It is Just a Phase?

Image from Claudia Love on UnSplash.

Have you ever been accused of just going through a phase?

Drawing from several comments from other transgender women and trans men, including myself, I have heard us being accused of just going through a phase when it comes to being transgender.

There was a time in my life when I seriously hoped I was just going through a phase when it came to my love of dressing in feminine clothing and makeup. I wanted it to be just an innocent hobby I could put down and walk away from at any time. As years went by, I found I couldn’t replace my so-called hobby with anything else in my life. I did the worse possible thing, I tried to internalize my feelings hoping I could somehow ignore them, and the phase would go away. Of course, it never did.

I always thought my mom knew I was trying on her clothes and putting on her makeup but never said anything because she thought I was going through a phase. Obviously, she was wrong! She never had the courage to call me out on what I was doing until I brought it up to her in a very ill-fated attempt to come out when I was discharged from the Army many years later. She quickly rejected my attempt to clear the air by volunteering psychiatric care. Of course, I refused her offer because I knew I was not mentally ill. I just wanted to live a transfeminine life on my terms. We never mentioned it again for the rest of her life but at least I tried to explain my deepest secret to her.

The phase idea came to be one idea I always ran from. I did not feel deep down my feelings were a phase but still was afraid to face the truth. I ended up moving many times and trying many new jobs just to try to outrun my gender feelings. It all was exhausting to my already fragile mental health. In fact, my initial gender therapist diagnosed me as being bi-polar when all along I thought I was just terribly depressed when I never thought I could achieve my dream of living as a full-time transgender woman. I was depressed when I considered the extreme distance I still had to travel, just not as bad.

As I still managed to progress along my gender pathway, I still encountered phases I needed to go through. The major one was what I called my teen girl dressing years. As I survived my urge to stuff my oversize male body into skimpy fashions, I was quickly laughed back into my closet several times before I learned the proper way to attempt to blend in with what other women my age were wearing. Easily, it was the most difficult phase I needed to deal with. Mainly because I was so stubborn.

It turned out the stubbornness I possessed was just what I needed to keep going. Deep down I knew I was in the middle of one of the most complex journeys a human can take, and I could be successful if I tried hard enough. It all meant I needed to earn my way through the feminine gatekeepers I faced to be allowed to play in their sandbox.  I was petrified when I needed to actually begin to talk one on one with other women. Very early on, I was frightened of their reaction when they learned I was not a cis-gendered woman. This was before I learned my path to womanhood was as valid as theirs. I just came to mine along a different path. Amazingly to me, the doors were opened to me, and I was permitted to play behind the gender curtain.

It was around this time when I began one of the most powerful phases of my life, when I made the correct decision to begin gender affirming hormones, or HRT. I say powerful because the new hormones I was prescribed by a doctor turned out to be everything I dreamed of and more. If anything, else, the hormones proved my whole life was not a phase. Now I felt as if I was arriving home in the deepest sense. If you compared my hormonal life as a circle, I was completing mine. The effects of HRT made me feel whole as a transfeminine woman. I could feel deeper, be more emotional and enjoy the world as never before.

I proved, more than ever before, my life was not a phase, I was much more than just a man putting on a dress. I proved all along I was a woman putting on a male face and clothes all along. At the least, I could rest easily knowing what my gender issue was all along. Not a phase but my life.

 

 

What Did I Miss?

 

JJ Hart at her first Girl's Night Out

Often, I am sad when I see a group of young girls playing. All too often, I wonder what I missed when I was growing up.

I then remember all the times in school when I was forced to play with the other boys and not join the girls’ group to learn what they were up to. Essentially what I missed was the chance to fill out my own gender workbook.

Since I believe women are socialized and not birthed, the early interactions of the girls robbed me of getting a head start towards my own unique womanhood. So, my gender workbook remained mostly blank for years, until I could claim the experiences, I needed to begin to fill it out.

Ironically, as I write about often, the greatest majority of my first interactions with the public came with other women. Then, I did have a chance to start to catch my gender workbook up as the other women indirectly (and directly) shared the pluses and setbacks of their times growing up and passing the gatekeepers into being treated as a woman, not just a female. At the time, I was so afraid of testing out the gatekeepers to see if I could be admitted that I never tried. Instead, I hid my desires, until I was sure I could make it. Still, it was very difficult to make it because of my continued shyness around strangers which was compounded by my transfeminine life. There just were not many like me in the world to pave the way.

As I began to pave the way, I needed to smooth out my journey. First, I had to figure out a way to properly dress my testosterone poisoned body so I could present well as a woman. To do so, I needed to become a regular at all the area thrift stores, as I shopped till I dropped for just the right fashion piece to add to my growing wardrobe. Once I did that, I could continue building my own path to maybe discover what I had missed not growing up as a young girl.

Surprisingly, as I began to be invited to special girls’ nights out, I began to learn I was not missing out as much as I thought. I discovered what I always had thought was true. Takeaway the talk of sports and business which men talk about and add in softer subjects such as family and friends, and I could indeed survive the new world I was in and not sit around like I was a hermit. I needed to hit a middle point of being interested in the conversation and adding in just the right amount of conversation. Such as, I found I could still talk about my daughter and grandchildren and still be relevant to the rest of the group.

What I was doing was skipping ahead in my workbook to sections which would include usage of the women’s restroom. I learned the importance of looking another woman in the eye when I met her because I could on the new side of the gender border I was on. My workbook said I could and should to survive and even thrive. I knew I had made it to some sort of a gender promised land when I was asked by other women to make the “sacred” journey to the rest room.

