Plan B

Image Courtesy 
Jessie Hart
Collection

On occasion I think my writings here on the blog make it seem as if I had too many good times and too few mentions of the dark moments I experienced.  The truth of the matter was I experienced many, many dark days when I desperately needed a "Plan B" to get by. 

In addition to desperately hiding my secret wardrobe of feminine items, I needed to figure a way to work with my collection to practice the only way I knew being a girl. All my sneaking around led me to many close calls with my slightly younger brother and my parents who unexpectedly came home early. The only positive which came from those experiences was I learned the process well of quickly removing makeup. The thought of being caught was always on my mind and often ruined the whole experience. At the time, the only ultimate "Plan B" I could ever consider was a purge of all my girl clothes and accessories and go back to the very unsavory idea of being in a male life fulltime.

Even though I managed to go through very few purges in my life, I did put myself in other various potentially devastating situations. The earliest I write about often. Those were the nights of severe fashion mistakes which  led me to scurry back to my home through teary eyes from strangers laughing or staring at me. At that point "Plan B" amounted to going back to the drawing board many times before common fashion sense kicked in. I needed to style myself to present well and then blend in with the community at large. Even though I was finally learning how to conduct myself, I found there were many other ways to prove I needed a "Plan B" to get by. Perhaps one of most embarrassing moments I went through since one of my heels became stuck in a sidewalk crack and I nearly broke an ankle was when one of the water balloons I was using as a breast form exploded in a popular sports bar I was a regular in. Back in those days I couldn't afford good silicone forms so I made the ill fated decision to fill balloons with warm water because I thought the feel approximated having real breasts.  I know you are thinking now. how did that work out for you?

How it worked out was one night I made one hell of a mess on the floor on the way to the bathroom. Luckily no one else was around and I was able to pay and leave before anyone else attributed the mess to me. I thought at the time the best excuse I could have come up with was I was pregnant and my water just broke. Other times I wasn't so lucky with being alone when I needed a "Plan B." There was the time I was wearing my new high heeled boots to my regular venue on a snowy night. After a drink or two I got up to go to the rest room and promptly slipped and fell on a wet floor under my bar stool. The bar was packed and I was very embarrassed needless to say. After I got back up, I reassured everyone I was alright and finished my restroom trip and then left. With a new found respect of dealing with wet floors in my new boots. I made it home without any further problems. 

As I remember now, most of my other embarrassments were relatively minor and I was able to learn from each one. Such as carrying extra toilet paper and/or an extra tampon in my purse. This all came because of other women surprising me with questions in restrooms mainly when their stall ran out of toilet paper or they needed an emergency feminine hygiene product. 

The moral to the story is my "Plan B" was a huge learning experience and a necessary evil, as I pursued  my path to achieving my desire to live as a full time transgender woman.  I really made many mistakes. 

Pleasing Your Parents as a Transgender Woman

 

Photo from the Jessie Hart
Collection

Growing up it was extremely difficult to please my WWII era/Great Depression generation parents. It seemed to me whatever I did well, they always thought I could do it better. I am fond of saying they were long on being great providers but extremely short on providing any sort of emotional support.  As you can guess, or possibly went through, the whole parental process was complicated by gender issues. Especially when a well meaning adult would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. Even back then, I knew the true answer and I also knew I couldn't tell anyone. The main thing I wanted to do was to grow into a woman. With the complete lack of outside interaction with anyone who may have felt the same, I felt completely alone in the world. My gender closet was very dark and lonely.

In the meantime, life went on and my parents made it very clear what they expected of me as I grew up.  Short term they expected me to attend some sort of at least a mid level prestigious university and/or college. In no way did they ever let on they knew anything at all about my desire to change my gender. I always thought my Mom just had to know I was exploring with her clothes and makeup but never said anything. Until I finally came out to her after I was honorably discharged from the Army, we never discussed me being a transvestite (as it was called then) and I found I shouldn't have discussed  my needs then.  She only volunteered drastic psychological interference in my life. We never discussed my primary issue again.

