As we begin to earn our way behind the actual gender curtain into woman only spaces, we begin to see and feel all the real differences there are. I know my first girl’s nights outs were real eye openers for me. I had no idea of how ciswomen interact with each other when there were no men around. The differences were real, and I cherished my chances to experience them. So much more than even my new one on one communication challenges with ciswomen strangers in the world.

As I approached the idea that I could actually take the opportunity to attempt to go on gender affirming hormones, naturally I knew it was a huge step forward in my transfeminine development. First of all, there were the health consequences of a sixty-year-old male starting to reverse the hormones he had lived with successfully for all those years Plus, back in those days, there were many naysayers preaching about the possible damage female hormones could cause on the body. Fortunately, I found a doctor who did not believe in all of that, and he approved my HRT. When I started the meds, I felt an almost immediate change. It was certainly what the doctor ordered, and I was rapidly increased to higher dosages of my precious new medications.

I felt great when my external changes such as breast development started to happen faster than I expected and was even more surprised at the internal changes I was feeling. Like the first night I visited the Christmas lights, when my world softened and became more perceptive, I quickly found myself in a world where I could appreciate everything more. Heat, light and sound in particular affected me more when I ventured out in public to my regular venues.

At that point, all I really knew was I never wanted to go back to the old male life I forced myself to live. I had found my new home.

Gender Professionals

 

Image from Alysha Rosly
on UnSplash.

On occasion, I can just sit back and observe other women. Through my observations, it has occurred to me that some ciswomen are better at being women than others. For example, they walk straighter with their shoulders back and are proud of their femininity.

It has also been my theory that all females do not have the right to claim their femininity or the right to be called women just because they were born that way. Transgender women in particular know that becoming a woman can take many paths and we have can claim our own womanhood when our gender workbook is filled out.

Does it make us gender professionals? No, not in its own right but it does give us a leg to stand on when we are out in the public eye just trying to live our lives. It could be argued that transgender women and trans men must be better than our gender counterparts to get by and stand a chance of becoming gender professionals.

The question could be also, what does being gender professional really mean. I am only one gender conflicted person of course but for me to understand what a gender pro really meant, I needed to go into the world and live it. First, I tried to go to gay venues to see if possibly I was attracted to other men, or would they be attracted to me as a transgender woman. They were not attracted to me in any way and considered me no more than another drag queen on their turf. Which I wanted nothing to do with. Next, I tried the few lesbian venues I could find in the Dayton, Ohio area. There were three, and I found I was hated in one, had a neutral reception in another and was warmly accepted in a third. From the experience I mainly learned the different levels within the lesbian community and was it possible to work my way in at all.

The third and final venues I ended up at were the big sports bars I frequented as a man. In them, I was surprised to learn how quickly I could establish myself as a regular if I did not cause any trouble, learned to smile and then tip well. I learned too, to try to carry myself as a gender professional. Leaving no question of who I really was. I had to learn also carrying myself as a gender professional was completely different from being a gender professional. It meant I could carry myself well if I was wearing a fancy sweater and slacks, or my favorite team’s football jersey with a pair of jeans and boots. I discovered, more than anything else, I needed the confidence to do it and the rest of the world be damned if they did not like me. I was just having fun in the world as my self and taking advantage of all the fashion perks of being a woman.

Even with all the learning I was doing at the time, I still made learning from the ciswomen around me a priority. I figured they held the secrets that I needed to complete myself as a professional woman. The times to talk and communicate and the times to keep quiet and shut up and learn come to mind. You might say, I was exploring all the nuances of being a woman and trying to improve myself at the same time. I was fortunate in that almost all of my friends came from the lesbian community, so I came up with a unique view of the world. Especially around men which I learned did not validate my womanhood.

As you can tell, pursuing my quest to be a gender professional overtook much of my thinking. There was so much happening when I met my wife Liz, and I started to accompany her to her meetings she went to for various reasons. What happened was I had no choice but to expand my horizons again and meet a whole new set of people. When I did, I fell back to all the lessons I had learned about communicating with strangers. Not as a transgender woman but as just me.

Most Importantly, I had built back a portion of the self esteem I had lost as a gender professional growing up. I lost the inferiority complex I had put myself through during the rocky days of coming out earlier in life. Believing in myself for the first time as a transgender woman was all it took to get me by and enable me to become a true gender professional.

 

 

Falling Asleep in my Heels

Image from Toa Heftiba
on UnSplash.

Falling asleep in my new high heels turned out to be a very dangerous thing for me to do.

