Climbing Walls

JJ Hart

 When I transitioned from male to the feminine person I was all along, I hit many walls.

As it turned out, some were short walls and easy to climb, and some were almost insurmountable. The problem quickly became which were which. Very early on, when life was simpler, the act of applying eye makeup initially presented itself as a major hurdle, or wall. Once I conquered that challenge, I was able to move on to bigger and better things. Little did I know, I would be facing bigger walls to climb. A few were so tall I could barely see my dream of living fulltime as a transgender woman at all.

Leaving my safe yet dark gender closet and trying my hand at living as a novice cross dresser or transgender woman in public suddenly presented me with many new walls to climb. Iniitally, there was the omnipresent pressure of presenting properly in public as a woman. To do it, I needed to overcome how my old male self-thought I should look and change it to how my femininized self knew how I had to look to blend in with her cisgender counter parts. Plus, I needed to do it on a regular basis as people were starting to remember me. There were no more changing names to fit a new wig I was wearing. At least I needed to understand that even though strangers knew I was not a cisgender woman, I needed to prove I was a person who was nice to know and got along in the world. Most of all, I was not some sort of a freak, and I needed to remember in the overwhelming number of cases, I was the first and only transgender woman the public had ever met.

The frustrating part of this time of my life came when I was taking a step forward towards climbing another wall, then slid back down when I hit it. I was rapidly losing all the press on nails I bought as I was trying to climb. I seemingly always had problems with moving like a woman. No matter how much I tried, I still ended up moving like a stiff football player in public when I walked into a venue. I worked long and hard to correct the problem and finally succeeded to an extent. Putting femininized self into motion was a problem so large, it was only topped by the communication problems I was having dealing with the public. Basically, I was scared to death of talking to anyone. It was particularly frustrating when I began to talk to other women, who I very much wanted to be friendly with.

On the other hand, men were not a problem at all, since for the most part, they left me alone. The problem was partially solved when I took feminine vocal lessons and the rest with pure practice. Finally, before I came off being unfriendly with other women, I just gave up, relaxed and did the best I could to enjoy and learn from the conversations I was having.

Before I knew it, the walls were coming down and I was gaining the all-important confidence I needed to reach my lifetime dreams of being a woman on my own terms. My terms became rather obvious over time. No major gender surgeries which I thought were too expensive and risky for a person my age of sixty. I would just have to take all my learned experiences out of the closet, put them together and do the best I could.

Another of one of my remaining tallest walls was doing more for my inner self. I solved it by becoming eligible for gender affirming hormones. My initial thought was the changes I would experience would be external, not internal. It turned out, the internal changes were more immediate and far reaching than the external changes. In fact, I can and should write an entire blog post about my changes on HRT. Briefly, I entered an entirely, the new, softer world. Suddenly, I could cry, and my senses improved. Perhaps the biggest one was I was more susceptible to changes in temperature. I learned all those years of thinking women were faking it when they were cold was true. When I was reaching for my coat on a chilly evening.

Certainly, HRT helped to tear down most of the final walls in my gender journey. I say most because I do not think all my walls will ever be totally gone. After all, I have lived most of my life as a man with all the resultant experiences and privilege. No matter what I do what is left of him will still be with me. His former life will always be with me. I just need to learn from him and conquer all the walls he put up in protest.

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.

Was I Outdated?

 

My wife Liz. Key West Florida.

Along the way in my increasingly long life, I have considered myself to be outdated. 

As I grew up through the late fifties and the early to mid 60's, I went through my mom's fashions, all the way to the short mini skirted times when I was in middle school. By the time I had cross dressed my way in the mirror to a place where I could control it at all, the world of fashion had changed, and I was outdated for the first time. My miniskirts gave way to hippie boho fashion. I loved the long-haired hippie women around me.

By now you are probably thinking I was resistant to change or was simply ignoring the overall basics of women's fashion. The biggest basic is that fashion always changes. A woman is encouraged to go with the flow of fashion for a number of reasons, good or bad. As I see it, the good or fun aspect of fashion are the seasonal changes. I write occasionally about when the seasons do change here in Ohio, how satisfying it is for me to go through my wardrobe and judge what stays and what goes. It is at these times; I have to figure out if I am outdated or not and most importantly, does it still matter to me at my age. 

