Real Life Impostors

JJ Hart at Key Largo.

 At various times in my life, I have suffered from impostor's syndrome when I was out with other women celebrating a girl's night out.

While I was overjoyed to be invited to the events and considered them to be a rite of passage to my transgender womanhood, I still could not shake my underlying feelings of doubt when I was allowed behind the gender curtain. 

As I went through the process, I began to wonder if all human beings go through a form of impostor syndrome in their lives. What I am trying to say is no woman is born a woman. They are socialized through life to achieve the status of women since they were born female. Men also go through the same process. It's the primary reason I had such a difficult time leaving my male past behind because in many ways I had made it to manhood which was miles away from just being another male. I needed to start all over again to travel to my gender goal of transgender womanhood. 

In the meantime, my confidence was building that I had as much right as the next woman to be at special functions. I had just arrived at the same point the other women did by using another path. I was aided also when I calmed down and began to contribute more to the group. I found I had more in common than I thought in this women's only space. Even though, I most certainly did not birth a child, I could bring up my own daughter and grandkids who I was so proud of. I just needed to flip the gender script to relieve myself of any possible impostor syndrome feelings. 

It wasn't just at the girl's nights out when being a gender impostor took a hold of me. Another prime example were the nights when I felt I was doing everything right. My fashion, hair and makeup all were on point and yet there I was wondering what I was doing there at all. I was devastated when I had come so far in my feminine presentation, just to have something else stand in my way. It took me awhile, but I worked my way through it all and put impostor syndrome in my rear-view mirror.

On the increasingly rare occasions when I encountered any resistance from the public, I finally came to the conclusion they were the true gender impostors. It was very clear to me why men left me alone as they were so insecure in their own sexuality. On the other hand, most cisgender women were more secure and not afraid to reach out to me. Especially interesting to me was the interaction I had with the lesbian community. Most of the lesbians I had a positive experience with had past encounters with men, so I was not so far from a person they would consider knowing. I learned quite early in my experiences in public, the various levels of the lesbian society. In fact, my first date with a man was with a very masculine lesbian on his way to becoming a full-fledged transgender man. Many times, the more masculine the lesbian, the more interest they showed in me. They were certainly not gender impostors.

Real life gender impostors are everywhere in this increasingly hostile world. We don't need insecure people in power using transgender women and trans men as crutches to increase their own power. 

Gender Lighthouse

 

Image from Juan Gomez
on UnSplash.

As I grew older and more in touch with my possible transgender womanhood, it often seemed to me to be a distant light at sea in my life. 

In fact, I equated my brief encounters with gender euphoria as moments in time when I was hopelessly adrift in a huge sea of life around me. I was rowing my little boat as fast as I could against a strong current, I mostly did not understand. Long ago, my gender notebook had been washed overboard, leaving me on my own to understand a new and exciting feminine world. 

As I was stuck rowing in circles in my shrinking male world, faintly in the distance, I could see a lighthouse which would ultimately show me the way to gender freedom. As I kept on against all odds, the light grew brighter. The entire ordeal was difficult, and I needed to battle tons of self-destructive behavior on my part to just survive at all.

Plus, through it all, my mental health suffered terribly. Since I was already diagnosed as being bi-polar, the last thing I needed was gender dysphoria to worsen my condition. Worse yet, I tried to self-medicate my problems with too much alcohol. Which ultimately caused me to lose my way more dramatically and take more self-destructive chances. I was taking my eyes off the lighthouse, and it was fading away in the distance. Just in time, I was able to regain my equilibrium and was able to set my eyes firmly on the light again.

I was able to get out of my boat and try the world at its best and worst. As I said, my feminine workbook long ago disappeared and I had to go it alone. As I mentioned in my last post, out of sheer good fortune, I was able to work my way out of potentially dangerous situations when I could have hit the rocks in my little fragile boat. I reacted to the experiences as surviving points on my gender learning curve. I resolved to learn from each one and keep my eyes on the light which was slowly becoming brighter. Maybe, I could achieve my dream of transgender womanhood after all. 

