Is There Really a Difference between Genders?

 

Image from Pea on UnSplash. 

Yesterday, I briefly wrote about how I saw the world differently when I went out for the first time to view Christmas decorations at Clifton Mill, Ohio as my feminine self. I said something to the fact that my senses seemed to heighten as I viewed all the decorations and people around me. To me, the whole evening was brighter and more festive than when I viewed it as a man, wondering how it would be to do the same thing as a woman.

Little did I know the experience would prepare me for later life as I progressed along my gender path. Perhaps, initially, the new senses I felt were psychological in nature because I was still years away from actually changing my gender hormonal balance from male to female when I added HRT or gender affirming hormones to my system. Which means, I guess, if I was in some sort of a scientific gender study, I would not have needed the hormones to increase my femininity at all. Which would be good news to all of you who for medical or spousal reasons cannot consider HRT.

One way or another, I felt a real difference in my world when I entered it as a woman rather than a man. If I was cold, I could react accordingly and not have to be macho and try to ignore it is a prime example. Then, quite possibly, the biggest change of all was what I was going to wear. I had so many fashion choices I could barely make up my mind. It seemed I was only limited to what I could afford to shop for and buy. The sensory feeling of the clothes was wonderful, and I just loved the big, warm, fluffy sweaters I was able to wear because they were in fashion at the time and paired perfectly with my denim mini skirts I was able to find at my favorite thrift store. I discovered that I was perfectly comfortable when I wore a pair of tights or even leggings with my sweater/skirt combo in cool Ohio weather.

Even though the clothes did make a difference for me, the buzz quickly went away and the reality of what I was attempting set in. I have always believed that attempting to change the human gender is one of the most difficult things a person can attempt because there are so many roadblocks in the way.  Such as current misunderstandings of trans women or trans men’s lives. No matter how you cut it, it is just difficult to explain to a “civilian” what is going through our minds when we made the monumental decision to jump the gender border. What could possibly go wrong? Ha ha!

Sometimes, we end up surprising even ourselves with the gender changes we have to go through to be successful. As we begin to earn our way behind the actual gender curtain into woman only spaces, we begin to see and feel all the real differences there are. I know my first girl’s nights outs were real eye openers for me. I had no idea of how ciswomen interact with each other when there were no men around. The differences were real, and I cherished my chances to experience them. So much more than even my new one on one communication challenges with ciswomen strangers in the world.

As I approached the idea that I could actually take the opportunity to attempt to go on gender affirming hormones, naturally I knew it was a huge step forward in my transfeminine development. First of all, there were the health consequences of a sixty-year-old male starting to reverse the hormones he had lived with successfully for all those years Plus, back in those days, there were many naysayers preaching about the possible damage female hormones could cause on the body. Fortunately, I found a doctor who did not believe in all of that, and he approved my HRT. When I started the meds, I felt an almost immediate change. It was certainly what the doctor ordered, and I was rapidly increased to higher dosages of my precious new medications.

I felt great when my external changes such as breast development started to happen faster than I expected and was even more surprised at the internal changes I was feeling. Like the first night I visited the Christmas lights, when my world softened and became more perceptive, I quickly found myself in a world where I could appreciate everything more. Heat, light and sound in particular affected me more when I ventured out in public to my regular venues.

At that point, all I really knew was I never wanted to go back to the old male life I forced myself to live. I had found my new home.

A Point of No Return

 

Image from the Jessie Hart
Archives.

For nearly a half a century I considered myself a more or less serious cross dresser or transvestite. In addition, I considered the transvestite label little more than just that, a label which was appropriate just to  use around others. Even though I rarely told anyone else about my gender issues.

The only people I can remember telling would number under ten before I finally came out into the world as a novice transgender woman. The first people I ever trusted enough to share my biggest secret oddly enough were friends I had in the Army. My disclosure came after I risked what was left of my time in the Army by dressing totally as a woman for a Halloween party.  Following the party, several weeks later under the influence of great German beer, the subject of the party came up. Of course then, the conversation went to what our costumes were. 

When the subject turned to me and how good I looked, I gathered the courage and told the three others the night was not the first time I had cross dressed as a woman and in fact I was a transvestite. I ended up taking a major leap of faith telling them because I still had approximately six or seven months to go on my enlistment and conceivably I could have encountered problems if the gender information I disclosed got into the wrong hands. After making it so far towards an honorable discharge, I certainly did not want to destroy the time I had put in. Plus, what would I tell my friends and family at home when I arrived back there early. 

