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.  

 

 

Climbing Walls

JJ Hart

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pride Month

 

Image from William
Fonteneau on
UnSplash. 

These days, specifically, Pride Month means many different things to many different people.

Of course, the deluge of bigotry set off by the orange Taco felon in chief, has emboldened gender bigots everywhere to come out from under their rocks and attack the LGBTQ community as a whole and the transgender community specifically. If you are still in your closet, the bigotry probably has given you pause to consider where to go next with your gender transition, and should you attend a local Pride celebration at all.

Years ago, when I first began to check out Prides on my own, I was not happy with the number of drag queens I saw who ended up representing the transgender community if they were trying to or not. Then there were the cross dressers teetering around on their painful high heels, just to experience a day out. Overall, I saw precious few transgender women like me.

Fortunately, as the years flew by, my views on Pride began to change too. I began to see more and more trans women in the crowd. All the way to the parade marshal’s being transgender also. To me, it finally meant, we as a group were finally claiming our rightful spot under the LGBTQ umbrella, rather than always being left out in the rain. I finally reached a point where I could attend Pride and have a good time with my lesbian friends.

Bringing this all back into the present, it does not matter much what my prior Pride experiences were, it is how you feel about going today, or this month. Of course, there are safety concerns with so many crazies out and about in today’s world. Sadly, it only takes one to ruin it for the rest of us. Also, my mobility issues have severely limited my ability to go at all. So, I cannot go and be seen without lots of pain. I feel too, I did my part earlier in life so others can today.

It could be a decision to attend Pride these days is as personal as it has ever had been. Around here (Cincinnati), there are Prides every weekend. From very big to very small. All give the LGBTQ community a chance to be themselves and mingle with other like-minded individuals. Through rain and shine, I cannot remember never having a great time. From doing table work with the transgender-cross dresser support group I was a part of to going on gay bar pub crawls with Liz on a bus, we tried to do it all. Then there was the time my lesbian friends and I all got together and made the trip to Columbus, Ohio from Dayton to go the biggest Pride in Ohio. Great times were had by all, and I gained confidence as a transgender woman by trying it.

It should be noted, I did not do all this suddenly, and I needed to work my way up to the fun over the years. It is easy to say, but if I did not look out of my closet door and wonder what it would be like to go to a Pride, and try, I would have missed a big piece of my life as I transitioned into transgender womanhood. On the other hand, going to Pride has become an increasingly personal decision with the country where it is now. I know quite a few readers have expressed to me where they are in their transition and how attempting something like going to Pride would be a big risk. The fun part is, for once, you don’t have to worry about passing because people watching is one of the big sports at Pride. Just find a comfortable seat and enjoy the view.

Whatever decision you should decide to make, just make sure you are safe and comfortable in what you decide. Be prepared to collect loads of information from many LGBTQ friendly organizations. Some of which may help you in the future. In the past, at a Cincinnati Veterans Administration Pride (when they were allowed to have them) a man stopped at our table for information and later almost immediately started their transition. So, you never know.

The only other words of wisdom I have is, wear comfortable shoes! I did not for one year and paid the price. Regardless of the party atmosphere at many Prides, it is a solemn occasion when you consider the month was born out of Stonewall Bar protests in New York City. Basically, the drag queens revolted, and change began. It may take another revolt to do it again. In the meantime, enjoy your Pride month. Even if you are doing it in your closet.

 

 

Redemption

 

Female Impersonator
Kim Christy. 

Redemption is a largely vague term, and I am oversimplifying it for use here, but I do use it to describe the very few humans are ever given the chance to stop our lives and start all over again.

Fortunately, transgender women and transgender men are part of the very few who can put the brakes on their life, stop and then start over. In my life, I was always trying to outrun my gender dysphoria and was usually going too fast to slow down. Let alone stop. Another problem was, when I did slow down enough to look around, I became scared and then sped up again so essentially, I was just chasing my own tail.

As I did, I just eventually learned, I was just where I belonged. On my way to my dream of living full time as a transgender woman. I can not stress enough, how paranoid I was of ever reaching my dream. The massive hurdles of family (spousal approval), friends and jobs always come to mind.

Redemption for me also meant when I transitioned into a feminine world, I needed to do it in a graceful way. I certainly did not want to be one of the mean, frustrated older women I knew in my life. I always thought those women suffered from large amounts of testosterone gained in their lives when their estrogen naturally goes down. I had already suffered from testosterone poisoning through much of my life and never wanted to go back. I was fortunate when I learned my inner feminine woman believed the same ideas I had, and she was very gracious when she was finally released to lead her own life. She had the chance to experience the world in a positive way and did. She was able to get along well as she sought out the guidance, she needed to enter a dark new world and give it light anyway.

