Gender Patterns

Photo from the
Jessie Hart Archives

It is no secret both binary genders have patterns, ingrained in us from childhood. From very early in life, we are forced into either square or round holes. Depending upon our perceived exterior gender we are pronounced a boy or a girl and are expected to adjust and live as such.

The problem becomes when a child does not fit into one of the two prescribed holes. What happens then? Sadly in the vast majority of cases, the child is forced into either psychiatric care or worse yet, ignored. At that point most of us novice transgender youth are doomed to follow our own path to acceptance. Plus, as most of us know who have been in therapy, finding a good therapist is often difficult to do. 

The entire process usually dooms the transgender individual to going it alone in life and dealing with their gender issues. Another problem which soon makes itself known is learning the gender pattern you want to become a part of. In our case as trans women, we are excluded from the peer process and parental guidance young girls have when they are growing up. There is no one to tell you your makeup looks clownish or your skirt is too short when you are trying to go out in public. Our trial and error in the public's eye is often brutal and serves to drive us back into our dark lonely gender closets before we can reach a point of acceptance. Once we learn how to blend and exist in public, there is no feeling like it.

What happens next, at least in my case, was once I was able to dress and blend in with society, I had to then learn the finer points of gender patterns. Two of the more surprising patterns to me involved the facts that cis-women were not always the gentler gender. I learned the hard way to not turn my back on all women too soon. It took awhile but the claw marks on my back finally started to heal. I learned the hard way how to deal head on with the passive aggressive stance of some women. They wouldn't question to my face about why I was in their world but sure would attack me behind my back. The other gender pattern I was a little surprised about was the fallacy that all cis women were the cleaner gender. Primarily in the bathroom. The whole bathroom issue wasn't a total surprise because of my experience as a restaurant/bar manager.  Even still, I needed to learn the hard way to look closely before I sat down to use the toilet in a women's restroom. And, never put your purse on the floor. If you get my meaning.

From my many responses I receive to the blog, I am able to read many different comments concerning reactions to gender patterns. The comments range from very sad to amazingly euphoric. Often the euphoric ones mention the "blooming" of their feminine self. Often the acceptance of other women helped in the process. 

To all of you searching to leave your dark closets, remember to learn all the gender patterns you can to put your best foot forward and maybe, just maybe you will see the light of day as your feminine self.     

Running as Fast as I Could

 

Photo from the Jessie 
Hart Collection

During my life I confess I have never been a fan of running. In fact, the only time I had to run to any extent was when I was in the Army and when I played football. At least that was the physical version of running and not the mental one. 

On the other hand, I became quite good at the mental part of running. It all started out in my cross dressing or transvestite years when I was struggling initially with my gender issues. To help my overall mental condition I would mentally run away to hopefully dress in my small wardrobe of feminine clothes and makeup. I would even try to comb my short hair in a girlish bob to see how I looked. At the time, I was lucky if the results of dressing in front of the mirror lasted more than two or three days. At that point, my boring, unwanted male life would enter back in and normally some sort of depression would set in. 

Fast forward to my time in the military and beyond when my running became more intense. In addition to the physical running in the Army, I used my recollections of fond moments when I was dressed in mini-skirts and heels to get me by mentally. I grew quite good at day dreaming of being a woman while I was in the middle of a very male activity. I wish now that I could reclaim just a small portion of the time I wasted.

When I was honorably discharged from the military, the real running started. To seemingly circumvent my transgender desire to be a woman, I started to move my small family to new jobs and locations around the country. Shortly after we were married, I picked up and moved my second wife and I to the suburbs of New York City from our native Ohio. Only to move back again several years later. By that time, I had honed my skills as a restaurant manager and found I was in some sort of a demand and was able to switch jobs often. Most were not lateral moves but I found the move and challenge of a new job opportunity temporarily put my gender dysphoria on the back burner. For a while at least, I was able to concentrate on living nearly full time as a male. Even though my job was nearly the only thing keeping me there. 

The problem was, everytime we moved and began to get settled, my running urge would set back in. I finally learned with the help of therapy, I was trying to out run my feminine desires. In the end run, the only thing that worked was  when I stopped moving around and faced my issues. Again I wish I had back all the energy I lost trying to live a life between the two main binary genders. Eventually I did settle and began to learn a life I found I needed to survive in this world. In essence I became "Man enough to be a Woman."  At that point my running stopped, my mental health improved and life became worth living again. 

Running with a Different Pack

 

Image from Omar Lopez
on UnSplash

Back when I was living as a faux macho male, I used to be a fan of the "Big Dog" stores and was fond of using certain terminology they used to harass other store managers who were in competition with me.  Such as "If you can't run with the Big Dogs, Don't jump off the Porch. Even my second wife made sure she had given me several of their shirts. 

Little did I know later on in life, my idea of running with the big dogs would radically change. Once I started to seriously undertake a male to female gender transition did I understand who the big dogs really were. The true alpha or "big dogs" were really women. Quite quickly I realized women had to carry the weight of society on their shoulders. Women led a multi-layered complex existence which often included the burdens of raising children and holding a full time job at the same time.

To survive, I needed to learn quickly how to be accepted and be invited into cis-women circles where I found how different communication was between the two primary binary genders. It was no wonder men and women didn't understand each other. On occasion I was even asked to explain my idea of why a couple wasn't getting along. I was flattered but was at the same time a little scared I would give the wrong advice and set their relationship back even further. At the same time, I am sure none of the other women in the circle realized how much I was learning from them. After all, I was being given an once in a lifetime chance to play in the girl's sandbox. All I had to battle then was an extreme case of "impostor's syndrome" which kept questioning my right to be there in the sandbox at all.

I was fortunate also in that the circle of women I was included with were very strong individuals. What better way to learn my way in an exciting yet scary new world was there. Being able to run with the new circle increased my gender transition timetable immensely and made the whole dream of living as a fulltime transgender woman a distinct reality. I had assembled the role models I needed to move forward when they all accepted me.

The final problem I needed to face was living up to all their expectations of me. Or, what was the new person I was just becoming turn out to be. Could I be the person they expected me to be when I was still learning so much. The professional football game I was invited to was a prime example. Here I was, with my ill fitting wig and all trying to enjoy such a different experience. I had been to many games as a man but never as my true authentic self. Thanks to Kim for the wonderful time!

The final chapter in "Running with a Different Pack" has yet to be written. I still will have the final chapter to write. Hopefully it will be another smooth one once as I face the very real possibility of assisted living later in life.