Too Low on the Down Low

 

Image from Ky Nang
on UnSplash. 

I describe my life when I was cheating on my second wife with another woman(me) as being on the down low. Especially when in the early days I was hanging out in gay bars.

On occasion, I feel as if I make the process of transitioning with or without my wife’s support a little too exciting or even fun. I need to make it clear; it was anything but. It all started with a deal my wife and I made which I could go out in the public as a woman, only if I did not do it from our house. I even went as far as renting out motel rooms to apply my wardrobe, makeup and hair as I got ready to go out into the world.

Of course, with my mentality, that was never enough, and I started to break our agreement to never go out cross dressed from the house. The more I did it, the more I wanted to do it. That is when the going on the down low really started as I was sneaking around behind her back as a novice transgender woman every chance I got. I was stuck in life between not breaking our agreement and feeling so natural every time I went out in the world. During my life, I had always prided myself on being very honest, so I was not happy with the way my life was headed when I needed to lie to my wife when it came to explaining what I was doing in my spare time. Or why I was not successful in removing all my makeup when she came home.

The next biggest problem I ran into when I was on the down low was what was I going to do about the women who were approaching me. It was not as if I was being bombarded with romantic advances, but I did have some slight pushes. I felt bad because I never had any intention of ever physically cheating on my wife. However, I had always been a bit of a flirt which carried over from my days of being a male. There were occasions such as the night a man tried to pick me up in a bar after a professional makeover that I wonder what would have happened had I stayed. I didn’t and I will never know as well as what would have happened had I pushed a little harder to get to know a certain man with a motorcycle I was becoming close to.

I guess I had reached the bottom of my down low except for some stolen kisses from my lesbian friends. I internalized my feelings and waited for them to come to me, just like my male days. Then, when my wife unexpectedly passed away, everything changed and at the least I had purged my feminine life the best I could for the last six months of her life as I did not want to lie to her anymore. After she passed, all my barriers were removed and the first thing I needed to do was determine my sexuality. I thought to do it; I needed to go on public safe dates with a couple men I had met. I had a great time with Bob who was passing through Dayton on business, but he was married and lived far away. I did not have to worry about being brought home to mom in our brief relationship.

On the lesbian side of my life, things were decidedly different since I was no longer on the down low. Since HRT had effectively did away with any masculine sexual advances, I needed to learn new techniques. If I was brave enough, I found with the lesbian culture I needed to move slow and let them make the first move. I basically ended up with a group of three women I was close to. Which was all I needed. From the three, Nikki was never a real possibility because she was too much younger than me and I think would have recoiled at the idea of ever having relations with any sort of men (including me) at all. She was just an entertaining drinking buddy. Kim and my future wife Liz were in totally different situations. Both had lived difficult lives and were closer to me in age so they could relate to me being in a rebounding situation from all the death I had went through. In the end, I decided to move in with Liz in Cincinnati and are still together over a decade later, so I made the right move. Although every now and then I hear from Kim.

One way or another, life on the down low was never any fun for me. I constantly felt as if I was cheating on my wife. It was a relief to finally let it go and live my life authentically as a transfeminine person.

 

A Tale of Contrasts

 

Image from UnSplash.

No matter how you cut it, our gender is a tale of contrasts.

From the earliest age, we are forced into rigid gender roles, who for most people, work out quite nicely because they never question their assigned roles. Then there are those of us who just as early in life begin to question our placement on the gender spectrum. In my case, I knew something was wrong, I just could not figure out what. Then, as I became older, I made the discovery every morning when I had to determine what gender I had to be for the day. A jarring discovery to be sure.

Naturally, since I was born male, I needed to own up to the fact I had to do my best to face the world each day as a guy until I could slip behind my own gender curtain and put on women’s clothes and makeup. Early on, as I lived my limited feminine life in the mirror, I thought appearance was my number one goal towards living my gender dreams. It was not until much later in life did, I began to understand how wrong I was. There were many more contrasts between men and women that I ever dared to think about. Mainly because I was viewing how women live only through rose colored glasses as I thought they had easier lives than men.

It wasn’t until I began to pay my gender dues as a transfeminine person, did I begin to see the reality of what I was looking at if I decided to transition. As I was making my way into what I call the girl’s sandbox, I was getting tested regularly to see if I belonged. On some days I was successful and happy and on others, I was getting beat up (or clawed) and needed to retreat before I came back for more. One thing was for sure, all of this testing from other women was doing me good, because I never quit trying.

The main thing I did learn was one that I vaguely knew, women had their own world away from men and had their own alpha’s who ran the show. Once I was accepted by them, the rest of my life as a transgender woman was so much easier. But, on the other hand, the testing process was so much harder because the alphas were so much more wary of me wanting to be in their world. My second wife was an alpha and she made sure I worked long and hard to even try to earn a spot in the sandbox. An example was one of the many times she told me there was so much more to being a woman than just looking like one and it took me years to understand what she meant.

Perhaps the second most difficult part of being accepted in the feminine world was being able to communicate with other women. Out were the days of trying to bluster my way through a conversation and in were the days when I needed to look another woman in the eye and appear to be less threatening. While at the same time having eyes on my back for a passive aggressive attack. I learned the hard away on that to never trust a smiling face completely.

As I learned to communicate with other women, my life in public became so much easier and I could begin to relax more as I was beginning to put my entire feminine picture into focus. I could forget about completely focusing on my looks and movement and could concentrate on being social with the world. Which was important to me since I had always been a socially active person. Plus, as I always mention, men were never much of a factor to me since most of them ran and hid from me completely. Which was OK since I did not really know how to handle them as a transgender woman either.

My life of contrasts was coming to an end when I entered the final chapter with gender affirming hormones or HRT. The hormones were magical when they started their changes on me. I think most people consider external changes such as skin, breasts and hair to be important, and they are but to me, internal changes were more important. In a remarkable short span of time, I became more emotional as my world softened. Making me into a complete person.

I am biased, but I think my tale of contrasts made me into a better human being as I could understand both binary genders better. Since I had lived in both. Plus, after having the chance to live as both, I made the right choice to live as a transgender woman, even though at times, it was an intensely lonely and difficult journey. Which could be another blog post.

Can You Ever Enjoy the Ride?

 

Image from A. C. on UnSplash.

Lately, it has occurred to me how often I did not pause to enjoy my gender journey.

