No Easy Way Out

 

JJ Hart doing Trans Outreach Work. 

Like many of you, I struggled for years to escape my dark, lonely gender closet.

As I beat my head against the closet walls, I stared longingly into the mirror, dreaming of the day I would find an easy way out. As I did, it became increasingly evident to me that there would be no such escape from my dominating male self. He would make life miserable for years because of my indecision.  One day I wanted to be a boy and the next I wanted to be a girl dictated how I lived.

After years of despair over my gender dysphoria, I began to see a sliver of light in my closet when I briefly opened the door to look out. At first, I was getting the door slammed back into my face when I went out in public. Too many people were laughing at me to my face or worse yet, I could hear their comments behind my back. I was sent home early many nights in tears, wondering what I was doing wrong with my feminine presentation. Following intense introspection, I discovered what was wrong. I was letting my old male self-make my fashion decisions and dressing for men instead of women who were for the most part controlling my destiny as a transgender woman. Without the support of women, I would have never made it out of my closet at all.

Even as I learned my lessons on presentation, I still found there would be no easy way out of my closet. I discovered the more walls I scaled on my path to transgender womanhood; the more walls would appear to challenge me. Mainly because I was out in the public eye so much more, and I was challenged to find the proper wig to wear all the time as well as find better fashion to augment my wardrobe. There was no way I wanted to wear the same outfit day after day when people began to recognize me. To offset the extra attention, I needed to increase my visits to area thrift stores to find bargains I could afford, and more importantly, fit me. I was obsessed with outdoing myself when it came to my feminine presentation.

It turned out, the public was noticing as I lost nearly fifty pounds and started taking better care of my skin. If I behaved myself in the world, and was friendly, I crossed the line into communicating with other women. Of all the walls I needed to climb, communication skills were the hardest to scale. The change was dramatic because I needed to change my communication from direct male to indirect female as I learned women often talk with their eyes. Thus, I needed to get better in looking another woman in her eyes when I talked with her. Often doing it as a man was a threatening option, while doing it as a woman was not optional. I needed to learn to do it. By doing so, often I could see what they thought of me. Did they think of me as a woman or sort of a man seeking admittance into their world.

Mostly what I received back was curiosity. What was I doing in their world? And I think they understood my interest in being admitted to the girl’s sandbox went far beyond just putting on a wig, dress and makeup. One way or another, the process was extremely challenging and kept me guessing every night about what I was going to experience because some nights I was tired of climbing walls. I kept looking for the last one to climb, but found I was not even close. Mainly because the gender club I was seeking to join was so complex. On the other hand, the process of totally leaving my closet and male privileges behind was still quite scary and I needed total confidence in what I was doing before I made the final jump.

My introduction to HRT or gender affirming hormones gave me the confidence I needed to keep going. Suddenly the hormones helped me to sync up my external feminine self with my internal one. It was the final shove I needed to get out of my closet and live a new life as a transfeminine person. It turned out there was an easy way to escape if only I possessed the inner strength to look for my truth. Once I did, my fragile mental health improved, and I set my sights on enjoying my family more since a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. In the end, it was all worth it, but it was never an easy trip to go on, or I could find no easy way out.

 

 

 

 

Stuck on Me

 

Image from Monika Kozub'
on UnSplash

My second wife used to be fond of telling me, my gender issues were all about me.

Looking back, I think she was right. In so many ways I was single handily attempting to cross the gender frontier with no help from anyone else, including hers. Among many other things, she just did not care for my inner feminine self. She always called me the "pretty, pretty princess." Even though the comment always hurt my feelings, I knew I was too immersed in my appearance and then lacked the actual experiences in the life of a woman to prove her wrong. Plus, I was selfish in my pursuit of a better feminine cross dressed experience. Not to say very frustrated when I was only getting out into the world very infrequently to explore and learn to explore what she was talking about. Just going out on Halloween and very infrequent transvestite mixers was not enough to relieve my gender tension or dysphoria. 