There was a time when I was in my early formative cross-dressing years that I thought wearing high heels was a fashion necessity I could not do without. Instinctively I knew the heels made my legs shapelier and longer. But what I did not realize was how much power the shoes gave the ciswoman wearing them. Have you ever noticed how men follow the sound of heels when a woman enters a room? Plus, the power extends from men to other women, who at the least responded to the expertise it took to wear a pair of high heeled shoes.

So, where did the danger come in for me? Actually, in. several different ways. First came the pure challenge of wearing heels. I had never experienced anything like it in my entire life but only knew the shoes made me feel so deliciously feminine. Through sheer effort, I conquered my fear of wearing heels so much that I forgot I was wearing them and ended up with another big problem, looking like a linebacker in drag, in heels. So much so that one night as I was trying to negotiate the stairs at home, my wife barked at me with a feet forward command. I never forgot that night and resolved to walk better in the future.

There were times in my past when heels went out as a fashion accessory and flat shoes were in with over-sized sweaters and short mini skirts for ciswomen everywhere. I was overjoyed with the idea of showing my legs off in tights and opaque pantyhose but again found myself in a situation where I needed to really concentrate on how I walked femininely without the heels I had come to rely upon. It seemed one of my favorite female privileges was taken away just when I was getting used to them. As with anything else in the fashion world of women, if you don’t like something, just wait because change is just around the corner.

That corner for me turned out to be a long way away. My fashion sense turned into a strong urge to blend in with other women in the world. Which meant where I was going, the women around me never wore heels. Especially all of my lesbian friends. Like them, I went for comfort in my footwear and blended right in, especially at all the lesbian mixers I went to.

My caveat to all of this comes from the transgender women such as “Stana” at the “Femulate” blog who have fabulous legs. Years ago, I had the pleasure of meeting her in Dayton, Ohio. Stana is tall to begin with and makes a striking beautiful woman when you meet her in person. Where we met, there were a group of men waiting for a ride when the elevator opened and out stepped Stana in all her long-legged glory. From where I was waiting, I could see everyman in the lobby turning to admire her. As you can tell, I have never forgotten the moment years ago when Stana took every advantage of her legs and heels as a transgender woman.

As I grew older, unfortunately, I had an old football injury destroying my ability to wear any heels at all. I broke my left ankle twice in the same place and wearing heels just became unbearable. To compensate in my own way, I try to buy stylish shoes and boots with no heels that I can walk in.

Regardless, I still remember the days when I felt the power of wearing my high heels gave me. Even after I went through the paranoia of feeling I was so much taller in the shoes. I decided to stand tall and be proud of myself, even though I was barely six feet tall. I had the opposite effect of going to sleep in my heels. I was wearing them proudly when I could. As I said, time has passed for me and I need to go for total comfort in my footwear, and it makes me sad. I feel I have lost a portion of my transfeminine self which will never be reclaimed. In the meantime, I can sit back and admire any woman I see negotiating the world in her high heeled shoes. As I know what she is going through, so I appreciate it.

As for you, if you haven’t checked out the “Femulate” blog yet, try it and you will see several transwomen and cross dressers in their heels and hose. Then you can go home and practice. Till you have your walk down and attempt in the public’s eye and watch out for sidewalk cracks which can cause you problems. Which I know from personal experiences.

 

  

The Yin and Yang of Gender

 

Yin and Yang from Gabriel Vasiliu 
on UnSplash. 

You might ask why I would write a post explaining why I was in such a hurry to transition into my womanhood when it took me nearly fifty years to come out of my gender shell. I finally discovered I was in a classic war between my yin and yang personalities.

Today, I am writing to explain the two forces I faced as I decided when and how to transition. My own personal yin and yang of gender. I guess it doesn’t matter which of the two forces I had to deal with, or if my yin side was feminine and my yang side was masculine because both were prominent parts of my life. Yang flourished because he had to early in my life and yin did the same when she finally had a chance to live and exist. I found this description from “Wikipedia” which backs up my theory:

“In Chinese creation theory, the universe develops out of a primary chaos of primordial qi or material energy, organized into the cycles of yin and yang, force and motion leading to form and matter. "Yin" is retractive, passive, contractive and receptive in nature in a contrasting relationship to "yang" that is repelling, active, expansive and repulsive.” It described me completely.