Even with all this happening, I was still frustrated by all the sections of my workbook which were blank. Deep down, I knew I could never reclaim the early years I had being forced into the male square hole I was in when I knew all along, I should have been in the round female hole. Perhaps the most frustrating part of the whole process was, the more I was forced into the male side, the more I was rewarded into acceptance. I refused to throw away my transfeminine workbook anyway and just hid it during times when I was forced into the Army during the Vietnam War.

For some reason, my workbook always resonated with me as I went through the down times. It was my shining light when I needed it to be. I just overcame the beginning chapters which were missing. My path to womanhood would just have to be different and in many cases more difficult than the average cisgender woman. I had to be better just to survive in a new world I was just learning about since I was not allowed to learn about it early in life. As I watched the other girls around me, often my jealousy grew because I never had the chance to wear pretty clothes or gossip with the other girls.

I learned my gender workbook was fragile too and could be changed or corrected at any time when I had misread certain situations. Which I write about often. I just stored the information away for use later. I am still adding to my workbook to this day.

 

 

Catching Up

 

JJ Hart, Hot Summer Day.

This morning was a day to catch up and run errands.

Because of the continuing heatwave we are under here in Southwestern Ohio, I needed to get an early start. For example, it is nearly ninety degrees (F) before eleven AM with heavy humidity. So, by early I meant the pharmacy I was going to did not open till nine o clock. Plenty of time for me to have a leisurely morning as I got ready. By getting ready, I did not mean I had to go to any elaborate means to do it. Basically, all I needed to do was shave closely, apply moisturizer, makeup and brush my hair. I figured the least which would happen to me was I would see two different people in drive thru’s.

Of course, I was wrong because my second stop involved an up close and personal interaction with a coffee shop employee who was taking orders outside the window since the equipment had broken down in the heat. It turned out all my built-in paranoia of meeting strangers was unfounded for at least today.

First, the guy at the pharmacy had the personality of a cardboard box and could have cared less about me. And, as far as the girl I interacted with personally with the second drive thru went, she was very nice to me, and I felt as if I was welcome.  Especially since she knew I (assumed) I was transgender. Whatever the case, I felt good as I headed home before the traffic became worse again.

Speaking of going out, my wife Liz and I’s trip up to Dayton, Ohio during the upcoming Fourth of July weekend is rapidly approaching. My daughter is having a graduation celebration for her family. My oldest grandchild graduated from Ohio State last winter and is coming home from hiking the Appalachian trail before she takes a job in Maine this fall. In addition, my youngest grandchild is graduating from high school, and her husband is receiving his MBA. The event is being held outside, so I need to plan accordingly. I have picked a very feminine top to go with leggings and flats so I can be appropriately feminine without going overboard.

It does not seem possible, but the next big event is Liz and I’s big trip to New England in the fall. Just like that, another summer will have gone by. At my age, there is no way I should be wishing time away. As my mom was fond of saying, age is like a roll of toilet paper, the closer to the end you come, the faster it goes. As with most things mom told me, she was right.

It seems, no matter how small the public interactions are, when I am positively impacted, the better my life is. It is like charging up my gender battery. I constantly need it. Such as the positive interaction I had today.

Painting a Picture

 

Image from Vinicus Amix
Amano on UnSplash.

During my life, I have never been accused of being an artist. In fact, I would mess up drawing stick figures.

The best thing I could do was connect dots. Which I needed to do quite often in my gender conflicted life. Basically, the main dots I needed to connect were, was I a boy or a girl. It ended up taking me far too long to finally connect those dots and attempt to draw my gender picture.

When I began to experiment with makeup, I learned the basics of facial artwork and even I could make myself look better in the mirror. Mainly, though, I struggled along until I summoned the courage to request a makeover from a professional makeup person at one of the transgender-cross dresser mixers I went to. He did a miracle job and transformed me into a woman who I only had dreamed of. Most importantly, he was able to explain to me what he was doing in a step-by-step format that even I could understand. I looked so good, I was invited along by the “A” listers, as I called them when they went out to explore other venues after the mixer was over. I even got the last laugh over all of them when a man tried to pick me up in a venue we were in, and they were not.

Sadly, the success I felt from the mixer did not last long when I had to go back to the real world, I was a part of. When I did, I became mean and nasty to my wife and others around me. All the way to almost losing jobs because of my attitude. No way to paint a picture. Somehow, I needed to get better before I self-destructed my life.

I hung on until I did get better when I had the chance to leave my closet more than once a year for Halloween parties. I was aided by the fact that my artwork with makeup and clothes continued to improve until I looked better than some sort of a circus clown in drag. I simply had to if I was ever going to have the chance to live my dream. Through it all, it did occur to me how difficult the process was going to be. I was painting two pictures at the same time, one as a transfeminine woman. One as a successful man. The stress of doing so nearly killed me. Being a man was easier because of all the white male privileges I had gained but being a transfeminine woman felt so exciting and natural when I painted her.

By the time I had gotten this far, I found I had painted myself in a corner. I could see the finish line for a change, while at the same time, I had a wife I loved, a family I loved and a good job to protect as a man. Decisions, decisions were wearing me down. Primarily because it was so frustrating to me to have worked so hard throughout my life to paint two pictures, only to have to finally choose between the two. What I did was let the public choose which picture they preferred. Since my transgender woman had an unfair advantage, she won the contest easily. She got to start all over again and learn from all the mistakes her male counterpart made and go from there. Time and time again, the public picked her.

