Come Out Swinging

 

Image from Chase Li
on UnSplash.

Often, I write about running home to dress in my skirts and put makeup on to hide the failures I was feeling as a male.

My plan worked well until I discovered I was advancing so far and so quickly as a novice cross dresser or young transgender girl, I was unknowingly destroying my hiding place. Someone turned the light on in my closet and suddenly I had nowhere to go. I needed to come up with a plan to come out swinging or I was doomed. In addition, I still had to be very careful not to be caught and end up in a psychiatrist’s office declaring me mentally ill. Then I would really have nowhere to hide.

The better I became at the art of makeup and dressing myself, the more I needed to consider what I was doing and wondering if I should come out swinging at all. The problem continued to be, I was building more male privileges in the life I was living. My life was like shadow boxing myself as I sought out answers. Like most of you, I was risking a lot as I came closer to pushing all my life’s chips to the center of table and betting it all on the fact I was a transgender woman all along.

Then I went into my highly recommended experimentation years of my life. In order to have any sort of an idea if I wanted to live as a transgender woman, I needed to walk a mile in my new high heeled shoes. Those were the scary yet exciting nights when I escaped the gay venues I was going to and began to attempt to establish myself as a regular in lesbian and other straight venues I was used to going to as a man. When I did, I discovered I needed to make another transition from serious cross dresser to transgender woman exploring the world. To my amazement I was successful when I went to venues such as TGI Fridays and socialized with other professional women. Maybe I did not have to swing so hard after all to escape the dark confines of my gender closet.

To be sure, I still had setbacks when I came out into such a different world, but I had enough gender euphoria to realize I could live out my dream if I worked hard enough at it. At first, I suffered from the “what I thought a feminine life would be” syndrome. I was trying to put all those years of closely watching how women lived into actual practice without paying my dues in the world. While I resented the fact, no one would let me see behind the cisgender woman gender curtain, I was becoming a victim which did me no good in the short or long term. So what if I did not understand what I was doing wrong, I just had to figure it out and do better.

One of my major problems was solved when I finally came to the conclusion I was never going to be accepted as a cisgender woman, but I could find my own version of womanhood on my own path. That is when I started to wear only one wig, settled on one name and began to build a new serious life as a transfeminine person in the world. As I settled into a new life, I found that many people (especially women) appreciated my honesty in a world of fake people. I was surprised at all the female attention I received and was relieved I did not have to attempt to change my sexuality.

The more I changed, it seemed the more I stayed the same as my long hidden feminine soul took control finally. I was dealing with life on a one-to-one basis for a change without having to swing away all the time just to survive. As HRT hormones entered my life, it was just another example to me of what took me so long. My body took to the gender affirming hormones flawlessly and I was off to yet another transfeminine adventure. My age and hormonal status led me down a new road of dealing with confrontations, no more could I try to macho my way through trouble, I needed to take the feminine path and try not to get into a situation I could not get out of before it happened. Or no more swinging away for me. I needed to use my brain for a change.

As I have pointed out in previous posts, I was never a good athlete and could never hit a curveball when I tried to play baseball. I finally took it all to heart and quit trying to hit a curveball altogether and settled into watching the boys play baseball (and girls too) when I did not have to play. I was tired of banging my head against a hard gender wall and ended up where I always should have been as a transgender woman. I just wish I had not been so stubborn when I was doing it and had shed my male self-long before I did.

 

In Over my Head

 

Image from Wilhelm Gunkle
on UnSplash.

As I thumbed through my new feminine workbook, I sadly discovered there were no chapters on what to do if I got in over my head. In my well-built male world, I had been able to figure out strategies on what to do in times of duress. I could choose to stand and fight, try to bluster my way through, or just run from the problem.  None of which was available to me anymore on the gender path I was on.

Even though I was blessed with a healthy male body which was slightly bigger than the norm, I had hated the changes testosterone made to it when I had no choice but to go through male puberty. Very quickly, I grew past the sizes of my mom’s clothes I was trying on and had to find other ways to build my wardrobe on the very limited budget I was on. My newspaper route money, along with the small allowance I got for helping around the house, just didn’t go far. Still, I was able to sneak out of our rural home under the pretense of visiting my grandma who lived downtown and do some shopping for makeup and hosiery. I just remember how incredibly overwhelming the makeup selection was and how much I was over my head with my selections.

After I was able to smuggle my purchases past grandma and my family, then I needed to work earnestly on how to apply the makeup I bought and not look like a clown. After looking in the family mirror and feeling like a clown in drag, I knew I was in over my head and just had to find a way out, or in as it turned out. I wanted out of the male world and into a feminine world. The mirror was wearing off, and I needed to improve my presentation, or I was doomed to forever occupy a male spot in the world where I knew I was not in over my head. The white male privileges I was building up were just too easy to not take advantage of. Ironically, all the good I was accomplishing in the world with my family, friends and job was frustrating me because, deep down, I did not want it.