Fear turned out to be my powerful motivator and, as difficult as it was, I used it to my advantage. I guess it worked because my world opened in a magical way. I also can’t stress enough how my appearance only was a starting point, and I had to use it only to open very basic doors. Then when I went through those doors, I needed to begin to carve out a real life as a transgender woman. Much of my new life started when I picked up my dog and moved in with my future wife Liz in Cincinnati. My biggest example was when Liz and I began to go to various “Meet Up” groups and I began to meet strangers for the first time in different settings. I went to craft groups, writer’s groups and even a knitting group or two. The bottom line was I was able to build my confidence in my new self, and I highly recommend “Meet Up” groups if any exist in your area.

Through it all, I was prepared for rejection but only really received it once when Liz and I went to a lesbian Valentine’s Dance years long ago. At the dance, I was busy minding my own business when this evil woman comes up to me and started to be very nasty. She kept asking me what my “real” name was. It took a while to rid myself of her bigoted self, but I managed to before Liz came back with appetizers from the serving line. In all the time I had dealing with the lesbian community, this woman was the only gender bigot I ever had to directly deal with. I am/was fortunate.

I feel redemption was not as severe as it could have been. During my life in my male years, I did my best to be kind to others, especially in the LGBTQ community all the way to hiring a transgender waitress at one of the restaurants I managed. Even though she was a natural for the job, when I left, the next manager ended up running her off the job. I also had to deal with bigoted guests in another restaurant I managed when they refused to be waited on by a gay waiter. Instead, I told them to leave. Anytime I could, I tried to pay my experiences forward to a time I would need it.

Another very important set of lessons I learned by working in the food business was how cisgender women navigated their worlds when they were basically under stress. Or, how important it was for the women to form cliques when men formed teams. The importance of being accepted by an alpha female was not lost on me when I transitioned into transgender womanhood.

Speaking of transgender, today is the birthday of my oldest grandchild who also happens to be a trans graduate of The Ohio State University. They are pursuing a career as a civilian in the Navy this fall, so I am very proud! They are a nuclear engineer.

Happy Birthday.

Also, thanks to Susie Jay for writing in and commenting on the blog! It’s good to have you along. I agree with your question about Kim Christy. I had forgotten about them as a female impersonator. It's a term I saw in the Wikipedia reference on Kim. Been awhile since I have used it.  

 

Adjusting to Gender Change

 

Image from Fab Lentz on Unsplash.

Adjustment to gender change was never easy for me.  

Two of the biggest initial problems came when I realized that I had too few feminine characteristics to help me start. Being seen as a so called “normal” male did help me keep the bullies away but provided me no help when I was attempting to cross dress as a girl for the mirror. Plus, all along I knew the problem of looking like a girl was just going to get worse as I grew older and enter puberty. In the worst way, I wanted to add curves to my body and not the masculine angles I was getting. By this time, I was building a secure dark gender closet to protect me from the world, and it saved me many times from being caught.

The other big problem was, I did not know what I was doing when I was trying to femininize myself. I had none of the peer support (or criticism) from the girls around me to aid me in the way I appeared in the public’s eye. My makeup alone I feared made me look like a clown in drag. It took me years of work in the mirror before I had the confidence to go out in public as a cross dresser or novice transgender woman. Which was just beginning to be understood.

I also needed years to develop the courage to even try to go out into the world. Eventually, after quite a bit of failure, I experienced enough success to finally build confidence to build myself to a point I could own who I was. Being true to myself meant entering a room and feeling confident in my identity.  It also meant when I was ridiculously dressed as a teen and was getting laughed at or attracting unwanted attention, I still had to own it until I could make it home and change. From that point forward, I began to seriously adjust my wardrobe and fashion choices to dress to blend in with the other women around me. By doing so, I finally left the male in myself behind. I understood women ran the world in their own way, and to enter, I needed to change my thought pattern about my gender life significantly.

Out went the very short miniskirts and shorts and in came leggings, boots and jeans. I was haunting the thrift stores so often, I thought a few of them were beginning to know me. Ironically, I received pushbacks from others in the cross-dressing community for my fashion choices. Several went out of their way to tell me I could wear pants anytime I wanted as a man, why would I want to wear pants when I was a woman. I came to the point where I responded I did not need clothes to define my transgender womanhood. Or my gender is between my ears, and my sex is between my legs. Plus, it was not as if I was that butch when I dressed as a woman. I normally always wore my heels and makeup with my slacks and blouses when I went out. I did not know it at the time, but I was developing my later life as a femme transgender lesbian.

As stubborn as I always was, I still was insecure in my own way and needed reinforcement in my transgender womanhood. That is when going out to the new venues I had discovered helped me along. Repeating the same movements repeatedly as a trans woman, helped me along towards my goal of living fulltime and I could see the results of my efforts in life very personally in the public’s eye. When I discovered my lifelong dream of living as a woman could be within reach, I needed to go for it.