Putting the finishing touches on my feminine portrait proved to be easier said than done. First, I needed to come out of my closet to what was left of my blood family. I received a 50/50 reception when I was accepted by my daughter and rejected by my brother. By this time both of my parents were deceased. Predictably, both coming out events were scary and quickly resolved. My daughter wondered why she was the last to know while my brother did not have the courage to stand up for me to the rest of his extended family. We have not spoken now in over a decade. Sad but true, he never wanted to see my finished portrait. Conversely, my daughter and I are closer than ever.

But then again, are our portraits ever finished until we die. Shouldn’t we always be making small upgrades the best we can? Plus, age should put us in a better position to do it. Sure, painting two completely different gender portraits at the same time was difficult and at times required tons of skill to keep one hidden. But somehow, I was able to gain the artistic skill to make it happen.

The powerful draw of an overwhelming dream was all the motivation I needed to become a better artist and provide the background I needed to live a life as a transgender woman.

The Biggest Lie

 

Image from Dave Goudreau 
on UnSplash.

Sadly, the biggest lie I’ve ever told in my life regarded my biggest truth.

The lie of course, regarded my gender identity. For simplistic reasons I could say the problem I faced early in life was having a complete lack of information to lean on. It was back before the internet information years, and I thought I was the only boy in the world who wanted to be a girl part of the time.

To compensate for my cross-dressing activities, I was prepared to lie my way through it. If I was ever caught red handed because of leaving lipstick on my fingers. Due to whatever circumstances which were beyond my control and very lucky, I was never caught by my family. Although I always have wondered if my mom somehow knew but hoped my fascination with her clothes was just a phase I would grow out of. The best part was, I never was caught or questioned so I did not have to lie my way out of an ill-advised trip to a psychiatrist. Back in those days, being a transvestite (the term which was used) was a mental illness problem. Not something I wanted to face. So, I hid in fear.

As I weighed the two alternatives, fear or lying, I chose to internalize the fear I was feeling every time I put on feminine clothes. Once again, I was able to put off lying to the one biggest person in my life…myself.

All was well until I was discharged from the Army and returned to civilian life. Once I did, I began to pick up where I had left off with my gender issues. I even went as far as almost telling my first wife who was also in the Army and was being discharged several months after I was, to expect a totally different me when we met again. I was totally thinking of meeting her as my transfeminine self. As much as I secretly wanted to, deep down I knew I was not ready for such a big move, so I hid my feelings again and lied my life away, for a while.

You know what they say about lies, the more you lie, the more you have to. Just to stay above water. Before long, I was drowning in my own personal lie, until I met my second wife. She was much stronger than my first wife who never said anything negative to me at all considering my gender issues. I often thought wife number one would not protest at all if I told her I was leaving for a period of time for sex realignment surgery. She was just too easy, and I divorced her to be with my second wife who also knew of my cross dressing. Which started out good but deteriorated

I say deteriorated because my second wife did all she could to support my growing gender issues until I had outgrown both of us. All of the times she encouraged me to go ahead and rent a motel room and spend the day out as a woman taught me valuable lessons. First and foremost, I could make it in the world as my feminine self after all. Then, the big lies started as I began to go out on my own when my wife was at work, from the house. Which was something I told her I would never do. By doing so, I began to live the biggest lie of all, as I was increasingly aggressive in my attempts to do more and more in the world away from my masculine self.

Naturally, the tailspin I put our marriage into put a strain on both of us. Especially when she caught me going out. When she did, a massive fight would break out for days until somehow an uneasy truce would be called. At times, things would be so bad, my wife told me just be man enough to be a woman. The problem was, I was still lying to myself thinking I could keep my married life balanced with my transfeminine one. I just was not that good a juggler to do it. Again, mainly because I could not face my truth.

Sadly, my second wife passed away before I faced my truth. Being the wise one in the relationship, she knew me better than I knew myself. Pushing me to pay attention to what it really meant to be a woman.

Now I just wish I did listen to her and went ahead and transitioned. Sure, it would have been difficult but living the life we lived was difficult too and I could have started living with a clear conscience. Being the stubborn person that I was, I kept on living a lie until I could take it no longer and finally made the move into a life I could enjoy as a fulltime transgender woman.

By the time I transitioned most of the important friends I had known (including my wife) had passed away. Leaving me alone in the world to carve out a new life in my sixties. It would have been very difficult, but I wish I had listened to my wife and been man enough to be a woman sooner.

 

 

Building Bricks as a Trans Girl

 

Image from Marcus Spiske
on UnSplash. 

If nothing else, my long life has been a series of gender building blocks.

Ironically in my youth I spent hours building small houses with a set of plastic building blocks I was gifted. That was until I discovered the joys of mom’s clothes and began to admire myself in the family’s hallway mirror. Little did I know, from those humble beginnings, I was heading towards building a lifetime of building blocks. Transphobes as well as other assorted bigots were ruining my early days as a transfeminine woman. Which meant I needed to sort through my gender bricks until I could survive.

Very early on, I knew I needed to build a strong closet. To quote a famous “Doors” song, I was a “Rider on the Storm.”  Somedays my storm would be less as my gender dysphoria subsided on others it was unbearable and all I did was think about the next time I could cross dress in front of the mirror. It was on those occasions; the mirror would play tricks on me and tell me I was an attractive woman. I say tricks because on a good day, I had not mastered the art of makeup or fashion. I needed to be persistent in my building blocks because I would never have been successful if I did not. My dream of living a life in a transfeminine world was proving to be much more difficult than I ever imagined.