What was happening was my frail mental health was being destroyed by all the gender ripping and tearing I was going through. One day I was a successful man and the next I was working to present my self as a woman was very destructive to my everyday existence because the whole process took me back to my gender fluid days when I was a kid. Back in those days, no one knew about the gender fluid term, or used it which put me in over my head before I even really started in life. Remember, I grew up in the pre-internet dark ages when anyone who cross dressed was considered mentally ill. At least I knew, even though I might be alone as a transvestite (another term from the dark ages), I was not mentally ill.

I barely survived the dark ages when I did learn there were actually individuals like me who wanted to dress as women. I would be remiss if I did not mention Virginia Prince and her Transvestia publication at this point. It was my lifeline to the cross-dressing world and opened my closet for the first time. When the light came flooding in, at first, I was blinded, and it was difficult to find my bearings. My first transvestite-crossdresser mixers I went to left me more confused than ever before. I knew I was in over my head when I saw and occasionally chatter with a few of the ultra-feminine women who I could see no masculine traits at all and on the other hand, I knew I was innately more feminine than many of the cross dressers I met. So, I left with more questions than answers.

I was caught in the same place for years as I explored the world looking for myself. Surely, along the way, I found myself in over my head as I transitioned but I kept going anyhow. Too stubborn to quit and waste the new feminine privileges I was working so hard to gain. To use another example, I threw myself into the deep end of the gender pond before I had learned how to swim. I gave myself no choice but to make it. Fortunately, all the mirror time working on my presentation as I wanted to be like the beautiful cross dressers I saw in Transvestia came back to help me. If I could present myself to blend in with the world, it gave me one step up to make it as a transfeminine person.

I certainly was in over my head enough to earn my right to play in the girl’s sandbox, and fill out my gender workbook.

 

Deadly Serious

 

Image from Nicholas COMTE
on UnSplash

Looking back at my long (50 year) gender journey, I wonder now how I became so deadly serious as I considered myself more than a casual cross dresser.

I came a long way from just experimenting with my mom’s clothing to where I am today. As I live fulltime as a transgender woman. Many days, if I have the time to even think about it, I wonder how I went about connecting my dots during my travel from the male to female gender. But, before I go any farther, I should mention two things. First of all, I have nothing against cross dressers, as I spent too many years being one to attempt to put myself up on any sort of gender pedestal. Secondly, I don’t consider myself a female in the strictest sense of the word. That is why you might notice I use the transgender or transfeminine word more frequently. In addition, I strongly feel the woman word (and man) are both socialized terms as many females or males never make it to being true women or men. Now, since I got all of that out of the way, what does that have to do with being deadly serious about anything. Not much, but I always like to clear the air.

In my life, I can only remember being deadly serious about two things, the first was following an often-vague path to my own version of womanhood and the other was Army basic training. In the Army, your secondary MOS or job classification is infantry which means I received the same training as everyone else who were going to Vietnam for a very uncertain future. So, the bottom line was, I took my military training deadly seriously. Just in case I needed it later. Fortunately, I never did. Naturally, pursuing my feminine path was destined to be just the opposite.

It seemed, the more I tried to do as a novice cross dresser or transgender woman, the more I wanted to do. I forced myself away from the easy gender experiences I was trying, into a true interaction with the world and my challenges became much more serious but not quite to the deadly stage. I think the reason was, I was still experimenting with people as strangers. Not like somebody I would see more than once. I was naïve and thought people would not remember me for what I was, a man in drag or a dress. When other people began to see me repeatedly it was good for both of us because I needed to up my presentation game and quit changing wigs every time I went out. To succeed in the new world I was creating, people needed to see I was deadly serious about being accepted in the new mainstream venues I was going to when I gave up on going to the gay venues I tried.

More importantly, I lived through all the bumps and bruises I suffered as I silently fought back against the gender bigots I faced. Some of which were not so silent as I attempted to enter the so-called women only spaces such as restrooms. One night, I was called a pervert by an irate cisgender woman before I backed her down. She was the one I had to threaten with LGBTQ sanctions on her business if she did not leave me alone. Which she did.

The more comfortable I became in my transgender world, the more deadly serious I became about doing more. Soon I was to the point where I was like a runaway train heading down a one-way track as my manhood was coming to an end. One of the final acts of severing what was left of him came when I was approved for and started gender affirming hormones or HRT. My body took to the new hormones flawlessly to the point when I wondered why I hadn’t been on them all along.

The reason was relatively simple, as the changes from the HRT would preclude me from going back to the male life I had worked so hard to establish. Would I be deadly serious enough to risk all I had built up such as a long-term marriage, a family and friends plus a very good job which I could have never transitioned on.

Finally, after years of introspection, I made the decision to go as far as I could without surgery into a transgender life. With all I had to lose at the age of sixty, I decided “playtime” was over, and it was time to be deadly serious again and never look back as I had reached my dream of living in a transfeminine world.

 

Buckle Up!

 

Alpha Gatekeeper Hope
Who Let Me In!

If you are a transgender woman or trans man and you have been transitioning along your gender path for any length of time, you know there are plenty of highs and lows to prepare for.