As my life progressed, I did my best to seek the approval from my parents as a faux man. I worked hard at my two careers, had a child and even completed my military duty. In the meantime I tried to duplicate my Dad's success in building his own house by restoring an 1860's era house of my own. Through it all, two things sadly happened. The first of which was I never heard the words they were proud of me and secondly my desire to be a woman never went away. In fact, the desire just became stronger the older I became. To make matters worse, the more successful I thought I had become in my parents eyes made my desire to transition to a full time transgender woman  even more complex. I had a successful job and a loving marriage at stake if I attempted any radical changes to my life. The whole process caused me to push many people away from me which resulted in having fewer and fewer close friends.

I seriously doubt if I pleased my parents. I was just stubborn enough or selfish enough in some eyes to please myself.  My parents passed on without ever having an impact on my gender issues, so they became a non factor. I was fortunate in that my most important immediate family accepted the true me and the rest who didn't just didn't matter. Plus I was able to locate a whole new set of friends who again accepted the new me without ever knowing my old male self. 

A part of me wants to think all my parents really wanted for me was to have a happy life. Which is what I hope for my daughter and grandchildren. Perhaps being a part of their so called "greatest generation" precluded me ever achieving my goal of pleasing them. Just like being transgender, the deck of life was stacked against me.  I just had to overcome it. 

A Day at the Salon

 

From the 
Jessie Hart 
Collection:
My first Salon
Visit.

My first visit to an all woman beauty salon was an unforgettable experience. It happened shortly after I transitioned into a fulltime feminine life when I decided I was transgender. At first, when I came out to her, she responded overwhelmingly positively and volunteered to take me out shopping. Seeing as how my wardrobe wasn't in too bad of a shape, I politely turned her down.

As it turned out, my birthday wasn't too far in the future and my daughter made me an offer I couldn't refuse. She asked if she could make me an appointment to her upscale hair salon for a cut and color of my hair which thankfully was reaching the length to actually do it. It became the best birthday present I ever received except when she was born. Which happened exactly a month before my birthday. So I accepted the gift not fully realizing what I was getting myself into.

As the day of my appointment approached, I rapidly became more terrified of the unknown which awaited me. I was so new to the opportunity coming up, I wondered what I would even ask for as far as a style when I arrived at the salon. It turned out I didn't have anything to worry about other than containing my fear. When I arrived, my daughter was waiting for me to guide me through the process which both embarrassed me but at the same time relived me because I had at least one friendly face to fall back on if I needed it.

I found most of my fears would unfounded because everyone, starting with the receptionist was very nice and even asked if she could help me to a glass of wine or coffee. I wanted to say, just leave me the bottle of wine but settled for a cup of coffee. As I nervously sipped my coffee my daughter arrived  and I found it was time for me to walk the "gauntlet". In other words, the salon seemed to be a huge line of stylists and chairs which reached out to the front door. In order to meet my stylist I would have to walk clear down the aisle of other women in chairs who had nothing better to do than stare at me. To say I was uneasy was an understatement. Once I was seated I began to relax and enjoy what would become one of the most unique experiences of my gender life up to that point. It turned out I had plenty of input into the color and style of my new hair. Since I had always admired red heads, I decided on a reddish streaked coloring with very little of my hair length taken off. 

Before I knew it, my hair was full of aluminum foil and my body was reacting to an overdose of estrogen in the room. Once I fully settled down, I felt I had as much of a reason as any other woman to be there.  Immediately I knew why cis women spend so much time and money on their hair in salons. It was truly a feminine reinvigorating experience. I felt bad about all the times in my male days when I didn't notice my wives' hair following their salon visits. Once I had gone through the hair pampering the first time, I couldn't wait to go back. The problem was affording it on my limited finances. In no way could I pay the bill my daughter gifted me on a regular basis. It wouldn't matter anyway because shortly I would be moving away from the area and in with Liz in Cincinnati. 