It turned out my wife was right, I did make a terrible woman until I paid my dues, but I couldn't pay my dues until I built enough gender bricks to be allowed behind the gender curtain to learn the nuances of doing it. One thing I did know was that I was my gender journey of a thousand miles did begin with that single step in front of the mirror. To keep up with my journey, more and more bricks would be needed for me to succeed. Once I was behind that imaginary but so real curtain, I became a complete sponge to be the best transfeminine person I could be. Some days I was thrilled to be where I was and on others, I was scared to death. Building a new life from scratch with very little help proved to be intimidating.

I learned and became better at dodging the barbs and smirks of the haters in the world. I had built enough bricks to replace my old gender closet with a new one which was built to last me. The new closet was good enough to take me to the point where I could authentically begin a new life as a transgender woman. Which meant I needed to be better than the average cisgender woman just to get by.

The women around me who helped me build my new gender fortress were the gate keepers who never knew how much they helped me live my dream. I was able to layer my feminine experience all the way to success.

Little did I know when I was a kid trying on my mom’s clothes for the first time, how far I would need to go to survive. My last adventure turned out to be my best.

 

A New Day

 

JJ Hart, Dining Out. 

This post is a little shorter than the recent ones I have posted but no less important and it involves last night's trip to a restaurant venue we always go to.

It seems, every day is always a new day for me. Last night, my wife Liz met her son for dinner at our favorite restaurant where we dine approximately every other week.

As luck would have it, since the venue is large, we have had the same server several times before. About three visits ago, I wore my new Margaritaville T-shirt I bought during our winter trip to the Florida Keys. Even though I thought it was appropriate to drink a Margarita when our regular server promptly called me the dreaded “sir” word. Sadly, my Jimmy Buffett Margaritaville shirt was not feminine enough for me to pass the gender test. So, I needed to relegate it to just wearing around the house. I was sad.

Last night was different. I wore one of my most feminine lace trimmed tops and our regular server seemed a little gender confused but did not call me “sir” and I was satisfied. Also, one of my favorite things about the venue is I never had any problems with being mis-gendered by anyone. I could just relax and be myself. It was one of the first venues where I could sit and ponder the old days when I struggled to exist as a transgender woman at all. I was revitalized every time I went. Which made it a new day.

In many ways the process taught me how far I have come in living my gender dream, but in so many ways can not give up or relax the process. Even though I don’t wear a lot of makeup, I need to make sure I wear the basics every time I face the public. No pun intended. The moment I let my guard down; I could be reverted to the “sir” word I worked so hard to put behind me.

In many ways, when I transitioned from a cross dresser to full time transgender woman, I knew every day would have to be the new normal for me. There would be no more planning ahead three days or so for the special days when I could face the public as a transfeminine woman. I would be doing it every day. I went into a major wardrobe expansion mode. Just to keep up being in a new gender world. As soon as I dropped my guard at all, I would risk slipping back into the world I waited so long and worked so hard to get out of. Fortunately, I was very paranoid about doing it and I was able to translate my fear into positive feelings about what I was trying to do.

There were many steps backwards on my journey to discover how uplifting and pleasurable my life could be at the age of sixty when I seriously began my transition. The longer I was able to live this new life, every day turned out to be exciting and I was less vulnerable to outside threats to going back to my ingrained old male life. Eventually, life took care of itself as I found new friends and part of my family accepted me. I was able to live long enough and escape the self-destructive behavior I exhibited. Life was just a huge circle, and I was on the slippery side of the circle. I could risk everything to selfishly live my life and make everyday a new one. Or stay the same and wither away.

Naturally, making every day a new day was a challenge. Waking up every day addressing a new life was all I asked for and all I ultimately received. It was who I really was and proved to be a wonderful overall experience of gender transition.

Riding the Gender Merry go Round

 

Image from Stanley Kustamen 
on UnSplash. 

Catching the gender merry go round when it was in mid-spin was never easy. As I always point out, I had no workbook on how to achieve my feminine desires that were available to me.

I often wondered what magical experiences were available to the girls around me but were off limits to me. What did the girls really learn about being feminine from each other? Was makeup one of them? I was jealous because I had none of the early basics of applying makeup. The closest I came when I was painting the model cars I had. I never was very good at skillfully painting cars, so I wondered how I would ever be good at painting myself. Enamored, I remember watching my mom apply her makeup as I looked for any small hints I could follow but I never seemed to learn.

Of course, there was much more to jumping on a spinning merry go round than just skillfully applying makeup. There were clothes to worry about too, and how could I afford them on the very limited budget I was on. I resorted to taking any small jobs I could as a kid to augment the meager allowance I received at home. In fact, my major source of income was a neighborhood newspaper route I took on. When I added all my funds up, I usually had enough money to buy my own makeup, panty hose and other rare items such as a pair of shoes I was lucky to find.

Once I was able to be confident in my ability to jump on the merry go round, then I needed to worry about hanging on. In the early days of my public explorations, I was having a very difficult time presenting well at all and I often was laughed at by others on the merry go round until I began to learn what I was doing wrong, and I could fill out my feminizing presentation workbook. It was a win for me when I could quit using crayons on my face and use them to color my workbook, I was less and less a clown in drag, and more and more an androgynous person for the public to judge my gender. For once, I could rightfully claim my seat along others on the merry go round because I had earned my spot as much as they did.