At that point in time, my battle of genders really set in. To put it mildly. My male self was not ready to give up what remained of his life at the age of sixty. Essentially, he wanted to know if I could afford to make the transition and give up all the white male privilege, he had worked a lifetime to build up. On the other hand, my up-and-coming feminine side was arguing at my age, it was now or never as far as a gender transition was concerned. The hardest part of my gender work was already done.

I had spent the greatest part of fifty years having to adjust to gender change, and I was more than ready to attempt the final jump to start HRT or gender affirming hormones to aid in the process. Your results may vary but, in my case, my entire life was never easy. As I view it now, it was worth the effort to adjust to a gender change.

 

Seismic Gender Shits...from Gay Bars to Sports Bars

 

My Trans Friend Racquel and Friend.

In many ways, this is only a continuation of yesterday’s post about seismic gender shifts. This time though, I am going to focus on my foray into leaving gay bars behind and beginning to go to several of the major sports bars in the area where I live.

As I see it now, going to lesbian bars was more of a learning experience but being accepted in sports bars was a dream come true. As far as the sports bars were concerned, I can break them down into two types. The smaller more diverse ones such as TGIF Fridays (which catered to single women) and the larger ones which catered to more of a beer drinking, wing consuming male crowd. I knew quite a bit about both from my male days being out and about with my drinking buddies. Not to mention, I had managed a major competitor to Fridays in the area. I only knew the number of times I was jealous of women who took advantage of going to both venues.

It was not until I seriously began to consider going to a sports venue where I enjoyed the cold beer and sports on the big screen televisions, did I begin to look around and see many other cisgender women mixed in with the rest of the patrons. I began to think, if they could do it, why could not I?

Before I even considered my adventure, I needed to insure my femininized presentation was up to the challenge of being in an atmosphere where I would be one of the very few transgender women (or cross dressers) in the venue. All in all, the process took every bit of courage I could summon and still was very scary. Even though I was scared, I pushed forward to see if I could achieve my dream. From my business experience, I knew if I could make it to the bar without being noticed, most of my risk would be averted. Bartenders are greedy creatures and are primarily focused on service and tips which would not be a problem for me.

My biggest problem was acting as if I was not a single woman in the bar area. One of my tricks was to always use my cell phone as a prop to act like I was expecting company. For the most part I think it worked until I began to meet another transgender woman for drinks and there was strength in numbers. I was fortunate too; in that I was slightly ahead of the curve of cisgender women enjoying sports as much as men. When my lesbian friends and I were together enjoying the games, no one cared, and we fit in.

Through it all, there were only a few occasions when I was called out and embarrassed. One of which occurred when I was in a red neck leaning sports bar and had the local police called on me for using the women’s room. After a brief discussion with a female cop, I was sent on my way to a venue up the road where I knew I had rest room privileges.

Probably the most glaring and potentially problematic time I had was one night at a smaller sports bar I had gone to often with no problems. That night, my transgender friend Racquel and I were sitting at the bar minding our own business when suddenly, “Dude Looks Like a Lady” by Arrowsmith comes on the juke box. Not once, not twice but four times in a row, and to make matters worse, the new manager came up to us and said it was time to go. So, we did and went up the street to a bigger venue where we knew we would be welcome. Never to come back, or so we thought.

Several weeks later, one of the bartenders from the venue we were kicked out of found me and apologized. She went on to say, the manager who had banned me had been fired for drug abuse and I was invited back. I happily went back and never had another problem except a bathroom experience which I will save for another blog post.

More than likely, all the success I had in establishing myself in sports bar venues had to do with knowing the people on the other side of the bar were there for the money as much as the store clothing clerks I used to see in my old shopping days in malls when all they cared about was my attitude and the color of my money. On the other hand, the people in the gay bars treated me much worse and often I had to wait for service altogether.

At the end of the day (or several) my transition into the big sports bars was much easier than I ever thought it would be.

Seismic Gender Shifts

Image from AC on UnSplash.

I received a response from a reader seeking more input on how I was able to integrate myself into the lesbian and sports bar cultures.

First, thanks for the question as it is a complex one to try to answer. It turned out, the lesbian culture was the most difficult to be accepted into.  I began my journey in Dayton, Ohio around the year 2005 while my second wife was still alive. Back in those days, there were still lesbian bars in business for me to go to. It is important to note, one of them was essentially a lesbian biker bar and they hated me. Especially when I played “Shania Twain’s” I Feel Like a Woman in the bar. Even still, they barely put up with me until I found a better venue to go to.