Once I settled in, it took me awhile to find another local stylist. Ironically I found her at one of my transgender-cross dresser support meetings I was going to.  The group brought in a stylist with a transgender son and I ended up making the first of many appointments. Sadly, she retired from the business not long ago and I have relied upon my wife Liz to trim my long hair. One thing for sure is, even though others continue to do a great job with my hair, nothing will ever match the wonderful first salon visit I experienced. As I said, I could have skipped a weekly dose of estrogen after going.

Why Trans People will Win

 These days as we transgender women and transgender men are under unpresented attacks from unresponsive bigoted politicians across the country, our future often seems dim. With all which is going on, what everyone against us doesn't realize is, we as individuals and as a community have been through this all before. An example would be how many of us grew up with no family support when we thought of attempting to express our authentic gender selves. We were "born" into our gender worlds with extreme problems on how to survive. As an example, I was born into a very male dominated family where any femininity on my part would have been dealt with drastically. I learned the hard way how to exist with no outlet to my gender needs. 

Equally as important was the fact I had little to no information from the world concerning others who may have felt the same way as I did. I didn't know how many ancient societies actually held transgender individuals in high esteem. Some to the point of worshiping them. In todays' western societies difference is bad and often gender is regarded as one of the most different personal differences a person can face. But face it we do and I use the "tunnel" example to explain why. Once we are able to finally take the steps to open our gender closets and explore, we are faced with looking down a long tunnel with a small light at the end. It takes all of us differing amounts of time to recognize the light at the end of the tunnel is not actually the train but actually an exciting new world.

Now we have the public knowledge and information to never go back into our gender closets. We as a transgender community are also realizing the time to put away petty differences is behind us because the bigots are coming after us. ALL of us, including cross dressers who comfortably (or not) stay hidden away in their closets. Many are now learning the chance to ever escape and live their truth may be taken away. The rejection of drag shows in states such as Tennessee could be just the start of going back to the 1950's and early 60's when merely being dressed in public as a member of the opposite sex could get you arrested. I was a pre teen during those times and remembering it happening where I lived near Dayton, Ohio. Something all cross dressers should think of. 

Another reason we will win is even though we as part of the LGBTQA community are taking the countries bigots best shot, we are becoming more organized than ever before. Even the rather conservative non political transgender-cross dresser support group I am part of came out in public against all the anti-transgender propaganda and legislation. It is very real to those of us who live in Cincinnati, Ohio just across the river from the Commonwealth of Kentucky which just over rode a veto by it's governor to pass a strict anti trans bill. 

What all the bigots don't realize is how hard we have worked and how much we have sacrificed to live as our authentic selves. We simply won't go back. The more we transgender people are out in public and into society the more people will understand what we are really about. It may take awhile but we still will win. 

Trans Reflexes

 

Cincinnati Skyline
From the Jessie Hart
Collection

Quite early during my transition I found myself needing to develop a whole new set of public reflexes to use when I was out in the world. No longer could I fall back on the tried and true old male actions I had crafted over the years to get by. Primary examples include having an interest in sports and owning muscle cars. Anything I could do to prove I was worthy of being called a male which of course, deep down, I always resisted. The benefit was I could participate in the many available male privileges such as job preference. The whole process was helpful in hiding my feminine tendencies and keeping the bullies away. 

Anytime I was faced with some sort of confrontation, I was able to "puff" myself up (since I was never really a small person) and fend off many possible disputes. It became my go to reflex which had to radically change when I began to live as my authentic feminine self. Nearly immediately I was shocked when I was naïve in thinking I would be accepted in man-centric conversations. No one cared about my amount of expertise or success at my job or my overall knowledge of the world. I quickly discovered the art of "mansplaining" and how it was an insult to all women. A prime example came when I needed to have my car towed one time and couldn't even be allowed to explain to the tow truck driver and the policeman where I lived. On the way back home in the truck, to make conversation I tried to play the dumb blond and ask questions about how the tow truck worked. It seemed to do the trick because shortly the driver started to comment about what his wife packed him for lunch. Who knows, maybe he thought I was trying to pick him up. 