Perhaps it was because for the longest time I experienced very little gender euphoria for two reasons. The main reason was, I was never raised to feel any joy in my life. Nothing was ever good enough. So, when I entered the world as a novice cross dresser or transgender woman, life was very tough. The other main reason was, I was approaching my life from the exact wrong way. Deep down I knew when my “buzz” went away so soon from merely dressing up in feminine clothes in front of the mirror, I was doing something wrong. I did not know then my gender issues ran much deeper than just a love of fashion and makeup.

Before I knew it, I was in a vicious gender circle in my life when I needed to dress up rather than wanted to. There was a huge difference. When I needed to cross-dress, I had the tendency to take more chances and jeopardize my life as I knew it because I knew there was no way my parents would ever understand how their son was really their daughter. Plus, there were many other distractions too, such as not being able to afford my own wig until I was well into my college years. I hated running around with a towel on my head fantasizing that I had a full head of luxurious girls’ hair.

There was always something I was reaching for which ruined my present enjoyment. Such as a better dress, shoes or makeup which could help me look better as I had neared an impossible ideal of attractiveness. Facing my reality of appearance when the only feedback I had was in the mirror. As we all know, the mirror has a tendency to lie to you if you are not careful, and I needed a way to test my presentation as a transfeminine person in the public’s eye. Easier said than done, when I was busy living my own down low in a male life I was frustrated to be in anyhow.

Very quickly, I learned the mirror had been lying to me as I was rejected by the public. To succeed with my dream, I needed to pause my life and attempt to find out why I was having all the problems I was having. Almost immediately, I determined I needed to get my male self out of the way. He was dictating how my fashion presented itself and it was all wrong. For any number of reasons trying to dress sexy in the wrong places was getting me into trouble. My guy was dressing me for other guys when I should have been dressing for other women. Once I figured out, I was not a teen aged girl, my public life became decidedly better.

So much better, I was even able to enjoy several of the solo nights out I went on to be by myself. Even though I knew I was a transgender woman, I was just being me, and the public (amazingly enough) was accepting it also. My mirror even came back into play, and I used it more often in places such as women’s rooms to adjust my hair and makeup.

Life then began to roll on very fast. All the way to the point I was having a difficult time keeping up. I was learning so much about the feminine side of life, it was too late to turn back then and more and more, I was discovering how much I loved this new side of life I had always dreamed of.

Also, my life was reaching a new level of complexity as I was shutting down the male side and giving full access to my female side who had waited so long to be free. My problem was I was still trying to live part time in both genders as I transitioned, and I was afraid of what would happen when I lost all my male privileges. Finally, my mental health could take it no longer and I had to jump off the gender cliff I have written about.

As I jumped, the ride down was scary but fun in its own way, not unlike a big rollercoaster at an amusement park, the ride up in many ways was worth the ride down. All the fear and terror I had experienced when I had come out to a close family disappeared when I was accepted by my daughter and my wife Liz and a warm set of relief sat in. I could not wait until I could get back in public and live my true existence out of the closet. I was creating my own universe for a change and not relying on someone else to do it.

I began to build my own female privilege and thrive in it. It continues till this day and is the topic for another day. In the meantime, I often try to pause my life and enjoy where I am in my life.

 

 

Cutting a Life in Half

  

JJ Hart at Witches' Ball

Cutting life in half is difficult.

Perhaps I am biased, but I feel transgender women and transgender men feel the cut deeper than the rest of the population. Some of you may even remember the days when a transsexual person was expected to go through gender realignment surgery, then move to a completely different town and start all over with their life.

At my age, I remember all of that, and it was one of the reasons I balked at going through a major gender transition in my life. However, I was fortunate. I had two transsexual role models who were determined to do the gender change in their own way. One was a Columbus, Ohio fireperson who restored her own house in German Village, an upscale historical area of Columbus. She was preparing to retire from the fire department and there was no way she would move after surgery. It has been many years since I have heard from her and the last, I had heard she and a lesbian had moved in together.

The other transsexual I briefly knew was a beautiful woman who was going to complete her gender surgeries also. As I remember, she was an accomplished electrical engineer who would have no problem finding a job wherever she decided to go. We were never close, so I lost contact with her too.

Back in those days, I was very naïve and considered a very feminine appearance was all it took to cut your life in half and start all over. I had not yet even begun to pay my dues to be able to slip behind the gender curtain. One of my main considerations back then was how far did I want to go to cut my life in half and start all over. I certainly did not have the money saved up for gender surgeries and loved my wife and new family. A lot to consider giving up. The only thing I did know was, I thought about it continually.

Then I began to explore seriously what it would take to cut my life where it was the beginning again and I could start all over as a transgender woman. Another problem I had was, the more successful baggage I accumulated as a man, the harder it would be to stop the train and go back. I was stubborn and tried to take the middle road. I worked on my makeup presentation and fashion and shopped till I dropped for just the right piece to add to my closet. At no point did I ever consider myself attractive, but I did feel I had done enough in my appearance to live that way for the rest of my life if I needed to.

As I reached the point of no return, it was time to cut my life and start all over again, but I did not. Sure, I had given away what was left of my male clothes to charity, but I did not give away my lifelong love of sports and women too. I found the big sports bars I used to frequent as a man were also welcoming to me as a transgender woman. And most amazingly, I learned my sexuality did not have to change either. I had more cisgender women and lesbians approach me as a new transfeminine woman as I ever did as a man. Dispelling another myth from the old days that when your gender changed by surgery, your sexuality had to change too.

What I did get rid of was any pictures or awards from my past. When other women talked about their families, I could talk about mine also, but just to a point. I found out the hard way, there would be no hint given at any time that I was a veteran and drafted during the Vietnam era. The entire process turned out to be a sure-fire way to out myself and draw reference to my male life if I was not careful.

Cutting and resurrecting a long life is never easy. Especially when people are curious about you. I went through tons of trial-and-error conversations before I finally began to get it right. Now I save details of my life for people like the prying woman a couple of weeks ago at the graduation party I went to. She went to the extent of calling me dad because of my daughter so I went to the extent of telling her I was drafted in the military during Vietnam. Plus, to confuse her even more, I told her my first wife, and third wife were sitting at the table also. After that, she gave up and left. It’s rare I have ever had a chance to pick and win such a battle.

In no way though, do I ever want to make any of this sound fun, because it is not. What stays and what goes away is always such a difficult set of decisions to make. I hope you can make yours easily.

