Gender Boxes

Image from the Jessie
Hart Archives.

When I was very young, my parents did what so many others do. They constructed a gender box and forced me into it.

As I grew up, I had no choice. I was a boy and was expected to do boy things. Even to the point of receiving gifts on Christmas I did not really want. My primary example came one year when I secretly wanted a doll or kitchen set and I received a BB Gun instead. I was the opposite from the "Ralphie" character in the "Christmas Story" movie. For you that don't know, Ralphie wanted a BB Gun in the movie in the worst way.

 As I grew and began to gain confidence in cross dressing as a girl, my gender box became smaller and smaller.  On most days, it was a struggle to just exist in the world as I knew it. The worst part about it was I never had a choice. It was like I was a round peg being driven into a square hole and being told to like it. I didn't like it and my struggles led to a worsening of my gender dysphoria and mental health. Perhaps the worst part about my situation in those days was I had no one to talk to about it and knew no one with similar gender issues. I was so alone in my little gender box.

As I struggled forward in life, I discovered there were others who were in their own gender boxes and struggling with similar problems also. I like to refer to those days as my "Virginia Prince" and "Transvestia Magazine" days. First I could not believe there were so many other cross dressers in the world and they even had a regular publication I could subscribe to. Looking back, I think "Transvestia" came every two months and I could not wait until I received my new issue. Just reading and gazing at all the other pretty transvestites in the issue made living in my box a bit more bearable. Especially when I learned there were regular "socials or mixers" being held in a location I could actually drive to. I was dazzled when I went to my first mixer and saw all the different people who attended. All the way from weekend cross dressers to transsexuals' heading for gender surgeries. 

Even seeing all those different people in their own little boxes did not help me with mine. Deep down I knew I still didn't fit in with most of the cross dressers I met because I was way more serious and certainly not with the transsexuals because I wasn't serious enough. So I remained in my little box, mainly trapped until the transgender term made it's way into the mainstream consciousness in Ohio. Once I heard or saw transgender, I knew it described me better than anything I had ever seen. Finally, I could take a big marker and write proudly transgender on my box.

From there, it was a matter of connecting the dots and removing the box altogether from my existence. Of course, learning to live a new life as a new gender was a major process and not one which was to be taken lightly. To make matters worse, sometimes I tried to jump into new gender boxes and missed my step and had to retreat to try again. Even still, life had taught me by this time, nothing was going to be easy when it came to escaping being pounded into the square hole I was in but when I did, I could be happy. 

I was fortunate in that I lived long enough to escape my gender box and enjoy a new world as a transgender woman free from many worries I used to have. The process was difficult but worth it.  

One Gender Size does Not fit All

Image from Grae Phillips 
on Geraldo television show.

 If the truth be known, all the way back when I was a kid struggling to understand what gender I was on any given day, I would have been known as gender fluid. 

Of course, gender fluid was a term which hadn't been invented yet. Anyone who was interested in cross dressing was branded as being a transvestite and even worse labeled as being mentally ill. In the middle of my gender vacuum, even I knew well enough I was not mentally ill just because I wanted to wear makeup and dresses. I hid my desires and hoped for the best, which mostly came when I was left alone to cross dress and admire myself in the full length hallway mirror at home. Most of all, I was trapped and could do nothing about it. Keep in mind, all of this was happening in the information "dark ages" before the internet and social media. The gender underground I was interested in came mainly from the pages of Transvestia Magazine and Virginia Prince. Even I knew the pages of the "National Enquirer" and other predecessors of Faux News who sensationalized cross dressers were not to be trusted.

Then came the barrage of so called reality television talk shows including, Donahue, Springer and Raphael. All of whom seemed to be pushing the theme of cross dressing husbands Except for the impossibly beautiful and talented "Grae Phillips" who put everyone else to shame. All of these shows probably did little or no good for my gender dysphoria except for publicizing the fact there were cross dressers of transvestites of all kinds at all. All I knew was I desperately tried to watch or tape every show I knew was coming up from my "TV Guide". My wife was trying to tape her soaps and I was trying to tape my talk shows and both kept us busy. Even though I still had to watch my shows in private attempting to learn anything I could about the outside world.

I did learn once again. my gender size was unique and did not fit all. In fact, I still felt out of place when I started to attend my first cross dresser - transvestite mixers here in my native Ohio. I discovered there were so many different levels of participation from transsexuals headed for gender surgeries down to the weekend cross dressing hobbyists.  For some reason, I was not part of either group and once again my gender size was not fitting in. The problem was, all of this happened before the transgender terminology was introduced. When it was and I started to have access to my first computer, I was able to research the term which was unknown to me. Suddenly I knew what had been missing my whole life, a gender size which fit me and I set out to discover more about being transgender. For me, it meant being part of a gender description which was somewhere in-between the spaces I had been in previously.

Even though my gender size did not fit all, finally I was able to locate my own niche to thrive in. Life became fulfilling, scary and exciting at the same time. I found out I was fine being who I was all along and it felt so natural. I was home. 

Writing Euphoria

Image from the Jessie Hart
Archives

Every now and then I receive a comment which brings all the effort I put into writing a daily transgender blog into focus. 

When I started writing this blog over ten years ago, I set out to hopefully help anyone else with gender issues similar to mine. Back in those days, when I revisited my old blog posts, I mainly see an over riding interest with my feminine appearance and not much else. Of course when I transitioned into a fulltime life as a transgender woman, I discovered all the other challenges I was going to face. It was all much different than my life as a casual cross dresser. 