Yin and yang caught me chasing my tail as I would run back to the mirror as quickly as I could to put on a dress, make-up, and convince myself how pretty I was. It was yang’s primary form of escaping any potentially troublesome situations. As I always explain, coming to terms with all of this caused great torment, and now I wished I had someone to at least discuss it with except the one good therapist I was fortunate to be placed with at the Veterans’ Administration in Dayton, Ohio. She was understanding and even had a basic understanding of the LGBTQ community, so I did not have to educate her at all. However, we did not ever get into the clash of my yin and yang genders. On the plus side of our therapy, she never tried to equate any of my bi-polar depression issues with my need to express my yin side of myself.

Ironically, I think my yang side was very active and expansive in pushing my yin into the world. He provided the life lessons I needed to get out and push my gender envelope by learning new things. Without him, the initial exploratory trips to the regular venues I established myself in as a novice transgender woman would have never happened. So many nights I sat in my car for what seemed like forever before I summoned my courage to go inside.

On the other hand, it was yang who did his best to ensure his male world would never be taken away and he made a strong, experienced adversary. The problem became was how I was ever going to join my yin and yang together and form hopefully a good transfeminine person. The answer was I never had to really give up all the life which yang brought to the table. It turned out, I still was able to follow my love of sports, all the way to keeping my sexuality when lesbians took over my life. Altogether the entire process of joining my yin and yang proved to be easier than I thought. I just needed the courage to do it.

It would be too easy to say all transgender women and transgender men suffer from yin and yang gender problems, but the idea may go along way towards explaining what we feel to an outsider. It is far out of my pay grade to predict what anyone may do when confronted with such complex gender problems a trans person has. In fact, when I go back to “Wikipedia”, it even mentions gender in this form:

“When pertaining to human gender, yin is associated to more rounded feminine characteristics and Yang as sharp and masculine traits”.

I don’t know about you, but the whole definition works for me, and I wonder why it has taken me so long to stumble upon it in my research. In some ways, yin and yang reinforces my idea that transgender people deserve a special place in the world. Not one of scorn and discrimination. Maybe the average person just needs to know more about us on a regular basis and not what they hear from politicians. But they can’t even govern well enough to keep our government open, so I can’t see much chance of that anytime soon.

Passing Through Customs

 

Image from CDC on UnSplash.

Passing through gender customs was one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life. Relax, this is not another post where I slam the orange pedo/felon tearing down our country as I write...What I mean is, when the time and effort I took to finally blend in with all the ciswomen around became worth it.

 For the longest time, I thought passing customs just meant looking better than the average woman in the world. Then I discovered I needed to be better because I was a transgender woman. I could not get away with wearing no makeup and jeans like the other women around me if I was to pass their inspection. Don’t get me wrong, I did not have to wear heels and hose all the time to make it through customs, I just purchased jean skirts rather than jeans from my local thrift store and did very well with the new fashion I discovered. I was not wearing pants of any sort which I loved and still made it through customs wearing a skirt which flattered my legs.

Then I found wearing a simple skirt rather than pants was the easy part of customs. My first actual experience in passing a checkpoint as a trans woman came when a woman friend invited me to a NFL Football game in Cincinnati. In order to be admitted, I needed to be patted down by another woman who just smiled at me and then checked the extremely small purse I was carrying. She made it quick, smiled at me and let me on my way, terrified and all. By the time I began to breathe again it was game time, and I had other less scary distractions such as when and how I was going to use the women’s restroom. The whole evening really gave me confidence in my new self and how my future as a transgender woman could look.

Of course, I would be remiss if I did not bring up the most important point of all when I needed to actually talk and communicate with the other ciswomen who were inspecting me. The worst part was I was really shy and had put off any practice I could with my voice and eye contact. For the sake of repetition, I have always referred to the process of communication as being able to play in the girl’s sandbox. To make my life easier, I did my best to make sure there were as few girls as possible in the sandbox when I played in case something went wrong, and I needed to escape. Fortunately, I never did and was allowed to play.

For what they are worth, my words of wisdom are, when you start your journey in the world as a transfeminine person, always assume you will be going through customs of some sort. Women are always examined by other women from head to toe and by men also. So, get ready. It was a world which I was not used to because as a man, I rarely if ever, looked at what other men were wearing. On the other hand, women will notice what you are wearing if you can’t pass customs. Try not to be intimidated and enjoy the process as much as you can. It is what you signed up for.

It is also a positive if you can go through the process of having your legal gender markers changed. I had most of mine done years ago when I had not made the transition from transgender woman to trans woman senior citizen. I was more worried about being pulled over while I was driving and not having an ID which did not say female on it. Plus, not that it matters so much here in fascist Ohio, this year, the heavily manipulated legislature is trying to circumvent any gender markers on ID’s a person may have. Which means, as I understand it, in the future, I could be confronted and harassed by the authorities for simply using the restroom. Customs passing is getting harder and harder around here.

