Climbing the Transgender Mountain

 

Photo from the 
Jessie Hart Collection

As time has gone by, I have began to think of my transgender journey as being some sort of a mountain climb.

Problems occurred along the way as I became greedy. I found the more I accomplished along my path, the more I wanted.  Many times I was guilty of trying to push the envelope too far and suffered negative responses from the public when I did. Those were the days of not knowing who I was cross dressing for and not having the skill to attempt to blend in with my feminine appearance. I was trying to dress sexy for the men in the world and failing miserably.  Climbing the mountain in those days was very painful and slow. However, destiny was playing a part in my climb because mixed in with the failures were just enough successes to encourage me to keep moving towards my impossible dream of living a life fulltime as a trans woman. I equate it to reaching a certain summit then looking around and deciding you can never go back.

Those were the days when I finally decided I was so much more than a casual cross dresser and when I was successful in my public presentation as a woman, I felt so natural. The best example I can remember is the night I went out on my own to get a drink at an upscale pub/tavern as a woman...not as someone pretending to be one. A huge difference to me at the time. The whole evening worked out so well for me, somehow I just knew I could never go back to my male lifestyle as I knew it at the time. The entire process was terrifying and exciting at the same time. After all the years of trying, I had reached a lower peak of my climb. A place where I could see clearly where I had come from and could see vaguely where I might have the chance to go. If I continued to climb upward.

Even though I am extremely fearful of heights I did continue my upward climb. Fighting me along the way was my increasing fear of totally giving up the male life I so desperately fought to keep over the years. I was just getting to the "Sir" stage of my life when privileges came from just surviving as long as I did as a white male. Even so, my feminine soul was calling me to move ever upward to my dream. 

As I often mention, my second wife of twenty five years was dead set against living with another woman. Especially if the other woman was me. When she unexpectedly passed away at the age of fifty, the  door was open for me to climb another peak in my gender transition and begin hormone replacement therapy or HRT. At that point, I couldn't or wouldn't turn back as miraculous changes began to go through my male body. In no time at all, I made the jump from macho male to androgynous person to looking feminine with softer skin, breasts and hair. I can equate the entire process to climbing my own personal Mt. Everest. 

Once I did scale my tallest gender mountain, I found the view to be breathtaking and at that point I was happy I made the climb. More importantly, I never wanted to go back.   

 

Pretending Who you Intend to Be

Image from Sigrid Wu
on UnSplash

 Growing up in my early cross dressing years I often thought I was just pretending to be a girl. As the years passed by of course, I discovered I was doing much more than pretending. 

My first indication of having a more serious attraction to dressing in feminine clothes was when after I ended my girlish relationship with the mirror, I couldn't wait to get back. The "buzz" I felt from experiencing looking at my cross dressed reflection just didn't last more than a couple days. Plus the desire to get out of the house and my little closet was strong. Looking back now, it is easy to see I was more a transgender woman than a cross dresser. By that time, my pretending stopped and I needed to find different forms of expression. Sadly, the other forms were nearly impossible to come by.

The closest I came were the couple of times when I made an attempt to come out to close friends. For the most part both times were disasters and I scurried back into my closet determined to try to live a male life. Only one was successful when another close friend of mine seemed to share the same fondness for dressing in feminine clothes which was even supported by his Mother. It was a new and wonderful experience to think I wasn't all alone in the world pretending to be a girl. However, just when we were having fun dressing up, he and his family moved several states away and we lost contact with each other. It was another "would have, should have" moments in my life when I think back on what have could have been had he not had to move.

From then on, my gender closet became dark and lonely again. Especially when I began to have a more complete understanding of what was going on with my gender dysphoria. The more I learned, the more it seemed I was not pretending at all to be feminine. Deep down inside I was and the entire process was causing me deep turmoil. It wasn't until I was able to read more and understand what a transgender woman was did I realize the terminology fit me and I intended to discover more. During this time of my life, I was able to meet transgender and/or transsexual role models in person and judge if I was one of them.  Very quickly I discovered I was similar and I began to consider exactly what it meant. First of all, if I was indeed transgender, I needed to figure out if I indeed could live a new life. Pretending was all over and every move seemed to be more serious.

Selling out my male self essentially meant I was only going to get pennies on the dollar for my male privileges' I had worked so hard to earn. Not to mention what was I going to do about my relationship with my wife as well as a fairly successful job. Transitioning back in those days was unheard of for the most part. Plus, moving away and starting all over again was the prescribed path to take when you were completing a gender transition.  Regardless of all of those factors, I knew what I needed to do and it was to live my dream of being a full time transgender woman.    