 

 

 

Writing your Own Script

 

Image from Prophsee Journals
on UnSplash. 

I never found it easy to write my own script.

Sure, I could blame my gender issues on my problems but not all. I discovered very early in life I did not possess many of the dominate male traits to be a complete success as a man, so where was I to go. For example, I could not blame my lack of athletic prowess on my being a cross dresser. I was just not that good of an athlete. When I was on the football team, I wanted to be a cheerleader. They seemed to be having all the fun while I was getting beat up by a faster and stronger opponent.

Rather than setting out to write a new script as a cross dresser or young transgender girl, I internalized my script which turned out to be the worst move of all. I had nowhere to go or no one to turn to for help with writing my girl’s workbook. No sleepovers with other girls my age for ideas of how to be feminine.

I was stuck. I could not live either life I was in. I made a less than adequate male as well as a cross dresser who had nowhere to go in public. Plus, it would be years before I could go out of my closet and test the world. Once I did, I was very much a dismal failure. My earliest attempts at Halloween glory ended up with compliments on my legs but not much else, and the biggest problem was I needed to wait a whole other year before I could escape my gender closet again. I kept dropping my pen when I was trying to write. All I really knew was I was a male by default. Having been born into a gender I never liked.

On the rare nights I was able to escape and sample the public, often I could not read or follow the notes I had hastily scribbled down. And another problem I had was I was making a deep dive into being a transfeminine person so rarely, I could not remember what I was doing right or wrong. Even still, I did the best I could as I still obsessed with the brief moments of gender euphoria I experienced. Occasionally, I could see my gender dream was possible and I kept on writing. Chapters began to appear such as presenting as a woman with confidence and communicating with the world as a new me.

I was pleasantly surprised when I could read and react to the new chapters and attempt to keep them from invading my everyday life. It was impossible for me to walk around the majority of the time wondering how it would be to experience the world as a transgender woman. I was never good at self-control, and it was showing if I was not careful. Primarily with my wife who knew I was in my gender zone and resented it for the most part. She was too smart to listen to or believe my excuses about what I was really thinking about. As time moved onward, I became better at hiding my writing from her. Or so I thought. In reality, she saw our life slipping away to another woman (me) she could not control. In return, I resented her for being a strict feminine gatekeeper who would rarely let me behind her gender curtain by telling me I was not ready.

She was right. I was not ready at that time, but I was gaining fast regardless of her misgivings. In the midst of many ill-advised moves which jeopardized our long term, twenty-five-year marriage, I was making other moves which were proving I could make it to my lifelong dream of living as a transgender woman. More importantly, I was reading my writing clearly and the results felt so natural.

I also discovered writing your own script could be very messy and selfish to do. Many times, my wife and my male self-ganged up on me with fear tactics on what could happen if I transitioned. Many fights later, I finally prevailed by default when she unexpectedly passed away, leaving me alone with my writings. I cleaned up my mess and prepared to live out the rest of my life as a full-time transgender woman.

I think my lifetime of experience writing a new gender workbook for myself proved to be a worthy accomplishment. Once I understood where it was coming from. There was nothing wrong with me as I learned to navigate a new world I was just getting used too. It just took me awhile to catch up with the rest of the cisgender women who had a head start on me. I just achieved my womanhood from another path which is the topic of another blog post altogether.

 

 

Staring off The Cliff

 

Image from Anton Luk
on UnSplash 

When I reached a point where I saw the real possibility I could live a life of a transgender woman, I found myself staring off a deep gender cliff.

The biggest problem I had was wondering how I would land if I threw caution to the wind and become (as my second wife called it) man enough to be a woman. As I slid down the slippery slope towards my cliff, sometimes I was fearless and other times scared to death. I can’t tell you the number of times I sat in my car adjusting my hair and makeup before I went into a venue. At times, I considered bringing an oxygen tank along in case I hyper ventilated. I did not because I thought it would ruin my outfit.

Another problem I encountered was alcohol. When I drank, I became much more fearless but to get to my arrival, I needed to be brave and walk into a venue to order a drink. It took me awhile to put the alcohol in my rear-view mirror and get on with my life, but I did it.

Along the way, I cannot stress enough about all the bumps and bruises I had when I slid down a very slippery gender slope towards a very steep cliff. I was facing losing everything I knew, owned and loved to be a transgender woman, so I wanted to make sure I was doing my slide right. For the most part, I did good except for impromptu visits from the police after I used the rest room of my choice and another night when I was asked to leave a venue after I was doing absolutely nothing wrong. I mended faster than I thought I would and chalked the experiences up to what I needed to go through to transition in the straight world which I was trying out for the first time.

The main thing which kept me going was the deep feeling I had I was doing the right thing. I had spent too long in front of a lonely mirror to turn back then. I needed to face the cliff and decide how and when I was going to jump because it was becoming increasingly evident to me, I would need to.

After my second wife passed away, I went into another lonely dark period of my life when the only thing I did was go out in the world as a transfeminine person and watch the occasional sporting event with my brother as my old male self. What did happen was, I felt the time I was spending as a man was being increasingly wasted. Even my male self was seeing the beginning of the end to his life.  If my brother did not accept me (which he did not), he would have to go away.

What really helped me to overcome my fear of the gender cliff I was looking at, were the ciswomen friends I was developing. The give and take I felt when I was invited to girls’ nights out or even lesbian mixers was propelling me forward to making the ultimate choice in my life. Ultimately, I started gender affirming hormones under a doctor’s care and made my decision to jump off the cliff even easier to do.

It turned out, my women friends knew me better than I knew myself. They saw no traces of my old male self and helped me with the nuances of living in a feminine world. Many times, all I was doing was going along for the ride. Never had I ever experienced so much about a new world I desperately wanted to be a part of in my life. It all made my fear of jumping off my gender cliff so much easier.

Another example would be, I had taken the time to do my homework and build a solid base before the slippery slope claimed me. I waited for two extra years working at a job I hated to make sure I could retire on Social Security and not have to worry about transitioning on the job. During that time, my gender universe opened a little more when the Veterans Administration health care program I was in approved gender hormone therapy for veterans which gave me access to mental health care and cheaper medications.

It all turned out to be time well spent and came back to help me when I finally made the jump down my gender cliff. My experiences and friends made the landing so much easier. I ended up wondering why I had waited so long doing my preparation.