This is where the writer's euphoria comes in. I recently received this comment from Jennifer " Thank you for publishing your thoughts and experiences. I am an older, but not that wiser, transgender woman just starting out on the road to femininity. Your blog helps me much to understand the hurtles I am about to encounter. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and opening up to your experiences.

Thank you, Jennifer" You are welcome Jennifer and thanks for sharing such a wonderful comment. 

Somehow, along the way, the blog made it's own transition into looking at my life as a senior transgender woman. I found, being "more mature" in many ways had it's advantages. Primarily when it came to beginning gender affirming hormones. Because at my age, my testosterone level was already in a decline, the rush of new estrogen in my system seemed to be more natural. On the other hand of course, I needed to go through the medical screening process to determine if I was healthy enough to proceed on the program I was prescribed. 

As far as being "older but not wiser", I think I faced that aspect of my life also more than I could ever write about. For better or for worse, I had already went past and missed my formative feminine years and needed to master the mysteries of makeup and fashion on my own. There were no teen girls to critique my look and for me to return the favor. Plus, I spent way to much time alone with no girlfriends to shop at the mall with. 

I discovered too, there was a small niche of older transgender women who had lived through the dark and lonely pre-internet years. I am amazed how many readers still remember fondly the "Transvestia" publication along with Virginia Prince. But then again, it was all we had to provide any sort of light in our gender closets. 

These days, I am still committed to attempting to provide any guidance I can to anyone like Jennifer who needs it. After all, our gender journeys through life on one hand are so similar but on the other not so much. Each of us needs to navigate how we are going to shed a life of living male and begin all over again. And just when we think we have it made, we need to face the reality of being trans in retirement communities and/or assisted living. Regardless of all the negative publicity we receive from politicians, I still believe more people such as the "Alzheimer's Association" are researching ways to be more inclusive to the LGBTQ community. So, there is hope. 

Thanks again Jennifer, Jen (another reader) and all the others of you who join in with me here on the blog. You give me writers euphoria and improve my mental health.

It's Your Journey

 

Image from the Jessie Hart
Archives...

There are many different paths on our transgender journeys. Some are eerily similar some are very different.

On occasion, our paths align due to age considerations. We were the ones who grew up in the pre-internet days before it was invented as well as the social media which has become all so powerful. We are the ones who grew up in very lonely and dark gender closets which made it feel as if we were the only ones in the world who wanted to be another gender. At that point many of us chose to subscribe to Virginia Prince and then received our cherished and closely guarded issues of Transvestia. The magazine Prince published. 

Perhaps you are younger and experienced another journey through the internet. I remember vividly the days when my wife and I could afford our first computer along with the ultra slow dial-up internet. Almost immediately I found myself in trouble when my wife caught me corresponding with a like minded individual on a message board in a nearby town. She turned to be more computer savvy than me and learned to track my movements on our system. What I learned was, I needed to better hide what I was doing or stay off the message boards all together.   

At that point, I was using my issues of Transvestia to locate transvestite mixers close enough to me in Ohio so I could travel to them. When I did, I was able to see and meet other cross dressers who were following similar journeys as well as many who weren't. There were the ones who seemingly trying to out run their feminine desires by still acting super masculine in a dress and heels. I certainly didn't feel a part of that cigar smoking crowd. (Before cigars became cool for women). Then there were the future transsexuals on the other end of the spectrum. They were impossibly feminine and I felt were far out of my league as I was very insecure about my appearance as a cross dresser. Even though I wanted to be a part of their world, it was difficult to be admitted. I partially solved my problem with blatantly tagging along with the so called upper class when they normally would go out to gay venues and continue to party after the majority of the group had retired to their rooms in the hotel where we were meeting. 

It wasn't until many years later, after many errors and successes in the world as I tried the basics of living as a transgender woman did destiny set in and I was accepted by small groups of cis-gender women who allowed me to really learn the basics of existing in the feminine world. 

Over the years of writing a blog, I have been able to correspond with other trans women who were able to benefit from similar situations. Mainly when they were invited into "women only" spaces. It was during these times I learned the true essence of communication women use when no men are present. My obsession changed from appearing feminine to actually acting feminine. I learned how much I have changed when I go back to the earlies days of blogging to see what I was up to. 

Whatever your journey, I hope it has been a successful one for you. There are so many facets to consider such as family and spouses which lead to staying in some sort of a closet by choice. Which there is certainly nothing wrong with that. I will forever wonder what would have happened with me if my wife would have lived on. Would we have ultimately split up when she said she would never live with another woman or could have a compromise been reached for both of us. Pursuing gender affirming hormones for me was the breaking point which I was free to do after she passed. So as you can understand I am not putting myself up on any sort of a pedestal because destiny led my journey to living as a fulltime trans woman. Pedestals are very fragile and easy to break. 

Hopefully it has been your journey and you have been able to live it with a positive outcome.  

Welcome to Hell

Inside "Casa Susanna" A dream trip I never made. 

My early days of dealing with a severe case of gender dysphoria can only be described as being in hell.

For those of you who can remember the dark days of information before the internet and social media, you also recall the days of being completely alone in your dark gender closet. Since I was raised in a very male dominated family, I knew escaping my own closet was going to be difficult at it's best. I was forced to sneak around behind my family's back to steal away the time to cross dress in my small stash of girls clothes and makeup. I even resorted to storing away my clothes and a spare mirror in plastic bags in a hollowed out tree in the woods next to our house.