It turned out, relatively close along the road was another small lesbian bar which had just opened, so I tried it out. Imagine my surprise when the first bartender I saw, knew me as my male self also. She saw through my femininized appearance, and I was treated very warmly, which helped me gain acceptance from the other patrons. I was able to relax and look around at the dynamics around me.

What I immediately noticed was where I fit in the layered levels of women in the bar. There was everything from very masculine butch lesbians, all the way to their femme girlfriends who came with them. I learned very quickly, with my jeans, boots and makeup, I fit right in with the femme lesbians, even to the point of attracting attention of a few of the butches. Who, on occasion, bought me beers and flirted with me. In fact, my first dinner date was with a super butch who went on to become a full-fledged transgender man. Keep in mind also, back in those days, I was much younger and could present much easier in public once I learned the basics. Such as, what I was going to wear when I went to a lesbian bar. There would be no dresses or skirts for the evening.

It is also important to note, my next foray into the lesbian culture was pure luck or destiny if you don’t believe in luck. This is where my sports bar experience comes in. Keep in mind, I had managed sports bars for a living in my past and had a basic knowledge of how I would go about becoming a regular. Again, I needed to dress to blend, stay friendly, smile and tip well. My plan worked well and soon I did become a regular at several venues where I had gone to as a man and always wondered if I could repeat my visit as a transgender woman.

On one night, one of the bartenders asked me if I would be interested in meeting her single lesbian mother and I said yes. We ended up getting along well and even ended up adding another lesbian woman by complete chance who I ended up partying with for years until I met Liz and moved to Cincinnati. As destiny would have it, Liz identified as a lesbian also, so my circle was complete. I was basically protected from the world until I could learn many of the nuances of being a transgender woman. Such as, I did not need a man to justify my existence.

I guess you could say, my seismic gender shifts just came along when I needed it, or when I was questioning my sexuality. I had always gotten along with women easier than men and their interest in me sealed my future in the world. I enjoyed immensely going to lesbian mixers and being flirted with on occasion. I always thought it was because I was hitting some level of middle gender with some women who were not intimidated by a woman who used to be a man. They were intrigued and even impressed by my honesty in how I approached my life.

Sadly today, around here at least, there are very few pure lesbian bars left to learn in, and the younger generation seems to be more accepting of the transgender world. Which is what is scaring all the politicians, shoving unjust laws down our throat. However, I don’t want to get too far off the subject and just say my acceptance into a totally new culture as a transgender lesbian came at a cost. But a good one and I had friends.  

What an Adventure!

Image from Phillip Rawstron
on UnSplash

 Admittedly, at the age of seventy-five, I spend a lot of time looking back at my life, attempting to look at all the successes and failures that I went through.

The end result is normally wow! Did I do all of that? I remember the adventures I went through when I first left the house in my short skirt with freshly shaven legs and felt the cool night air on my body. At the time, I felt as if there was no other feeling like it and I could not wait until I could do it again. Then, there were all of the Halloween parties I went to cross dressed as a woman from head to toe. The parties were exciting to say the least but also showed me I could possibly make it in the public's eye as a transgender woman in the near future. It is important to note, I went through the stages of trying to dress sexy as a woman to trying to encourage the others at the party I really was feminine. 

When I started to try to enter the world regularly, I found I had many adventures ahead as I went from being laughed at to my face to at least presenting well enough to blend in with the world at large. Out went the short miniskirts and in came the jeans and tops which other women were wearing on a regular basis to the venues I was going to. At the time, it was less fun for me but at the least, my new fashion choices were saving me the torment of coming home in tears. For the first time in my life, the public was not laughing at me for simply trying to be who I felt I should be. 

From there, the adventure really started for me as I made the second big transition in my life. From part time cross dresser to fulltime transgender woman, if only in my mind. The entire idea was huge in that it took me back to the earliest days of admiring my girl-self in the mirror, and thinking that was good, but there was still something missing. The missing part became evident over the years; I wanted to be the girl I saw in the mirror. Little did I know at that time; my gender path would be a long and intense process. Nearly fifty years to be exact before I was able to come to terms to who I really was as a person. 

Before I was able to build a small number of friends I saw on a regular basis, I was intensely lonely, and on many nights was just going out to be alone. Hoping no one would bother me. Fortunately, they did, and my life took an adventurous turn for the better.  I ended up being invited to lesbian mixers, the women's roller derby and even an NFL Monday Night football game. To say I was scared would be too easy a term. Excited would be another appropriate way to think about what I was going through. Where had all of this been all the time I was stuck in my closet? 

Another big adventure was evident when I discovered I had more than one gender closet to escape. There was the physical closet of fashion, makeup and presentation to overcome, and then the major hurdle of the intense mental closet I lived in. I experienced major problems with overcoming the life my male self-had built for me. He was intense and did not want to let go. By then, it was too late, and I was never going back. 