I read many posts and experiences from transgender women and men who are confronted when they have tried to pass customs, and it is not pleasant. In fact, it has led many to resort to measures such as genital realignment surgery to make them feel whole in their chosen gender. I myself, for various reasons, have not resorted to any surgeries, mainly because I am fortunate to have found many supportive allies over the years, I could surround myself with. More than anything else, they gave me courage when I needed to pass through gender customs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Growing Like a Weed

 

Image from Marya Volk 
on UnSplash.

I was devastated when I outgrew all my mom’s clothes and I had no sister’s closets to raid for clothes. Where would I ever be able to find the feminine accessories, I needed to cross dress in front of the mirror. So, I had to rely on a little luck and a whole lot of creativity to get by. For example, I found a discarded cute stretch mini skirt just outside of the girl’s locker room at school which fit me, and I had it for years. The rest of my “collection” came from being able to do work around the house, and a rural newspaper route I had delivering papers. My parents loved the fact that I was so industrious without ever knowing the real reason why.

As I continued my ascent towards unwanted puberty and testosterone poisoning, sadly I continued to grow like a weed, making it less probable I could find any clothes to fit me. Somehow, I did by being very creative with my meager funds and having the courage to sneak out of my grandma’s house to secretly go shopping for clothes and makeup. As I always point out, we lived out of town, and the only way I had to get around was by my bike, unless I spent the night at grandma’s. Who lived close to downtown where we lived. I survived the clerks in the stores I went to and slowly became better at what I bought.

Through it all, I thought I would outgrow this portion of my life when all I wanted was to be a girl. Like a weed, it kept on growing in me and refused to go away. I went through the usual phases of gender dysphoria many of us go through. The heights of euphoria when I crossed dressed, and the lows when I was not able to. The pressure on me continued to build up until I took chances and dressed in a locked room with my brother around. Certainly, if I was discovered, my parents would have treated me with enough weed killer at a psychiatrist appointment to do me in. My parents’ eldest son wanting to be a girl would not have been tolerated.

Either I was better in hiding my cross dressing from them, or they chose to ignore it, because nothing was ever said to me, and I dodged any trips to therapy where they knew nothing about gender dysphoria and would refer to me as being mentally ill.

The older I became, the more my weed sprouted and refused to go away. In fact, when the internet era began and we bought our first computer, it gave me the chance to research what sort of a weed I had. Very quickly I learned my early ideas were correct and I was much more than a weekend cross dresser who was more or less wanting to look like a ciswoman as some sort of a hobby. In fact, I was transgender which was a new term back in those days. For the first time in my life, I found a label which fit me. I was not a cross dresser at all, nor was I a fully-fledged transsexual who wanted to run off and have genital realignment surgery. Through the computer I was even able to meet others similar to me for the first time in my life.

At that point, I began to realize my weed was not a weed at all, it was turning out to be more of a late blooming flower which had to be explored and nurtured. As  I began to explore the new feminine world I was in, I discovered how complex ciswomen had it in their lives and what affected them. I can use my second wife as an example of how badly a woman could feel when her husband wants to run off and be a woman. Often without having the knowledge to do it. I felt sorry for my wife, and we fought often, but there was nothing I could do about my new flower in my life. It was not out of control as much as it was me and I refused to confront it. Long story short, she did not live long enough to experience the transfeminine person I had become and that was a shame because like it or not, she had a lot to do with the new feminine me.

Now I feel sorry for all those toxic men and ciswomen who can not seem to find their way out of their weed patch. Growing a beautiful new flower is the only way to go as you live your life as a transgender woman. Now I know why my old male self never liked flowers.

 

 

Not a Fetish...A Lifestyle

 

Image from UnSplash. 

I am still always amazed when a bigot or uneducated person thinks a transgender woman dresses as a woman as some sort of a fetish.

In my case, I realized the feminine clothes and makeup I was wearing were secondary to the real reason I was doing it. I wanted to be a woman, or as close as I could come to being one because I knew there were certain things I could never do such as give birth. As I progressed through the years, however, I found I could find my own path to womanhood and follow it. I would have no part of thinking I was involved in a fetish at all. I was different. Little did I know how different I would turn out to be.

Initially, I judged a ciswoman’s life from what I observed, since I was not allowed into experience more. When all you have is a one-sided view, all you get is a shallow result. All I could see was the pretty clothes, shoes and hair that the women around me had. Why did I have to be stuck in my same old shirt and tie when my cousins at Christmas got to wear their new velvet dresses, shiny black shoes, and creamy tights. I was always so disappointed when we left for the trip home, and I dreamed of the day I could be a woman.