Through it all, I knew the whole process of dressing as a girl made me feel better but somehow would have to be enough to get me by. I followed the vicious cycles of feeling the gender euphoria of being feminine in my mirror with deep depression when I was denied access to my clothes. I learned very early I wanted to do more than look feminine, I wanted to be feminine. Way before the term transgender was ever invented. to put the date in perspective, I would have been in the 1960's before I hit my teenaged years and still years away from my military duty and discovering Virginia Prince and her "Transvestia" publication which only dealt with so called heterosexual cross dressers or transvestites. I mention "Tranvestia" again because it was my first link to other like minded people. 

From then on, I knew I wasn't alone and could even go to transvestite mixers which were within driving distance of me. Even though I had discovered others, it turned out I was still dealing with my own personal hell. I still needed to be able to deal with the gender euphoric times followed by longer periods of gender dysphoric down times. Ironically I brought much of my hell on myself by not knowing the best ways to dress and apply makeup to best present my inner female to the public world. I had a difficult time dealing with all the stares, all the way to laughter when I tried to take on the world. Once I began to learn how to best handle the public, along came the Army to disrupt my life. As much as I didn't really want to experience military life at all, specifically I didn't know how I could exist three long years without having a chance to express my feminine self. For years, as I waited for the Vietnam War to draft me, I went through hell considering it's ramifications to me.

One way or another, I made it through the three years and couldn't wait for the relative freedom I had to escape my own personal gender hell, no matter how briefly. 

My big escape came when I made the highly personal decision to stop considering myself a cross dresser when I went out and I transitioned into thinking of myself as a transgender woman. Semantics to be sure but a huge move for me mentally. By mentally transitioning I was able to take a huge step out of my own personal gender hell. In many ways, I entered my golden years of MtF gender transition by leaving much of my hell behind and be able to increasingly explore the world. 

From then on I was able to free myself from my gender dysphoric hell and start to live my dream life as a transgender woman. Although I want to say the process was worth it, I wouldn't wish my journey on my worst enemy.

Secure Beginnings

 

1966 Transvestia Cartoon

This morning I read a post by a transgender man I follow on another writing format. 

The number one fact I took away from his post was how accepting his grandparent was when he was growing up. In fact, the grandparent took him to get his hair cut and purchased him clothes to match his authentic gender. After I read the post I responded by saying how good it must have been to have a supporting person in their life. 

Sadly, I was never able to take advantage of having anyone even knowing about or having any inkling about my gender issues. I knew without any shadow of a doubt, I was expected to be a boy in all aspects of my life. My parents were of the "Greatest Generation" which was the WWII and Great Depression generation. As a child growing up in the 50's, I was expected to fit neatly into a square male hole and survive the best I could. in a world I did not embrace.

The entire experience of being totally alone in the world as a boy who wanted to be a girl led me quickly to extreme cases of gender dysphoria. It wasn't until many years later when I learned of Virginia Prince and her "Transvestia" publication did I discover there actually other transvestites as they called themselves back then. Thinking back, I am fairly sure the publication was mailed out every two months and I couldn't wait until the next one arrived. Thanks to "Transvestia", I was able to learn about actual mixers which were close enough for me to go meet  other cross dressers or transvestites. As I began to see others in those mixers up close and personal, I learned how many levels of difference there were in a community which I imagined to be so similar. For example, the idea of the mixer being for only heterosexual transvestites only was quickly dispelled when too many of the participants disappeared behind  their hotel room doors too quickly.

Ironically, through it all, I still didn't feel as if I had found any sort of a home with others who supposedly were supposed to feel similar to me. Looking back, I think it was because the concept of being transgender had not been widely publicized at the time. I knew I did not belong with the cross dressers trying to deny their male selves or the transsexuals in the group considering radical gender realignment surgery. In those days, anyone who went down the surgical path was recommended to move away and begin a totally new life. As severe as my gender dysphoria was at the time. I couldn't imagine myself doing all of that.

It took awhile but I eventually stopped blaming my parents for ignoring my gender issues. Part of it was my fault for never attempting to tell them what was really bothering me, so I took the traditional male approach and just bottled it all up. I hid it all so well until the night after I returned home from the Army. I came home late from drinking my share of beer and found my Mom waiting up for me. We started to talk and along the way, I tried to come out to her. She followed her instincts and offered to pay for mental health counselling and I followed mine and never brought it up to her again. She has long since passed away so the best I could do to honor her anyhow was to change my new legal middle name to hers nearly five years ago. 

I needed to realize the "Greatest Generation" was good at providing and not so good at emotional support,  at least in my family. Once I accepted the facts of my upbringing, I really needed to work hard to not repeat the cycle of my upbringing. Once I began to feel secure in my transgender life, I was able to  do it.    

It Takes a Village

Virginia Prince
in her later years.

Does it really take a village to allow a transgender woman or trans man to fully let the world in so they can express themselves? 

For me it did but it took years and years for me to advance to the point in my life when I could live the trans life I always just had dreamed of.  On this blog, I write long and often concerning how isolated I felt during the pre-internet and social media years. Putting it bluntly, there was no village at all to help me along.  Those of you in my age bracket know what I am talking about. It wasn't until the Virginia Prince and "Transvestia" publication years did I feel there were any others in the world with gender issues similar to me. Maybe I had a village after all.

