Playing in the Girls Sandbox

Very early in my transition into a feminine world. I discovered all was not all it seemed behind the scenes, Or what I called playing in the girls sandbox. In the beginning all seemed rosy. Sales clerks eager for my money met me with a smile. Plus, the servers where I went to eat and drink were happy to see me because I was nice and tipped well.

The deeper I went into how the sandbox really worked, I found flaws in the system. For example, it was re-enforced with me how women work in cliques while on the other hand, men form teams. Taking the example a step further, I found how I dressed could help me to fit in with a certain group of women.

Before I drifted into the Boho fashion craze, I found I could present convincingly as a professional woman. In fact, one of the first nights out I ever had was when I dressed in a professional woman's attire and went to an upscale bar frequented by other similarly dressed women. Looking back, I consider the night as the tipping point on my journey from being a cross dresser all the way towards being a novice transgender woman. Also I should point out I was terrified and sat in the parking lot for nearly a half hour before going in. I guess something was telling me this was going to be a key moment in my life.

Photo by Marcus Spiske
On Unsplash.

As it turned out, it was only a civilized introduction to the sandbox. As I drifted away from the upscale bar, I drifted into sports bars where I was often the only single woman at the bar watching sports or participating in games such as trivia. All went fairly well until I met up with several couples I began to be on a first name basis with. I learned the hard way to reject even the smallest amounts of acceptance from the men. When I did the smiles were replaced by claws or worse yet, knives in my back. Very quickly I learned where my place in the sandbox was.

As I did all of this, I was drinking copious amounts of beer which led me of course to needing to use the women's room. Or should I say, the litter box. The amount of alcohol I was drinking had the effect of being a double edged sword. On one hand it emboldened me to try to explore living as my authentic self but on the other hand, forced me into using restrooms I wasn't welcomed in. 

Of course I have written before about some of the more unpleasant experiences I had in the restroom. Overall, I was amazed how I could be seemingly accepted and socialized with until I had to use the litter box.

I was fortunate in  that I survived my early days in the girl's sandbox relatively unclawed. Perhaps it was becuase the feminine clique I landed in was unthreatening to most women. I didn't fit in with the cheerleading types. I tried my best just to be social and it must have worked.

From Both Sides

 Fairly recently I wrote yet another rest room post. This time though I sought out experiences from Transgender men. I often wondered if trans men felt the same anxiety as many transgender women when using the restroom which fits their authentic self. From several comments on my Medium writers format I found out they did. 

Here is the first comment from Jamison :

"I started at a new school, I'm a teacher, this past fall. Only 3 people knew I was a trans man. No one knew any different. In fact, there was this one teacher that was on my college softball team. Even with my same, rarely seen last name, had no clue I was AFAB!

Photo from Unsplash 

The first time I used a public restroom. I was terrified. I was so sure I was going to get clocked, because I had read where urinating sitting down from a vagina sounds different hitting the water than from a penis. Therefore, I would only pee when someone either flushed or washed their hands. When I would walk into the RR, I would take a quick look around to find the stalls. Once they were located, my line of sight went back down to about 6 foot in front of me while I made my way to the toilet. One of my worst fears was the possibility of my packer falling onto the floor. It actually happened once, at an airport. Luckily, the stalls next to me were empty!!"

And all this time I thought I was the only one paranoid about how my urine hit the water when I peed! Thanks for the comment. The second comes from Norm:

"On the whole, I would say that the transgender male experience is far less socially difficult than I thought (although my self-esteem loves to remind me otherwise), though I am also autistic and may not be picking up on negative nonverbal signals about how I move through the world. I don't perceive (so far) much change in how I am treated at work (I am a software engineer who came out and stayed at the same company), but I would be very interested in how I would be perceived as a stealth man elsewhere, should my career ever take me elsewhere. I theorize that right now, since most coworkers knew me as female for almost a year (and likewise know me as openly autistic, which opens the ableism can of worms), they just don't subconsciously read me as a 'real' man and hence don't subconsciously treat me like one."

Again, thanks to both of you for bringing another aspect of what should be a very simple aspect of our lives (the rest room) into focus.

Knock Knock

 Recently I read a post describing a person's battle with gender dysphoria in their younger years. I wish I could contribute it to a certain person but for the most part I can't remember details from last week. So I just can't.

What I do remember from the post really hit home to me when the author described the torment they went through growing up trying to figure out if they were a boy or a girl. Way before the term gender dysphoric was even used. Or knock knock was I a boy or a girl.

As many of you probably remember also, the pain and torment of the two binary genders was very real. I describe it as being the round peg being pounded into the square hole. I know I would wake up on more than a few mornings deeply disappointed I was still a boy. Especially after having a dream I was a girl. 

Another example was one of the vacation trips we went on to Canada from our native Ohio. Along the way there is a very boring stretch of highway between Detroit and Toronto. Normally about this time my younger brother and I were about ready to harm each other but on this particular trip I still remember the young girl who was probably close to my age that we kept passing on the four lane road.  Initially I was fascinated with her then completely jealous. Why couldn't it be me with all that hair and pretty face? Finally we passed their car for the final time and she was out of my life forever. I ended up putting my pillow over my head and tried to sleep my frustration away.

         

Photo from Unsplash

My "knock-knock" which gender am I didn't become obvious until many years later. Sadly, or even tragically, I spent years denying my authentic feminine self. One night when I went out to be alone, I sat and pondered my future. By this time, my wife of twenty five years plus three of my best friends had all passed away. As I sat there in my makeup, wig and clothes I felt so natural that I finally said to myself why not transition. What else is there to lose. So I did. 

I finally followed my instincts at the age of 61 and set out to discover the true me.

What I found was terrifying yet thrilling. Here I was with a chance to reinvent myself. Plus, have a chance to do it as my authentic self. The person I was destined to become all along. Deep down inside I knew it but was so afraid,

 Knock Knock! I'm home. A fully out and proud transgender woman. The wait was worth it. I didn't do it alone though. Thanks to all of you who helped!