 

Unlearning LIfe

 

JJ Hart

Over time, I spent so much time and effort unleashing my male past, I cannot remember it all.

As soon as I could think about myself, I knew something was wrong. I just did not know what. Primarily, I did not know I was trying my best to survive in a male world I wanted very little to do with. Perhaps the biggest problem came when it was time to unlearn all the male life I was forced into. I was the proverbial round peg in the square hole, and I did not like it, even though I was rewarded with white male privilege when I was successful.

By choice or not, it seemed I was always fighting myself or the world for my gender dreams or goals. Very early I knew somehow, I wanted to be a woman someday, a deep dark secret I needed to keep to myself. Overall, I was deeply conflicted about where my life would end up because it seemed as if I was on a runaway gender train I could not get off.

A prime example was when I entered male puberty. I watched in shock as my body grew angles, and I needed to walk like a man. I am sure I was a comical sight, but I tried. I did not want to be referred to as a sissy and bullied in school and I was successful. Until it was time to reverse it all. When I left the cross-dressing mirror and entered the world as a novice transgender woman, there was so much to do as I was busy unlearning my male life. First of all, there was that male walk I needed to get rid of. There was no way I could overcome the positive feminine presentation I had succeeded at doing, if I was going to continue to walk like a man. Plus, I had the challenge of doing it in heels.

When I learned to walk in heels, I learned the inherent power of female privilege. Suddenly, my legs looked better, and men paid closer attention to the clicking of my heels. I just needed to match the rest of my fashion to blend in with my shoes. Since I loved my boots, the first thing that I did was try to save up for a pair of nice, heeled boots and find them in my size. Thank goodness for Payless Shoes. For the most part, I did good in my heels except for the time I got a heel stuck in a sidewalk crack in a mall I was walking in and the time I fell on a wet spot in one of my regular venues I was in. I survived and learned I needed to be more comfortable.

Another major gender response I needed to unlearn was to always look another woman in the eye when I talked to her, especially in bathroom situations. Eye to eye contact was normal in women’s rooms and totally not in men’s rooms. The new rules of the “room” I needed to unlearn and relearn if I was to survive as a transfeminine person.

Another major point of contention I write about often, is the difference between male and female aggression. I needed to unlearn the old male aggressive ways of coming right at you. On the other hand, I was clawed many times when I failed to recognize the passive aggressive intentions of a woman I was dealing with. Often behind that smile was a sharp pair of claws waiting to take a shot at my back. I needed to keep my head on a swivel and always be careful when I was dealing with other women in the girl’s sandbox. Lesson learned and I moved on as a better transgender woman.

Finally, all these lessons began to come together in my life, and I started to become a whole human being again. But this time, a human I wanted to be. No more unwanted male who I still needed to fall back on in times of duress. Afterall, I had to live with him for nearly fifty years, so there was some good to remember. I found I could relate to both binary genders better and understand where they were coming from. Of course, men were the simpler of the two genders as I suspected and women were more complex, and they led more layered lives.

None of it mattered to me as my world opened in ways I never imagined. Going to the extreme of unlearning my old life was radical but then again, I was able to make it work in my own way. If you are searching, just be aware everyone’s journey is different but maybe you can make it too if you are careful. There are huge inherent problems when you decide to forsake your male privileges and enter a new gender world.

 

 

It's Just Life...Not a Joke

 

Image from Engin Akyurt on UnSplash.

It took me awhile before I finally came to the point in my gender transition when I gave up and thought the whole process was just life and not some sort of an evil joke.

I had struggled enough through the years when my male self-put up quite the struggle to exist at all. It was as if he was on a slippery slope towards losing his life altogether. To make matters worse as I always point out, my male side’s life was not always that bad. I had a long-term marriage, close friends and a good job to fall back on when I needed it.

Through it all, I thought it was only the draw of the feminine clothes which kept me longing for another trip to the mirror. I did not realize my feelings went much deeper than that. I was feeling life itself. It took me many years and even decades traveling a very curvy and bumpy gender path to realize where I was. Plus, many times, when I realized where I was, I became scared of losing everything. Falling off a gender cliff became a real possibility.

No matter how frightened I became, somehow, I kept on moving forward thanks mostly to the brief moments of gender euphoria I was feeling. The interludes helped me to determine if my dream goal of living a transfeminine life was possible at all. Back in those days, I was immersed in the struggle to present well as a woman and not much else. In fact, when I go back and read my earliest blog posts, I cannot believe how much they emphasize fashion and makeup. It all happened long before I needed to learn the layers of life a woman goes through to live her life. It was like my wife told me be man enough to be a woman. In those days I was not as I made weak attempts to live in both main binary genders.

In the short term, I did not understand what my wife meant as I became semi successful in presenting well in the world as a woman, but I had not paid my dues. I found I would have to wait until my wife had passed away before I could earn my way behind the feminine gender curtain to be allowed in by the ciswoman gatekeepers. It was about that time too when I began to understand my dream of ever becoming a fulltime transgender woman could be possible. It was much more than a hobby or part-time profession; it was my life. Then my realization led me to understand what my wife was talking about. I needed to set off on an all-out journey to live my best life as a transfeminine person. I even needed to understand questions about my own long held sexuality. If I lived as a woman, would I suddenly have to like men sexually? I just didn’t know until I set off to experiment.

Along the way, I did manage a couple dates with men which led to kissing but not much else and I did not feel much of a spark of any kind. On the other hand, I was surrounded by curious ciswomen (including lesbians) who wanted to socialize with me, so I was happy, I had always been a contradiction in terms socially, meaning I always enjoyed company even though I was shy and I could continue to feel that way. My life was beginning to come together in ways that I never imagined possible.

For example, I never imagined I would have been able to enjoy a small closely knit group of women friends who taught me more about life than they ever knew. Without any pressure, I was able to sit back and live vicariously through them and primarily how they lived their lives without the validation of men. It was not too long until they began to invite me along to their lesbian mixers, which I loved. I was even approached by other women and kissed. Which provided me with a huge amount of validation.

With my sexuality and life coming together, I could concentrate on enjoying my life on my new gender affirming hormones or HRT. The hormones went a long way in syncing up my internal and external self. Along with softening my skin and facial lines, my whole world was changing too. My emotions heightened as well as my senses as the world around me was softening. A perfect match to my rapidly expanding social life.

I will never know if waiting so long to transition into a feminine world was worth it or not because I had so many excuses why I never had done it. All I really know is, I did it before it was too late and have never looked back. That’s life.