For a long time, the person who kept the key to my dream was my second wife who told me on occasion to me to be man enough to be a woman and being the pretty, pretty princess just was not going to be enough to make it. The problem was, she made me figure out what she meant, and it took me years to do it. I needed to wait until I had rowed to shore on the feminine side of the beach and found my way behind the gender curtain by learning lessons cisgender women grow up understanding from lifelong lessons. Or the pretty, pretty princess better learn how real women live in a world they control. I started to dress to blend in with other women on one hand and how I lost intelligence in my conversations with men on the other. Very quickly, I grew tired of being "mansplained" on the very simplest of topics. 

Once I found the lighthouse and made it to shore, the hard work started, and I needed to learn how to communicate with the world, one on one. Nothing told me, my communication efforts would be mainly with the women I met in the world as most men mainly left me alone. I knew most of the women started the conversation because they were curious what I was doing in their world. I did not really care because I was learning what I needed to know to keep my boat on the gender beach. 

Thanks to the world of women I encountered, I found the lighthouse at the end of my search and was able to find my way in a new world as a transgender woman.

From Obsession to Passion

 

Image from Kayshawn Herandez
on UnSplash. 

For years I considered my desire to cross dress was more an obsession than anything else.

Similar to many of you, I started my path to femininization innocently enough by rummaging through my mom's clothes. Whatever I could fit into was fair game for me. The pleasure of the overall experience soon turned into an obsession. When I returned home from school and was alone, I locked myself into the bathroom and got busy with mom's clothes and makeup. 

Even though I was wrapped up in my obsession at such a young age, doubts snuck through and slowly became evident. The biggest doubt was I was more than just a cross dresser. I wanted to be so much more. Such as the totality of being a girl. Looking back, it was sad I did not have more information on gender issues because I would have discovered and hopefully faced up to the fact, I was more transgender than cross dresser. 

As I trudged forward through life, I stubbornly held on to the best I could to my largely unwanted male ways as I idolized the girls around me. Thinking they had all the assets in life. Primarily the one in which they did not have to be forced to serve in the military during the Vietnam War as I did. Why did girls not have to serve, and I did, made me quite bitter. However, there was nothing I could do about it, so off to serving three years in the Army I went. 

As soon as I was honorably discharged from the military, I began to restart my cross-dressing obsession in earnest. Off came my Army mustache and on came the blond wig. Since my first wife knew I cross dressed and did not really care, I was able to do more exploration into the world of fashion, wigs and makeup. In essence, I was making up for all the lost time (three years) I had in the Army when I could not cross dress. The lone exception was a Halloween party when I dressed as a prostitute. The one night of bliss hardly made up for the three years of staying away from my obsession to at the least appear as a woman. 

When I finally had the courage to try out the world as my increasingly evident feminine self, my focus began to change from obsession to passion. I spent every spare moment daydreaming of how it would be to try out what I was doing as a man to a woman. During this time, gender reality shifts turned out to be a major point of my life. Especially when I actually began to live out my gender dreams.

What I did then was set up mini gender "bucket lists" to attempt to conquer. I say attempt because several were ill-advised and nearly impossible to accomplish. One in particular led me down a dangerous safety path when my male security privilege was lost. I almost learned the hard way not to be on dark city streets out of my car unescorted. Even though, I was still stubborn about my passion, I learned I needed to be careful. When I went back to the area where I was approached at night, I made sure I asked one of my transgender man friends to escort me. It was a new experience to ask for help. 

My passion to be a full-time transgender woman took me through gender affirming hormones and changes I never thought possible. I was grateful I was medically cleared to take the meds by a doctor at the advanced age of sixty.   

I am also grateful to be living my passion now with a wife who loves me very much. I took over a half a century to get there but I switched a basic obsession to a fulltime passion, and I never looked back.