For many reasons, I took my time getting to my dream world. It was almost fifty years later when my wife Liz and I took in a Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra Christmas concert, and I was the one who needed to come up with the most beautiful semi-formal gown I could to blend in with the other ciswomen and enjoy the evening, I did as I thrift shopped diligently until I came up with an attractive, sparkly gown in my size. Happily, I brought it home and it worked well as I blended right in. Without a fetish in sight.

The only time I had to deal with being a fetish object was when I first came out into the public out of my closet and tried online dating. At first, all was pretty quiet on the dating front until I began to try the “man seeking man” sites. Since I never kept my transgender status a secret, I began to be flooded with men who wanted to wear my used panties or just meet up in a motel room some place. I even had a couple of men who wanted me to dress them up as a woman. Naturally, I turned down all those requests and was stood up often when I required meeting a man in a public location of my choice. Even though I was intensely lonely, I knew I was more than a fetish object and had to be safe in the new world I was in.

The longer I followed this route, the more I knew I was headed towards a complete gender lifestyle change. My dream was more than a dream and it could be a reality if I tried hard enough to reach it. But first I needed to change who I was trying to reach in the world. When I started out, I thought men would be my focus. All the way to having one woman friend tell me to get a banana and practice. (I will let your imagination do the rest.) As I progressed though, I discovered the opposite was true, in order to make it in life, I needed to first be accepted in the world of ciswomen. Who made it a practice of looking me over from head to toe when I went out in the world. They taught me how to be better, because I was certainly not a fetish object to them. I was locked into a scary, exciting new transfeminine lifestyle.

When I became a regular in certain venues, it helped me jump the gap I was experiencing when someone just saw me for the first time and thought I was a man in a dress. When they saw me for the second time or more, they began to realize I was a lifestyle, no matter what I used to be. The world opened for me, as well as the ciswomen around me who taught me I did not need validation from a man to feel good about myself.

As day-to-day transgender women, we do face the improbable battle with trans porn in the world. Men think we are all like women they see in videos, and magazines. When the men find out we are not the fetish objects of their desire, some react violently. Trans women have enough threats to face without the extra problems of trans porn.

As soon as the government leaves us alone and realizes we are just living our lives, not as fetish objects, the world will be a better place to live. Our transgender reality is what we are fighting for.

 

 

 

Gender Lost and Found

 

Image from Patrick Hawlick
on UnSplash.  

Navigating the path of lost and found is often very difficult for a transgender woman or transgender man. Speaking for me only, my path was filled with many holes and dead ends before I ever saw any success.

Perhaps, even more frustrating was the fact that once I thought I had made a significant move forward, I would hit a brick wall and be rejected again, and desperation set in. Too many times, at the beginning of my feminine experience when I had no clue of what I was doing wrong when I had enough courage to leave my dark closet. It finally occurred to me that I had had enough of my frustrating existence as a man. Sadly, some days I was on my transfeminine game. Some days not so much as there was so much to learn. Such as, on the days when my makeup, hair and wardrobe looked presentable, I caught myself making the same old male scowl I had perfected to keep the world away. It got so bad, I even had a little girl point me out to her mom by saying “Look at the big MEAN woman” Not the image I wanted to portray but at least I passed the woman part. The gender cup was half full, and I had learned a valuable lesson.

My biggest challenge was putting together my feminine image once I succeeded in getting it out of the mirror. The mirror was always kind to me by telling me just what I wanted to hear. While the public was brutally honest with me and they were my mirror. Sometimes I found what I was looking for and was accepted as a trans woman, and some days I wasn’t. The classic lost and found. My goal always was to keep my gender finds much more frequent than my losses. What I never knew was how difficult that would be. I thought I had a good understanding of what a woman’s life would be all about, until I learned how wrong I was. It seemed my lessons were like peeling back the layers of an onion. Even to the point of shedding tears when I was not successful.

The more I followed the obscure gender signs on my path, the more of my male life I lost and of course, he hated it. With the hate came an alliance with my second wife to stop me from finding more of my transgender self. The two on one battle was never fair, but I knew I would have to fight it anyway for my self-survival. The ultimate lost and found was at stake for me. I had a life to lose when I transitioned as I faced the very real reality of losing my marriage, family, friends and employment. On the other hand, I faced the growing reality I could live out my lifetime dream of living as a woman on my terms.