 

 

At the Gender Crossroads

 

Image from Timelord on UnSplash

Many times, in my life, I have found myself at a gender crossroads.

Of course, like most of you, I learned from the situations I put myself into. As I always mention, the first one was when I needed to leave the comfort zone I had created with the mirror and attempt to live in the world as a transfeminine person. Initially, I was slapped down as people laughed and smirked at me. Until I learned to own who I was, which was a huge crossroad to negotiate.

Over the years, I began to think I had seen everything, but I had not. My main problem was I needed to make the final decision on which way I would go if I was faced with a making a final decision on which gender I would ever live as. Plus, I did not know if I even could live as a transgender woman. I kept searching and learning until I found I was not a man cross dressing as a woman; I was a woman cross dressing as a man.

I discovered also, I would need to transition more than once if I would ever try to make it to my dream life. Primarily when I learned it on the night I finally decided I would quit going out as a cross dresser and change my inner thought pattern. I was fed up with just trying to look like a woman and wanted to feel like one and see as if I could mingle with a group of ciswomen with no issues. I did make it with the other women and crossed another road I knew I could never go back. I mingled and socialized with other women and even used the women’s room with no pushback at all. It was amazing.

The next transition I need to make was when I needed to begin communicating with other women. It was never easy and a complete learning process. It does not take a genius to know women and men communicate on a different level. I knew well how to do it as a man, but I was a total novice as a woman. The first lesson I learned was I had to pause and listen to the other woman I was talking to. As a man, I could often make the first move and hope for the best. With women, I never did and often waited for a passive aggressive response. The real intent behind the smile often startled me until I caught on to the game.

All of it led me to the success I needed to this day to be successful with other women who indirectly try to bully me in their own way. An example was the ciswoman I wrote about in a recent post when she could not adjust to me being a parent not a dad to my daughter. In fact, I had a reader (Michelle) who responded to the woman and my return comment: “You handled it with so much more grace than I probably would’ve. And Liz’s quick response? Perfection. I’m so glad you still got to connect with your daughter and your grandchild, that’s what really matters. The rest is just noise.” Thanks for the comment! The woman was very noisy and was trying to bully me in her own way.

I was just fortunate that both Liz and I had been through similar situations, so we were ready. Somehow, the woman thought she had me over a gender barrel with the dad comment and that was when Liz took over. The woman asked Liz who I was to her and Liz said wife and the woman shut up.

My point it, both Liz and I had been through situations with other women such as her before, so we were able to handle the noise and go across yet another crossroad. By this time, I think there always will be another road to cross as I see my gender dream come together.

As Michelle said, the world is full of noise, and we must separate it into genders to make sense of it. Which would be another blog post altogether. In the meantime, for all of you approaching your own crossroads, try to feel secure on your journey and be careful. Especially these days when depending upon where you live transgender rights of any kind are in danger.

 

 

Just a Gender Detour

 

Image from Belinda Fewings
on UnSplash

After many years of looking back at my life, I began to think of my transgender experience as merely a detour in my life.

The problem was, there are many types of detours ranging from major closures to small delays. I found I needed to be careful with my navigation quite early when I was in the exploration stage of my mom’s clothes. One speed bump could lead me to an impromptu visit with a psychiatrist who knew nothing about gender issues and wanted to pronounce me mentally ill. Even back then, I knew I was not crazy for wanting to be a girl.

As the years progressed, I became increasingly skilled at sneaking around and dodging the detours in my life. Especially, the major ones such as becoming a parent. Even though the whole experience made me extremely proud, it still changed my life profoundly. I remember thinking at the time if it would affect my desire to be a woman but if anything, the birth process enhanced it. I was still in my detour mode, drinking heavily as I tried to find the nearest exit to help me.

To make up for the detours, I began to leave my closet and explore the world increasingly as a transfeminine person. The entire process meant taking chances such as leaving the house dressed as a woman and dodging many speed bumps along the way. It took me many more years before my path began to smooth out and I could see a clear road ahead. However, I still needed to be very careful with what I was doing. I had a long-term marriage and good job to protect among other male privileges. I was stuck between a giant rock and a hard place I needed to detour around. The rock was the better I did with my male life, and the hard place was my female side resented any incursion into her existence. To be sure, a very difficult place to be.

Then there were the times I crashed with my wife and was caught coming home late from one of my nightly gender adventures. A prime example was the night a lesbian was flirting with me and bought me a beer and said she should take me home with her. I was flattered and ended up staying too long and arriving home late. The ensuing fight lasted days after I hit that speed bump. Sadly, there were other times when I crashed on my own by driving an old sports car, which I bought that had the habit of suddenly not starting on occasion. Of course, one night when I was at a gay venue approximately twenty minutes from home, the car would not start. Fortunately, I had planned and left me enough time to call a tow truck and arrive home before my wife did. I had survived yet another close call.

My gender detours did not begin to go away until I started to really be allowed behind the gender curtain. It was after I had placed the gay venues firmly behind me in my rearview mirror and started to prove a fulltime life as a transgender woman was possible for me. The only problem was how fast I should dare to go. In those days, I still had my wife, family and job to worry about. As it turned out, destiny stepped in and showed me the way. Tragically my wife and several dear friends passed away leaving me alone to decide my future.  In addition, my road crew removed other detours such as employment when I discovered I could take my Social Security early and sell collectibles to make ends meet. My final indication I had a clear path ahead was when the Veterans’ Administration health care program approved gender affirming hormones for qualifying veterans. I was qualified and made a big jump towards my gender transition.

By this time, even I could see my detours towards living my dream were coming down, and I was in a now or never situation. I was sixty and had put up with my gender indecisions long enough. I went into a double retirement by quitting a job that I hated and gave away all my male clothes to charity.

Looking back, if I had known all the detours, I would have to take in my life just to survive, I wonder if I would have taken a different path. On the other hand, I was locked into a route I was taking and had no choice. Sure, I would have tried other ways around to get to where I was going. Such as attempting to come out quicker than I did and stop lying to myself. One way or another it is too late now to cry over spilled makeup.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Being OK was not Good Enough

 

JJ Hart and wife Liz on right at Picnic.

I grew up in Ohio raised by greatest generation parents who lived through WWII and the great depression. Often, they were long on material support and short on emotional backing.