After a while, the spinning became too much for me and challenged my fragile mental health. The biggest problem I had was my refusal to face myself and my innermost truth. I was never a man cross dressing as a woman; I was a woman cross dressing as a man my entire life. The basic thought of who I really was consumed all my spare thinking. I am amazed now how much I still accomplished in my life as I suffered my mental duress. At times, it seemed my merry go round was spinning completely out of control. Plus, at the same time, I kept accumulating extra male lifetime baggage I did not really want. Sadly, the life I was living kept me from making very many close friends because I just thought I was knowing them under some sort of false pretense. I wasn’t the man they saw before them; I was a fake. Which I hated and added to my problems.

I finally came to the point where I needed to either slow down my merry go round or get off altogether. I just couldn't take it any longer. I certainly was not getting any prizes for putting myself through the anguish of staying on. I had given my ride the best shot I could, and I needed to grow in my transgender womanhood. I had tried my best to outrun and out drink my gender issues, and it was time to face the reality of who I was.

When my merry go round glided to a stop and I was able to look ahead to the new life I was about to enter. I was excited to see and live my feminine reality. I had filled out my workbook and paid my dues and was ready to go. The next time I was at an amusement park I could really enjoy the experience as a transgender woman. If anyone in the world did not like it or approve of me, I didn’t care. I had spent a major portion of my life thinking I was in the wrong. When in fact, the bigots were the ones in the wrong and they were the riders who needed to get off the merry go round first.

Gender Selfishness

 

JJ Hart, Key Largo, Florida.

Often as I discovered my transgender womanhood, I felt extremely selfish. Who was I to sacrifice my male life with others just to cross dress in the mirror for me.

At the time, I regarded myself as a clown in drag and ugly in every way possible. With those thoughts, how could I even think I could succeed of my dream of living as a woman someday. To have any success at all, I needed to be selfish and forge a one-way path to feminize myself.  

Defining selfishness was a problem also. I went from thinking I was merely in a phase, all the way to finally realizing I was a full-fledged transgender woman. Along with all the responsibilities of living a new life. I needed to face the reality of knowing every step I took would be different and others close to me would have to come along for the ride. Or be left behind. Mainly, I am referring to my second wife, who for several reasons drew the line at helping me femininize myself. The number one reason was one I had to totally agree with, which was she did not want to live with another woman and specifically one she did not like.

Through it all, I tried to discover why she did not like me. Since she has long since passed away, I can’t ask her for an honest answer. My best guess is she did not the amount of makeup I wore and the wardrobe I had acquired. Plus, she especially hated the idea of me leaving the house cross dressed as a woman anytime she was not around. Essentially, I was cheating on her with myself. I was the other woman. Naturally, I was torn too, as I just could not stop exploring the new world, I was excited to find myself in. All my efforts just put me in the cross hairs of my mental health. I was selfish and put myself in risk of losing a marriage of twenty-five years and give up the chance of living my dream of living as a woman. These days I make no secret of trying to take my own life with an ill-advised suicide attempt. I thought there was only one person who could truly help me, and I had burned that bridge with her. So, I was trapped.

Fortunately, with the help of a good therapist, I found my way out of the darkness I was in, and she helped me to understand the gender situation I was in. I started to take it for granted I was selfish, but I had to be to save myself and my mental health. At that point, I knew I would not have wished the period of life I just had went through on my worst enemy. My dark closet was even becoming darker even though I was beginning to explore the world as a woman. Transgender, or not because often gender borders were blurred. To focus on it, I needed to be more and more selfish in my life and every spare moment and thought had to be involved in feminization.

By this time in my life, my biggest hurdle was overcoming the loss of my second wife. Sure, she resisted losing me to another woman, but I still loved her dearly, and we did have many good times together. What happened was my long ignored inner female stepped in and immediately took over. She exposed us to many new social interactions to see what would happen and if when we conquered it, we immediately moved on to often more delicate social situations. She was really into testing me to learn how serious I was about the transition I was considering.

One of the main tests was when we decided to seek out gender affirming hormones. To do it back in those pre–Veterans Administration days, I needed to find a doctor to approve me. It was not given since I was nearly sixty at the time and had to have a health exam before I was given permission. I was approved for a minimum dose and soon was allowed to pursue a life changing hormonal program. Overall, the hormones turned out of be a wonderful gift to my inner self and allowed her to sync up her old male external male self with her strong feminine self to make a more complete human being for the first time in my life.

It turned out, my life of being selfish was the only way I could escape the male life I was born into. It was amazing how quickly my mental health recovered and for the first time in my life, I felt happy. The weight taken off my shoulders was amazing.

 

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.  

 

 

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.

 

The Inner Girl I Never Knew

 

JJ Hart, Club Diversity, Columbus, Ohio. 

As I was growing up, the girl I saw in the mirror did not seem to be quite real. Mainly because I was still caught in the male world I was born into. It seemed the more I struggled with my reflection, the more depressed I became. It did not seem fair I could not enjoy all the perceived benefits I observed from the girls around me. I say perceived, because it was not until I was able to go behind the gender curtain to see life was not always easier for the women around me.

Life moved on and I discovered always being the pursued by the opposite gender (males) was not often good. The problem was being pursued by the correct male. Not a scary, creepy or toxic one. Another problem I had learning from the females around me was I was so very shy and afraid to talk to any girls at all. So, I watched the dating scene from afar and wondered why I couldn’t be a part of it.

The main problem I had other than being shy was the gender dysphoria I was always suffering from. I was riding a dual edged sword. On one edge, I was struggling to meet the demands of my parents as their oldest son, and on the other hand, was the fact that some days when I woke up, I did not know what gender I wanted to be that day.  Problems I would not have wished upon my worst enemy. Finally, I did the only thing I knew how to do to survive, I went exploring. Or I should say, as I was growing up, I saw the girl looking back and then my transgender side went exploring.