I know on my gender journey; I have had to buckle up for many rough roads ahead. I have many examples I write about often such as being told to leave one venue I started to go to when I decided to leave the gay bars behind and go to mainstream straight venues. I went home in tears like when I was laughed out of malls by groups of teenaged girls when I first attempted to go out in public. For a long time, I never thought I had a chance of living my transgender dreams at all.

Deep down, something told me to fasten my seat belt and keep trying to succeed. You see, the problem was all along in my life, if something went wrong, I ran to my skirts and put on makeup to make it go away. In these cases, I had nowhere to run, so I had to get it right. I was in a corner, and I couldn't get out without a lot of work. It turned out to me, the whole process was a labor of love, and I felt good going forward on my gender path. The problem was I was still quite naïve about what I was facing and thought success could be found if I just was able to present properly as a woman. To try the new world out I was in, I went to all sorts of different situations. Examples were when I went to a downtown festival and an outdoor concert just to see if I could. Following painstakingly applying my makeup and choosing just the right clothes, I managed to be successful at both, and my confidence soared.

When I did, my frail confidence was shattered again when I learned the world was curious about me as a transfeminine person. It meant I would have to really buckle up and do more than trying just to look like a woman, I needed to communicate like a woman. All of that turned out to be harder than it sounds (no pun intended). I found out quickly that women operate on a different wavelength than men. Men use a more simplified straight forward approach to communicating with each other and other women. On the other hand, I discovered I better refine my listening skills, plus be aware women communicate with each other on non-verbal wavelengths. Also, eye contact with other women became very important too, if I was ever going to be allowed to play in the girl’s sandbox by the alpha female gatekeepers.

As with anything else, I needed to allow practice to become perfect if I was ever going to succeed at reaching my goal of living as a transgender woman. To do it, I needed to forget my unreachable dream of being able to present so well as a woman that anyone would ever think I was cisgender. To begin with, testosterone poisoning had taken all of that idea away from me. I needed to re-buckle up my expectations and know the best I could do was follow my path as a woman from a different background. To succeed, I needed invitations from cis-gender women to their girls’ nights out so I could observe and learn how other women acted when men were not around. Naturally, I needed to put what was left of my male ego behind me when I had to buckle up and attend several of these meetups. My primary example came one night when I was invited along with a group of servers where I went to, to another upscale venue to party. They were all young and attractive and immediately were surrounded by attentive males, leaving me by myself and my drink. I learned a powerful lesson that night why certain attractive women tend to hang out together.

I was fortunate as I traveled my gender journey, I had key alpha females to help me with my seatbelt. As an example, I have added the picture of “Hope” who ironically gave me hope for my future dreams. She was the first bartender I ever met who went out of her way to be kind to me, all the way to introducing me to her lesbian mother who I stay in touch with to this day. Hope led the way for me to be accepted by others and thrive in the girls’ sandbox, and I will never forget her for it.

My main message is, no matter how many bumps and bruises you may suffer along your own gender journey, just try to securely fasten your seatbelt and make the trip as interesting as possible. Just remember, not many are able to make the same journey and achieve their dreams of living as a transgender woman.

 

 

 

A Tale of Contrasts

 

Image from UnSplash.

No matter how you cut it, our gender is a tale of contrasts.

From the earliest age, we are forced into rigid gender roles, who for most people, work out quite nicely because they never question their assigned roles. Then there are those of us who just as early in life begin to question our placement on the gender spectrum. In my case, I knew something was wrong, I just could not figure out what. Then, as I became older, I made the discovery every morning when I had to determine what gender I had to be for the day. A jarring discovery to be sure.

Naturally, since I was born male, I needed to own up to the fact I had to do my best to face the world each day as a guy until I could slip behind my own gender curtain and put on women’s clothes and makeup. Early on, as I lived my limited feminine life in the mirror, I thought appearance was my number one goal towards living my gender dreams. It was not until much later in life did, I began to understand how wrong I was. There were many more contrasts between men and women that I ever dared to think about. Mainly because I was viewing how women live only through rose colored glasses as I thought they had easier lives than men.

It wasn’t until I began to pay my gender dues as a transfeminine person, did I begin to see the reality of what I was looking at if I decided to transition. As I was making my way into what I call the girl’s sandbox, I was getting tested regularly to see if I belonged. On some days I was successful and happy and on others, I was getting beat up (or clawed) and needed to retreat before I came back for more. One thing was for sure, all of this testing from other women was doing me good, because I never quit trying.

The main thing I did learn was one that I vaguely knew, women had their own world away from men and had their own alpha’s who ran the show. Once I was accepted by them, the rest of my life as a transgender woman was so much easier. But, on the other hand, the testing process was so much harder because the alphas were so much more wary of me wanting to be in their world. My second wife was an alpha and she made sure I worked long and hard to even try to earn a spot in the sandbox. An example was one of the many times she told me there was so much more to being a woman than just looking like one and it took me years to understand what she meant.