As I am sure you all know, as cisgender women age, they go through progressions especially involving their hair. Many start wearing the longer hair of their youth and as they age, the hair becomes shorter and shorter. It was the one age trend I resisted until I had quite a bit of my hair trimmed off at the end of last year before my wife Liz and I went on vacation. It turns out, I fit right in with the other women on the vacation tour we went on to the Florida Keys. 

Just fitting in, was something I never wanted to do. Preferably, as much as possible, I wanted to be on the cutting edge of fashion, if, it involved having a Boho lean. I never got over the admiration I had for the women during my college and military days when I was required to wear my hair short. I made up for the short buzz cuts I had to wear by wearing my hair longer than almost all other women during my senior years. 

If you are familiar with "Stana Short" on the famous Femulate blog, the short she is referring too is in regard to her length of hemlines on her famously long and shapely legs. I never had to face the skirt length dilemma following my love affair with miniskirts in my youth until the eighties I believe it was when they briefly returned. One of my favorite outfits I had was a black mini I wore with one of my fluffy long sweaters and a pair of flats when I went out shopping. It was one of the few times in my life as a transgender woman that my fashion matched the majority of what cisgender women were wearing.

These days, at the age of seventy-five, I am happy to be able to stay active and mobile at all. Sometimes I think my favorite colorful leggings make me outdated in my fashion, but I love them and that is all that matters. I suppose too, I am allowed to be outdated. 

Follow your Passion

It does not seem possible but Labor Day is here and for the most part, summer is another memory.

Of course, the fall season brings more with it other than temperature changes (in my part of the world) which leads to necessary wardrobe changes. Even though here in Ohio we normally have a late summer come back, it is time to think about bringing out the leggings and long fuzzy sweaters for the fall.

Perhaps, as important to me and my wife Liz, it is time for football season to kick off again. There was a time when I wondered if my favorite time of year would have to be diminished somehow  when I transitioned into the feminine world. My love of sports was the only big piece of male baggage I did not want to give up. 

It turned out I did not have to worry when I began to notice and meet other women who were as passionate about sports as I was. Especially my wife Liz who shared my passions for The Ohio State Buckeyes and the NFL's Cincinnati Bengals as well as my friends Kim and Nikki. 

I guess I was lucky when I was able to bring my passion for sports with me into my new world.  

This weekend, for a new kick off season, I invested in a new The Ohio State Buckeye sweatshirt. I am very superstitious when it comes to my sports teams and my new soft and snuggly sweatshirt needs to be broken in with a few wins. 

I guess my main message here is almost nothing is off limits to you if you want to transition into a new feminine life as a transgender woman. If you look around, there are women who have the same passions you do. Loving sports takes nothing away from your innate femininity. It's all part of being part of a gender which is allowed to be more layered and enjoy more things. 

If you look around, you can find many feminine fashion sports items to wear. Who knows, if you are still in the closet, you can still wear panty hose under your jeans until you can do more. In this case women are rapidly catching up with men in their love of sports. So you are free to be you.

And one more thing, GO BUCKEYES!!!!

It Has Never Been a Sprint

 

Image from Marcus
Spiske on UnSplash

A transgender life is never a sprint, it is a marathon. 

From the first time we slide on the hose and view ourselves in a mirror, we never believe the gender journey we have started would last as long as it did. Initially for me, I was on a very short term program when I would cross dress as a girl one day and live off the proverbial buzz until I could follow my dream and cross dress again. 

I wonder now if I had known the journey I followed would have so many bumps in the road and would have lasted so long would I have still done it. On the other hand, I was never a sprinter and a marathon was a closer match to my personality. Plus, there were milestones along the way which kept me going. Very early on, I knew I needed much more than just the feel of women's clothes to propel me forward. There just had to be more than just looking like a girl, I wanted to do more and be a girl. I knew the journey would be difficult and maybe impossible but I needed to keep trying. 