Of course the biggest reflex I needed to change (and quickly) was when my personal security was threatened as a woman. Transgender or not. No longer could I rely on my size as a man to keep me out of possible danger. I went from the protector to needing the protection. I was cornered once in a hallway during a party I was attending with my second wife by a much larger man who was coming after me when he found me in a space where I couldn't escape. Luckily, my wife was there and ironically became my protector and he left me alone. I paid the price with her by hearing the lecture of being more careful. Still I didn't learn quickly. There was another night when I was stupidly walking alone between gay venues in downtown Dayton, Ohio. Two men approached me asking for money and all I had was a five dollar bill which satisfied them for the moment and I quickly left and made it to my car. From then on, I made sure I had friends walk me to my car when I went back there plus I made sure I took advantage of closer lighted parking. Security lessons learned. 

Following all of those immediate personal reflex changes, future reflex differences were easier to accommodate and learn from. As my communication skills improved, I was able to be more skilled at reading passive behavior skills from other women. Which helped me anticipate when some other woman was going to claw or knife my back. For the most part men left me alone so I didn't have to worry much about them. Which was ironic since my history with men should have given me more skills to deal with them but then again, I was mostly socializing with lesbians so I was insulated from men altogether. 

Through it all, my inner woman took her cue to live and ran with it. Seemingly, she made up for a lifetime in the closet in a few short years. It was almost as if she was waiting patiently for her time and quickly made the most of honing her reflexes quite quickly when it happened. 

  

Transgender Visibility versus Liberation

Image from Elyssa  Fahndrich
on UnSplash

 Recently I read a post from my statewide organization "Trans Ohio" which made the point Transgender Day of Visibility's  name should be changed to Day of Liberation. I thought what a great idea. Even though due to weather and mobility issues I did not attend the annual local TDOV event this past Saturday, I was there last year and several trans people are still stuck in my mind who were more liberated than just visible. 

Primarily, the one I remember the most was a young transgender girl. Probably around the age of fourteen who was there with her Mom. Seemingly she could not quite contain how proud she was to be in a safe space with many like minded individuals. I thought at the time how wonderful it must have been for her and her Mom to see all the supportive LGBTQA organizations who had set up there for the day. In the young girl's case, she was more liberated than just visible. The great thing was, she wasn't alone. There were many more in different age brackets attending too. 

The entire TDOV process took me back to the actual day when I decided to put away my male life for good and assume a feminine lifestyle. This included a personal pledge to myself to begin hormone replacement therapy to help me as much as possible femininize my exterior appearance to match my internal feelings. When I did it, I could not believe the amount of weight and stress which was lifted from my shoulders. In other words I was liberated and was coming home to an exciting and new transgender life. Not so different than the young trans girl I talked to at TDOV. From that point forward so many years ago, I started to wonder why I waited so long to do it. 

The main reason was my increasingly complex and pressurized male life kept getting into the way. Successes in my job, having a child and loving my wife all provided road blocks to me jumping off the gender transition cliff and liberating myself after living years in a dark closet. To make matters worse, once I thought I had liberated myself from my gender closet, I discovered I had only became visible in the world and the entire liberation process had a ways to go. Those were the terrifying yet exciting days of learning how to react to and communicate with the rest of the world. As this brand new person within me I thought I knew so well but didn't until I was able to liberate her. I guess you could say I was visible first and liberated second.

During the current wave of anti-LGBTQA and primarily transgender legislation from often crooked politicians it would be difficult to consider changing any of the regular annual trans events such as TDOV to Transgender Day of Liberation but it certainly does deserve a second thought.