Perhaps the second most difficult part of being accepted in the feminine world was being able to communicate with other women. Out were the days of trying to bluster my way through a conversation and in were the days when I needed to look another woman in the eye and appear to be less threatening. While at the same time having eyes on my back for a passive aggressive attack. I learned the hard away on that to never trust a smiling face completely.

As I learned to communicate with other women, my life in public became so much easier and I could begin to relax more as I was beginning to put my entire feminine picture into focus. I could forget about completely focusing on my looks and movement and could concentrate on being social with the world. Which was important to me since I had always been a socially active person. Plus, as I always mention, men were never much of a factor to me since most of them ran and hid from me completely. Which was OK since I did not really know how to handle them as a transgender woman either.

My life of contrasts was coming to an end when I entered the final chapter with gender affirming hormones or HRT. The hormones were magical when they started their changes on me. I think most people consider external changes such as skin, breasts and hair to be important, and they are but to me, internal changes were more important. In a remarkable short span of time, I became more emotional as my world softened. Making me into a complete person.

I am biased, but I think my tale of contrasts made me into a better human being as I could understand both binary genders better. Since I had lived in both. Plus, after having the chance to live as both, I made the right choice to live as a transgender woman, even though at times, it was an intensely lonely and difficult journey. Which could be another blog post.

Cutting a Life in Half

  

JJ Hart at Witches' Ball

Cutting life in half is difficult.

Perhaps I am biased, but I feel transgender women and transgender men feel the cut deeper than the rest of the population. Some of you may even remember the days when a transsexual person was expected to go through gender realignment surgery, then move to a completely different town and start all over with their life.

At my age, I remember all of that, and it was one of the reasons I balked at going through a major gender transition in my life. However, I was fortunate. I had two transsexual role models who were determined to do the gender change in their own way. One was a Columbus, Ohio fireperson who restored her own house in German Village, an upscale historical area of Columbus. She was preparing to retire from the fire department and there was no way she would move after surgery. It has been many years since I have heard from her and the last, I had heard she and a lesbian had moved in together.

The other transsexual I briefly knew was a beautiful woman who was going to complete her gender surgeries also. As I remember, she was an accomplished electrical engineer who would have no problem finding a job wherever she decided to go. We were never close, so I lost contact with her too.

Back in those days, I was very naïve and considered a very feminine appearance was all it took to cut your life in half and start all over. I had not yet even begun to pay my dues to be able to slip behind the gender curtain. One of my main considerations back then was how far did I want to go to cut my life in half and start all over. I certainly did not have the money saved up for gender surgeries and loved my wife and new family. A lot to consider giving up. The only thing I did know was, I thought about it continually.

Then I began to explore seriously what it would take to cut my life where it was the beginning again and I could start all over as a transgender woman. Another problem I had was, the more successful baggage I accumulated as a man, the harder it would be to stop the train and go back. I was stubborn and tried to take the middle road. I worked on my makeup presentation and fashion and shopped till I dropped for just the right piece to add to my closet. At no point did I ever consider myself attractive, but I did feel I had done enough in my appearance to live that way for the rest of my life if I needed to.

As I reached the point of no return, it was time to cut my life and start all over again, but I did not. Sure, I had given away what was left of my male clothes to charity, but I did not give away my lifelong love of sports and women too. I found the big sports bars I used to frequent as a man were also welcoming to me as a transgender woman. And most amazingly, I learned my sexuality did not have to change either. I had more cisgender women and lesbians approach me as a new transfeminine woman as I ever did as a man. Dispelling another myth from the old days that when your gender changed by surgery, your sexuality had to change too.

What I did get rid of was any pictures or awards from my past. When other women talked about their families, I could talk about mine also, but just to a point. I found out the hard way, there would be no hint given at any time that I was a veteran and drafted during the Vietnam era. The entire process turned out to be a sure-fire way to out myself and draw reference to my male life if I was not careful.

Cutting and resurrecting a long life is never easy. Especially when people are curious about you. I went through tons of trial-and-error conversations before I finally began to get it right. Now I save details of my life for people like the prying woman a couple of weeks ago at the graduation party I went to. She went to the extent of calling me dad because of my daughter so I went to the extent of telling her I was drafted in the military during Vietnam. Plus, to confuse her even more, I told her my first wife, and third wife were sitting at the table also. After that, she gave up and left. It’s rare I have ever had a chance to pick and win such a battle.

In no way though, do I ever want to make any of this sound fun, because it is not. What stays and what goes away is always such a difficult set of decisions to make. I hope you can make yours easily.

 

 

 

Living the Transgender Reality

 

Image from Brian Kyed
on UnSplash. 

For me, living a life as a transgender woman was much different than my life as a cross dresser.

I mention it because of the comments I receive here mentioning those of you who may be on different phases of your gender journey and are on the gender balance beam. Such as regular reader “Michelle” who commented: That “gender balance beam” you described? God, it brought me back. The confusion, the hope, the guilt, the not-knowing—all of it. And the way you talk about HRT, how your body just... knew? That hit me so hard. I’m still early in my journey, but reading stories like yours gives me hope that it can work out. Even if it’s messy and hard."