All my adventures proved to be worthwhile, and I succeeded in living my dream of transgender womanhood. Plus, for those of you who think you have waited too long to live your dream, I waited until I was sixty before I started. 

Not Ready for Public Consumption

Porsche Boxster.

 As I made my way into a feminine world for the first times, I was amazed how different it was.

My male self-had grown used to pretty much getting his own way. He was successful in the business world even to the point of buying a new Porsche sports car of his dreams, primarily through the substantial restaurant bonus checks I was earning. Little did anyone know, my female side wanted the new car as much as my male side. She wanted to be the blond in the fancy new car.

New car or not, I was not sure I was ready for public consumption as a transgender woman. After all, I was still new to the world and was afraid to being discovered and ridiculed. So, I continued on through the recesses of my mind, until I presented well enough to get by in the world. 

One of the first major moves I made was to leave the confines of gay bars behind except for the lesbian ones I enjoyed so much. As with anything else, there was a learning curve to be dealt with. I learned there was nothing much I liked about the gay bars who for the most part either shunned me or treated me as some sort of drag queen. Oddly enough, the venues I did learn I was ready for public consumption were the big sports bars I was used to going to as my old male self. It was as if I flipped the switch and was able to go and enjoy a beer and watch my favorite sports as a trans woman and not a man and I loved it. 

Very quickly, I began to also love the attention I was getting in the new venues. I fit in quickly because I was friendly, made no trouble and tipped well. Once the staff at the venue's I went to understood I was only there for a good time and not any nefarious reasons, I was embraced as who I was and all of a sudden, I was ready for public consumption. One thing I need to point out was, none of this came easy to me. I started out with very little in the way of feminine features and I was used to surviving in a male world the hard way. I needed to work hard to feminize myself. Before I began to have an idea of how to feminize myself, I needed to understand how to do it. I spent many long hours in front of my mirror trying my best to perfect my makeup and fashion before I even had the courage to leave the safety of my own house. 

Once I did summon the courage to go out in the world, I also needed to figure out exactly what I needed to accomplish.  Early on, I was just trying to see if I can make it in the world, then it became more refined. Fairly quickly, I went from a man just trying to look like a woman, to actually exist with cisgender women in the world as an equal. Needless to say, the entire idea frightened me completely. I was totally out of the only comfort zone I had ever known as I explored a new feminine world. The good news was freeing myself the toxic relationship I had maintained all those years as I gave my best effort to live as a man. 

The best part was my dream did not turn into a nightmare when I transitioned into the authentic life I always should have been living. When I was finally ready for public consumption, I was ready. 

Adjusting to Change

 

Image from
Rafella Mendes Diniz
on UnSplash.

I am biased, but I think adjusting to a lifestyle in a gender you were not born into is one of the biggest changes a human can make.

As many of you know, I took nearly a half a century to adjust to my gender changes. Looking back, some of the changes were a blur while others were so very slow. The reasons possibly were there were so many changes I made to arrive at the spot where I could take the big leap. For example, the night I went to an NFL Monday Night Football game with a lesbian friend of mine and her family. I was just coming out as a transgender woman and was scared to death but knew I needed to make the move and go with her. Needless to say, after the evening, my life changed forever.

The other night I mention often was when I went to see the Christmas lights at a local grist mill, by myself as a woman. I was not as nearly afraid as I was at the football game and ended up enjoying myself immensely. I felt secure in my fashion choices for the evening and was warm and cozy when I went up to one of the hot chocolate vendors for a warm drink with extra marsh mallows. Most importantly, I did not run into any major problems at either venue and my confidence skyrocketed. Maybe I could be secure in my transgender womanhood after all and live out my dream. 

By now, you may be thinking was that all it took to propel my confidence forward into a new life and leave the old male life behind. No, it was not. It is difficult to mention all the nights I spent out alone as a single lonely woman before I found friends to share my changed life with. Through it all, I needed to be so careful to separate my old male life with my new femininized one. Which meant to separate everything I was talking about to new people. Plus, I did not want to create a totally false past in my life and ignore everything I worked so hard to achieve. I found I could bring in the family I had and just change the perspective I was speaking from, and it worked. At the time, fortunately, I was busy closing out my old male life anyhow which had for the most part collapsed, so the time was right for a major change.

Surprisingly, change did come easier for me than I expected. My femininized life was a pleasure to adjust to. Since, I should have been living it all along. It was like my feminine inner soul was telling me she was right all along. If I just had the courage to make the gender change and stick with it. 

All the adjustments I needed to make in life to survive were worth it for me. Finally, at the age of sixty, I had seen enough of the small changes I was trying to make as a stopgap measure and I decided to rid myself of all my male clothes, start gender affirming hormones (HRT) and live the life I was always meant to live. 