First of all, I needed to learn the basics of feminine appearance so I could safely explore the world as my new exciting self. With no help and very little money, I haunted the thrift stores trying different wardrobe items which were very inexpensive until I finally began to see improvement. My sprint during the time in my life when I was experimenting more and more was exhausting. The one thing which was evident to me was I was on my own. To win or lose was my passion but first I needed to see away around surviving a stint in the military where I could not express my feminine self. Fortunately, I could fall back on what my male self had taught me about internalizing my feelings. During my three years of military service, I managed to survive without cross dressing except for one notable Halloween party which led to me coming out to a few friends of mine as a transvestite. Included in the group of three was a woman who was to become my first wife and the mother of my only child. This brief sprint set the stage for me coming out to others in the future. 

For awhile, I was over confident about others accepting my authentic self until a conversation with my Mom brought me back down to earth. She soundly rejected me and I was off I pursuing my gender marathon again. Even with the set back, I had plenty of energy to move forward. Move forward I did, regardless of living with an unapproving wife. I needed to hide nearly all of what I was doing as I ran my next sprint. 

By this time, my sprints were becoming more defined as  I was increasingly discovering my dream of living a fulltime life as a transgender woman just could be a reality. Next up on my sprint were gender affirming hormones and making the decision to never look back where I had come from as a male and plan ahead a life as a transgender woman. 

The only constant I found on my gender marathon was change. Every time I thought I had it made in the process, something came along to disrupt my thinking. It could be as minor as being mis-gendered in the world or so much more now as I reach the twi-light of my life. Now making it to the finish line of my gender marathon in the best shape possible is my main goal.

Are You Really Someone Else as a Trans Person?

 

Image from Kevin Laminto 
on UnSplash

For the longest time, I considered the idea I was two separate people.

On one hand, I was living the male life I was entrenched in and on the other, I was attempting to carve out the precious time I needed to explore my cross dressing self in front of the mirror. Trying to live a life on the gender border between male and female as very difficult to say the least. When I was in male mode, I spent every spare moment wanting to cross dress again at the least and trying to imagine what living as a girl would be like the rest of the time. To make matters worse, I even dreamed of being a pretty girl when I was asleep. Then I had to wake up confused and bitter when I found out life really hadn't changed and I was still a male after all. I needed to go again and challenge an unwanted world. 

Through it all, I often wondered why me? It took years for me to embrace who I really was and know the answer. I was just me and it would have to be good enough. However, the family upbringing I went through made it so difficult. During my youth, I was taught nothing was good enough. When I brought home any "B's: in my studies, they were not good enough. Where were the expected "A's." The never good enough attitude carried with me into my cross dressing life, all the way to when I became a novice transgender woman. In other words, when I acquired a new dress, when its newness wore off, I always felt I could look better in another dress, It led me to being a thrift store shop-a -holic. I couldn't wait until I could take what I had set aside money wise from my wife and use what time I could set aside to locate the next great outfit. 

My problem became especially bad when I was able to afford shopping for new wigs. I went through what I called my clown era of wigs before I settled into one or two wigs I wore all the time. By doing so, I was able to finally begin to build myself as a stable transgender woman in the world. I was beginning to learn I was someone else and that person was not a guy. 

As I was doing all of this  and as I lived a new and exciting world as a trans woman, I found I was taking all the stress off my mental health. The new authentic me enabled me to feel more confident on the gender path I was taking. I was fortunate also to have had a good therapist at the time to help me talk my way through it with her. Since I had previously been diagnosed as being Bi-Polar, both of us were careful to keep my gender issues separate. Plus, no mention was ever made of me being two people. I set the idea aside as being yet another mistaken idea from my youth. It could have been my male self attempting yet another move to survive the onslaught of life changing ideas which threatened his very existence. 

My life today proves I was always only one person and that was my feminine side. It is so sad I needed to fight so long to feminize my entire life as a transgender woman. The only true person I needed to be.  

A Point of No Return

 

Image from the Jessie Hart
Archives.

For nearly a half a century I considered myself a more or less serious cross dresser or transvestite. In addition, I considered the transvestite label little more than just that, a label which was appropriate just to  use around others. Even though I rarely told anyone else about my gender issues.

The only people I can remember telling would number under ten before I finally came out into the world as a novice transgender woman. The first people I ever trusted enough to share my biggest secret oddly enough were friends I had in the Army. My disclosure came after I risked what was left of my time in the Army by dressing totally as a woman for a Halloween party.  Following the party, several weeks later under the influence of great German beer, the subject of the party came up. Of course then, the conversation went to what our costumes were. 