My male self-stayed home as my feminine side attended transvestite – cross dresser mixers searching for answers to my true self. Ironically, the mixers just added more questions than answers. I discovered more layers in the cross-dresser community than I imagined existed. There was everything from male admirers at the party, all the way to impossibly feminine transsexuals I never knew existed. The biggest surprise was that my inner girl was again having a hard time fitting in.

One of the problems was, the transgender term or the knowledge around it had not been widely known at the time. When I finally heard of it, I thought it really described me, and I began to research it more. The tipping point came as I began to explore the public more and more. As I began to experience a new life I only dreamed of, the more natural I felt, and my missing girl was finally freeing herself from the confining world of my closet’s mirror. At that point, my pressure of transgender womanhood began to increase. It was less and less a fun game and became a very serious journey. The real reason why was the trip to my dream was becoming possible and was I going to risk everything my male self-had worked so hard to achieve.  

Nothing turned out to be easy as it seemed as I entered the world as a transgender woman. My focus needed to be dealing with other women on a one-on-one everyday basis. Over a relatively short space of time, I grew into the woman I needed to become to survive. Or my inner girl was growing up into a woman and I needed the gatekeepers to allow me to play in the alpha girls’ sandbox. Very soon, I reached the point of no return, and I had lost most of my past anyhow, so I had nothing to lose. My second wife had passed away along with many of my close male friends, so there was no better time to put my old male self completely in my past.

For the longest time, I never understood what my inner girl was observing and learning from. I found out when she finally had the chance to emerge into the world, she knew what to do. I thought in a small amount of time, she made a major gender adjustment and began to enjoy the dream I had attained. By I, I mean my male self was needed to propel the changes I went through. He provided many of the materialistic necessities I needed such as fashion, hair and makeup to get by. At the least, the entire process was very complex when I put my life into a gender mixer and hoped for the best.

There were plenty of times when I had the opportunity to purge my feminine belongings and return to a male life I never really wanted. When I kept coming back, I finally learned my inner girl was screaming at me to do the right thing. The right thing was to live out the remainder of my life as a transgender woman. Destiny led me to success.

My Gender Workbook

 

Trial and error were my main learning directions when I was initially following my gender path in public. As my workbook on how to be a girl or woman was never filled out at all, I had no other recourse in which way to go. I just didn’t know, which meant I never would unless I had the courage to learn myself.

Missing the peer pressure other girls my age had when they grew up really hurt and I was jealous in so many ways. I missed sleep overs and other times girls came together and discussed so many secret issues I was not allowed to know. Which included when they compared makeup routines when I was left to experiment all alone.

Survival as a novice cross dresser became my inner motto as I struggled ahead in my male life which presented its other set of challenges. Such as dealing with sports, cars and bullies. Having interests such as sports helped to keep the bullies away, especially in my male dominated family. If I was careful in staying in my closet, no one had any idea of who I really was as I was filling in my workbook. Many times, I was in despair because it seemed I was not gaining any ground towards my dream of living as a fulltime transgender woman. First, I needed to discover if I had any possibility of success to succeed at all. Which started the so-called bucket list of things I needed to do as I pursued my workbook.

The biggest problem never changed. I never had much help when dealing with the basics of femininized fashion, hair and makeup. It seemed to me, every woman I met expected me to already know the basics and it was like a “C
atch 22” of being a woman. If I did not know the basics on my own, no one was stepping up to help me and If I did know, I did not need it. Sort of like when you cannot land a much-needed job because of no experience and you cannot find any experience because no one will give you a chance.

Perhaps, I am more fortunate than other cross dressers of transgender women because quite early in my life, I persuaded a cisgender woman to help me dress up head to toe as a woman. I thought if a woman with a lifetime worth of experience could help me, I could fill out my workbook, with help. Ironically, after the makeup was over, I was not impressed and felt all the time that I was on the right path and could do the same feminine work on myself. Of course, I need to point out I had already put years of time and effort into refining my fashion and makeup techniques.

Just when I thought I had reached a success point in my gender transition, my teen cross-dresser years set in. The problem was, I was already a testosterone poisoned thirty something man seeking change. My transition out of my teens was painful and not easy to do but I finally made it out after many tears from public abuse. On the other hand, my gender workbook gained another chapter I gladly filled out.

On another slightly different topic, I heard from “Michelle” who is working on her own gender workbook and was commenting on my “Seismic Gender” on the lesbian culture and transgender women: “I really love how you described finding your place along that femme spectrum. It makes me think about how much of this journey is trial and error—figuring out what to wear, where to go, how to be in these spaces without losing yourself. And yeah, sometimes it really does feel like the universe nudges the right people into our lives at the exact moment we need them.

Honestly? Reading this gives me hope that I’ll find my own version of that someday.”

Thanks for the comment! If it helps, at that point I had given up on ever finding another special person for the rest of my life, and the most amazing thing happened. I did find my wife Liz, or I should say she found me. It happened primarily because I gathered the courage to repeatedly put myself out in the public’s eye.

Just be careful when you do it and take your time to properly fill out your workbook and you can be successful on such a major undertaking as living as your authentic self.

 

 

 

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. 

Not an Act, not a Phase

JJ Hart Speaking Up at a Trans Wellness
Conference.

Very early on in my crossdressing experiences with the mirror, the vast majority of feminine fashion and makeup I could find came from my mom. As I grew of course, I was guilty of stretching her clothes and ruining some of her makeup.