Thanks for the comment! Yes, somehow my body knew I had just made the right choice when I started gender affirming hormones under a doctor’s care. As far as the balance beam went, I have never been coordinated enough to stay on any sort of object, but somehow, I was able to stabilize myself several times and live a transfeminine reality.

Backtracking just a bit, this morning I read a thoughtful post on Stanas' Femulate blog which went into how women accept (or don’t) when their men come out to them as cross dressers. In my case, I write excessively on how my second and third wives interacted when confronted with my gender issues.

The entire interaction was a story of contrasts between the two women who never had the chance to meet when my second wife passed away. My second wife knew of my cross dressing before we were married, and it was never an issue for her. Although she never let on, she never liked the feminine version of me at all. The problem arose as it became increasingly evident, I was much more than your average cross dresser, as I increasingly slid towards my reality of being a transgender woman. The problems all of this gender turmoil created were never her fault. They were mine because I refused to face the reality of who I really was regardless of the costs.  She was well within her rights to refuse me any help as I moved towards my gender dream which would not include her, and I understood that.

Now, on to my third wife Liz. I have been with her for over a decade now. In many ways, she is the exact opposite of my second deceased wife. Liz met me online in a woman seeking woman chat room and rescued me from a very dark time in my life. I was falling off the balance beam. After many months of chatting back and forth, we decided to meet up for our first date with a couple of other women at a drag show.

At the time, I was still reluctant to finish my male to female gender transition. I was living a minimum amount of time as a man, and I had not started hormones yet. The reality of transitioning was still sinking in. After a few months of being around Liz, she told me she had never seen any male in me so what was I waiting for? All I needed to do was make a doctor’s appointment and start HRT and within a very short period of time move in with her in Cincinnati. So, I was able to make a clean start as a transgender woman.

As you can tell, during my life I have been blessed to be with several women who loved me and I learned from all three, including my first wife who I saw just last week as she is the mother of my only child. Even though she only knew me as a crossdresser, we still get along.

Any way you cut it, coming out to a woman you are in a relationship with is one of the most difficult realities of being a cross dresser or transgender woman. I think women who accept us are saints for putting up with such a unique set of challenges. What hurt me the most was my second wife agreeing to me becoming the best woman I could become then not liking the feminine person I was becoming. In all fairness to her, I did go through many changes in my reality when I transitioned and she passed away before meeting the true me. I doubt if there was any way we could have stayed together but maybe we could have been friends.

Maybe you can use the old marriage pun: Life is a bitch until you marry one. And change it around to being transgender is a bitch, until you become one. The truth of transgender reality?

 

 

A Trans Girl in the Arena

 

JJ Hart at a Witches Ball. 

Or, should I say, a scared trans girl in a new arena.

As I started my gender transition from male to female, I truthfully did not have an idea of the complexity of what I was getting myself into. I had closely studied the ciswomen around me for years to try to see what made them tick and how they survived the challenges in their lives. I also learned the hard way; I could only go so far until I was allowed behind the gender curtain.

My first initial shock when I entered the arena of life as a transfeminine person was everyone would be looking at me. Sure, I was used to the fact that all men looked at women and judged them, but I was not prepared for women doing the same thing and even more so. Since I was never the most attractive woman in the room, I did not have to worry about most men giving me a second look. Except those men who desired me for what I was, a transgender woman.

Women were a completely different deal. I found quickly how another woman could look you up and down, and head to toe. Judging me without saying a word. It took me awhile to get over the experience and plan for it. If I was going casual or professional, it did not matter, I needed to be perfect in my presentation. From accessories to shoes, I needed to shine, or blend. In other words, I needed to be better than the average ciswoman to survive in the new arena of life I chose. An arena where everyone noticed who I was or wasn’t.

After the initial shock wore off, I learned that this part of my new transfeminine life was just something I needed to get used to. For the most part, I was used to men shunning me and women showing interest in me because they were curious what I was doing in their world. I ignored the men and concentrated on the attention I was getting from the women because I was learning so much from them about how to survive in the new gender world I was in. Sure, I suffered several bumps and bruises along the way, but I survived and moved forward. Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly until I found my way.

Being a trans girl in a big arena surely brought on a new set of challenges when I lost all of my male privileges. Such as my right to personal security and my right to express myself to the best of my ability. I was used to being able to scare off most all of potential physical danger as a man, which of course was all lost as a woman and I was nearly attacked several times before I learned. Also, being excluded in conversations simply because of who I was became a common place. Both aspects of my life were something I did not quite bargain for when I entered the new arena I was in.

The nuances of living in a new arena became a common place for me. As I transitioned from cross dresser to full time transgender woman, I knew I was in the right place, and I could see the so-called finish line ahead. Or so I thought.

Now at the age of seventy-five, I can see the finish line but for the most part it has nothing to do with my gender arena. The finish line I am seeing has to do with my own mortality and how my family will remember me. In many ways, I am the unintended role model for my transgender grandchild who is facing an uncertain world. I say unintended because I had nothing to do with my grandchild’s life choices. They (choice of pronouns) are just fortunate in that their parents are so supportive of the life choices they make coming from such a diverse family environment.