The main thing I remember from my childhood was, nothing was ever good enough. Take school for an example, while I excelled at subjects such as History and English, I really struggled with the Math and Sciences. Even still, I was expected to bring home straight A’s on my grade card every year. I had no excuses, especially when I went to high school where my mom was a teacher. She was pushing me hard for good grades to make it possible to get accepted by a good university.

I guess I became used to the pushing and figured nothing was ever good enough for myself and it carried over into my gender issues. Every time the mirror lied to me and said I was an attractive girl, I did not believe it and had to discover another way to prove it. Very quickly I learned I needed to replace the mirror with the public. Leaving my dark, lonely closet was the only way I could learn if I could ever achieve my dream of living a transfeminine life. It took every bit of courage I could muster to do it but if OK was not enough (by just standing in front of the mirror), I had to force myself into the world.

When I did force myself, it was like I was getting adjusted to a new pair of shoes. At first, I was tight and uncomfortable before I started to relax and began the basics of enjoying myself. I say I began the basics, because at every turn on my gender path, it seemed I was hitting a wall. Those were the times I needed to step back and decide if I was doing the right thing.

Those examples and failures proved to me I needed to keep going. Mainly because I felt so natural when I was pushing the envelope to leave my male self behind and live more and more as a transgender woman.

On occasion, proving OK was not enough and trashing the envelope almost got me into trouble. Mainly when I began to walk the fine line when I lost my male privileges. The most important being personal security. I was out and out lucky and escaped personal harm by men in the world. I wasn’t smart enough or experienced enough to sense the danger zones women are raised around. I learned quickly to park in well-lit areas or to ask for friends to walk me to my car. I did not want to be a statistic.

As I went through the process of living within the same parameter’s cisgender women have to face, I became a sponge of sorts. Nothing I did as I transitioned was ever good enough as my parents’ lessons oddly came back to help me. I was especially attentive when I went out to socialize with my women friends. They never realized what they did for me as I formed my own version of womanhood. In many ways I became a gender hybrid. It was impossible for me to leave decades of living an impacted male existence behind me, so I tried to take the good with me. For example, I was fortunate to have worked around women in the restaurant business for most of my life and I knew the trials and tribulations cisgender women faced in the world.

To this day, I have not shaken the idea of just being OK is just OK. I must be better just to be successful in the competitive world of women. I knew they could be competitive but not as much as I discovered when I finally had the chance to play in the girl’s sandbox. The whole process made me a better person in the long run, but it was surely difficult at times. Often brief moments of gender euphoria kept me going in my darkest gender hours. That was when I needed to provide electricity in my closet to give me the ability to see right from wrong.

Since my parents were my driving force behind my personality, I never had the chance to thank them for what they did. My Mom knew about my gender issues and chose to ignore them, and my dad never knew so I doubt if either would be pleased about their child raising outcome. They never knew how well OK was never enough worked out for me in my life.

 

 

Trans Girl on the "Down Low"

 

Image from Josh Withers
on UnSplash.

According to Wikipedia, down low is basically an African American term for gay cruising of other men. For this post, I am going to use it in another sense.

First of all, I need to take you all back to when I first considered my down low to be as I cheated on my wife. But I was doing it by cheating on her with another woman, which happened to be me. Of course, nothing made what I was doing right but I could not stop doing it as it had a powerful draw on me. Those were the exciting days of leaving the gay bar scene behind me and begin exploring the world of straight bars as well as lesbian venues.

Very soon, my success turned to failure as I began to feel guilty about lying to my wife about what I was doing. I tried my best to rationalize my thoughts because after all, I was having no physical contact with anyone. Male or female so I could not be accused of cheating, but I still was. The reason was, I had made an agreement with her that I could go out in public several days a week. Providing I never left the house cross-dressed. It was a sacred promise she never forgot and one I could not keep once I began to develop a transfeminine life.

Very soon, I felt as if I was still on the down low every time I snuck out of the house dressed as a woman. As I was basically doing as much as possible. The reason was, I was learning so much about the feminine world I had always dreamed about, I could never turn around and go back to my male life.

It was more exciting to stay on the down low until I could figure out what to do about the life I was leading. In fact, I because the more I experienced the new world, the more natural I began to feel as I was able to put the image I always saw in the mirror into motion. In many ways, I began to feel so natural as a transgender woman, it was difficult to ever return to being a man at all. I had to consciously tell myself I still was a part time man when I worked. So much so, I was beginning to be called ma’am when sir would have worked for the occasion. Still, I was secretly overjoyed when it happened.

Sadly, through it all, my marriage really suffered. Mostly because I was and am a very honest person and hated lying to my wife about what was really going on with me. Often, I learned when I lied one small time, I would have to lie more often to make up for it. An example was one year when we took a week for vacation and headed north to try to escape the heat. About two days into the vacation, I became increasingly mean and irritable because I really wanted to be spending my time traveling as a woman. Finally, my poor wife had had enough and asked me what was wrong. I lied again and internalized my feelings enough to get by, and we could eventually enjoy ourselves. Deep down, I hated myself for it.

Life began to finally slow down for me as I reached certain milestones in my transfeminine life. I was beginning to communicate with the world and started to feel much better about myself and at the same time my down low activities slowed down also. At least to a point where I could control them. It was around this time too, when my wife’s health began to really decline. It did not know it then, but she only had approximately six months to live. For some reason, I decided to go on a major purge and throw most of my feminine things away and went all the way to growing my version of a beard. It turned out, I did the best I could for the remainder of her life.

When she passed, of course I was tragically shocked and lonely, so I reached inward. The beard went away quickly, and I was able to restock my clothes and makeup. In no time at all, my inner feminine self was coming to my rescue. I began to retrace my steps I had taken as a novice transgender woman, and reestablished myself fairly quickly in the venues I was a regular in.

I was totally freed from the down low experiences from my past and could concentrate on going out to being alone. In other words, I wanted to be around other people. I just did not want them approaching me.

It worked in the short term until I began to socialize with and started to build a small circle of friends who knew nothing of my previous self. I never had had to go on the down low again.

 

 

There is always One.

 

Event Venue where party was held.

There is always one person who does not know how to or wants to keep their mouth shut around my wife Liz and me.

I am referring to my night of affirmation I referred to in yesterday’s post. Everything got off to a wonderful start as we found the venue a little early and chose a seat in the shade as we enjoyed a pre-dinner drink. Plus, I found my daughter, son-in-law and middle grandchild quite easily. So, I was ready to relax and prepare for a fun filled evening without having to explain myself and my gender choices.