Once I completely quit pretending I still wanted to be a male, life became easier and worth living. I just had it all backwards for years. 

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.

Singing a Different Tune

During the search for my authentic gender over the years, I relied on music to lift me from my bouts of Bi-Polar based depression. 

Once I reached college age, I was drawn to music as a way of trying to support myself as a radio disc jockey. In fact, I was able to work my way partially through college working at a local small radio station. I made a small amount of money while at the same time furthered my love of music. Along the way I was fortunate in that even though I was a rock and roller at heart, I was also able to work in various other music formats such as free form (or progressive rock) as well as country music. Bottom line was I grew accustomed to appreciating music as a whole and just not a specific medium.  I can't tell you how many times I tried to mimic "Reba McIntire" the country singer. 

Along the way, early in my career I happened along certain songs such as Lola by the Kink's in 1970. It was interesting when I had to field call in's asking was the song really about a woman who was a man. I also discovered certain music which could soothe my blues temporarily. Which led me to an appreciation of the Jazz/Blues form of entertainment. So much so, with the help of a large music library which went back to the post WWII days, I was able to produce and program my own Blues Show on the American Forces Network station in Stuttgart, Germany. It was during this period of my life I was able to over enjoy the effects of powerful German Beer. Even though the extra alcohol was not good for my overall depression, it turned out to be a primary source of socialization for myself and friends I made along the way. This extreme alcoholic socialization finally led me to confessing my Halloween feminine "costume" was much more than an innocent past time as I was also a transvestite. It was the first time in my life I had told the truth to others that I was actually singing a different tune.

Destiny was behind me at the time because my admission could have been quite harmful to my military "career" which still had a year to go.  No one I told seemed to care and no one held it against me. As they could have. I was able to concentrate on my two main pleasures, playing music and reading "Dr. Strange" comic books in my spare time. I have said many times, I enjoyed my easy military time the best I could. Tough duty! Right?

After I was honorably discharged back to civilian life, I resumed my commercial radio career working for several small and medium sized radio stations in the Dayton, Ohio area. Music remained a huge part of my life even though my gender dysphoria ran a close second. I was very much mostly out of control until my daughter came along and I decided not to make the move I had planned to make to Texas to continue my career. In essence, I needed to take a more serious look at life. All along life was telling me two things. One of which I loved music and the second was I wasn't sure what gender I should be. Was I destined to be known as one of the newer terms of the time...was I transgender. 

As much as I loved my career, I was having a difficult time at making a living for my new family and decided to give it all up and try my hand at the rapidly expanding restaurant business. Sadly as I did well at running restaurants, my reliance on music to soothe my soul diminished.  I began to rely on my prescribed depression medications to control my Bi-Polar mood issues and my life stabilized. At the same time, my reliance on alcohol went away also. I need to stress, I followed my therapist's orders. 

I still remember how fondly I embraced my musical interests and look back at the time as the only job in my life  when I ever truly enjoyed my work. However, when I emerged singing a different tune, I was eventually able to live a happier more satisfying life.

Happy Mother's Day

At the least, Mother's Day is a bittersweet occasion for many transgender women. Tragically we have the many trans women who have been ostracized from their families for wanting to live a life reflecting our authentic selves.

On the other hand we have the rare example of those transgender women who were able to walk the gender path to the other side and be accepted as a Mother figure. The misconception continues to be females who give birth are automatically mothers in the strictest sense. Some females have the ability to be a Mother, other's don't. In fact I have a dear trans friend who is a prime example. 

Over the years of her life when her two sons were young, she ended up being the prime nurturer to her two boys. She fed them and healed them when they were sick as well as making sure they made it to all the extra curricular activities they needed to go to. In other words, she was the prime parent while the "womb donor" disappeared. Now it is obvious she raised two accepting young men who mostly accept her gender preferences. 

In my case, I often document the disagreements I suffered with my Mom. We were much the same as I resembled her in many ways as well as we both had the same fiery temperaments which resulted in never being satisfied with our state in the world. Then there was the infamous evening when I finally came out to her as her transgender daughter, only to be roundly rejected. Her response was paying for strict psychiatric care. From that moment forward, I did resent her for years until I did come to a personal understanding she was only a product of her generation and was doing the best she could in the middle of changing times. The end result was when I decided to change my legal name, I decided to use her first name as my middle one. I was honoring her for putting up with all the mis-carriages and even still births she endured before I finally came around. Even though it was difficult to forgive our differences on my gender disposition, I knew she loved me deeply in her own way. She has long since passed away. 

On this Mother's Day, I hope you have some sort of acceptance from your family. Being separated is a tragedy too many of us transgender women have to live through.        