When the subject turned to me and how good I looked, I gathered the courage and told the three others the night was not the first time I had cross dressed as a woman and in fact I was a transvestite. I ended up taking a major leap of faith telling them because I still had approximately six or seven months to go on my enlistment and conceivably I could have encountered problems if the gender information I disclosed got into the wrong hands. After making it so far towards an honorable discharge, I certainly did not want to destroy the time I had put in. Plus, what would I tell my friends and family at home when I arrived back there early. 

To make a long story short, nothing negative happened with telling my friends I was in reality a transvestite and the experience was very liberating. On the other hand, I was not going to tell the rest of the world my secret. Of importance is the fact one of the people I told that night turned out to be the mother of my child and future wife. So I did not have to worry about telling her once we became married. I see her to this day and we still get along. Sadly, the other two friends I told are now deceased and I lost track of them almost completely before they passed. 

All of this brings me to the next person I told which was my Mom. It happened one night shortly after I was discharged and I was living at home for a very short while. One night when I came home from partying with my friends she was waiting up for me just like back in my college days. Somehow the conversation turned to my life and what I was up to. Out of the clear blue sky I decided to tell her my deepest secret about being a transvestite. I was still feeling liberated from telling my friends in the Army and felt secure in telling her, betting she would never tell my Dad. Just about the time I was feeling good about including Mom in my world, she turned around and roundly rejected me. All she really did was offer to pay for psychiatric care to solve the problem. Very quickly I rejected her offer and said no one was going to, in essence, plug me into a socket for electro-shock therapy.  From then on until she died, the subject of my growing gender dysphoria was never brought up again. 

The last person I came out to when I was still in my gender closet was my second wife. I write extensively concerning our gender battles but the fact remains she supported me as a cross dresser until I began my transition into a transgender woman. In essence, over the span of our twenty five year marriage, we just grew apart until her untimely death. 

Once I reached the point of no return in my male to female gender transition. there was no point in worrying about telling anyone I was transgender. It was obvious to the public who interacted with me what I was and they were left to draw their own conclusion. All of a sudden, all the pressure was off of me. All I needed to do was to do my best to present to the public who I really was. Plus, I would be remiss if I did not mention the roles gender affirming hormones played in my experiences. I was so happy with the results I was experiencing, I never wanted to go back to a testosterone filled life. For once, a plan came together for me and the point of no return never had to be challenged. 

Another Look at Transgender Socialization

 Connie responded to the Cyrsti's Condo post on transgender socialization with a look of her own:

"It's true, at least in my case, that living a gender-dichotomous life has required a different sort of socialization. My experiences have been three decades ahead of Ms Tanenbaum's, and, as such, included even more of a self-induced socialization - especially during my formative years. Society was largely black and white on gender in the 50s and 60s. In those days, if one displayed behaviors that did not strictly adhere to society's expectations, they would probably be labeled homosexual. As much as I wished I were a girl, I was more afraid of being seen as a gay boy. From what little I knew (or thought I knew) of gay people at the time, I was absolutely certain that I didn't fit that mold - certain most of the time, that is. I often contemplated the possibility that I was, but would dismiss it because I was attracted to girls. But, then, I would wonder whether I were only attracted to girls because I wanted to be like them, or that I wanted to be "with" them.

Perhaps, the bigger question would be: If I were like them, would they still want to be "with" me? In real life, I was socialized male by default. In my own secret fairy tale life, I was astute enough to the socialization of the girls that I could appropriate femininity any time my male-self was not in demand. There were so many times that I would come home dead-tired from football practice, but become completely regenerated by the chance to express my feminine-self when I knew nobody else would be home for an hour or two. Looking back on it, football was my release, while abandoning all male expectation in favor of my female-self was my relief. Eventually, long after my football days, it was becoming dead-tired of just meeting male socialized expectations, at all, that led me to a more-feminine socialized existence. Inasmuch as "trans socialization" is being used as an argument against certain feminists' accusations that male socialization invalidates a trans woman's actual womanhood, I'm not sure it's enough to change their minds. 

Personally, I'm not really concerned, anyway. For those who would judge me more by how I got here than by who I am now, I have no time for wasting. I had already wasted enough valuable time judging myself the same way."

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