As I explored this new and exciting village, ironically I found I still didn't fit in with the village. Primarily because there were very few who still felt the same as I did. At that time I felt more serious than a casual cross dresser (or transvestite) but not as serious as one of the few transsexuals who attended who were on the path to having their own gender realignment surgeries. Plus, I found out (as I had suspected) there were other than all heterosexual members in the group as too much action was happening behind hotel room doors. The whole process showed me the village I had discovered was quite diverse which continues to this day.

The life I led directed me to be a loner on the gender path I was following. Sadly, my best friend became my mirror or other mirrors I encountered along the way which I wrote about yesterday. It wasn't to become much later in my life that I was able to discover others who I could form a village with and live as my authentic transgender self. It wasn't until I advanced out of the appearance crazy mode I was in as my feminine person and move into a more realistic idea of how a cis-woman has to go through life. It was a very difficult process to change gender gears and leave my old male life behind. 

As I finally let my inner feminine self out of her closet, she essentially did the rest. She chose the friends I am still indebted to for showing me the way to a better life when I needed it most. Gone were my lonely days of staring longingly into the mirror. I wasn't quite confident enough to not be petrified of certain situations but I was getting there thanks to the fact I was learning so much from the small village around me. 

Looking back, it most certainly did take me a village to build a new person essentially from scratch. What I thought I knew I didn't and what I learned was so exciting, I couldn't wait to see what was around the next corner. Anyway I cut it, it took a village to help me reach my lofty goals as a transgender woman and I have so many others to thank for helping along in the process.  

I Failed my Gender Assignment

Vintage Edition of
Transvestia Magazine

 My initial gender assignment was very simple. I was born a boy, now be one. The problem quickly became I was failing the assignment and I just didn't want to be the gender which was assigned to me. 

Instead of following all of the basic rules I was given about being male, sooner more than later I began to realize something was wrong and essentially I had no choice but to follow the rules. As they were presented to me. My parents were members of the "greatest generation" who survived a great economic depression and a world war.  They were well versed in taking what was presented to them and making the best of it. The same was expected from me. I had no way out when it came to my gender issues. I was alone with my problems. 

In response I did the best I could. I participated in sports and did my best to present myself as a so called "normal" boy. While I was doing it, I also was doing my best to use my limited funds to accumulate a small collection of makeup and feminine clothes which freed me up from helping myself to my Mom's belongings. Of course at the time I was outgrowing my Mom in all the size categories, so it was good to finally go out on my own when I could. I guess you could say, this was the first time I actually passed my gender assignment, in my chosen dream world of being feminine. 

At the same time, I learned the male so called attributes of being emotionally distant and keeping my feelings bottled up. I would carry those with me until I was able to more completely transition my gender.  I was able to not fail this part of my gender exam. In many ways, in order to receive a pass or fail grade in either gender, I needed to wait for the world to catch up to me. Since I was a part of the pre-internet generation, information of any kind was very limited. In fact, I was completely isolated in my closet until I learned of "Virginia Prince" and her "Transvestia" publication. I was so relieved when I found I wasn't alone in the world and there were other so called transvestites in the world and some even met for mixers in cities close enough for me to attend. 

Once I did attend, my path to a different gender assignment became clearer. I was able to interact with others dealing with the same gender issues I was dealing with  and come up with a new plan for my life. It was about this time the transgender word became popular and I strongly believed it fit me. It was becoming increasingly evident I needed to take another gender exam. I was failing my initial male assignment and wanted so badly to attempt taking the new exciting feminine assignment or exam. Before I was able to, it turned out I had a lot more studying to do. Being a woman was a lot more than just looking like one. I can compare the process to higher education. Just being able to blend and mix in with the public as a transgender woman was similar to having an undergraduate degree. Then being able to communicate with other women one on one was the equivalent to obtaining a masters degree and so on.

Finally I accepted the fact I had failed my male assignment completely. No matter how hard I tried to succeed as a man, the whole process seemed to be an empty pursuit. Even though I was relatively successful in obtaining male privilege, I found I didn't want it. On the other hand, attempting to go as far as I could with a feminine gender assignment proved to be the answer to all my gender issues. Why? Primarily because the whole process felt so natural to me.

   

Trans Boomers

 

Without really trying to do so, I believe the blog has settled into having an older clientele, so to speak. Very rarely do I receive a comment from a younger transgender person or even a parent of a trans youth desiring to transition. By far the number of comments I receive come from other trans women of age. Meaning my age. I also have feedback from many other transgender veterans. Where ever the feedback comes from , I completely appreciate it. Here is my latest comment from a reader who prefers to keep her name private:

"When I look back, as I often do these days, I often feel that sense of regret for things done and things left undone. But, then I try to remind myself that my life has been remarkably good in comparison with the billions of sentient apes that have ever lived and is arguably better than most of the billions of humans who presently inhabit this planet. I do wish I had transitioned earlier and more gracefully, but imagine how many never had the chance at all."

Thanks for the comment! I like the parts about your life being arguably better than others who never stepped out of their comfort zone to live their dreams. Plus having the ability to have transitioned earlier with more grace really struck a chord.

I find the main things I have in common with other readers, is what we went through when we started to question our gender to begin with. The main problem we all had was the lack of internet communication with our peers. I remember distinctly the days when I communicated with other transvestites by writing letters, remember those? I believe my first experience with another "friend" on line was on an old "AOL" dial up chat room. All was proceeding past my expectations until my wife caught me one day. Then my brief experiences in chat rooms came to a halt. Until I could find a more secure way to do it.  Those were dark and lonely days in my closet but I was still desperate to get out and sample a more feminine world. 