Since she passed several years ago, I will never know for sure but I think she never did want me to survive as a transgender woman and return to my full-time male self. I know I came off as being selfish and I was. I couldn't wait for the next time I could cross dress as my authentic self who at the time was really learning how an intense a time it was going to be. It was an incredible time in my life of learning and I was extremely disappointed my wife could not or would not come along. On the other hand I understood when she told me she never signed up to live with another woman, which I could not disagree with. I was stuck between my transgender rock and the hard place many trans people find themselves in. Either discontinue my gender journey I was on to become a transgender woman or at the same time I give up on my twenty five year marriage.  To a woman I loved very much. 

Along the way, I learned I was so much more than the "pretty, pretty princess." I am sure if my wife had lived, sooner or later I would have had to follow my true gender path and we would have needed to separate. My fondest desire is we still could have remained friends and she would have liked the new feminine person I became. After I paid my dues.  As it was, when she passed so unexpectedly, she left me on my own. Which meant relying on the gender basics I had come to trust over the years. It was then, there was nothing holding me back to going forward towards a gender transition. Even as stubborn as my male self was, he finally gave up the effort to maintain his place in the world.

So once again I was stuck on me and this time, it was the true me. The me I always dreamed of becoming with the help of my wife Liz and other lesbian women friends I had made. When I gave of myself, they gave it back to me. So, in many ways, I was stuck on them. There was no more princess in my future. I had paid my dues and applied to play in the girls' sandbox. Even though there were plenty of times I had sand thrown at me or suffered claw marks, I survived and earned my right to be there. At my age (sixty-ish), I thought I was too old to start over again but found out I was not. 

Through the miracle of gender affirming hormones and life experiences, I was able to reboot my life and live a dream I never thought possible. I guess you could say I became stuck on life. The princess was gone and she was replaced by a secure public transgender woman. Buh-bye!

Transgender Shape-Shifting

 

Image from the Jessie Hart Archives

Changing your unwanted testosterone damaged male body into anything which remotely resembles a female is very challenging. 

In order to be a gender shape-shifter you need to become a perfectionist down to the smallest detail. Plus, seeing as how most of us transgender women got a late start in our transitions, we spent quite a bit of time playing catch up to other genetic women our age. We did not have the peer pressure or Mom's influence to steer our way into the public's eye.

Some would argue also, we trans women had to be better than the average woman to survive. We had to be on point with our makeup, fashion and accessories to look good and in addition were able to still able to blend in with a society of women who increasingly did not seem to care how they looked.

Finding the middle point of presenting well in your cross dressing shape-shifting experience was difficult to say the least. Even so, some of us would consider the process of presenting as a woman as a labor of love. In my case, I was fond of haunting all my local deep discount clothing stores until I located just the right fashion item or accessory. I remember the thrill I felt when I finally summoned the courage I needed to use the changing rooms to see in fact if I had found a "treasure" to add to my wardrobe. 

Then there was the problem of learning how to put my shape-shifted self into motion. No matter how I looked was any good if I still walked like a linebacker and communicated as a man. I remembering working long and hard on discarding my male walk the best I could and picking up the unique movement of a woman. It was difficult for me because I was still working and living a portion of my life as a man and needed to be careful not to cross over the gender line at the wrong time. Even though I secretly loved to be called "ma'am" when I was working as a guy, I still needed to be very careful to maintain my carefully crafted male image. 

I came to the point where shape-shifting became too much for me to handle and I finally tried to be approved for gender affirming hormones to aid the process. I was helped along by the knowledge I had taken my femininization process along as far as I could without the aid of medical help. Since I never was the beneficiary of any natural help with my feminine appearance, I needed all the assistance  I could find. I discovered help when I started HRT under a doctor's supervision. My skin almost immediately began to soften which helped my facial angles soften which also allowed me to use less makeup and look more natural. In addition, my hair growing to the point of not needing to wear a wig anymore, along with growing my own breasts were just the beginning of my advanced search into being a gender shape-shifting human. 

Of course my final test, was how the public was responding to the new transgender woman me. For the most part I received positive feedback by getting no feedback at all. I was able to blend in with the world as my preferred authentic self and take a major step towards being happy in life. All along I was stuck in my dream of wanting to be a woman, or come as close as I could. It was all because I finally discovered my gender was coming from between my ears and not my legs.

Looking back on a shape-shifting life was certainly easier than living it on occasion when I think back on all the failures I went through to arrive where I am today. Supposedly learning from failure is the best way to progress in life and I believe it.