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.

 

 

Trans Weariness

A night out with my wife Liz on left.

Over the span of my life, I have gone through more than a few bouts of weariness.

I was especially tired of being made fun of when it took me many trips to the clothing stores to finally find the correct fashion so I could blend in with other women well enough to get by. Marching to the beat of my own fashion drum was certainly not getting the results I wanted. It got so bad, strangers were stopping me in stores to ask for pictures and not in a good way.

I kept working through all the dark days until the gender clouds parted and I could actually see glimpses of my authentic feminine self. The whole process now happily seems so far away but the process still scars me in so many ways. Especially all the times, I came home in tears following being laughed at after my mirror had lied to me and told me I was an amazing woman. It took me years of work to prove the doubters wrong and I could actually live a successful life as a transgender woman. My biggest problem came from the fact my biggest doubter was my male self. I grew so weary of him telling me I could never live my dream life as a trans woman. 

In many ways too, I grew weary of being a cross dresser and wanted more out of life. It took me trying several terrifying experiences in public to change my mindset around into who I really was. I was right when I was so young when I thought I wanted more than to just look like a woman, I wanted to be a woman. My problem was, life kept getting in my way. Through my formative years of high school and beyond, I had the very real threat of being drafted into the military hanging over my head. Most certainly, I would have a three year break in my quest to determine my gender needs. I was more fortunate than many my age and escaped combat in Vietnam and even got away with coming out for the first time to a few close Army friends after a Halloween party when I told them I was a transvestite. Coming out was an enlightening experience until I was out of the Army and attempted to come out to my Mom. I was roundly rejected and ended back up firmly in my closet. 

In those days, Halloween parties were my salvation from the weariness I felt from everyday male life. Even though they were few and far between, the parties allowed me to get out of the house and interact with the world as a very novice cross dresser or transgender woman. I was able to learn the basics of what I would need to do to survive in a new world I was considering trying. From the Halloween parties I was able to find and participate in transvestite mixers in nearby towns to where I lived. At the social events, I was able to see and interact with others in the cross dressing community so I could judge where I was at and where I wanted to go. When I did, life became less wearisome and I had an exciting reason to look ahead at my next feminine adventure. 

By this time, I was ready to come out of my unwanted male world even further and I was learning so much life took on a new meaning. I learned what transgender meant to me and how I fit in in the trans world which had many layers to it. More than a few of the layers were less than positive and I began to ignore them or called them "trans Nazi's" and rapidly moved on. Basically, they were the people who held their self esteem above others due to the number of gender surgeries they had undergone. Since I had not (and never have) undergone any genital realignment surgeries, they assumed they were better than me. Rejection was quick on my part.

Weariness ceased to be a problem when everytime I went out into the world as a transgender woman I was learning something new. It could be something small such as a fashion error all the way to a huge learning experience of losing my male privilege in personal safety. When I almost ended up hurt. From it all, I ended up learning and doing better.

I guess I should say too, how much my life changed when I started gender affirming hormones. Weariness with my old male self certainly went away as all the changes were different, surprising and rapid. 

Life became like a roller coaster. Once I reached the top and headed down, it was thrilling.

 

Opening Transgender Doors

Image from Nathan Wright 
on UnSplash

What is the old saying, "When one door closes, another one opens." I think the saying is especially appropriate for transgender women or trans men.

Along the way, I have documented several substantial times when I slammed doors during my past and opened new doors. 

Probably the first time I closed a door was when I was going out with a certain set of party friends who ranged from cross dressers to transsexuals who were planning their genital realignment surgeries. I wasn't very interested so much in the cross dressers but on the other hand, I was very interested in the women who were going "all the way." I wondered if I could ever slam the door on the male life I had fought to live and open a new door into a feminine world. 

Luckily I was able to see different sides of the gender coin so to speak. One friend in particular was a firefighter in Columbus, Ohio who was gorgeous and near retirement. So she had the financial risk of a gender transition covered as did the other main transsexual woman I knew at the time. She also was gorgeous and had a very secure job as an electrical engineer. She was so good at living a woman's life, she regularly went on snow skiing trips, spending whole weeks as her authentic self. So, as you can tell, I had lofty role models to try to live up to. I knew they would be difficult to match up to as far as appearance and income plus neither one had a spouse to deal with. I loved my spouse very much and wasn't sure I was able to close the door on my relationship with her. 