Gender Enablers

From the Jessie Hart Collection
Jessie (left), Nikki (Center), Kim (Right)

 Perhaps you had a special person or persons who helped you to open your own gender closet and take tentative steps into the real world. Perhaps you did it all yourself. In my case, after a very rocky beginning, I was fortunate  to have had several enablers to help me along in my transgender journey. My rocky beginning started when I enlisted the help of my first fiancé. After much convincing and begging I somehow convinced her to help me dress head to toe as a woman. 

My initial introduction to having a cis-woman make me up and help me dress turned out to have mixed results. I learned my fiancé didn't really have that much more skill than I had when it came to the art of makeup. Most likely because by this time in my life I had literally years of practice on my own face. Quite frankly, I was a little disappointed by the entire experience. Again it was because I had been trying and trying any new fashion accessory I could afford to help my feminine presentation along. Outside of the temporary thrill of having another woman provide instant feedback to how I looked, the entire experience lacked much fun or relaxation for me. The big problem which came about was not so long after this, she would attempt to use my cross dressing desires against me. 

For some unknown reason, my fiancé had a real paranoia about me going away to serve my country in the military. All the way to telling me if I didn't get out of my draft status by telling the military I was gay, she would leave me. To make a long story short, I wouldn't compound one lie with another by telling the military I was gay. So just before I signed up for three years in the Army, I graduated college and we broke up. Even though the whole experience was very painful at the time, it turned out to be one of the best moves of my life and she certainly was not one of my gender enablers. 

From then on I resolved myself to telling any potential serious relationships I was involved with that I was a transvestite as cross dressers were known back in those days. The whole idea worked well with my first two wives. As it turned out, my first wife was so mellow with the whole idea I think she would have not been surprised if one day I told her I was going back to where I served in Thailand but this time for a sex change operation. I was very close to doing whatever I wanted gender wise until I met and fell madly in love with my second wife who I write about all the time because we were together twenty five years until she suddenly passed away. Ironically, she was a gender dis-abler because she became dead set against any idea of me being transgender and beginning hormone replacement therapy. Through it all, we managed to stay together and I tried to learn from all the "tough gender love" she gave me. If she knew it or not. For example, she was the first one to tell me being a woman was much more than just looking like one. After yet another huge fight we had.

Following her death when I was free to start HRT and begin to seriously explore the feminine world, I was so fortunate to have found several serious gender enablers who helped me find my way in the world as a transgender woman. I have mentioned several times in the past several cis women lesbian friends who taught me so much about finding myself as a transgender woman. To this day I don't think they ever realized what all they did for me as my gender enablers.

Around the same time, I met my current wife Liz. Without a doubt she became my best gender enabler when she told me eleven years ago she never saw me as being anything but a woman. More importantly she encouraged me to grow into the out and proud transgender woman I am today. Even though the journey was rough and filled with tough times, destiny showed me the way to what I should have always known was true. I was just cross dressing as a man and biding time until my true feminine self could emerge.    

Once I Started

 

From the Jessie Hart
Collection...The Ohio State
Student Union

I discovered quite early in life my gender identity was in flux. From the first time I felt the allure of feminine clothes to the first time I glanced at my girl self in the mirror, I knew I could never go back. In the classic feelings  of if I knew then what I knew now, I would have saved myself a ton of gender angst and unrest. Primarily I would have understood why the gender euphoria I experienced when I dressed as a girl was so fleeting. Before I knew it, I was back to my same old struggle to be everything male. I know now all of these feelings were the very beginnings of my desire to look more than like a girl. I wanted to be a girl. Long before the term was even invented I was transgender.

If I was wise enough to write down my deepest secret somewhere and hide it away, I am sure I would have told my future self to relax and enjoy the trip because in the end I would have no choice. No matter how hard he tried, my feminine self would in the end win and I would end up living full time as a transgender woman. Of course there was no possible way I could know all the twists and turns my gender journey would take me. My younger self would have known I would experience transitions in the middle of living in a major transition itself. My primary go to example is when I was living as a very serious cross dresser, I decided to transition again. This time to hormone replacement therapy and into a transgender life. There was no way my early self could predict what she was really asking for. She wanted me to uproot all the hard earned, unwanted gains I had achieved in the male world and finally realize they were all for not. Once I started I should have realized I should have fought harder to let my inner feminine self win and get on with living a better life. 