I believe we will never stop transitioning in our lives. We keep transitioning all the way to the grave as transgender women and trans men whose families refuse to bury the trans people as their authentic selves. The final battle and insult. The arena never seems to be quiet at all.

At the least I could say, the journey to the gender arena and the successes and failures on how I survived were never boring and not something the average human will ever know. Perhaps, it is part of the reason we have been demonized by a certain political party when most of the population has never met a transgender person. If they ever stepped into our arena and saw our life firsthand. They would know, we are not such monsters after all, just average people trying to make it in the arenas we chose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.  

 

 

Seismic Gender Shifts

Image from AC on UnSplash.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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. 

Forever Dancing

 

Image from Alexa Posteraro
on UnSplash.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Authenticity

Transgender flag flying at 
Cincinnati's City Hall.

 In order to just get by in the world, transgender women, or trans men need to be authentic. Which is always easier said than done. 

First of all, you need the confidence to try out your new self in an exciting yet scary different world. Maybe, a person smarter than me has an idea on how to provide yourself with confidence other just by just doing it. For transgender women, among other things, it means putting aside all the hard-earned male privileges we came to be used to. In order to be truly authentic in our transgender womanhood, everything male had to go. 

It took me years, or even decades to get around to living authentically as a trans woman. Before I was able to, I needed to adjust my thinking to what a woman really was, and what she had to go through during her life. As my second wife kept trying to tell me, there was so much more to womanhood than just looking like one. Finally, I started to realize what she meant, but it was not until I made it out into the world as a novice transgender woman, did I realize what she really meant. For me, it meant the girls nights out I was invited to, along with everyday communication helped me to discover my true feminine self. 

Even still, all those nights I went out to be by myself were not helping me with my authenticity. I learned the difficult way all females were not women because they were never socialized into womanhood. Through it all, I wondered where the whole process would land me. For years, I feared a hard fall in my life if I had fully transitioned into transgender womanhood, but it never happened for me. I think, the more I learned in my new life helped strangers to interact with me easier, one on one. 

Perhaps the biggest discovery in my life came when I learned firsthand how powerful my internal feminine self was. Once she sensed she had control in my life, she effortlessly took over and guided me to a soft landing when I slid off my gender cliff. One of the main things she did was making me how total the femininization process was once it got started. I guess the first thing she changed was how I looked at my life. For example, she made me realize I was never a man cross dressing as a woman, I was a woman cross dressing as a man. All of a sudden, my early life made sense as to why I could never satisfy the deep craving I had to dress as a woman, only to discover a couple days later, I would be depressed if I could not dress again and find the nearest mirror. I needed constant reassurance I was on the proper path to my own form of transgender womanhood.

I guess, authenticity can only be earned the hard way through lots of work and even experimentation.  When you do experiment, and are successful, gender euphoria and confidence set in and you are ready to move forward in your life.   

Transgender Day of Visibility

 

Transgender Day of Visibility
poster from my
hometown. 

Today is the annual transgender day of visibility on March 31st. 

It is a time such as never before to attempt to stand up and be counted as a transgender woman or transgender man. Sadly, it is also the time we trans people take the most risks to do so. Stakes are becoming higher and higher against us coming out in many areas of the country, especially, here in my native Ohio. Where an overwhelmingly republican legislature in the state capital of Columbus has passed bill after negative bill against us. 

To me, my visibility is an ongoing deal. Since I live fulltime in my transgender womanhood, long ago I decided to never run and hide my feminine nature. Back when I did not have so many mobility issues, I was more of an active participant than I am today. In place of being active at all, I have tried to pick up my pace with my writing and protest with my keyboard and votes. 

Plus, I know I am so fortunate to have found and married an accepting/encouraging spouse who helped usher me into my transgender womanhood. I know so many others in the community who are so lonely. 

Wherever you happen to be in your gender transition, these troubled days present a troubled challenge to being visible. Challenges such as your presentation provide sometimes insurmountable hurdles to being more visible. Similar to a "Catch 22" of passing. In other words, you need to be seen in public to learn if you present well enough to stay out of personal danger, but it is scary to even start to get the experience to begin with.  Again, I was lucky when my time to come out meant at the worst you were laughed at and not beat up. Plus, I was able to put years of practice into makeup, fashion, and wigs when I cross dressed in my closet. If the times were reversed, I often wonder what I would have done differently, if anything. All in all, it is just another one of those life's questions I will never know.

On this transgender day of visibility, I hope all of you find your own way to be visible. Anything from marching in a parade, all the way to looking at yourself in the mirror, find a way to celebrate the rare, beautiful self which is you! 

The Light in the Mirror

 

Image from Alessandro 
Bianchi 
on UnSplash.

I spend quite a bit of time here attacking my mirror when I was growing up.