How did I know I made the right change? Because, after I did it, I felt so relieved and natural. I let myself go to fall off my gender cliff and had a very soft landing. All those years which started out as just me in the mirror had come full circle and I was able to live my desired life. All because of the changes I went through.

Medical Euphoria as a Trans Girl

 

JJ Hart at Club Diversity.

Yesterday, my yearly visit with my endocrinologist went very well. 

She went over all my blood work from the vampires and said I did not have any problems she could see. Plus, my all important Estradiol level was at the level she wanted it at. Since I am on the hormonal patches, she always asked if I have had any problems with the patches loosening and coming off. For some reason, I have always been lucky, and I have had no problems with my patches ever which has saved me from taking the injections I would have to give myself. 

After further pleasantries were exchanged, she asked if I had set up my next visit to the vampires for my annual bloodwork which I plan to do this summer. Sometime before my annual mammogram. 

Probably the most important question I asked her was how safe her job was. She paused and laughed she did not know which was the answer I expected to hear...sadly. I am selfish and love the fact I have been with her for years and do not want to go through the problems of breaking a new endo doc in most likely down here in Cincinnati. Where the Veterans Administration hospital is very congested and difficult to access. So, again, I will have to expect the worse and hope for the best as far as my healthcare is concerned under the current administration. 

While I am on the subject of my VA personnel cuts, tomorrow is my weekly meeting which used to be called the LGBTQ support group before the administration forbid any references to the LGBTQ world at all. Now, the word is the Dayton, Ohio hospital where the support meeting is held, will be cutting back three hundred fifty people in the coming months. So. every week, I expect the moderator of the group to be gone. If it happens, I will be sad because the moderator does such a great job of controlling the group. Which with my experience in support groups can be hard to do. 

 Looking ahead to other summer happenings my wife Liz and I are planning.  First of all, we want to go north to Columbus, Ohio to revisit two of our favorite venues. One of which is called "Club Diversity" which is a piano bar and lives up to its name of having a very diverse clientele. Before we go to Diversity, we always have to stop by "Thurman's" who has the best burgers in Ohio for a great dinner. It's been a while since we have been to either place, so it will be great fun to go back. 

Also, we will have fun when we go to my daughters for a combination birthday party for my son in law and two of my grandchildren. It's scheduled for the Fourth of July weekend and should be a good time to break the summer monotony. 

All in all, I am hoping for my contacts to not lose their jobs, and their lives can go on. Selfishly, it all makes my life so much easier and adds so much more euphoria than just medical. 

 

Second Chances

Image from Mitch on UnSplash.

 
Very early in my final transition from male to female life, my wife Liz told me to make the most of it because very few human beings ever get the chance to stop their lives and start all over.

Her comment made me feel better and yet scared me more as I stared over the gender cliff I was looking at into what I perceived as my dream life. No matter how much time and effort I put into the final preparation into transgender womanhood, I still did not know the full extent of what I was facing. More precisely, I did not have any conception of the uphill battle I would be facing to leave my old male self behind. Once I was behind the feminine gender curtain on a regular basis, I discovered how much further I needed to go to be successful. 

 Following several (many) well documented mistakes in my presentation, I was able to successfully femininize my external male body to a point where I could blend in with other women in the world on a regular basis. I say external presentation, because my internal idea of who I was still presented a problem. It really wasn't until I began to take gender affirming hormones, did I feel as if my interior self was changing to match my exterior look. Very quickly, I began to feel differences to my emotions and for the first time in my life, I could cry tears of sorrow or joy. As the world around me changed, I could feel changes in temperature and even smell as my senses heightened.  Needless to say, I was amazed by the changes and so surprised as I waited for the next set of changes to set in. 

As with anything else in life, the gender changes I was feeling from the hormones began to slow down, and I began to settle into the new life I had made for myself. It all meant finding a new set of friends which I did who turned out to be a small group of lesbians who accepted me for what I was, a woman from a different path than them. When I did fit in, it meant my sexuality would not have to change to men which was successful for me and also meant I would not have to seek out a man to validate my existence. 

Once my new life got rolling, second chances did also. I was able to take an early retirement and live off selling most all of the vintage collectibles my second wife and I had purchased over the years. It all meant I did not have to worry about working another job where I would have to transition at. No second chances needed. 

Perhaps the most important realization I learned from my gender rebirth was, I did not need much direction. As suspected, my inner woman took over quickly and made all the difficult decisions such as moving in with and ultimately marrying my current wife, Liz. Between the two of them, I give all the credit for shaping me into transgender womanhood and making me into the person I am today. 