The major problem I would experience was all of the male gifts I experienced as I lived life as a guy. The biggest gift I experienced was the birth of my daughter who I love deeply to this day and she has been behind my transition since I told her tentatively years ago. I consider the whole experience as I said as the pinnacle of my life as most of the other so called accomplishments were rather shallow, such as success in my working world. 

My fondest hope I should have ever asked for was the wisdom of knowing my dominate gender was female in nature and even though trying to change it nearly killed me, I could never change who I truly was. The whole process was nearly miraculous in how a new wonderful feminine world was opened to me.  Once my she was given the chance, she quickly took over and established herself . Once I started my transition early in life it was a long project but one which was worth it in the long haul.

Transgender Survivors versus Victims

 

Image from Jen Theodore 
on Unsplash

There is a huge difference between being a survivor in life than a victim. Perhaps an over simplification of the two is a survivor takes what is given to them, lives with it and in the end result make it all better.  On the other hand, a victim becomes a martyr in their own mind and is slow to make improvements. It is very easy for a transgender woman or trans man to be a victim. After all, why were we "chosen" to live such a difficult life. Often it takes years to realize we are not victims after all. For some reason we were given the opportunity to explore two sides of the binary gender spectrum. 

By years I mean the struggle we go through to just fit into a society which seems increasingly hostile against us. I went through some of it yesterday when I was running my errands.  My first stop was at the Post Office where I stopped to mail one of Liz's (my wife) packages which contained her handmade beaded jewelry she makes. I could only describe the woman at USPS behind the counter as older and somewhat bewildered with her meeting a transgender woman probably for the first time. But, since it was the weekend of  Transgender Day of Visibility, it was a good as time as any to be exposed to the real world. In a matter of seconds I dropped off Liz's package for it's trip to California and the clerk turned her attention to her next postal patron. 

Ironically, on my way back home, I needed to stop and reward myself for all the errands I attended to. So I stopped at a coffee shop drive through for a special coffee brew. One for each of us. As I pulled up to the window at the drive through, I was waited up by a cute, tattooed obviously young queer girl who was very nice. Perhaps she noticed we were distant cousins on the LGBTQA spectrum. To keep the line moving, I quickly paid and exchanged pleasantries with her and was on my way. Looking back, she reminded me of my transgender grandchild. I left with the hope she has a bright future of life ahead of her.

So, in the matter of two stops I had seen both ends of the public gender spectrum. One bewildered older person and one friendly energetic queer person. By now you may be wondering what all this has to do with victims versus trans survivors. I learned long ago, I couldn't run and hide if I was ever able to progress in the world as my authentic feminine self. I needed to overcome all the nights of coming home crying after being laughed at or stared at in public. I think being a survivor to me was when I came to the realization if I could never be mistaken totally for a cis-woman, I could still live a life as an out fulltime transgender woman. I wish I could tell you where I came up with the strength to be a survivor rather than staying home and feeling sorry for myself. Perhaps my best trans girlfriend at the time said I passed out of sheer willpower. I believe it was because deep down I felt what I was doing was right and felt so natural. Just to be able to go out and free myself from my gender closet encouraged me to not be a victim. Perhaps for the first time in my life. 

The urge turned out to be so strong for me to live as a woman, I was able to overcome the false idea that women have an easier life than men. When in realty, the opposite happened. I learned a cis woman's life was a many layered often difficult existence and I wanted to learn more and more. As I did I became more of a survivor than I ever thought I could ever be as I lost all of my male privileges. No more could I expect to be respected because of my white older maleness and be called the hated and unwanted "Sir" word. I needed to start all over again in a feminine foreign world and prove once and for all I was a survivor versus a victim. Now we all need to be survivors to battle all the gender bigots seeking to erase us. Perhaps now more than ever before.