For some reason, she never brought up my passion for being feminine. Plus, she never found my secret hiding places for my clothes. I think now, rather than confront me about a problem so intense, she chose to ignore it, thinking it was a phase and would go away as I grew up. If the truth be known, there were times when I wished my gender issues were a phase too. Those were the times when I "purged" or threw away my feminine clothes and makeup, swearing never to cross dress again. Of course, every time I purged, the pressure would build again, and I would start all over again to femininize myself. Over the years, I came to learn my connection with the feminine gender was anything else but a phase. It ran much deeper in me. Ignorance was bliss until I began to face the reality of who I was. 

It certainly was not a phase in my life which made my cross dressing anything but an act also. My experiences helped to reinforce the fact I was not trying to fool anyone when I first entered the world as who I labeled as a novice transgender woman. 

So, if I was not in a phase, or just acting like a woman to fool the public, who was I? I was in a personal struggle to search for any idea I could latch on to until I finally had to face the reality of my transgender womanhood. Yes, I went through all the questions of just being in a gender phase, all the way to thinking I was just trying to fool the world when I attempted to present myself as an attractive woman. 

Once I did come to the point where I truly accepted myself as who I really was, the entire process helped me to establish myself in the world and make new friends. My worst fears of being viewed as just a man who put on a dress and makeup as a part time basis were never realized. On the other hand, I played upon the fact I was different from the rest of the public as a transgender woman. If I was to be unforgettable, I most certainly needed to make sure I was making a positive impression. I spent much of my time listening to other women. Trying to pick up the smallest nuances of a ciswoman's life and how I could apply it to myself. 

As I advanced along my long gender path, I needed every small boost I could get to get me by with several close calls in an unfavorable world. It took me years to understand my gender issues were anything, but a phase and I was not a glorified drag queen in the world. It just took me more time to prove it to others. Basically, because I was scared of the knowledge of who I really was and feel secure in my transgender womanhood.

The Forgotten Woman

Image from UnSplash.

 Over the years of gender infighting, I needed to carefully sustain my transgender womanhood because she often was the forgotten person.

To begin with, she began life as a second-class citizen in my world when I was born as a male in a male dominated family. Essentially, she had two walls to climb immediately to survive at all.   First of all, she did not have any on hands guidance from mom or girlfriends to show her the way through life and secondly, my male self was successful at all in the world, she was completely forgotten. The fragile complement between my genders had to be maintained at all times or she would disappear. Many times, I asked myself why I wanted her along to begin with, but the answer kept coming back, I needed her.

I discovered the hard way, the occasional trip to the hallway mirror dressed as a girl with full makeup, just was not going to cut it. I just needed more. If I could manage to look like a girl, why couldn't I be a girl, if only in my mind. The problem became, when I had to return to my male reality, I needed to forget my girl self altogether. Many days, it seemed like cruel and unusual punishment. when the only true punishment came at the expense of my already frail mental health. All too often, depression would set in when I forgot my feminine self and could not least appease her by cross dressing in the mirror. 

Another problem was, the more I appeased my forgotten woman, the more my male self-hated it. He fought hard when any portion of his life was threatened. He tried his best to make it easier in life by gaining white male privileges which were difficult to give up. I became successful as a male, but try as I might, I could not forget my inner woman. Who, at the time, was learning more and more how to establish herself in the world. Many times, my male self would win the battles in our life when along he was losing the war. A typical female move he was too blind to see as he blustered along in life. 

When my forgotten woman became less forgotten and more accomplished, my male self-started to panic as he could see the end in sight. Without being a winner. Basically, he teamed up with my second wife to attempt to save what they could of my life. At that point, decisions needed to be made in the worst way. My so-called forgotten woman had learned she could indeed live a life on her own terms. The ability to stand on her own two feet after all those years in a closet was so liberating, she knew she could never go back and, on the other hand, my guy knew deep down he was defeated. 

Living a transgender life she had always dreamed of was suddenly all that mattered. She dictated I start gender affirming hormones to feminize my body outside and inside and that was just the start to being accepted in the world. At that point my forgotten woman was not forgotten anymore, and she got her just due for all the years she waited for control. She loved every bit of it.

In the Passing Lane

JJ Hart.

Early on in my life as a very serious cross dresser before I came out as a transgender woman, I obsessed about my presentation as a woman. Or, in other words, was I "passing."

At first, I went overboard and tried to appease my male side and dress sexy. Naturally, I was a dismal failure with my choices and ended up attracting too much negative attention to myself. After too many disastrous evenings in the public's eye, I finally learned my lesson and began to blend in with the cisgender women around me.

The problem was, still trying my best to slip behind the gender curtain and survive as a transgender woman was very difficult. At the time, a transgender woman friend of mine said it best when she told me I passed out of sheer willpower. She was correct, and I knew I was never the most attractive woman in the room but none of that really mattered as I was beginning to live the life I always had dreamed of. If others somehow resented it, they would just have to get over it. 

Being the keen observer of women, I always was, I found out not all cisgender women passed in the classical sense either. The skillful ones worked around their physical appearance issues with fashion and makeup choices which flattered them. I figured if they could do it, so could I. Finally, my fashion and makeup became second nature to me. At that point, I was not passing out of willpower but more out of inner confidence in myself as a novice transgender woman exploring the world for the first time. Once I found myself in the passing lane, it became easier and easier to stay there.

Even though I had fewer and fewer accidents in my quest for transgender womanhood, I still suffered minor bruises along the way. Mainly from cisgender women who completely did not want me in their world and went out of their way to show me.  Many of the attacks I suffered from were passive aggressive in nature and they took me awhile to get used to, but I did. I developed the extra sense most women have for the world around them and went on with my life as a better person. Secure, I was doing the right thing in my life and did my best to stay in the passing lane. 

