I Made Nothing

 

Image from Camillo 
Contreras on UnSplash.

Several of my earliest memories of success as a cross dresser came during the Halloween parties I went to. 

When I wore my very short mini dresses, showing off my freshly shaven legs, I found I had several women come up to me and say, I "made" a good-looking woman. Years later, when I began to understand "woman speak" better, what they probably meant was I "made" a good-looking woman, for a man dressed as one. 

Furthermore, I soon came to realize, I was not making anything. I was simply being who I was. In order to learn that simple fact, I needed to live decades of life as a parttime cross dresser or novice transgender woman. Or I needed to live my gender truth before I could claim it. I needed to get out of the mirror and into the world to learn if I really belonged there. Those were the days when no one in the world around me would give me a break. The public was laughing at me (rightfully so) because for the most part, I was dressed like a clown in drag. Plus, my old male self, my second wife and my mirror did not want to let go of me. Making my life miserable and destroying what I had left of my mental health.

Juggling two genders at once was a tremendous challenge when I caught myself practicing living one gender when I should not have been. Being called "Ma'am" at my macho management job was certainly not cool or good but somehow, I survived to live on to the next day when I was determined to do better.  What happened was, I did keep getting better at my feminine side and increasingly began to leave my male side behind, which scared him.

Fear, as they say, is a powerful motivator and instead of giving up, my male side and my second wife grew increasingly close and forced a battle of the wills. In other words, neither one of them wanted to lose their place in the world. Which included my universe. It turns out, I did make something...a huge mental mess for myself. It is one of the excuses I make for taking nearly fifty years to break out of my gender bonds and flourish out of my closet and mirror. I just had to make sure I was making the right choice and there was so much pressure on me. 

As I grew out of the mental gender mess, I had made for myself, I gained the critical confidence I needed to establish myself as a secure transgender woman. Not just a femininized man. Since I had spent a lifetime getting there, the personal coming out was extra special to me. It was as if my feminine self was telling me what took so long. As it turned out, I shared her belief in wondering why I took so much time and wasted so much nervous energy I wish I had back. As we all know, worrying over what we did in the past is a waste of time, unless we are learning from our mistakes.

I felt better when I realized I did not make anything, when it came to my gender issues. Rather, I inherited them from some unknown source which made life a challenge. A challenge I needed to finally accept before the pressure I put on myself had grown too heavy to carry and I had to put it down and go with the life which made me feel natural and alive. When my transgender womanhood became secure thanks to friends I had, I felt so much better as I built a new life.

Trans Girl Playing with Butches and Bears

 

Wishing you a Happy Pride Month!

One of the mistakes I made when I first came out of my dark, isolated gender closet was thinking the gay and lesbian community had very few layers. 

Quickly I learned how wrong I was. In the male gay community, there were tops and bottoms, drags and bears just to name a few. Not to be undone, women in the lesbian community have butches, femmes, lipstick lesbians, gold star lesbians and baby dykes. Again just to name a few. Initially, I was confused by wondering how I fit in as a transgender woman, if at all.

Just as quickly I learned the male gay world was not for me. I tried going to male gay bars when I first came out and was roundly rejected. For the most part, the majority of the people thought I was a drag queen. Which of course I wasn't. It didn't take long for me to leave the gay scene for the most part and try new venues. About this time, two small lesbian venues opened as luck would have it, I was not accepted in one but had no problems in the other.  The first one was a hard core biker dyke bar and they had no use for a trans woman on her own in their bar. Just to be a pain to them, I kept going back before I found other places to spend my money. 

As I mentioned, the other bar was a direct opposite. I went often and ended up meeting several butch lesbians which were interesting. Ironically, it was not my first interaction with butches since my first dinner date as a trans woman was with a super-butch who later transitioned into a transgender man. Through it all, I thought I could handle myself and deep down I was flattered by any attention I received such as the night I was gifted a beer by a lesbian who said she should take me home with her, Since I was still married at the time, I didn't think it would be a good idea to follow up on her idea, Just like the night a super-butch in a cowboy hat would not take no for an answer when it came to singing karaoke with her. After our ill-fated attempt ended, she commented I had a lower voice than hers as I rapidly paid my bar tab and left. I never saw her again or was asked to sing. Yes, I was that bad.

On the other end of the spectrum were the interactions I experienced with the big burly male gay bears I happened to run into. I have no idea what the attraction was but I could count on at least a couple of these macho looking men with Pride or Bear flags stopping me to say hello. Including the time, Liz and I just happened to go into a gay bar in New Orleans which was frequented by several bears and the same thing happened. Instead of being shunned, I was welcomed. 