To make a long story short, nothing negative happened with telling my friends I was in reality a transvestite and the experience was very liberating. On the other hand, I was not going to tell the rest of the world my secret. Of importance is the fact one of the people I told that night turned out to be the mother of my child and future wife. So I did not have to worry about telling her once we became married. I see her to this day and we still get along. Sadly, the other two friends I told are now deceased and I lost track of them almost completely before they passed. 

All of this brings me to the next person I told which was my Mom. It happened one night shortly after I was discharged and I was living at home for a very short while. One night when I came home from partying with my friends she was waiting up for me just like back in my college days. Somehow the conversation turned to my life and what I was up to. Out of the clear blue sky I decided to tell her my deepest secret about being a transvestite. I was still feeling liberated from telling my friends in the Army and felt secure in telling her, betting she would never tell my Dad. Just about the time I was feeling good about including Mom in my world, she turned around and roundly rejected me. All she really did was offer to pay for psychiatric care to solve the problem. Very quickly I rejected her offer and said no one was going to, in essence, plug me into a socket for electro-shock therapy.  From then on until she died, the subject of my growing gender dysphoria was never brought up again. 

The last person I came out to when I was still in my gender closet was my second wife. I write extensively concerning our gender battles but the fact remains she supported me as a cross dresser until I began my transition into a transgender woman. In essence, over the span of our twenty five year marriage, we just grew apart until her untimely death. 

Once I reached the point of no return in my male to female gender transition. there was no point in worrying about telling anyone I was transgender. It was obvious to the public who interacted with me what I was and they were left to draw their own conclusion. All of a sudden, all the pressure was off of me. All I needed to do was to do my best to present to the public who I really was. Plus, I would be remiss if I did not mention the roles gender affirming hormones played in my experiences. I was so happy with the results I was experiencing, I never wanted to go back to a testosterone filled life. For once, a plan came together for me and the point of no return never had to be challenged. 

Only a Fool

 Only a fool knows everything is a quote I recently heard. Of course when I heard it I made a mental note to try to remember it and use it for a blog post. Amazingly I did remember since my memory is not what it used to be, or never was to begin with. 

Photo Courtesy
Jessie Hart

What I was thinking of when I heard the quote was how many times I was the fool when I thought I knew all there was to know about completing my gender transition to a transgender woman. Living my dream fulltime. Looking back I realized there were many times when I thought I knew everything and was certainly the fool. 

The first time was when I was very young and thought my new exciting girl like image in the mirror really meant something. It took me years to realize the cross dressing process did mean something. What it meant was the mirror was lying to me and the underlying reason I was feeling the gender stress I was came from the fact I wanted to be a girl rather than look like one. I did some foolish things when I came out dressed as a girl to a neighborhood friend of mine. When he refused to even look at me, I knew I had done something wrong.

Following my failed experiment of coming out to a person I knew I went back into my deep, dark closet for years. Approximately twenty I think. I certainly did not want to be the fool again when my deeply hidden secret saw the light of day. As it turned out, I would still have plenty of time to play the fool as I attempted to grow into my authentic self. The most self destructive urge I had was the one I document so often in my writings. By far the biggest mistake I made was when I tried in vain to dress sexy which in turn came out as no more than a trashy attempt at validation. I was so stubborn and the mirror lied to me so much, I'm lucky I came out of my trashy period of life relatively unscathed. The worst which happened to me was to get laughed at. Obviously I was the fool who thought she knew everything about being a woman but was just getting started. 

My learning curve finally stated to kick in and I realized if I dressed to blend in with women and not to supposedly attract the attention of men, amazingly I could exist successfully in a feminine world. But still I was caught playing the fool. In what seemed like a small period of time, I had to build on merely looking like a woman and develop a personality to go with it. I had to quit changing wigs every time I went out and doing crazy things such as changing my name to go with the wig I was wearing. Darcy was the redhead, Karen was the brunette and Roxy was the blond. Of course all I was doing was destroying any attempt I was making to establish a solid base for my brand new feminine persona. This time it took me just a short period of time to quit playing the wig game and settled into to a person who had wanted out of me for so long. My closet finally was coming open.

Even with all of this new found gender success, I had to guard against being the fool again. An example was one night when a cis woman with her smiling face in essence tricked me into thinking we could be friends. I learned the hard way she was carrying sharp claws behind her back and was just making fun of me. From that point on I learned a smiling feminine face did not necessarily mean acceptance into the girls sandbox. Until I grasped the whole world of how women communicate with each other, I was doomed to play the fool when I was cornered in the world.

These days, I am a combination of being guarded and on the other hand confident at reading other women. However, I don't think I know everything concerning a transgender transition which would make me the fool.