These days, I have the benefit of age on my side. The genders naturally blend with age, so with long hair and a little makeup, I can survive in the world. Also, I don't have the vanity about my feminine self I used to have. Plus, I am so fortunate to have my staunch ally and wife Liz by my side the overwhelming amount of the time. An example was the vacation we went to the Florida Keys on a tour bus. If you are not familiar, one way or another on a tour bus, you get to know others. On the trip, I knew I had it made in the passing lane when a couple of women asked if we were sisters. I immediately relaxed for the remainder of the trip.

Overall, since finding my way into the passing lane was a matter of sheer will power. I had always believed if you wanted something bad enough, you could achieve it. Deep down inside, I never had wanted anything more than to be a woman. To arrive at my dream, I needed to get into the passing lane and stay there. Using whatever feminine tricks, I could find and use.

As "Stana" from "Femulate" once said, make sure you properly signal before you get in the passing lane. Once you make it, you will love it.

A Complex Day

 

JJ Hart. (right) Mother's Day 
last night. Liz on left.

Another Mother's Day is here and as always, it presents me with many complex emotions.

First of all, as I was growing up, my mom was many times the dominant parent in the family, I remember vividly watching her apply her makeup, heels and hose. She was from the WWII generation where a woman's appearance was very important. I think she did a wonderful job maintaining a family of males immersed in boyish struggles. Dad was always present, and was often the deciding factor in our family disputes but mom ruled in all the other areas such as day-to-day discipline between my younger brother and I.  

My mom and I were much alike in many ways. I resembled her except I was close to six foot tall, and she was only five foot two, which made it quickly impossible for me to squeeze into her clothes. Over the years, she never let me know that she knew anything about my cross-dressing habits. Looking back now, I do not think I could have hidden all my feminine collection of clothes and makeup so well from her. She was somehow just ignoring me and my gender issues as just a phase. 

My life as a "transvestite" (as it was known back then) stayed hidden as a topic between mom and I until I was back home after being discharged from the Army. The sit-down did not go well and ended with her offering psychiatric care. From there, the subject of me wanting to be a woman was never brought up again during her life. For years, I held her feelings against her but then started to slowly change after I started to mellow within my own transition. I began to realize, mom was just dealing with life under the only circumstances she had ever known, and change was not in the cards.

What I ended up doing, was honoring her when I legally changed my name. I femininized my maternal grandfather's name as my first name and used my mom's first name as my legal middle name. It was my way of honoring her for all of the sacrifices she made for me.

Then, there was the complex problem on what the kids in my life were going to call me on Mother's Day. Initially, my daughter referred to me as her "parental unit", then began to slowly change over the years. Several years ago, I wrote a blog post which mentioned the first Mother's Day when my daughter referred to me as Mom. Even I was embarrassed to refer to myself as a mom, but I was surprised and flattered my daughter did. 

Now, both my daughter and my wife Liz's son both refer to me as mom on Mother's Day. One way or another, the day will forever bring complex emotions to me. I did receive many negative reactions to my Mother's Day posts, so I will temper this one by saying whatever you believe and however you are referred to, have a wonderful day. 

Primary Voting Day

 

JJ Hart Speaking out.

Today is the day to vote in the Ohio state mid-term primaries and is one of the voting days I cherish so much.

I cherish voting so much for several reasons. The main one of course is it is it's my duty as a citizen to vote. Another big one always comes when I have to show my driver's license to receive my ballot. I will forever remember the first time I had to present my new license with my gender marked with an "F" for female. I am sure no one in the crowded line was prouder than I was. Probably even more so than the first time I ever voted. 

After my wife Liz and I vote, tradition has it that we go out to eat at a nearby diner style restaurant. So, I will have to step up my feminine appearance a little. I am picking out a different pair of leggings and shoes to wear along with a light sweater, since it still a little chilly and rainy in the Cincinnati area. Of course, I will also shave and apply a light coat of makeup so I can look as presentable as possible. 

Sadly, if the current administration gets its way, my path to voting will be much more difficult under the so-called "Save" Act. As I understand it, I may need to present a birth certificate as a second form of identification to prove I was born in this country. The problem is that my name on my birth certificate had never been changed and does not match my new legal name anymore. To make matters worse, it is nearly impossible in Ohio to have a birth name changed on a birth certificate. I would be stuck between a legislative rock and a hard place along with so many other women, trans or cisgender and my precious right to vote would be gone. I guess I will have to face that challenge when I come to it. 

Speaking of challenges, tomorrow, I have a long-awaited appointment with my Endocrinologist. I say long awaited because my virtual visit with her has been postponed before. I get my hormonal medications through the Veterans Administration; she is my gate keeper and has to approve my all important gender affirming hormones. Perhaps all of you remember, recently the new administration in Washington at first dictated no more HRT for veterans through the VA. Then they partially reversed their edict to cover only new vets which is bad enough but obviously did not include me. 

My next problem could be coming up soon with my Endo herself. The word is, the Dayton, Ohio VA hospital where I receive part of my care will be cutting three hundred fifty of its staff. Which means I could lose access all together to the staff responsible for dispensing and monitoring my meds, Again, we will see what happens with her and the moderators who run the LGBTQ support group I go to virtually every Friday. 

It turns out voting maybe the least of my problems thanks to many circumstances I cannot control. Thanks to a convicted felon who is destroying the country.