Gender Mandates

 When I was born, I did not have a choice of which gender I was supposed to be, my birth gender was male and there were to be no questions asked. 

In other words, I was mandated to enter a male world which I came to totally dislike and rebel against. Similar to many of you, I first had an idea something was wrong with my perceptions of my gender at a very early age when I went exploring in my mom's clothes. My first glimpses of myself in the full-length family mirror were memorable and electric. I knew right then, I needed to figure out a way to do more. 

The problem was, in my very male dominated family, I was mandated to go in only one gender direction and follow the male path. Afterall, if I made it, I was offered the promise of white male privileges. On the other hand, if I was caught cross dressing at all, I was surely on my way to see a therapist and perhaps be thrown into the dreaded conversion therapy. My answer was simple; I needed to continue in my underground cross-dressing ways and hope I did not get caught.  My major problem was my slightly younger brother who I was always stuck being with. Somehow, I did manage to do more and slightly lessen my mandate. When I did, I found I could enjoy my femininized self even more than I ever had before.

Of course, the most male mandate I faced was being drafted into the United States military during the Vietnam War. Since women were excluded from the draft, it was an exclusively male experience. I still resent having to face my time in the service when women did not, but I served my time for three years and was honorably discharged. I suppose too, my time in the Army disguised the true me to the outside world, since my friends and my dad already had served their country. It was mandated to be my turn if I wanted it or not. 

Slowly but surely, over the years, my mandate changed from male to female. I went very slowly to insure I would have less and less mishaps on my gender path. Each step I took gave me the confidence to take another. Of course, at some point, my mandates would collide. When they did, my mental health struggled, and I was fortunate (after several tries) to find a qualified therapist who helped me separate my bi-polar condition with my gender issues.

My largest feminine mandate came when I started gender affirming hormones. I knew almost immediately I had made the right decision. All the changes the hormones made to my body felt so natural. Inside and out, the changes were so dramatic, I think my body was always waiting for them. 

As mandates go, I would be remiss if I did not mention the gender privileges which go with the mandate.  Since I have spent quite a bit of time up close with male and female gender privileges, I know a little about both sides. As with most things, male privilege is more upfront and direct, while female privilege is more layered and indirect. 

One way, or another, mandates are a serious part of life and are difficult to control. Plus, they are so hard to deny.  

Happy Easter

 

Image from Austin Tate on UnSplash.

When I was growing up, one of the moments I will always remember were the Easter celebrations I was forced to attend.

Primarily when I was stuffed into a suit and tie and had to watch all the girls in their pretty dresses and wondered how it would be to enjoy such a supposed pleasant experience. I say pleasant because my wife Liz has told me how it was to be scolded when she played with the boys on Easter and ended up getting her new white tights dirty. I told her I so much wanted to wear white tights at Easter but could not, so the grass was not always greener on the other side of the gender border.  

Since our family was not very religious, Easter was one of the few times the family attended church services which made it even harder to accept. Accept I did and had to internalize my thoughts in a very dominated male family. Little did I know, it was just the beginning of a life of internalization I would be facing due to my deep gender issues. To fight the idea, I was transgender I did my best to cross dress it away until I could take it no longer, bought my own white tights and moved on into bright feminine fashion. Slowly but surely, I reimagined myself and begin to change my own narrative into a pleasant transgender womanhood. Then it seemed cisgender women everywhere around me moved away from dresses and hose altogether. 

Now on Easter, the closest I come to any sort of an observance is when I am able to attend the afternoon Passover Sedar at my daughters in laws who are Jewish. On occasion too, I attend Wiccan circles with Liz and identify as a Buddhist, when pushed to do so, on some sort of form I need to fill out. I loved the Buddhist religion from my experiences with it when I was in Thailand in the Army.

Ironically, now when I am free to do so, I don't attend any organized religious Easter services at all. So, I do not wear or even own a symbolic pair of white tights at all. 

For those of you who do celebrate Easter and love to dress up in your prettiest clothing, have a great day and enjoy your present gender tense.  You can even see if many other cisgender women break the current fashion trend by wearing a dress at all...with white tights.

Forever Dancing

 

Image from Alexa Posteraro
on UnSplash.

During my long gender journey, I often thought there were times when I had finished my trip and made it to my goal of transgender womanhood.

It was during those occasions when life laughed at me and said I better begin dancing once again. As always, I was a terrible dancer and needed to try harder than the average woman to succeed. If I did not, I knew I would never make it.

Earlier in my journey, I thought I was doing enough dancing to get myself by and then hit a solid gender wall when I failed. Any gender euphoria was very brief and fleeting as I went out in public as a novice transgender woman for the first time. On too many occasions, I needed to hurry home in tears after being laughed at (or worse) by the public. Fortunately, I was somehow able to pick myself up and get back to dancing the best I could in my gender game. At whatever cost I needed to do, my first priority was to improve my overall femininized presentation. 