Ultimately, I discovered I uncovered a life so rich and full, I wondered how I had ever lived without it before. Of course, I am referring to my new life as a transgender woman. I found my unique life between the two main binary genders gave me a perspective on life that many others just don’t have. I never lost my knowledge of what men think, while at the same time gaining an idea of what women were thinking too. In fact, several women I knew after I transitioned reached out to me for ideas about problems they were having with their men. I knew I had finally arrived and had gained more than I had ever lost.

As I could see the distant finish line on my gender path, I picked up speed and did things such as start gender affirming hormones or HRT. The hormones never made me transgender but helped me to sync up my internal gender issues. I was so fortunate when the doctor said I was healthy enough to start his hormonal program. Minimal dosage or not, I was on my way again.

Even though, I don’t think I would wish gender lost and found on anyone, for me, what I went through made life interesting. Just to understand in my own way what ciswomen go through in their lives as close as I could took me closer to my goal of jumping to what I saw as the side of the gender border, I wanted to be on. I even lived through the old “bait and switch” side of life when I thought I was being successful, but I wasn’t. Ultimately, learning more and more transgender lessons as I did.

 

 

 

No Addiction...Just Fact

 

Image from Yumu on
UnSplash.

Perhaps many of you went through the same misgivings about our male to female transitions as I did.

First, I felt it was a simple fetish with the new feminine clothes I was trying to wear. Then, when I outgrew the fetish idea along with mom’s clothes, I needed to try to determine exactly what was going on with me and my gender issues. With no help, and stuck in a very dark closet, I felt alone with no one to talk to. Thank goodness for the “Transvestia” publication by Virginia Prince coming into my life by pure accident which gave me hope for the future. There were others like me who wanted to look like women and have mixers with each other. If only I could make it to one, maybe some of my gender questions could be answered. While entertaining, the mixers I discovered which were close enough for me to attend, did not really answer many of my deep-seated questions. Such as why I was wearing women’s clothes as much as possible. Was I addicted to the clothes or was something else going on.

It did turn out that something much deeper with me was going on. It took me years to figure out the truth. Something much deeper was going on with me and my deeply held gender issues which should not have been problems at all, if I had faced up to them. I was not addicted to looking like a woman, the fact was, I wanted to find my own version of being a woman.

Then the real search for my identity began, as I finally had the courage to open my closet door and go out. In the beginning, ever so briefly until I built up my confidence as a novice transgender woman. Ironically, back then, the term transgender had not been widely used. There were only transvestites (or cross dressers) and transsexuals who wanted to have major surgeries called sex changes. Through this period of my life, I had the uneasy feeling I did not really fit into the transvestite or transsexual mold. I was different and still confused. All the diverse parties I attended were not helping me decide where I really fit.

Still, I kept trying to find my way, and I kept meeting more and more people on the gender spectrum at the parties I went to. From cross dresser admirers to impossibly feminine transsexuals, to the occasional lesbian, I was able to broaden my knowledge of the gender world as I knew it and further research where I belonged. By meeting all of them, I was able to determine where I wanted to be in the world as a transfeminine person and go from there. Plus, I did know, once and for all, the simple act of looking like a woman was not an addiction for me. It was a deep issue which sooner or later in my life I would have to face.

At that time, my progress was slow but steady as I made a far-ranging group of acquaintances in the gender community I was visiting. On one side, I was dealing with Ed, a part-time closeted cross dresser who had a crush on Michelle. A beautiful transsexual woman we both knew. I was stuck in the middle of that strange relationship. Trying my best to be understanding. All I knew was, the interactions I was having were not helping me with my issues which once again I was internalizing. The same thing I perfected in my male life which was so bad for me. I finally came to the point where I realized I needed to be my own person as a transfeminine person. I knew for sure; I had the dream of someday living fulltime as a woman. I just had no idea of how I was going to get there. I set out to discover answers to the many questions I had.

Such as, I knew I was not a cross dresser or transsexual. I was transgender looking for my path. Was I gay? What was my sexuality going to be under the gender affirming hormones I was seriously considering taking. It took me many years of searching before I finally received some long-awaited answers. And would I ever have the courage to face who I really was.

I was fortunate as I always mention that a small group of lesbians took me in and pushed me along my transition path. My sexuality did not have to change and that was one big question out of the way. My validation came from other women, not men and that was a fact.

Once I fully escaped my gender closet, I could look around with confidence and know my new transgender life was not built on addiction that I tried to solve, but on the facts, I refused to accept. I was never meant to be a man, and I was living a lie. The problem was I became good at the lie, and it was difficult to give up. Finally, I did learn through all my searching what the difference was between addiction and lie. Not a fact.