It wasn't until I discovered Virginia Prince and Transvestia magazine, did I finally have a way to see there were actually others who shared the same desires as me. I was very excited when I learned the "Tri Ess" cross dresser organization  (which was somehow connected with Prince and/or Transvestia had regular meetings in my native Ohio. The first transvestite mixers I ever went to were a three hour drive away in a location up near Cleveland. Even better than that, I learned other organizations were planning get togethers in Columbus, Ohio which was only an hour away. I can't remember for certain now how many of the mixers I needed to attend before I began to feel more comfortable. I mostly was so dazzled to be around other people with similar gender pursuits to mine, I just came to view and judge the proceedings. 

The first thing I discovered was how layered the group really was. It seemed everybody quickly formed their own little cliques. Almost everything on the female stereotypical spectrum it seemed was there. And perhaps most dramatically, the rule that everyone had to be a heterosexual man was quickly thrown out the window. Too many people were disappearing behind closed motel doors to be totally innocent. Then there were the "mean girls" or the attendees who were often impossibly more feminine than the rest of the crowd and knew it.  I so wanted to look as good as them but without the attitude. The best part about knowing the mean girls was being able to go out with them and party after the mixer was supposedly over. That's where the true feminine action took place. Usually, a group went out to a large gay dance venue in downtown Columbus. Just being able to tag along and watch everyone else was my favorite part of the evening. Mainly because I was finally having the chance to live out my dream of living femininely. I felt I could never look as good as the mean girls but I could still enjoy myself.

Today I feel much has changed for the younger transgender population and that is mostly the reason for the "boomer" niche I find the blog to be in. These days (in at least many larger metropolitan areas) there are special LGBTQ organizations to reach out to. I can't imagine though the extra fear and even panic a younger person has these days when they consider coming out as transgender. I guess it proves no one gets a break, young or old, when it comes to being trans. 

I just wish as a trans boomer I could have helped provide a clearer and safer path for the younger generation today.  

It Takes a Village

Virginia Prince in 
the 1940's

 I am sure over the years you have heard the term "It takes a village" to describe the best way to raise a child. I think the phrase is especially true when it comes to negotiating a gender transition. You regular readers know how often I mention the lack of transgender mentors we had as we each tried our best to cross the binary gender divide. As with most of you in the same senior age category I am in, mutual contacts were very difficult to come by. 

Fortunately later in life, my contact group expanded and I was able to take advantage of my new peer group. It all started with me when I discovered "Virginia Prince" and her "Transvestia" magazine. As I remember, it was published every two months and I couldn't wait to receive my new edition. Of primary importance to me were the announcements of regional transvestite "mixers". One of which was within driving distance to me where I lived in Ohio. Naturally, I couldn't wait to attend one of the mixers if I could get the trip approved by my wife. Finally she went along with the idea and she even helped me to try to pick out an outfit to wear. 

Regardless of our disagreements on what I thought I should wear versus her ideas, I went and I learned. Most likely the biggest lesson I learned was the different layers and types of the other attendees I met. Every layer from the so called beautiful mean girls to the overtly masculine cross dressers and me in between. I just didn't feel comfortable in either group. 

It wasn't until much later in life I finally discovered why. When the transgender term was introduced, I knew then I discovered an idea I could identify with. I felt that surgery wasn't the driving force in my quest to live a feminine existence but the mere fact of being able to live as my authentic self was. And the authentic self proved to be my inner woman. 

During her path to the surface, she received quite a bit of help. It took the village I mentioned to enable her to finally break free. I don't mention enough the group of cis women who embraced me when I came out of my gender closet. Then, after the first group, there was a second circle (as I like to call them) who helped me solidify my new life and move on. I will mention them more in another blog post. 

In the meantime, even though it took me years to realize it, a village was welcome and needed for me to find my way to a life I really wanted to lead. As a full time transgender woman. 

Being a Late Bloomer

 Or should I say a "late boomer" since I was born in 1949, I firmly fall into the "Boomer" generation. One of the things which disappoints me the most  is when a younger transgender person tries to say I (or anyone else) who transitioned later in life are somehow less trans as their younger counterparts. 

Happy Holidays!

First of all, what does less transgender mean to begin with? Just because I identified as a cross dresser or transvestite for nearly fifty years doesn't mean I didn't think constantly about if I could achieve my impossible dream of living a feminine life. Of course, all of us of a certain age remember the "dark ages" of the LGBTQ movement. There was very little information at all concerning our urges to put on our hose and dresses and do our best to look like girls. It was a lonely time in our very dark gender closets. Younger transgender women and trans men probably can't imagine a time with no computers or social media they could use to communicate with other friends. Many of you remember when Virginia Prince and her Transvestia Magazine was almost the only source we could turn to trying to educate ourselves to our gender issues. The publication even magically helped others such as me seek out and find others with like cross dressing interests. I remember how scared and excited I was when I learned there were monthly "Tri Ess" meetings going on which were close enough geographically for me to attend. 

I did attend and ironically did learn I was still different than many of the others who attended. There were those who seemingly used the opportunity to wear a dress to overstate their masculinity. In the days preceding "Urban Cowboy" and cis women smoking cigars, these cross dressers decided a big cigar, no makeup and a cowboy hat were their best feminine accessories. On the other hand, there were the attendees who looked impossibly feminine. I found myself between the two. Most certainly I did not identify with the cigar smokers but was not accepted by the so called "A" Listers. I had a ways to go with my feminine presentation but I was trying. Even though I didn't particularly appreciate their attitude, the "A" girls couldn't wait to expand the cross dressing party out of the hotel and into the world. I knew that was where I wanted to be, even way back then. 