I started by losing weight. In fact, I shed nearly fifty pounds which enabled me to better fit into a wider and more fashionable style of women's clothing than I ever had before. From there, I began to work more diligently on my skin. So, I could wear less makeup. Then I added better wigs to my dance list and finally began to notice a difference in how I was perceived in the world as a transgender woman. By that time, I thought I was ready to dance but I was far from it. All I had really done was carefully craft a feminine image which I needed to put into motion. 

As I continued to enter the world as a transgender woman, many times, the world pushed back at me. I had problems with how I moved and how I communicated with the public before I could ultimately relax and really learn to dance. As I tried and tried to improve myself, most of the push back came from my second wife and my old male self. Both of whom had stakes in my success or failure in my new world. I have written often of the times when my wife rightfully said I made a terrible woman. Mainly because I was still putting my woman together and was making mistakes. At that point, I did not have the lived experiences as a trans woman to do better and anytime she caught me out of our agreement to explore the world, all hell would break lose. Afterall, she understood more than I did how she was losing my male self to another woman. Who happened to be me.

Once I broke through and decided transgender womanhood was the only dance for me, I began to do better. Physically, I never made it to being a better dancer, but mentally I did. Primarily because I needed to survive in the feminine world or sandbox, I chose. By nature, I found cisgender women operate on a whole different level than men. Which I already knew of course but not to the point of survival I found myself in the midst of. To oversimplify, men came at me from at the most two angles, and women from many more. I was ambushed by several passive aggressive women on many occasions before I learned to protect myself from perceived lesser threats. 

To this day, I am still dancing. Primarily because it is what it takes to be a transgender woman in todays' world. Plus, I would be remiss if I did not mention the small group of women friends, I had who were instrumental in helping me with my dancing lessons.   

It's Complicated

Image from John Barkiple
on UnSplash.

 
In many ways, this post is an extension of yesterday's post.

In it, I attempted to write about the connection (or lack of it) between members of the transgender or cross-dressing communities. What continues to amaze me on many levels is how complicated the outside world does not see in our world. So many in the world still think all we have to do to "solve" our gender problems is as simple as not putting on a dress for transgender women, or a pair of pants for a transgender man. Granted, it is very difficult to explain what is going on in our own gender challenged minds. How could I explain my desires to others, when I could not explain it to myself. Back in those days, there were not even therapists available who had any knowledge in the gender field to provide any help.

In the meantime, I internalized all my feelings and dreams of being a transgender woman someday, much to the detriment of my own already fragile mental health. My problem was (among many) I was naive and did not realize how complicated my genders were. I had no workbook to study from. Being completely on my own, forced me into making many mistakes I did not foresee coming as I followed a curvy gender path. The only woman I sought guidance from, withheld any significant advice, basically because she just clashed with and did not like my inner feminine self which was trying to emerge. 

What I did then was move past my wife and discover what my new world as a transgender woman had in store for me. All of it was difficult in the worst way when my old male self-ganged up on me. Both of them were losing traction on claiming my world and resented it on so many levels. It stayed so complicated because I loved my wife deeply and we had built a twenty-five-year marriage often on the ashes of my gender conflicts. When I was down and out emotionally, my wife was the first to bear the brunt of my frustrations. I knew I was wrong, but there was nothing I could do to battle my overwhelmingly frequent desires to being a woman. In fact, when my second wife was still alive, I was very actively exploring the world as a transgender woman. Primarily to discover, if I could survive at all.

My explorations proved what I suspected all along. Women lived a very layered and complicated existence and being able to join in at mid-stride would not be easy. Similar to attempting to jump on a very fast moving merry go round without it slowing down. Once I found myself on the feminine ride, I was given a chance to really learn and absorb what a woman's life was all about as my brain was rewired to survive. What amazed me was how quickly I was welcomed into a woman's world as one of their own. The worst which happened to me was when I was gently laughed at by my new cisgendered women friends when they said, welcome to our world. Which I was overwhelmingly happy to be a part of.

Ironically, if I was prepared or not, I entered a world much more complicated than the gender conflicted world I left. Plus, what happened was, the more I grew into my new world of transgender womanhood, I grew away from my wife. Before she unexpectedly passed away, it became obvious our marriage was doomed to at the worst being a total split, to at the best living as two women on their own. One-way or another, fate decided the question for me.

In many ways, I wonder if I had ever imagined such a complicated journey through life was going to be in store for me. I guess at the least, I could say, life was never boring as I suffered from being the round peg being forced into the wrong square hole. My reward was being able to say I learned how both sides of the binary genders lived, and I could choose which one I wanted to live as.