 

 

 

 

Be Safe rather than Sorry

 

Toxic male from UnSplash

Before I begin this post, I have a disclaimer. I did not follow what I preached many times when I opened my dark gender closet door and ventured out into the public. I broke many unwritten rules I knew were true.

I will say, the times when I came out were much different than today. Not so much kinder and gentler to transgender women and trans men. Mainly, what I am referring to is the person at the top ruining the nation we have, and I don’t have to mention who he is. Basically, he is the top toxic male who empowers all the other toxic males who potentially can give us trouble. There is a real difference in just being laughed at all the way to being physically attacked.

In my case, as I always mention, my initial problem was drawing attention to myself rather than learning how to blend in with other women. I was fortunate I grew out of that phase quickly before I got into trouble other than just being laughed at.

Another of the main issues I encountered was how I was presenting myself once I was fairly confident, I could get by. What I mean was I was going out primarily as a single woman. Which is primarily something ciswomen just don’t do. They believe there is strength in numbers I just did not have. To make up for it, I tried to make sure I did not sit down next to a man if I could help it, and if there just happened to be a vacant seat, I tried to mark it is as mine. What I tried to do was use my cell phone as my major prop. Especially if it was during the warm weather months when I could not throw my jacket over the seat next to me and reserve it. Often, I would act like I was texting a potential friend on the phone who was going to join me. Anything to throw a toxic male off my path.

 I learned quickly when I discovered how much nonverbal communication went on between women that men knew nothing about. One night I had a prime example when a toxic man tried to strike up a conversation with me at one of the places, I was a regular at. When he did, I received a nonverbal warning from one of the bartenders I knew about him, so I rapidly left the venue before anything happened.

All of those methods I used helped me to survive in a new exciting world as I left the gay venues behind me and started to learn what the real world was all about. All very important points if I was ever going to make it to my dream of living as a transgender woman. My learning experiences turned out to be tremendous.

As I said, times have changed today and so much more is at stake for all of us. Whereas a couple years ago, a stranger would be less likely to say anything to you. These days, all of that has changed. There is more pressure on all of us to put our best foot forward as transfeminine people. I always mention the weight I lost when I first came out. Which helped me to buy more stylish clothes and obviously look better. At the same time, I began a very serious skin program which started every day after I shaved. I was doing as much as I could to improve my overall feminine self. All of it gave me confidence to move forward, which I needed badly.

Finally, I would be remiss if I did not mention the loss of your male personal security when you enter a new feminine world. Don’t take chances with your security by doing the things cisgender women already know. To the best of their ability, they try not to park in dark unmarked areas unless they have strength in numbers. As I read, in some areas, women even have to guard their drinks from toxic men trying to drug them. Can you imagine that? Well, you have to when you go through a male to female transition.

This entire post urges you to be on your game when you come out. Among other things, be careful how you carry your purse in crowded areas. It all adds a level of acceptance as a trans woman which goes far past your basic appearance which of course is important too.

In todays’ world, it is important to know your circumstances at all times, not unlike a cisgender woman who learned what to do around toxic males. Look at it this way, you will be a more complete woman ready to earn your place in today’s world.

 

 

Transgender Dreams

 

Image from Maximus Beaumont
on UnSplash.

Over the years, I experienced slow progress towards achieving my transgender background which I refused to accept.

What I did to exist with my gender dysphoria was to cross dress when I could, all the way to attending Halloween parties completely dressed as a woman every year. When I did, I could judge the reactions of the public to me. Eventually though, the part-time cross-dressing and annual Halloween parties were not enough. Which led me to explore more and more the world as a novice transgender woman. Being a novice, I suffered too many bumps and bruises as my world changed from male to female. Primarily because my male ego was suffering at the abuse he was taking when he tried to give up control to my long hidden feminine self. He thought wearing ultra short mini skirts would be enough to gain acceptance into a female world.

When just the opposite happened, he needed to grudgingly give up more and more control in my life so I could progress and even briefly thrive as a transgender woman. When I started to look around at other women around me and began to blend in with them, I started to be successful in my life.  In fact, I was too successful at times when I started to be accepted in the world. I began to look for more places to go to see if I could progress my life as a transgender woman. Keep in mind, at that time, living a life as a transfeminine person was still a distant dream. Fortunately, I was receiving enough positive feedback to keep moving.

