While My Blog Gently Weeps

Bubba and Brittini

Sadly, this story has been making it's way around the internet recently and friends such as Bobbi have reached out to me with the news.

Spoiler alert, the story is more than just sad, it is tragic. Perhaps by now you have heard of "Bubba Copeland" the former mayor of "Smith's Station, Alabama." I say former because Bubba committed suicide following being outed by a right wing publication called the 1819 News which outed Bubba's so called secret life as a curvy transgender woman. Bubba Copeland was also a Baptist minister who reportedly was a clergyman who cared deeply about their church and community.

Predictably, the only thing which mattered to the gender bigots who outed Bubba was the fact she was a transgender woman. If you are interested if the so called "news" source where all this came from felt at the least bad about Bubba's death. They didn't. "Craig Monger" who wrote the post supposedly supporting Alabama values on "X" (Twitter) said "Digging up someone's personal life is reporting on what someone posts on social media. The Alabama Baptist reported on the churches live stream. I actually spoke to the mayor." Not a word of sympathy was found on anything I read on the publication's site I could find.

Those of us who have dealt with gender issues our entire life know the inner torment Bubba must have gone through. No matter how many good deeds Bubba tried to do as a minister and a mayor in a small Alabama town devastated by a tornado, mattered as much to the 1819 News as much as how they dealt with a closeted transgender person. No mention was made of her life and what she faced. Gender dysphoria is hell to say the least. No attempt at any understanding of the tragedy. 

Brittini was survived by a wife and three children. May she be remembered for her good deeds. 

The Slippery Slope

Image from the Jessie
Hart Archives

I can't imagine the freedom some younger transgender youth have when their parents approve of and actually help with their gender transition.

I can use the example of my own grandchild who benefited completely from having the support of both of their parents. (It is the grandchild's choice to be referred to as they.) Of course how I grew up was totally on the opposite side of the acceptance spectrum. I was expected to be the best boy I could be and if I wasn't. I was always expected to do better. As much as I resented being put through all of that, the process probably set me up for success later in life. When I faced difficult situations, I just kept trying until on occasion I found success. 

Finding success as I sought out what to do concerning my increasingly serious gender issues proved to be my greatest win but it did not come easily. I compare it to being on a very slippery gender slope and finding yourself losing control the perceived damage. I was very scared on what could happen if I completed my male to female gender transgender transition I could lose everything I worked for in my semi-successful male life such as family, friends and finances to name a few of the major ones. 

Once the sliding began and I started to slide down the slope, I couldn't stop. The biggest problem was I didn't really care because for the first time in my life I felt natural in my own skin. I didn't have to put up feeling just a little all the way to being completely foreign when I was successful as a man. Nothing seems to have been enough until it came time to being a success as a transgender woman. The biggest move came when I made the decision to slide further down the slope and commit to being fully trans and away from being a highly active cross dresser. I was becoming more and more convinced I was doing the right thing by throwing my male life away and living a feminine one. 

What became increasingly obvious, it was time for me to lose my grip and tumble the remainder of the way down my gender slope. I finally could take the effort to jump the gender border before it killed me. I was trying my best to live equally between the two binary genders. Male for three days a week and female for the rest of the time. The resultant ripping and tearing led me to a major mental health breakdown with a suicide attempt. I saw the writing on the wall and finally decided to slide off my slippery gender slope. When I did not know was how my new circle of friends would be around for me to soften my landing.

Not only did my circle of cis-women friends accept me, they unknowingly helped me understand the basics of surviving in the feminine world. I call it being able to play in the girls sandbox.

Surprisingly, I survived the slippery slope much easier than I thought I would. Sure I had a few scratches and scrapes on the way down. Overall, as I said, I was the fortunate survivor of a very difficult gender struggle. Hopefully, in their own way my grandchild will not have to endure such a slippery slope.

We Met in a Mirror

Image from Laura Chouette 
on UnSplash

Along the way I have vivid recollections of how I met most of the memorable cis (or natural born) women in my life. As it turned out, I married several of them. 

Perhaps the most important woman I met was myself when I glimpsed her for the first time in a full length mirror we had at home when I was growing up. All I really remember is the feeling of gender euphoria I felt. Something clicked mentally and I knew somehow, someway I needed to try to cross dress again and even do my best to perfect the image staring back at me. 

Over the years, the problem became I became too addicted to what the mirror was showing me. For as much as I loved playing in the mirror, I was to learn the hard way the whole process was a one way street. As I broke out of my gender closet and into the world, the public did not see me the same as the mirror did. Stares and laughter all too often followed me around during my earliest gender adventures as a novice cross dresser. 

Still I persisted and learned without the help of the women in my life. The only one who tried turned out to be a dismal failure. She was my fiancé from my college days and I talked her into dressing me head to toe as a woman. I say failure because after she was done, I did not see much improvement over my efforts. Plus, over time, she held my gender issues against me and even wanted me to tell the military I was gay to stay out of the Vietnam War. Something I never did and went off to serve my three years, away from her. Which was a real blessing from many angles. 

From there I stayed mostly single until my last year in the Army when I met my first wife who was in the Women's Army Corps, also stationed where I was in Germany. We stayed together after both of us discharged all the way to when we had my only child, a daughter. My first wife knew of and mostly accepted the fact I was a cross dresser before we were married and was never really bothered about it. During this time I was beginning to learn my new life was everything but living in a mirror. I was beginning to take on the world as my authentic self when I met my second wife.

I was working at a radio station in Ohio where we met and I just knew I had to divorce my first wife and be with her. She was so full of life and strong willed, I thought she might do me good and went all out to be with her. Through it all, she as my first wife knew I was a cross dresser and accepted it also. We were married for twenty five years until she passed away from a massive heart attack at the age of fifty. Till the day she died nothing changed about how she viewed my cross dressing but she firmly drew the line at no HRT hormones or for me going towards being a transgender woman at all. 

As I wrote in my post yesterday, I was between the rock and the hard place when if came to my transgender issues. I had taken the steps to firmly move out of the mirror and into the world. The mirror became the place where I just checked myself out every morning to see if I looked masculine or the least bit feminine. Most of the time setting off my gender dysphoria or despair. I finally came to the conclusion nothing was as bad as it seemed or as good as the mirror tried to tell me. I had come to the middle point I needed to meet in the mirror.