Do the Amish Care?

Ohio has several areas dominated by the Amish culture and one happens to be within a day trip of our home in Cincinnati. 

Photo Credit: JJ Hart

Since the weather was actually becoming more hospitable, Liz and I decided to make the trip to one of the major Amish stores in the area. If it sounds like a contradiction in terms it isn't. After driving miles off the Appalachian Highway in the less than liberal rural Ohio, we reached our destination. Out of nowhere near "Dunkinsville" (true story) in a farm field was a layout of what amounted to an Amish Mall. It had three major shops plus a big workshop building where they built everything from furniture to chicken coups. 

By now I was wondering what I had gotten myself into. Here I was in decidedly tRumpt country heading into an Amish store. I felt as if I was the only transgender woman within a hundred miles. As it normally does for me, time slowed to a crawl as we went in the front doors. Once I did, we found ourselves in a wonderful store with one side devoted to everyday housing needs and the other half to what we came for. All sorts of different delicious jellies, candies and too many pickled products to mention. 

As we browsed the shelves any thoughts I had of being mis-gendered went away. Everyone was too immersed in their own shopping to care about me. It was true. My deceased wife once told me "it's not always about you." Later on though it did become all about me. 

The store also had a mini deli where you could buy bulk meat and cheeses or a place where you could order a sandwich and various sides. As Liz and I chose of of the few remaining seats, we ended up sitting next to a rather rough looking family with several teen boys who couldn't stop glancing at me. About that time I braced myself for the comments to follow since I was sitting close enough to them to hear everything they said. 

Finally, I survived and heard no ugly gender comments and was able to enjoy one of favorite treats, a garlic bologna sandwiches on big slices of sourdough bread. The family finally left ahead of us. leaving my last interaction with the Amish themselves at the checkout counter. 

The Amish man at the check out register didn't give me a second glance but his daughter did. I approximated her age to be around seven or eight and she paid me quite a bit of attention. When she looked at me it brought back memories of an encounter I had in a clothing store when I was shopping. As I was checking the blouses, I abruptly came across a young girl. She promptly announced to her Mother look at the big woman. I thought at the least she perceived me as feminine and then she said a big mean woman. From then on, I resolved to change the old male scowl on my face and I did the same thing with the young Amish girl. I looked at her and smiled. When I did, she turned away and went back to whatever she was doing.

Looking back at the day, of course the Amish wouldn't care if I was transgender or stare. After all , I would imagine they go through the same problem if they journey outside of their home base. Plus, we were spending money with them. 

We paid and headed back to civilization.

Crossing the Cross Dresser

 Recently I think it was Mark who was confused by a few of my comments about me transitioning from a cross dresser all the way to a full time out (and proud) transgender woman.  Finally, I got it through my thick noggin not all people understand what I am writing about.

Over the years too, I have tried not to be condescending to all cross dressers by appearing to take a "transer than thou" attitude. Most of the time I tried to add a sentence alluding to the fact, in many ways I spent nearly a half a century trying to decide or gather the courage to face head on my reality...I was always destined to live in a feminine world. Completely. 

Finally I came to the conclusion my life was a series of gender transitions. From innocent explorer into my Mom's clothes to a full fledged exploration of girl's fashion all the way to hormone replacement therapy and living full time as my authentic self. All of them sandwiched in between life's normal transitions as we age.

If I had been true to myself I would have understood years ago I was more into being a girl than I was looking like one.

As I wrote in a recent post, there are very few people who knew me at all in my cross dressing days and Connie was one. Here is her comment:

Cross Dressing Photo
JJ Hart

"I guess, technically, I met you (online) when you were still considering yourself to be a cross dresser. I remember expressing my doubt to you when you told me you were content balancing your male and female lives. Of course, I never knew the "before you," even if you were showing that to others. It didn't feel to me as though your transition was anything other than inevitable - even as hard as you were trying to make a cross dresser's life work. I knew it because I had realized it of myself. I think that I even asked you if you thought you were cross dressing as a female or a male. ;-)"

Thanks for the insightful comment. Again it wasn't until I started to live as my authentic gender self, did I realize I was viewing life the entirely wrong way. All those years I was pretending  to be a macho man, all I was doing was cross dressing as a man.

So, as you can tell, I believe there are many levels of cross dressing to consider and the bottom line is if you feel good doing it you should.

Life is too short to go at it any other way.  Only you can determine how supposedly selfish it is to involve your gender pursuits with others. I have been amazed over the years how some cross dressers either are able to stay in the closet. In many ways they could be a better person than I. Straddling both sides of the binary gender spectrum nearly killed me.

Crossing the cross dresser was the only way I could go.

A Clean Transgender Slate?

 As I sat here this morning it was one the few days I didn't have any clear idea of what I was going to write about. It also helped that neither my problem knees or back weren't really bothering me for a change. I was ready to face the world...or the computer.

Photo Credit : Jessie Hart

Of course as it usually does, my mind started to work overtime and I started to wonder if any transgender person really does ever have a clean slate when it comes to their lives. It seems to me the baggage we carry from our youth and/or the continuing gender dysphoria we experience stays with us in various forms for our entire life. 

On occasion I find my writing to be a source of personal therapy and any response I receive between here and the Medium writers format is a form of icing on the cake,  Take for example the response I received from Lsjaffee on my recent post "Whose Fault was It?" Which made a reference to the pregnancy drug DES:

"The irony is that my mom took DES because she was conditioned in the 1950s to think that women at 30 couldn’t get pregnant. Like you, I wonder what impact it had on how I turned out. But in her case, she was homophobic and transphobic (the latter I discovered late in her life when dementia ate away what little brain cells she had yet). Yet I had sympathy for her when she, in a rare moment of clarity, described being groped on the subway when she was a teenager, or how her father mentally abused her mother. It was in a letter from my mother to my grandmother that I found 10 years ago cleaning out a drawer that revealed she took DES. I tucked that revelation away until 2 years ago when I tried making sense of why I am. It’s definitely clearer now."

That comment alone helped me to take another look back at my past and showed me one of my posts could be therapeutic to others. How all of that relates to a "clean transgender slate" remains to be seen. In fact, now my devious mind is stuck on being paranoiac about landing in a transphobic nursing home in my final years of life. Finally, I am working my way out of all the needless anxiety which it fosters.

Along the way also, a "transgender clean slate" has meant to me being able to ignore the people in my life who decided not to accept my transition to my authentic feminine self. My prime example is my brother and his in laws. After my wife passed away, who took it upon herself to cook for the entire family on Thanksgiving, my sister in law inherited the task. It just so happened it was just before the holiday when I decided to come out of the closet and tell what was left of my world I was a transgender woman. Before I came unannounced to the family gathering as my new authentic self, I decided to give my brother the benefit of the doubt to see if my invitation still stood.  It turned out I wasn't and we went our separate ways. Sad but true. 

Through it all, I knew I wouldn't be able to come through my transition unscathed but more or less I did.

It's the only reason I was able to reestablish myself in the world as the person I was always meant to be and set up a new :Clean Transgender Slate."