I imagine when I did tag along, more than a few of the "A" girls looked down on me (an early form of being transer than I) but I persisted and learned. Slowly but surely I became accepted by a group in nearby Columbus, Ohio. Compared to a few of the others, I was still a late transgender bloomer even though I was just in my thirties. The whole experience gave me a regular outlet for my gender desires other than my yearly Halloween party. Plus being around the "A" girls really helped me to up my game and try harder to look more feminine. The only main problem I was having was I was happily married to a woman who knew I was a cross dresser but was careful to draw the line when I made any moves to advance to the next step which a few of my acquaintances were heading towards. A sex change operation as it was known back in those days. 

My excuse in those days for my stopping my gender progression was I was happily married to a woman I loved, plus I was rapidly advancing in a job I had worked hard to obtain. In other words I had a lot to give up. In essence giving up a life we transgender persons of a certain age have worked to build is one of the main gender transition problems we face. It all is in direct opposition to the hurdles younger trans people face. They face building a life in a sometimes hostile world while we face giving up the living privileges we have gained over the years. 

The key is understanding from all transgender women and men. Being a late bloomer is just another part of the process. 
 

When Did you Kniw

 
Not long ago my daughter asked me indirectly how long was it since I knew I was transgender. Then she corrected herself  by saying I probably had always known. To refresh your memory, my daughter has always been a staunch ally of the LGBTQ community and has a transgender child. Of course I said yes, I had always known. Which perhaps wasn't always true. Back in the dark ages before the internet, as I always refer to, there was a huge gender void filled only by the sparse offerings of Virginia Prince and her "Transvestia" publications or the news of an American G.I. (Christine Jorgensen) who changed their sex. I was having a difficult time figuring out all my gender issues. 

Photo Christine Jorgensen
Archives

It wasn't until social media  became popular along with the world wide web did I learn how others shared the same gender issues as I did. One example is Paula from across the pond in the UK  when she wrote in and said: 

"  Our generation growing up had no role models, no concept of transition, hey, we didn't even have the word transgender. Without the vocabulary it us difficult to understand the concept, or more importantly the feelings we were having."

 And she goes on to write:

"Younger generations growing up now have different issues, but at least they have the vocabulary to investigate them ~ I suspect this is the reason why so many of our generation transitioned later in life ~ long live the interweb!"  

Thank you Paula. I imagine similar to so many age related disparities most younger transgender women and men can not relate to not even having a word (transgender) to describe their condition growing up. 

Looking back also, I discovered many unresolved gender issues which would have led me to believe I was indeed transgender. A prime example of how envious I was of girls my age and the perception I had that they had life so much easier than me. Or how one Christmas I wanted a doll baby but was gifted a BB Gun instead, The list could go on on and on but the point which kept on proving the point indeed I had been transgender my entire life. 

While we are on the subject of generational transgender change, social media and the internet too have contributed to a more cohesive LGBTQ group for political action. I am proud to say the Ohio version of yet another anti transgender bill was rejected in committee yesterday. So at least for the time being the State of Ohio is not joining an increasing amount of states with crippling anti transgender legislation.  

When you come right down to it, young or old, transgender or not we spend a lifetime growing into ourselves. Sadly on occasion we can't see the life forests for the trees. It happened to me, I missed the reality of the fact I was transgender for too long. I should have always known. 

Impostor's Syndrome?

 Are you kidding me? Yet another transgender phrase I have to worry about? Just what does "impostor syndrome mean to you...if anything. 

To me it means when I am walking through a busy restaurant my partner Liz and I go to on a regular basis, will I be "exposed" as a transgender woman or all I am not seem to be. For Connie's benefit I used the "exposed" word sensing she is ready to pounce. 

Regardless of all of that, I do suffer from impostor's syndrome. I also wonder who was smarter or more creative than I and came up with the phrase. I used to refer to it as "transgender PTSD" or transgender post traumatic stress disorder. Mine was brought on early in my formative years when I was attempting to live as my authentic self. Of course most of my failures came as I was just learning the basics of gender presentation in public. All too often I tried to wear ill fitting clothes to match my clown wigs. In a sense I spent too much time being trashy rather than classy. All of my ill fated attempts led me to being laughed or snickered at and even having the police called on me when I used the bathroom. I suppose you have to be transgender or even a cross dresser to understand the mental trauma it causes.

I guess new phraseology and alphabet letters are the rule rather than the norm in todays LGBTQ society probably coming from all the new people discovering their new gender realities. Even locally in the small transgender - cross dresser support group I am a part of, there seems to be a rather sharp division between the younger and older members of the group. It's rather sad to me that so many get their "panties in a bunch" over situations we all should be united behind. Especially in today's society where so many people are attempting to erase us totally. 

So, when push comes to shove, I will have to accept yet another phrase as a part of my gender vocabulary. I believe also, resistance to change is often a sign of age. I am sad when I lose contact with several members of our group because they got their feelings hurt by someone else.

Virginia Prince

We need every person to be as united as possible to propel us into the future. Similar to me standing on the shoulder's of the Virginia Prince's of the cross dressing world, it would be wonderful if just one person could see me in the same light.

At that point I wouldn't have to worry about "impostors syndrome" again. Maybe I will have to wait to see what happens in my later years when or if I have to be admitted to an extended care facility. 