Recently, I have come to the conclusion some of my negativity could have been wrong. First of all, I was fortunate to have a beautiful full length mirror dad installed at one of the ends of the hallway in our house when I was growing up. When no one else was home, I would spend as much time as I had admiring myself in the hallway mirror. As I did, I could always see a brief dim light in the mirror when I viewed my feminine self for the first time. Even when I knew, the light would have to be extinguished soon, and I would have to go back to my unwanted male world. 

As I grew up and began to explore the world for the first time as a beginning cross dresser, I made plenty of mistakes the mirror did not tell me about. In fact, the mirror light shone brightly and told me I looked great when in fact, I looked just the opposite. I was presenting as a clown in drag with no one to warn me. For a long time, the light in the mirror nearly went completely out as I was rejected in public time and time again resulting in a deep depression for me.

I kept trying though, and the light began to come back on. I lost weight and began to find styles of women's fashion which flattered my body shape and finally began to present better. Especially when I was making the mental transition to novice transgender womanhood from cross dresser. To do it, I needed every break I could muster. Plus, I needed to turn up my light in the mirror, and let my femininized light shine through, so I could see her better. 

The extra light turned out to be all I needed to become more skilled at my makeup art and do the best I could with my testosterone damaged male face. With a little help from a professional makeup person, my light in the mirror grew even brighter, and more importantly, I could trust it. With trust came confidence which equated to more acceptance as a transgender woman in the public's eye. All of a sudden, my lifelong dream to lead a feminine life was within reach. If my light in the mirror stayed on. 

It did and I was even able to turn up my light to a brighter level with the addition of HRT or gender affirming hormones. Among the many other positive changes I went through was when the overall texture of my skin softened. Which meant the male lines in my face softened and I could use less makeup. Specifically, foundation. I quickly learned with more femininized skin and being able to wear my own hair, I was suddenly more presentable to the world. 

Looking back, I may have been too quick to judge my light in the mirror. It just took a little longer (along with the rest of me) to become more situated with living a new life away from my old male self, and perhaps it was my fault for not switching to a brighter bulb sooner. Plus, I was fortunate in that my light in the mirror did not burn out altogether. 

 

Why Not Me?

 

JJ Hart at Club Diversity
Columbus, Ohio

When I was very young, I had the tendency to hide behind my skirts when I needed to deny any masculine pursuits at all. 

Any time I failed, I ran home to see if I could lock myself in the bathroom and apply makeup and try on any of mom's clothes which still fit. I had a dream of finally making it to my own transgender womanhood when I grew older, but I had no idea of how. Back then, little did I know, the journey would take me over fifty years to complete and the path would be so curvy and full of hurdles. If I did, I wonder if I would have ever attempted to try it.

Of course, I started out innocently enough as a cross dresser in a mirror. My reaction was a double-edged sword. One side of the sword told me I was not doing anything really wrong, while the other side wondered if I was the only one in the world doing it. If that was the case, being a transvestite just could not be good. Right? All I had to rely on was my instincts which told me I was on the right path. So, I persisted and stayed on it. Since the only real feedback I had was from the mirror, I needed to rely on it when it was telling me I had advanced on from the clownish drag makeup stage I was into a more acceptable feminine form. At the time, I equated it with painting model cars which I was never good at and I was so proud when I thought I had conquered the basics of makeup. Even to the point of purchasing my own from the newspaper route I had when I was a kid. When my friends were buying model cars, I was buying makeup and loving it. It was not until many years later, would I receive the instruction I needed to really understand the art of makeup, but I was getting by at the time.

Clothes and hair were a whole other problem I needed to try to conquer at the time. With the very limited budget I was on, there was no way I could afford a nice wig all the way to my college years, when I was working a better paying job. In order to buy a wig, I needed the help of my fiancé who bought it under the idea she would possibly wear it. The wig was long and blond and was my cross-dresser's dream and luckily, she hated it, so I inherited it. Even with the abuse I put it through, the wig lasted for years before I needed to finally retire it. Clothes were another problem because again I did not have much money, and these were the days before larger sized women's fashions became available in a younger style. It was not until years later, when thrift stores became abundant, did I finally become fashion independent. 

As my feminine life was coming together, slowly I began to realize transgender womanhood may not be such a reach for me after all. I was beginning to explore all facets of the world as a trans woman and it all felt so natural. The more I attempted and succeeded at in my new life, the less I wanted to go back to my old, boring male world. So, I did not.

I was on a slippery gender slope my path had led me to, and all of a sudden, I did not fear it anymore. Somehow, I knew there was a soft landing out there for me. The stop signs were gone, and I knew at the age of sixty, if I did not try to live my transgender dreams, I would never have the chance and would forever regret my decision. From there, I decided to follow my heart and seek medical help to begin gender affirming hormones or HRT. The hormones forever sealed my trans life, and I never looked back. I always felt my body was looking for the hormones the whole time. Again, a scary gender transitional moment felt so natural. 

Why not me, turned out to be why should not it be me? 

The Grand Search for Discovery

 

Image from Gints Gallis
on UnSplash.

Along the path to transgender womanhood, I made many discoveries. 