I discovered most of the world did not care about me, even though I felt all eyes were on me as a woman. Women were looking me up and down to see what made me tick while at the same time, for the most part, men were ignoring me because I was not that attractive. I started to progress in my new gender when I began to have confidence in myself knowing the world could get over it when and if I ran into any problems I could survive. At the same time, I was improving my wardrobe and makeup skills, which helped me to improve my life as a transgender woman. All of a sudden, I realized I could achieve my dream of living in a feminine world, but I still had a long way to go.

Progression began to happen much more quickly, even though I had roadblocks on my path in areas such as communication. Naturally I knew women had an entirely different way of communicating than men. Direct communication was out, and passive indirect communications were in. I needed to learn quickly how to look another woman in the eye and try to judge what she was thinking about me.

Through it all, I had a wife and very active male life to deal with. Neither wanted me to succeed in my dream life.  At certain points of time, the noise of life around me was deafening and neither would step up to help me as I was trying to adjust to a new scary existence. I was alone. I thought. But I wasn’t, I had my long hidden feminine self to step up and help me. She took over as if she had never been forced into the background her entire life. She led me to be the person I should have always been.

I was able to progress through the final steps I needed to make to succeed. The combination of women friends, experience and hormones (HRT) provided me with the final push to shove my male self into the closet for good. Even still, the final decision to give all my male clothes away took a lot of thought. Finally, one night, I could take the pressure no longer and needed to make the move to live my dream. When I did, the pressure was off, and I had a new lease on life. Once I lifted the weight I had carried for so long, I was a new person and had progressed towards my dream. I also wondered what took me so long to make the move. Fifty years of cross-dressing and testing the world was far too long and my mental health suffered because of it.

Finally, I made the choices which should have been obvious to me all the time and decided to reach out and grasp my transgender dreams.

 

 

Restroom Adventures

 

Image from CDC on UnSplash

Since my wife Liz and I went away on a trip to New England for so long, I have several restroom adventures to share.

The main one I did not think of was what would happen when I needed to seek out an open handicapped stall to use because of my mobility issues. I needed all the help I could get to make my way around to get to the toilet.

The first big issue came in Boston, where I was not expecting any difficulties. The first problem came when the only elevator down to the restrooms was broken and I had to try to use a steep set of stairs to make it to the restrooms themselves. I guess I looked unsteady enough for a younger man to offer to help me down the steps. But I made it alone. Then I found the handicapped stall and it was empty. The only bad part was the lock on the door was very flimsy, but by that time, I had no choice but to try it anyhow. In the beginning, all was good, and I finished my business with no problems. Then I heard a mom and young daughter enter the room. At that point, I tried to pull up my leggings and get myself together before BOOM, the kid barged through my stall door before her mom could stop her. Fortunately, I had my leggings almost all the way up as the mom pulled the kid out of there and all was alright. I went ahead and washed my hands and swiftly exited the restroom with a slight smile on my face.

Another one of the positives which happened on the trip was I got a chance to work on my voice again. It turned out I needed a passable voice to get me by in the restroom which on occasion was really crowded. Several times I had to respond to someone inquiring if the stall was occupied. The last thing I wanted to do was respond to another woman asking if the stall was occupied with a man’s voice. I did well enough I guess because no one ever questioned me on it.  Which gave me extra confidence to carry on other conversations with other women on other topics.

No matter how many rest stops the bus made, there still were times when I had to use the toilet on the bus. It was times like these when I was happy, I could sit down to pee. If you ever tried to negotiate moving around on a motor coach, you know what I mean, At the least you have to be very careful and at the worst, you have to be really careful to check the seat before you sit down. Even though I have to give the Amtrak train we took from Boston to Maine passing marks for timeliness and comfort, the restrooms left a lot to be desired and in fact, one seemed to be flooded and out of use. Fortunately, I did not have to go and let another woman take my spot.

Similar to so many other bus trips we have taken, in a relatively short period of time I was accepted for myself and no indication of any pushback of any one on the tour except that one guy on the first day who made the point of pointing me out to his wife From then on, I ignored him and everything was OK. It seems there always needs to be at least on hater these days wherever you go sadly.

Traveling while transgender will always carry extra baggage and we did not even go on modes of transportation such as flying which brings with it a whole other set of potential problems. Once I conquered my rest room fears, I was able to bond with the other women on the trips, and all turned out to be a good move. I made it through mentally and physically, so we have another trip planned. The whole process keeps me challenged and aware of my transfeminine being alive and well. Which is what I need at my age of seventy-five.

The restroom adventures just turned out to be the icing on the cake, it even got to the point when other women were helping me to the restroom. I needed all the cisgender acceptance I could get to build confidence. In fact, I found myself in situations where I was in danger of outing myself. Which is a topic for another blog post.