Perhaps I will never have to worry about it and the final transition will come peacefully. That's all anyone could ask.

A Night at the Theatre

 This will be the final post concerning how Halloween parties paved the way for me to actually come out of the closet and live a fulltime feminine life. 

This one goes way back to my post Army days in the mid 1970's and happened in Columbus, Ohio. 

When Halloween rolled around that year, Columbus had just restored and reopened the "Ohio Theatre" a very ornate and beautiful structure complete with the original restored theatre organ. For the event, they decided to present a costumed event complete with a silent horror movie and the organ music .I thought it would be an ideal time to reprise my "costume" I wore at the Army Halloween party I went to. 

For the evening I managed to persuade my future first wife and two other friends to attend with me. The first mistake I discovered I made was when we had to park approximately two blocks away. Up to that time in my life, I had never attempted to walk that far in high heels before and I felt it! Other than feeling the fall chill on my exposed legs, the only other real impact I felt was how much attention my outfit did not cause. I guess with all the other unique and wonderful costumes, a guy in a mini dress didn't cause much attention. 

However, none of that mattered as we found our seats for the show. The theatre was magnificent. Especially for a person such as me who is really into history and restoration. I do remember trying my best to enjoy being dressed as my authentic self.  After all, it was very close to the first time I was able to actually go out in public as a woman. 

Looking back at all of it was, once the thrill wore off, I was coming to understand how natural I felt

and how would I ever make it an entire year before I could attempt going out again. Finally the realization slowly came to me indeed I couldn't make it and would have to find other ways to express myself. About this time was when I started to research Virginia Prince and subscribed to the cross dressing Transvestia magazine. Wow! There were others like me after all!

Bottom line was, once the door to my gender closet was opened, it could never be closed again. As I have written sever times, I felt too natural as my feminine self to go back. 

A night at the theatre proved to be only the beginning as I was able to enjoy watching the show around me as the woman I was destined to become.   

Are There More Trans People?

Sometimes it seems to me there are more transgender women and men these days.

I back up my theory with two reasons. The first is due to the impact of social media and the internet. I still am amazed about the amount of material I run into as I research possible blog topics. Of course, at my age, I go way back to the days of Virginia Prince and her Transvestia Magazine being nearly the only sources of information for novice transvestites. Now of course, there are nearly too many outlets to mention where you can find information on trans people, 

Janet Mock

As an example, I just Googled "transgender" and received 173 million results. One of which one of the top trans activists Janet Mock. Indeed we have come along way!

Another example I can use is Angela Ponce who we featured a couple days ago here in Cyrsti's Condo.  She competed in Miss Universe in 2018 as Miss Spain. I can only imagine some of the feminine back stabbing going on behind the scenes with such a gorgeous contestant competing who was also transgender.

My second reason is an extension of the first. Overall, we are so much more visible because we all have a better idea we are not alone. Plus, as we have pointed out in the blog, it is increasingly easier to carve yourself out a place in the world.

So, there are probably not more transgender people in the world. Just more who are visibly finding their way.  No longer do we have to worry about transitioning and disappearing.

None of this though takes anything away from how difficult a gender transition can be. Let's not forget how gender dysphoria can tear away at a soul and how the whole process of learning another gender can tear relationships (family) and employment apart. 

Maybe, just maybe, if there are more trans people, they can have a chance to be happier.

Welcome to Hell

As I continue my Cyrsti's Condo post from yesterday, the best place to pick up the story is when I was honorably discharged from the Army. All of the sudden I had this incredible sense of freedom.

As in all freedom's though, this one carried a price. It all started with the naive notion I could continue to come out to others as a transvestite (the common term for a cross dresser) in the mid 1970's. As I have written about several times, I was soundly rejected by my Mom and from there mostly headed back into my closet.

By "mostly" I meant, only my wife really knew anything about my cross dressing desires except for a few Halloween adventures when perhaps I looked a little too accomplished as a woman in front of a few of my friends. Amazingly though my normal macho exterior I worked so hard for carried the day.

As you can probably guess, the yearly Halloween adventure and dressing up at home behind closed doors wasn't nearly enough. The formula was fairly simple. The more I cross dressed the better I became at it and then I felt more and more natural which led to more gender confusion.

Virginia Prince 1940

About that time I learned of Virginia Prince and her Transvestia Magazine. I quickly learned I was not alone and I felt it was time to meet others like me. I also found there were mixers going on within driving distance of me.

As I attended the mixers, I learned quickly there were layers of different people. All the way from the cross dressers who were desperately trying to hold on to their masculinity by smoking big cigars in drag all the way to impossibly feminine figures.  This created yet another quandary for me. Where did I fit in?

I was far removed from most of the macho cross dressers but was curiously attracted to the fabulous feminine creatures. Of course at that time (and in many instances still do) I ended up in a middle niche I carved out for myself.

The problem this all created for me was it caused me more extreme gender dysphoria pressure. My answer was increasing my alcohol consumption, getting a divorce, losing a business and moving from Ohio to the New York City area. In other words, I was out of control...sort of. Out of the chaos came another marriage to a woman who knew of my cross dressing desires and who I was destined to be married to for twenty five years. She passed away quite unexpectedly from a heart attack at the age of 50.

The problem with all of this was, slowly I was coming to grips with the fact I was probably more of a new term I was learning more about. Could it be I was transgender? 

Being transgender meant all kinds of potential problems and changes.

The pressure became so intense it led me to try to commit suicide.

