It Takes a Village

Virginia Prince
in her later years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Right Fit

 

Image from the Jessie Hart
Archive

No matter of all the trials and tribulations I went through on my long and eventful transgender journey, I still felt as if everything was the right fit for me. 

Included were all the dark nights when I first began to attempt to test the public as a novice cross dresser (or transvestite). Predictably, in many occasions I was stared at, all the way to being subjected to outright laughter. One time even, I caught one couple trying to take an unwanted picture of me. I call this period of my life, my mirror time. 

Along the way it seemed all I was doing was moving from mirror to mirror seeking the validation of who I really was as my feminine self. In stores, I would always try to seek out well placed mirrors so I could selfishly admire myself. Even to the point of going to the big remodeling/construction box stores so I could look at myself in their selection of mirrors. Through it all, I was slowly building my confidence to come out of my gender shell and face the world. Predictably, I started with store clerks and worked my way forward to others who would actually try to interact with who I was. With my experience in the restaurant/bar industry I knew the benefit of becoming a regular at the bar. I learned the benefit of being hard to forget was a benefit when it came to being remembered. By saying hard to forget, I mention it in a positive way as I tried hard to never be the cause of any negative feelings and always tipped well.

The more I tried to explore the world as a novice transgender woman when the term began to be used, the more I knew it was the right fit for me because I felt so natural once I moved past being so nervous in my new life. I tried more and more venues until I learned (the hard way) which ones I was not welcome in. Ironically one of the first places I felt unwelcome was in a male gay venue where I was treated as a drag queen and had to struggle to even get a drink. The whole scene ended up being beneficial because it sent me back to the bar food/sports venues I was comfortable in. And it was long before I was accepted in several of those and loving my new life. Definitely I had found the right fit, for the time being.

As I was essentially living my dream, deep down I knew the next step I wanted to try was hormone replacement therapy. HRT was not a given for me because of my age and I needed to secure permission from a doctor. I was healthy enough and received a prescription to begin a minimum dosage of Estradiol pills and a testosterone blocker. I couldn't believe the changes which started to happen almost immediately. I knew again, without a shadow of a doubt I had found the right fit as I went through my own version of  a feminine  puberty. Even with the unpleasant hot flashes I experienced the remainder of my body developing as well as my emotional changes were welcome. All of a sudden, I was more subject to moods and I cried for the first time in my life. I even felt temperature changes and my sense of smell became stronger. 

All the radical changes I was going through, proved to me how I had done the right thing by starting HRT. Perhaps my body just was waiting for me to find the right fit my entire life. 

Gender Control Freak

Image from Radu  Florin
on UnSplash

 During my old male life, I admittedly let many things slide.

Primarily, I was not much interested in or put much time into how I looked. The overall sameness in what the male wardrobe had to offer me, just didn't seem to matter. I yearned for the brighter colors and the ever changing fashions the girls or women were able to wear. The process was especially painful during the times when the women who worked with me at one restaurant position I had were able to dress up in their semi formal dresses and appear so beautiful, when I was stuck wearing a restrictive tie with a suit. On those party evenings I was able to dull a portion of my gender pain with alcohol. 

Later on when I was more able to experiment with feminine fashions, I learned just how much work I never considered went into how a woman looked. Of course there were the basic passing privilege all cis and transgender women have to deal with. We all have to deal with and make the best of  what mother nature (or our parents) gave us. Two cis women in particular come to mind when I look back on examples of perfection. For the evening their makeup to jewelry all the way to dress and shoes were on point. The example they set was one I wanted to follow as a trans woman.

The whole process I needed to follow to get there turned out to be far from easy. Not only did I have to attempt to look as good as the women I admired, I needed to take the extra step to look better. I had farther to come and more to prove to accomplish my gender goals. Plus, I desperately wanted to be the one who was being admired for being well put together fashion wise. The entire idea was made even more difficult because I was trying to succeed on a very limited budget with a wife who was not entirely accepting. Through it all, I managed from excessive thrift shopping and saving what money I could to put together what I thought was a passable fashion statement. 

I was helped also by my love of boho fashion trends which took me back to my old hippie days. If I was successful with my thrift shopping, I could find the ideal vintage jeans and/or jeans skirts to really jump start my outfit. 

The difference between what I was doing as a advanced cross dresser (or transvestite)  and my male self was again in the fashion details I needed to follow. In fact, I made it to the point where I could afford to send my work shirts to the dry cleaner to make sure they looked good, while at the same time was concentrating on my feminine appearance. I think one helped the other as I look back on it now. 

To this day, I never made it to the point of being a control freak on anything. Probably the closest I come is making sure I have some sort of a transgender related daily blog post. Most of my ideas come from watching the world around me and relating it to my gender. Often it is a difficult process and I value you all coming along for the ride. I can't thank you enough.