It turned out that I relaxed too soon because after my mother-in-law sat down beside me to once again question my health. Even though I am not very mobile, I have been very fortunate so far to escape any major health problems. That is when things began to get very interesting in the question department. My mother-in-law’s sister promptly sat down in the empty seat beside her and started asking me questions.  That is when the “fun” started.

First, she assumed I was my daughter’s mom, I think.  My assumption of her was she was an older lesbian. It turned out assumptions are like rear ends on people; everyone has one because we were both wrong. I told her I was my daughter’s parent when she said I was her father. Then she could not shut up and waded in further into my personal life. Sitting on the other side of me was my wife Liz and the woman promptly asked Liz if I was her husband. Liz quickly said no, I was her wife. Liz handled it beautifully and the woman moved on, I thought.

By this time, I thought the woman would have learned her lesson and just shut up, but I was wrong. She was one of those people who just can’t leave well enough alone, and it seemed I was the target until she became bored. Obviously, she had no knowledge of our family’s recent history. She was ignorant of the fact that one of the quests of honor last night was also transgender and was there with their partner also.

Then, my first wife showed up and grabbed a seat at the table and I became involved with talking to her. She is the mother of my daughter and will always have that bond, plus she does have some contact with my brother’s wife who rejected me for being transgender so long ago. There was a lot to talk about so I could ignore the woman who probably see she was being ignored by them. But not all the way.

The photographer began to round up the family for pictures after dinner. To start, he asked for the men to gather. My new friend? Looked at me for a second to tell me it was my turn for pictures until I glared at her and did not move. Obviously, she had not learned, and I waited for the photographer to call for the rest of the family to come up for pictures.

Regardless of what she thought, there were pictures taken I should be able to pass along later.

All too soon, Liz and I’s evening at the celebration was over and I did get to see and talk to my transgender grandchild before they take off for their new job in Maine. That was the important part and any dealings I had with anyone else faded away. Hopefully the woman left with a new understanding of the gender spectrum and even better learning how to keep her mouth shut around us. But I doubt it.

The best part is my daughter, and I have pledged to get together more often for breakfast in the future. Without the prying negative comments of an opinionated person who does not know what she is talking about. I don’t think she was a true transphobe, just a person who did not know enough to keep her mouth shut. Obviously, I have had all the right to be called a parent instead of a father and for her to recognize it. Whether or not she ever realizes it, it will be up to her. If she does, I hope I have played a small role in helping to change someone else’s life, who really needed it. I have to say it was difficult not to be negative with her and I was not. Which put me in a transgender educational position I did not anticipate being in. As my affirmation day proved to be much more by helping the public view of transgender population having families and life’s like so many others.

Some people just can’t seem to say no when faced with discussing situations they know nothing about.

 

 

 

 

Making Gender Decisions

 

JJ Hart

Living my truth as a novice transgender woman proved to be more than I bargained for.

Like many of you, I started innocently enough as I rummaged through my mom’s clothes for anything I thought would fit me. Too soon, I found I had fallen in love with the feel of feminine clothes such as undergarments and panty hose. The biggest problem I quickly encountered was the buzz I felt when I cross dressed in front of the mirror just did not last. In the space of a couple days, I yearned to repeat the process of doing my best to look like a girl, repeatedly. I did not know it then, but my mind was attempting to tell me I was transgender and not a cross dresser. In those days, the transgender word was years away from being used or understood.

When I finally reached the age to go out on my own, the mirror remained my best friend. All the way to the point of going places where I could enjoy seeing my transfeminine reflection. I would even go to the big home improvement stores to check out their mirror selection when in fact, I was checking me out and reinforcing my feminine image in my mind. Finally, even my simple search for gender acceptance proved to be too much to take on a regular basis. I needed the public to be my reflection which mattered the most. Or I began to interact with more clerks and servers on a one-on-one basis to see their reactions. The more I explored, the more confident I became, and life became so much easier. In fact, too easy.

The first main discovery I made was the fact that women were much more interested in me than men. It did not matter, if the woman was a clerk, a server or a stranger off the street, they all seemed to share a curiosity of why I was in their world. Many times, there was too much curiosity going around on both sides, I was as curious about them as they were about me. It was about this time when I began to really live my truth as a transgender woman. I always reasoned too, more than a few strangers were drawn to me for that precise reason. They knew I was living my truth. Certainly, there were haters and bigots along the way, but not enough to slow me down. I ended up learning to stay clear of them very effectively.

Confidence was always my key as I learned to live my truth. I knew I was transgender and anyone who paid close attention at all to me, knew I was also. With that out of the way, we could get down to real life and very soon the typical stranger realized I was not the normal cross-dresser they saw on television on one of the many talk shows. I was real and not evil in any way. It worked with other women I encountered and almost never did with any men. So, I was satisfied with my results. I was kicked out of the men’s club and that was the way I wanted it. I guess you could say I was in some sort of a new layered gender reality as I tried to live my new truth.

I would be remiss if I did not bring up how intensely difficult all of this was to the progress of my mental health therapy. Per norm, my therapist said it best when she told me there was nothing, she could do about my wanting to be transfeminine. If I wanted to enough, I would make the sacrifice to do it. All my visits were pointless until I faced my own gender reality. My excuse continued to be, leaving my male life with all the comforts of the privilege I had built up was very risky, so I continued to put it off until it was almost too late and I tried suicide as a solution.

Naturally, the attempt did not work, because I am here writing attempting to help others with similar gender issues as mine. I learned I wanted to live and needed to make the right choice with my life to do it. I was stubborn and waited until the age of sixty to make the change from living a partial male life to a full time female one. All the lessons I absorbed along my long gender journey came back to help me in my final decision. I still remember vividly, when I sat alone and decided to donate all my male clothes to thrift stores and give up my male life forever. A tremendous weight immediately came off my shoulders and I knew I had made the right decision.

 

 

 

 

The Clash of Gender Ego's

 

Image from Sherest Gupta
on UnSplash. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

Tomorrow Sometimes Comes

 

Image from Mark Attree on UnSplash.

I finally knew tomorrow was here when I started gender affirming hormones or HRT as it also is known as.

It was always my dream to try hormones as a natural progression towards my ultimate transition. By the time I sought out medical care to help my hormonal goals, I had pretty much exhausted my old cross dressing bucket list of situations I could put my femininized self into. I even went as far as pushing myself into situations I should not have been in. But I learned how far I could go.