More on that in my next post.

Transgender History

One never knows when simply being older than everyone else could be a positive.

One of the questions at last night's transgender - cross dresser support group meeting was what was your earliest remembrances of obtaining any information at all concerning your gender differences.

Being the oldest in the group, I was the only one to remember Virginia Prince , her  Transvestia Magazine and The Society for the Second Self... for male heterosexual cross dressers. The last issue was in 1979.

Over the years,  Virginia finally has began to receive the credit she deserved for being one of the pioneers of the cross dressing movement all the way to the beginnings of understanding the transgender movement. She came from a socially prominent family in Los Angeles and like so many of us struggled (and lost) a marriage because of her cross dressing. She began cross dressing when she went to a church Halloween party dressed as a woman and no one knew. So, again, many of us followed the same path as her.

I know I first obtained a copy of one her books "The Transvestite and His Wife" (1967) and immediately read it approximately three times. I also subscribed to "Transvestia" for awhile. Plus, my first dealings with other transvestites came from a Virginia Prince connected group in Cleveland, Ohio. So I owe a lot to her as a pioneer.

Virginia Prince

Virginia passed away in May of 2009. Follow the link above for more.

Transgender History

J.M. Ellison 

One of the pleasant surprises this weekend at the Trans Ohio Symposium was the interest in transgender history. I guess rarely do I think of myself as a person who matters as an interesting link to our community's transgender past.

J. M. Ellison was the keynote speaker on Saturday. As I mentioned in a previous post, their presentation leaned heavily on transgender history. All of a sudden I was reliving my days of trying to follow the exploits of  Virginia Prince and her Transvestia Magazine.

The more I heard, the more I started to remember the Pre Stonewall Days when men could be arrested for simply dressing like women in public.  Remembering back, I had to have heard or read about the arrests during my pre teen years in the 1950's/early 60's primarily in Dayton, Ohio.

Of course, this was all before Al Gore invented the internet and any news concerning being a transvestite was extremely difficult to find.

As we (J.M. Ellison and I) spoke later, I went into my memories of my resultant Tri Ess mixers in Cleveland and Columbus, Ohio. My earliest days (Late 1970's) of finally meeting others of like gender persuasions. To my knowledge Tri-Ess is still in existence today. One of my earliest learning experiences had to do with the "layers" of "cross dressers" I encountered. All the way from men in dresses smoking big cigars and wearing cowboy hats to ultra impossibly feminine creatures who I couldn't believe were ever male at all. Even back then, I had a difficult time figuring out where I belonged in this setting. These were the years before the transgender label was even used at all. One way or another though, I was always able to go when I could and learn more about my gender conflicted self each time.

Back tracking a bit to J.M. Ellison's interview with me, one of the more intriguing questions they asked me was...was I a feminist?

A question we will discuss in another Cyrsti's Condo blog post which involves us all!

Alone on an Island

On the rare occasions anymore when I get the question on how it is to be transgender, I reply, it used to be like being alone on an island.

Back in the day, in the pre internet dark ages, it was really the case. I know I felt so alone. I just had to be the only boy ever who wanted to cross dress and be a girl. Slowly but surely though, I found out other boys wanted to be Shirley too. When I discovered Virginia Prince (right) and the term transvestite.

One of the first "facts" I discovered was most transvestites were not gay. Much to my relief at the time. Little did I know, I was just not having sexuality issues, just gender ones.

At any rate, as soon as I could... when I got out of the Army, I paid for a subscription to "Transvestia Magazine." From the magazine I learned of an actual chapter within driving distance of me in Cleveland, Ohio. From there, I set out to actually meet other inhabitants of my island which I discovered wasn't so uninhabited after all. Plus I learned not all were so called heterosexuals either.

From the group in the days before transgender was even a popular term, I discovered there was a real cross section of inhabitants on my island. I met everyone from cross dressing bitches to guys in dresses smoking cigars. But most intriguing to me were the very few participants who just seemed so feminine and natural. It seemed, they had found their true calling in life as women. I often wondered at the time if I could (or would) ever be able to explore such a path.

The more I did explore, the more I found my little island wasn't so little anymore, and was full of very interesting critters.

Along the way, the search led me to more than a few twists and turns. Plus life turned out to be exceedingly difficult at times, but never boring. I came to like my island!

TGIF

Indeed, another Friday is here in the Cyrsti's Condo and since I have exhausted my life story experiences (mostly), material is sketchy.

This post goes way back to a simpler day in the early 1960's before LGBT and transgender were part of my and most others thought patterns. As you may or may not remember, transvestites were considered to be mentally ill. For me at least, these days even predated Virginia Prince.

I did have a few more responses to being "home alone" and the precious times we all remember. I was fortunate in that both of my parents worked but I had a two year younger super inquisitive brother who seemingly was always hanging around being a pest. So being totally alone and having free roam of the house and yard (since we didn't have any neighbors) was rare.

Dad built his own house and little did he know the long straight hallway he built in was a cross dresser's dream up to and including the full length mirror at the end.

Our mailbox was about 50 yards from the house down a winding driveway to the road which back in those days was very untraveled. Most of the time I could walk down the driveway feeling the delicious air on my nylon covered legs without ever seeing a car. Which was probably a good thing.

Unlike some of you (Connie) I never was able to spend the night by myself as a girl, so the nightgown experience was mostly out.

Of course the fear of discovery was always there, which truthfully added a little spice to the whole experience. But, as good experiences always go, the time alone went all too soon.