I finally figured out there was something in the aura I was exuding as a trans person and it was resonating with a few of the extremes of the gay and lesbian community. For example, I was never approached by a gay man or lipstick (femme) lesbian at all. At the time, none of it mattered because life was so new and exciting to me when I first explored my new world. 

Playing with butches and bears just added to the intrigue and fun as I discovered the many layers of the LGBTQ society. Maybe they realized I had so many added layers to me too and wanted to research more. Even though, I was a new transgender woman in the world, life was so much more exciting and simple at the same time. Maybe I was similar to a child and when the newness wore off, I became more jaded. 

I still feel though, if the world understood all the varied layers of the LGBTQ world they may try to treat us better.

Close Encounters of the Transgender Kind

 

Image from the 
Jessie Hart Archives.

Very early in my life, similar to so many of you, I suffered many close calls when it came to being caught in my feminine clothes by my younger brother or worse yet my parents. 

As with most inquisitive younger brothers, if I was out of his sight for any length of time, he wondered what exactly was going on. To make matters worse, we were just a couple of grades apart at the same school, so we rode the same bus home and arrived at the same time. Leaving me very little time to cross dress and admire myself. I even had to hide out in the woods when the weather was good to dress up.

My parents were partially a different story. My Dad was a banker and Mom was a high school teacher, so they arrived home usually in time to sit down to dinner. If you remember those days. My point being, seemingly for weeks at a time I couldn't find a way to explore my gender closet at all and the pressure to do it just increased to the point of no return. Which meant I needed to take risks. We had two bathrooms in our house and sometimes I could barricade myself into the one which contained most of my Mom's makeup. When I combined her makeup with mine, I had plenty to experiment with. 

On the exceedingly rare days I was left all alone, I went all out. Even to the point of being able somehow to get away with shaving my legs. I was completely in love with how wonderful the air felt on my freshly shaven legs when I took the chance to walk to the mailbox which was some distance away. No matter how good I thought I looked, the biggest problem I had was with my hair. In those days, I was stuck with either the ultra short burr haircut my Dad had or the equally as bad crew cut. A wig of any kind to me in those days just seemed like the impossible dream and it wasn't until my college years when I could afford to buy a nice wig I cherished for years. I even hid it, as well as other cross dressing necessities away when I went away to the Army. Hoping they would not be discovered. They weren't. 

Even with all my precautions, I still ran into the times when I had to hurriedly wipe the makeup off my face and change my clothes when my parents came home early. I don't know how but I somehow survived without a gender confrontation which would have been a disaster. At the time, I thought when I became older I would have more control over my cross dressing desires and life would be better. In no way did I feel as if all of the sudden I would wake up with no gender dysphoria and life would be much better. On the other hand I still felt I would not have to hide my true self to others. To compensate, I developed a very macho exterior self and avoided making very many friends who I may have to come out to later. A process I would come to regret later in life.

It turned out, mainly because of my wanting to not come fully out as a transgender woman, hiding away my true self from a loved one would reach new heights of desperation. The loved one I am referring to is my second wife who knew from the beginning of our relationship I was a cross dresser and accepted it. Everything in our relationship was good until I finally faced the truth of me being transgender, which my wife soundly rejected. Increasingly, when she was working nights, I was out exploring the world as a trans woman to primarily see if I could make it or not. When I found I could, I began to go out more and more which led me to having more chances of being caught. All of which led to huge fights when I came home as my feminine self and she was waiting for me. It was like I was a kid again and resented the process completely but it was like a train wreck waiting to happen.

Our relationship became so strained, my wife told me things like why didn't I just man up and live as a woman. A great point which I never did while she was alive. Somehow, it was similar to me trying a last gasp attempt at saving what was left of my manhood at her expense.

When she did unexpectedly pass from a massive heart attack, at the age of sixty, I finally was able not to worry about any close gender encounters. I had paid my dues and was so happy to fully come through an often very uncertain life and live in the world as a fulltime transgender woman with no negative people in tow. A dream I thought I could never achieve.   

Macho Remembered

Image from the Jessie Hart Archives

 I don't think I ever considered myself as a macho guy but then again, there were times I needed to be. 

Those were the times on the football field, in the Army
or when I was at work when my macho image worked to my advantage. Mainly because I needed it to. In fact, on occasion, I came to rely upon it to do better in life. On other occasions, my main macho props were cigars and beer. 

Interestingly, when I transitioned, I discovered a new side of macho. Very early on when I was coming out as a novice transgender woman, I shied away from any contact with a man I felt was macho. I thought he would recoil at any interaction with me. Slowly but surely, I learned none of it  rarely ever happened. For the most part the majority of all men tended to ignore me  anyhow and the pressure to succeed went away. 