Through it all, I still did not know how far I could go or have to. Would something come along to change my course or ultimately change my mind. It turned out, hormone therapy turned out to be the salvation to my problems I thought it would be. Quickly, I moved from a minimum dosage to an amount of the meds which would really produce changes. It was as if my body was taken to the HRT as naturally as it could and provided me with yet another what took you so long as I suffered through changes such as my first hot flashes as I was going through puberty again. What took you so long, echoed through the recesses of my mind.

The biggest problem was I was going through all these dramatic changes alone. All my Ciswoman friends would just smile knowingly and say welcome to their world if I brought anything up. So, I did not. I brought back my old unwanted male art form of internalizing my feelings once again. In my mind, it was a shame I could not share the beautiful changes I was going through with no one else. This all happened before my current wife Liz, and I became serious a decade ago.

I continued to realize my tomorrow was here when I was forced to stop wearing male clothes all together and donate mine to the area thrift stores. My protruding breasts were the first thing which gave me away, along the fact my rapidly growing hair was already long enough to wear in a ponytail. My body was telling me it was time to put all my male privilege aside and face the world as a transgender woman. Which meant several things. The main one was I could no longer pick and choose where I wanted to do and how I wanted to dress as a casual cross dresser. Everyday was important and I needed to plan ahead if I was ever going to be successful in finding and living my dream of living as a woman. After going through the motions for nearly fifty years, tomorrow was here.

Fortunately, by this time in my life, I had developed a strong set of allies who had only ever known the new me, so I did not have to worry about my old male self-coming into play. My friends, along with my daughter and Liz formed a strong bond for me and I was able to experience uniquely feminine experiences such as beauty salons with them. In many ways, they made up for the female peer group I never had growing up. My daughter even asked me to speak in front of her temple for my oldest grandsons Bar-Mitzvah not long after tomorrow came and Liz took me on traveling tour excursions as a transgender woman I would have never done without her. You could say, once I got started, tomorrow came crashing down on me. I was receiving what I had asked for all those years. Destiny was telling me, you wanted it, now you got it.

Of course, then I found how the life of women everywhere is more layered and difficult than a male existence. My daughter and I are prime examples when we needed to work together to explain my gender transition to three young grandchildren. We came up with a new name for me which reflected a family background, and the remainder of the process was amazingly easy.

Ironically, my brother came along to ruin my good karma by refusing to back my transition with his wife’s family who are a bunch of right-wing haters. I guess I need to see how the other half lived when it came to the transgender community personally.

As I said, my tomorrow waited long enough to arrive, which was my fault and could only be described as an exciting process when it got here. At least though, I did not crash and burn following a bumpy landing on the runway. I was able to still have enough time to live the life I had always dreamed of in my transgender womanhood. My tomorrows proved to be worthwhile as I lived them out.

 

 

 

 

 

Self-Destruction

Image from Abbot on
UnSplash.

I was very self-destructive over the years, and I am frankly amazed I made it to the age of seventy-five in one piece.

I think my self-destructive behavior began when I was forced into a gender mold which was deeply foreign to me. When I was very young, I did not know exactly what was wrong, but something certainly was. I was somewhat older when I had my first inkling of having a condition I barely knew how to pronounce. I was gender dysphoric. As a teenager, many mornings when I woke up for the day, I did not know if I was a boy or a girl. Not a good place to be.

My first object of destruction was the car. With it, I found I could seriously injure myself and sadly others. I could race my brother with a car and go way too fast at night for the road conditions. Many nights when I came home late and lonely, my mom was waiting up and, on several occasions, told me the angel riding with me was my grandmother. She may have been right, when I wrecked one of my cars going too fast and ended up rolling it several times into a house. Very easily, I could have been killed, along with my brother. But my brother and I walked away without a scratch. Even though the car was totaled.

I was just reckless as I entered my military years as I was frustrated and lonely as I grasped at any straw to solve my gender issues. Never pausing to realize the answer I was seeking was as close facing my own inner self. For more years than I like to admit, I feared facing the truth about myself and stayed on my self-destructive path. That made two paths I was on. One on my gender issues and the other me trying to hurt myself.

To dull the pain, I resorted to self-medication with alcohol. Drinking vast amounts of beer helped me to forget my male self on one hand and made me too brave on the other hand. On nights I drank, I could see one path from the other. So, I went back time and time again.

Then, my time in the military just made my habit worse as I was in an atmosphere of supported alcohol abuse. I found I had to finally rid myself of my destructive ways when I hit rock bottom and attempted suicide. Simply, I was tired of fighting my overwhelming desire to be a transgender woman and the possibility of hurting the loved ones around me. Most importantly, I felt as if the world would be a better place without me.

Once again, my guiding angel was with me as I failed in my suicide attempt with pills and booze. Maybe it was her who finally convinced me to face my gender truth. I was born into the world as a male which was completely wrong. My vibrations were always female deep down inside and those vibes were deeply felt. Still my male self-refused to give up all the privilege he would lose and did his best to stay the course he was on. All he did was to prolong the certainty of my life. When he gave up and I could pursue the deepest truth of my life, I committed myself to moving forward into my transgender womanhood.  

With commitment came a deep-down of satisfaction and happiness I had never known in my life. I was fond of blaming my parents for the lack of happiness I experienced when I was growing up. When, in fact it was me who was at fault. I was not honest with myself, and it hurt me. I couldn't follow my dreams, and it hurt me. The deepest cut of all came with the dishonesty I felt. I was raised to be honest, and chasing my gender dreams curtailed my honesty with the world when I was busy hiding all the time. Perhaps, most frustrating of all came when I could not outrun my issues. First, I attempted to pass myself off to me as a harmless cross dresser and, when that did not work, I faced the possibility I was transgender. A big leap for my honesty.

It was the first time in my life; I could face my truth and live honestly as myself. With new women friends and my wife Liz pushing me on, I was able to restore my confidence as a woman as never before. My progress was so much more than my appearance and reached deeply into living a fulltime life as a transgender woman. My gender journey of a thousand miles did begin with a single step and I took mine.

Sometimes I wish I had made the journey sooner but then again, all of us only have one life to live and I was able to live mine.

 

 

 

Women's Spaces

 

Image from Tim Mossholder
on UnSplash.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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