It wasn't until I finally made it into the world did, I begin to pick up the pace in being allowed behind the feminine gender curtain, so I could learn for myself what was going on. In other words, I needed to earn my stripes as a trans woman to be allowed in to play in the girl's sandbox. Now, I can't quite remember what my expectations were of being allowed in, I only remember I basically forced my way in. Many times, causing the sand to really fly. 

I discovered most other women accepted me for myself and let it go at that, and I learned quickly to let the others go on their own way. After all, you cannot please everyone at the same time. Plus, the acceptance I gained far outweighed any negatives I experienced. I discovered once I made it past the idea I was attempting to "fool" anyone into thinking I was a cis-gendered woman, the better off I was. When I was satisfied to just be myself, more women reacted to me positively. Probably because they appreciated, I was being truthful with them. I was just busy learning how to live my dream and meant nobody harm.

Even still, my gender path was very winding, and steep with many roadblocks. Similar to many of you, I experienced the pain of separation from family, friends and life in general as I transitioned and femininized myself. Many times, I needed to stop and rest on my path because the effort exhausted me.

Out of all the discoveries I made, one of the biggest ones was when I made the transition from weekend or parttime cross dresser to novice transgender woman. Even though I was just dealing in basic gender semantics, the shift in thought was a major one for me. All of a sudden, I began to feel I was achieving my childhood dream of being a woman. Not just looking like one. When I did make the discovery, to change my life, my path ahead became fairly well illuminated. Now, I had the usual hurdles to jump through such as how to make my way out of the mirror and into the sandbox but overall, I had the confidence to move forward.  

The other main discovery I made as I entered transgender womanhood, was how important the gender affirming hormones would be to me. Of course, I knew the physical changes I would go through such as changes to my body such as breast growth. However, nothing prepared me for the internal changes which would go on. All of a sudden, for the first time in my life, I could cry tears of joy as well as sorrow. In essence, estradiol softened my entire life and quickly took the testosterone related universe I lived in away from me. A huge discovery. 

Of course, every discovery does not have to be a good one. When my second wife discovered I was sneaking out of the house to live as a transgender woman was certainly not a good discovery for me. It took me weeks of apologizing and even therapy to save what was left of our twenty-five-year marriage. Which I managed to do until she unexpectedly passed away. When she did, I discovered what loneliness was all about. 

Every human life is filled with discovery if you are living it right. It seems transgender women and transgender men live have an extra amount of discovery. It is very rare a person who has the chance to explore the two binary genders to determine which one they want to live as. I feel it is one of the reasons so many people these days misunderstand our trans community and treat us poorly or even with hate. We have found how deep trans bigotry suddenly runs in our country, led on by a certain felon as president. Which is all I am going to say about it. 

In the meantime, I hope all your discoveries are positive and exciting.

Nice to be Wanted

 

Image from UnSplash.

This morning, I had several errands to run. 

Neither of the errands required much prep time on my part since I knew ahead of time what I was going to face. Speaking of face, almost all that I did this morning was shaved mine. After a very close shave and an application of moisturizer, I was almost ready to go. 

When I arrived at my first destination, it was mostly empty, so I headed directly for the greeting/birthday card section. The pressure was on to buy the right cards to the best of my ability. The first card I needed was for a longtime friend of mine whose mother who is turning one hundred this year. I was thinking what in the world type of card could I ever get which would be appropriate for a person reaching such a wonderful milestone in her life. I think I picked a card which would be fine for the occasion.

The second card I had to pick out was for my wife Liz's brother who was reaching a milestone of his own. His 60th birthday. In addition, he has a very dry sense of humor, so it was difficult to judge which, if any, card would work for him or Liz. One way or another, in a vacuum, I made a decision for better or worse and moved on to the other items I needed to pick up. 

My first interaction face to face with a person in the store was with a clerk who was checking me out. In more ways than one, I think. To be clear, I don't think he found me attractive, but I do think he knew I was transgender. The reason was, he was very, very nice to me and made me feel very welcome as I left the store with my cards and other items I needed.

After a couple of other stops, equally as positive, I finally stopped at a coffee shop drive thru to pick up coffee and breakfast items for Liz and me. After the give and take with the guy at the speaker and window, I received my order and was pleasantly surprised when the name on my cup said, "You Rock!"  

The whole morning was obviously very supportive for me, and I am fortunate to live in a liberal suburb of Cincinnati and it showed this morning. Plus, I was waited on by younger men who seem to be more accepting to an obvious transgender woman. 

Changing the subject now, my resignation from the Greater Cincinnati Alzheimer's diversity council when they decided to drop the "diversity" part of their name was accepted so it now is a part of my past. I am saddened but was something I needed to do and not be a hypocrite.  

Finally, today, I am awaiting news on my request to renew my Estradiol prescription with my VA endocrinologist. The whole process used to be fairly routine but now, I am not so sure. When I hear back, I will let you all know. 

For me, it has been a busy day.

In a further update, my request to renew my Estradiol patches has been approved, so I am very relieved!