Even still, I continued to observe and learn as well as set out to open my own transgender doors. It just took me longer than others to find a path of my own. I know all too many of our gender journey's are similar yet so far apart. It is difficult to leave the first door in our closet and find the other doors in the darkness. Once I was able to find the light and it wasn't the train at the end of the tunnel, I was able to progress quite nicely but not without trepidations. Of course I still had to deal with the usual problems transgender women and men have to deal with when they transition and close the big door. Sometimes closing the door is the easy part compared to opening the doors to different living situations with family, friends and finances. 

I think too many potential transgender folk believe the transition itself will cause the life problems to go away and they haven't thought enough about the all the situations they would have to face now when spouses and/or families want to leave them behind. Not to mention the prospect of losing long term employment and friends. All of the process led to opening very heavy doors and not having much of an idea what the future held. 

I was fortunate when I finally had the courage to open my final transgender doors and face the world. As I did, I could look back at all the times I was petrified to try a new life as a transgender woman. Every time I was so scared it seemed I made it OK which felt so natural and gave me confidence to move forward and look for new challenges. I don't think I ever forgot the two early gender role models I had in Columbus, Ohio so many years before but similar to my male life, I was able to carve out my new life as a fulltime transgender woman so different from theirs.

Even still, I have my doors to open as I face a challenging future with end of life issues. I am still paranoid concerning facing the problems associated with nursing care or assisted living. It will be quite the journey as I face the final door we all have to open and see what is on the other side.

Transgender Qualified

Image from Andrea Buccelli 
on UnSplash...

 How does one finally get to the point where they can move around in society as their authentic selves. Obviously it takes a lot of work before you can graduate.

In addition to becoming proficient in the feminine arts such as makeup and wardrobe, we trans women or men have to play gender catch up because we did not have the chance to experience growing up as a girl or a boy. There was no one to interact with on life issues such as how we look or how we deal with the opposite sex. Not to mention how our parents treated us. I am sure my Mom would have put so much more pressure on me if she had a generic daughter rather than a transgender child she never had the chance to accept. 

I only tried to come out to Mom once when I was in my early twenties and out of the Army and was roundly rejected. So I never tried again. To be fair, her generational bias was strong and information on gender issues was difficult to come by. Mom was firmly entrenched as a "greatest generation" person with an upbringing during the great depression and WWII. I am fond of saying they were long on providing and short on emotional support. Very certainly, dealing with gender issues was an emotional subject and I never received any.

As far as being qualified to feel as if I was transgender, I needed to transition again in my life. As I always say I considered myself a very serious cross dresser or transvestite but became very intrigued about the idea of being trans when the word began to be used. I started to seriously begin to watch the people around me who identified as transsexual to see if I fit in and more importantly follow the same path. During my search I was very shallow in my approach. The individuals I was beginning to interact with were very attractive and I was intensely insecure about my feminine appearance. In those days, I only thought appearance qualified me to be transgender or however I identified. Little did I know, there was so much more.

It turned out my destiny did not lead me to any extreme gender realignment surgeries. I finally became secure in the knowledge gender was between the ears and sex was between the legs. Plus with the help of an entirely new set of cis-women friends, I was able to come out of my gender shell and flourish as my new transgender self.

I think any "qualification" to be trans is a totally mental process which involves complete confidence in yourself. The process can take many years or then again, less time, depending upon the individual. I am always very pleased to meet a younger LGBT or transgender person who has set out to make a life for themselves. They won't have to wait through a lifetime of struggle to live as their authentic selves. Plus the younger ones seem to be more politically active which is something we all desperately need. 

Sadly, as I always bring up, the fight to maintain our authentic gender selves continues right up to our death. Recently I had a reader mention they needed to put in their will how they wanted to be referred to at death. Hopefully, it will be enough to stop the gender bigots in the family from taking away hard fought gender rights when it matters most.