I Made It

Liz on Left, Daughter on Right
from the Jessie Hart
Collection

Yesterday I received a special small box in the mail. Before I opened it, I truly had no idea what it could be except for the obvious...it came from my daughter in a relatively nearby suburb of Dayton, Ohio.

The only thing I thought the box could contain was something involved with the rapidly approaching Mothers Day celebration. It turned out my instincts or intuition was right and the box contained a really special coffee mug which said it was from my "favorite" child which was a standing joke between the two of us because she is my only child. Even though I only had one child, I could never have asked for a better one. 

Growing up, she had the benefit of having a village helping to raise her since her Mother and I divorced when she was quite young. She was accepted whole heartedly as part of our lives by my second wife as her strong willed Step-Mother so essentially my daughter had two accepting extended families. Plus when I moved around the country for new job opportunities, she was exposed to life in other places. I guess all of it worked to perfection because after my daughter graduated from college, she settled down with my Son-in-Law to raise my three grandkids. We enjoyed a good relationship until the potential problem of coming out as transgender raised it's potentially problematic head. 

I will forever remember the day I came out to her during a special breakfast we scheduled. Her reaction was? Why was she the last to know! From that point forward my child became my biggest supporter and she did things like schedule me an appointment at her beauty salon when my hair became long enough to style. Through it all, we worked together to get over my second wife's death, legally change my name to one which honored members of my family and other key moments in my life at that time.

The one thing which I never asked for was to be referred to as Mother in any way shape or form. So, in our case Mother's Day became "Parent's Day" and that was all good with me. Yesterday "Parent's Day" forever changed between us. Included with my coffee mug was a special hand written card. Unbelievably, the card said Happy Mother's Day in her hand writing. I immediately teared up. After all these years I had made it to a goal I never dreamed of achieving. Being called Mother by my daughter. I can only guess why the big change happened now. Perhaps it was because the last time I saw her we had a chance to sit down and just talk between ourselves, Liz and my transgender grand child.  Maybe my femininity showed through enough she decided it was time to do away with "parenthood" and move up to "motherhood".

All I can say is I am again beginning to cry tears of joy as I write this post. I am so fortunate to  have the family I have now. Especially since I have moved up to "Mom" . It took me nearly fifty years after I was present for the birth of my daughter to make it.  

Being the Transgender Woman you Desire

 

Image from the Jessie
Hart Collection

Recently I went with my wife Liz to her latest Doctor's appointment. As I waited I was able to see and judge several genetic or cis women.  It is a past- time I have developed over my many years studying all sorts of women as I transitioned. Along the way I so envied women for many different reasons.

Before I transitioned and began to live full time in a feminine world, I over simplified what I observed from other women. In other words, I was seeing the totality in what I observed in the woman's world. Not the overall layers which went on behind the scenes.  An example was when I noticed a younger woman this morning with a head of curly beautiful hair. Since now I have an idea of all the necessary steps a woman with long hair has to go through for maintenance, I immediately had more respect for the woman I noticed. 

Over the years of changing my gender presentation, hair was not the only part of a woman I noticed. Of course there were the individual parts of a body to consider. When they were all brought together I discovered a new found respect for classic beauty in a woman. On the other hand, I also learned of another very important fact. Even though most women aren't blessed with so called classic beauty traits, just as many have a few of the traits to concentrate on. A very important fact to consider if you are a novice transgender woman or a cross dresser. While it is an exceedingly difficult job to cover years of testosterone poisoning, it is possible to work with any positives you may possess. Legs are a good example. Many male type people are blessed with good strong feminine looking legs which are a good starting point to building the woman you desire. The problem of course is when those same legs are connected to a thick torso and broad shoulders. The real work begins when you have to start hiding the upper part of your body. Before I lost many pounds, I resorted to loose flowing tops and I was still able to show off my legs in shorter jeans skirts. In essence what I was trying to do was direct the eyes down to my legs and away from my torso when anyone noticed me. 

I was also fortunate  in that I had always admired a more statuesque woman so I wasn't (and not)  impressed with the overly thin predominance of thin female models. So I didn't have that to worry about as I went about becoming a semblance of the woman I wanted to be. 

It turned out I was putting way too much worry and thought into the woman I was becoming. My inner girl already had the process worked out for me. Now I see other women for what they are and not what I want to be. I have learned to do the best I could with the cards which were dealt to me. Being the woman you are is a matter of letting her live. I know the process is so difficult for so many of us and I am far from putting myself up on any sort of pedestal. I have learned my lesson when my fall from feminine grace hurt me deeply. All I am trying to say is when anyone asks me when did I know I was transgender, I have always been. She was just waiting to be let out and be the woman she always desired.