The biggest example I can recall is the time I developed a friendship with a big bear of a guy at one of the venue's where I was a regular. He was part of a small group of diverse people I met on a weekly basis. While I was part of the group, the guy also fell victim to an ill-fated marriage to another member of the group, a long dark haired beauty who also was a hair dresser as well as part time exotic dancer. As you most likely can imagine the marriage just wouldn't work. What happened was, the remainder of the group basically shunned him. All except me. I gave him a shoulder to lean on. What I neglected to mention was the guy owned a classic motorcycle. Even though I was never really a fan of motorcycles, I could appreciate the inherent beauty of the machine and I could pass along my ideas to him.

It wasn't long before he came into the venue and ended up setting next to me to talk. He was the first macho guy I became comfortable with but sadly he moved on too soon when he transferred to another lumber yard in a neighboring town. I never had the chance to hitch a ride on the back of his classic bike. From him I learned confidence in my dealings with all men. Including the first time I was asked out to dinner from a transgender man. 

Which leads me to yet another different attraction I always felt when I was with a group of lesbians. If you don't know, lesbians range all the way from lipstick women to super butch lesbians. For whatever reason, I never had any problem attracting to and relating to the super butch spectrums of lesbian women. I have never been shy writing about the time the super butch cornered me and strongly suggested I sing karaoke with her. I very poorly did it and took off before she had any other chances to talk to me. 

Oddly, my interactions with macho guys also extended into the male gay community. When Liz and I went to Mardi Gras several years ago we ended up in a gay bar heavily frequented by "bears" or macho bearded large men. There, as well as several Prides we went to, I had "Bears" smile and speak to me. 

Perhaps it all has to do with the aura I project. I lived such a long portion of my life attempting to survive in a male world, I still have an in-depth knowledge of the culture. Which doesn't explain the paranoia I always felt when dealing with men. Perhaps I will never lose my fear. 

Finally, what I also learned was many men who project as macho really aren't in the toxic sense and they are more secure in their masculinity. Which makes them safer for all women... Cis-gender and transgender. We need more non toxic men.

It's a Phase?

Image from Samuel Regan Assante 
on UnSplash

 Years ago I became enamored with the idea my cross dressing was just a phase and perhaps someday I would grow out of it. Of course I never did and here we are as I live a life as a fulltime transgender woman. 

I think that even though my Mom never mentioned anything about her clothes being worn or her makeup being used, she most likely thought (or hoped) I was going through some sort of a phase. There is no way I can't believe I was as good as I thought I was hiding my "hobby" from her. Especially when I began to acquire my very own hard earned small wardrobe of feminine clothes and makeup. Even though this phase of my life was just the beginning, it did teach me the lengths of effort I would have to go to to hide my true self from everyone.  I needed to try extra hard to at least participate in male activities such as  sports to cover how I really felt about my life.

It turned out, my early years were a phase after all. The years turned out to be a learning process when I learned the basics of not surviving in a mirror and being able to venture out in the world for the first time as a woman. Very quickly I learned the more I ventured out, the more natural I felt for the first time in my life. A new phase of my life was just beginning. I was loving my successful experiences in a feminine world. 

The next phase of my life was attempting to being able to fully play in the girl's sandbox. I felt I had earned the right due to so many different situations I encountered as I went about my MtF gender transition. All the way from being asked to leave certain venues to being totally accepted and being embraced for being a regular guest. I even considered I was welcomed for the extra diversity I added to the venue. Sadly, I will never know for sure why. I can only know I was.

At this point, my phases of life became a little blurred because they were coming so fast. All of a sudden I gained friends who included me in their circles. I was invited to everything from lesbian mixers, all the way to women's roller derby. Each invitation added to my understanding of a world I so badly wanted to enter. Most importantly, I needed the opportunity to be rounded out as the new feminine person I was becoming. The process was never easy but I had much needed friends help me. 

It took awhile to realize the largest phase I was going through was when I was trying my hardest to survive and prosper in a male world. I needed to act like I enjoyed the BB Gun I received for Christmas instead of the doll baby I really wanted as well as acting as if I enjoyed going hunting with my Dad and younger brother. It wasn't to be until later in life when I learned how successful I had been in covering myself as a macho male. Certain people were totally surprised when I came out and transitioned into the transgender world. I guess I was too successful in my hiding phase when I was younger.

Everybody's life  includes phases, transgender or not. It just seem our trans life's have more intense phases as we attempt very difficult transitions. Often at the risk of losing everything. We can only hope new phases bring balance to our life as well as a chance to move forward. Often out of our dark lonely closets. 

Masculinity and Trans Woman Intuition

Recently I have been seeing again a few posts here and there about the effects of masculinity. After reading one of them, I began to think of my own up bringing. I have written many times here in Cyrsti's Condo about the macho-centrist family I grew up in. Between my other brother, my Dad and I, I don't know sometimes how my Mom made it. In our house, sports dominated along with a liberal amount of fishing and some hunting thrown in. We lived in a rural area and there were very few girls even in the neighborhood.

During this time I had discovered the allure of feminine finery in my Mom's closet and even tried it on when I had the rare chance to be alone. I even had a minimum income source to buy a few makeup items and clothes from my paper route and mowing grass.

I often wonder if these were the formative years when I learned how I had to be as ultra masculine as possible to get by. Of course I was scared to death my Mom would discover my "secret." I knew there would be no "understanding" of any desire to be a girl.

Overwhelmingly I hung out with a group of guys and girls were just the impossible dream. Impossible to figure out and even harder to date. For the longest time I considered I was taking the easy way out by creating my own girl.

On the other hand, by nature, I was shy and sensitive. Not male traits in my family, so I hid them too. Through sports and cars I was able to effectively disguise my growing feminine desires and show the public a macho male outward persona. 

To put it mildly, it was hell trying to maintain such a life, plus by that time I had the Army to look forward to. It seemed my masculinity was never going to let me go. And, after years of gender dysphoric struggle, I finally gave up and tried to commit suicide.

So masculinity was tough on me, even though I was able to live the lifestyle without many struggles. On the positive side , I still am easily able to judge a man's reaction to many different scenarios.

Call it trans woman intuition. 

The Big Girl

"Big Girl" Picture by the Ohio River

I have always written about going out when MtF transition to places most likely to make you feel uncomfortable. For example, having to go to an auto parts store rather than a dress shop. Most certainly, the dress shop would be more fun but sometimes the auto parts store is the necessity.

So far, in my relatively short transgender life, I think the most macho place I found myself in was a junk yard with Liz, trying to get a used mirror for our car. It was difficult to dress to blend for a junk yard. But, the fact remains, if you are going to attempt to live a feminine lifestyle, there are going to be times when the "sugar and spice and everything nice" stereotype is not going to cut it.

Sunday, quite by accident, I found myself all so briefly in one of those testosterone macho situations.

Liz and I went to one of the big hardware box stores to look for and have lumber cut for her martial arts class. I didn't think much of it because there are always quite a few women in these stores and it is difficult to find someone to  help you, even if you want to.

Yesterday, to save time and extra steps, we decided to use the contractors entrance nearest to where the lumber is sold. As we came through the sliding doors, I found myself surrounded by a group of men checking out with their construction purchases. I had no choice but to hold my head up high and walk through them.

As I did, I heard a couple of them talking about the "big girl." I thought to myself, I will take it because I am a "big girl." Of course I didn't hear what they said after that. Which was probably a good thing!

Anger and the Trans Girl

No big secret as you turn the gender "corner" anger issues or "anger management" if you will change dramatically.   In fact during my transition, it's a major issue for me.

Right or wrong, I played fairly effectively in the "macho sandbox" and I'm the first to say it cost me dearly-but another subject.

Looking back on the experience, I have labeled the male power structure as power one as opposed to the uber effective feminine passive aggressive. Reasonably early in life a male begins to sort out his place in the power grid. He could be a one, two or three. For simplicity, three's stay put.  Due to strength, intelligence, athletic ability or looks-they probably are stuck there and know it. Nothing wrong with that-not making value judgement.  Two's on the other hand can possess and combination of any of the power attributes I mentioned plus the ambition to challenge the front running number ones.  As with any species, it's a simple survival of the fittest basic.

I played in that number 2 sandbox and I have had a difficult time switching from a more direct confrontational view of stress situations with other humans to a passive aggressive.  Very simply put, no I can't (and never did) punch you in the face.  Instead let me smile ever so sweetly and figure out a way to intellectually punish you.

Both power grids define the genders and to a large degree define why on so many levels males and females have a difficult time understanding the other. Each bring the "tools" they have to work with to the table.  When my two young grandson's are off in the corner going crazy on each other, my 12 year old grand daughter watches and listen's to my daughter say: "they are just being boys, stay out of it". That's all good until a group of her friends come over and the battle lines are drawn again-for so many different reasons.

As humans I guess we have been blessed and cursed to witness this gender dynamic. But witnessing the power grids doesn't mean we can do anything about them. We all have to make our way through life the best we can. As transgender folk though we do have a unique chance to sit the middle fence and have a better understanding of how the gender grids work.

I have to say  my perch on the fence has been hard to maintain.

I guess  De Niro  said it best in Taxi Driver :  "You talkin' to me?"