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.   

Emotional Blackmail

Image from Callum
Skelton on UnSplash

Emotional blackmail is another of those terms or labels which is difficult to describe or understand.

The way I look at it is, the blackmail describes the portion of my life I lived with my second wife when we constantly battled over my increasingly feminine gender identity. In fact, now, in hindsight I look at the time when two strong women were clashing with each other. My wife and the other was me. Every time I was successful when I went out as a transgender woman, the bigger our fights became. Examples included the time when I went to a transvestite or cross dresser mixer when we lived in New York. The gatekeepers who were placed to keep cis-women out made me show my identification to prove I really was a guy. The entire incident put me on cloud nine for days following but on the other hand, made me very difficult to live with. Predictably, my wife and I clashed and my inner woman felt who was my wife anyway. 

As life went on, the emotional blackmail continued and even worsened. Our sex life worsened because I insisted on making love as two women. She hated the idea and all activity ground to a halt until she passed away. It was during this time also when I was sneaking out more behind her back and meeting new people for the first time. Ironically, I was approached by way more women than men and primarily became friends with lesbians for some reason. Whatever the reason was, I was enjoying the new company I had found and was able to learn so many things from them. One night on one of my gender parties I went to I ended up leaving with a single lesbian woman and going to a dance club in Columbus, Ohio. Nothing physical happened so I considered it another case of emotional cheating I was doing to my wife of twenty five years.

Sometimes I wondered if the emotional blackmail I was subjecting my wife to was worse than any other form of abuse. Sadly or not, I couldn't do anything about my quest to understand and be a better woman. Probably, what was left of my old male self who loved my wife dearly and on occasion had enjoyed our life together was the biggest obstacle to changing it all and coming out fulltime. He kept screaming at me to not give up and the ripping and tearing of living between two genders nearly killed me. Plus, after or during one of our biggest fights, my wife told me something to the tune of why didn't I be enough of a man to be a woman. It would have certainly have been the best way out of the torment if I had only listened. Of course I didn't. 

I was one of the fortunate transgender women as I found a soft landing spot with plenty of assistance when I transitioned. I learned to rely on my feminine instincts which had been ignored for so long as my new life began to take shape. And most importantly emotional blackmail faded into my past as something which never really happened. We all know it did. It wasn't right and I wasn't a strong enough person to do anything about it. 

The Essence of Being Transgender

 

Go Buckeyes! Image from the
Ohio State Union...

It is very difficult to explain to another person why you are a transgender woman or trans man. 

I can only compare it to why a cis-woman just knows she is a feminine person. To just say I was born this way is a huge over simplification. To begin with just being assigned female or male at birth does not necessarily guarantee you will ever make it to being a woman or a man. Many people just don't for whatever reason. Perhaps you have encountered a person or two (or several) in your life who never seemed to grasp the ideals of their supposed gender. In most cases, they became unhappy and unfulfilled people. 

Transgender people have it harder since we were forced into boxes we did not want to be in. Or, the old square peg into the square hole status. First we trans individuals had to figure out what our problem was then try to have an idea what to do about it. In most cases we had to come out fighting to claim our limited space in society.

In many cases we faced other women who pushed back on our transgender essence...even trans women who wanted to say you were not trans enough to be included in their little clubs. These women were not unlike other cis-women (natural born females) who resisted our inclusion into their worlds. These transphobes or TERF's did and can attempt to make life miserable for unsuspecting transgender women. I have never figured out what their true problem was or is. I faced it head on one night at a lesbian Valentine's Day dance Liz and I went to. A lesbian came up to me and rudely asked what my "real" name was and was very nasty before she finally gave up and went her own way.

I have never figured out why other women would not want to be more inclusive of us and broaden their population base. Especially with all the attacks women are facing on all sides in politics and with personal safety. I write often how quickly I learned what could happen when my personal safety male privilege was taken away. I was cornered by a huge man at a party and had to be rescued by my second wife one night and then much later was stopped by two men when I was alone at night outside a gay bar in an a dark, lonely urban setting. I learned quickly never to be alone again in those situations. 

I guess the problem of explaining essence is because it is so vague. It has always been so difficult to tell others I have always known I am transgender simply because I was. I am as much as a woman as anyone else. I just had to take a different path to arrive at my goal of jumping from an unwanted male life to a fulltime feminine one. 

If they don't listen or can't understand, it is their problem. Not mine.

Gender Pilgrimage

 

Gender Pilgrim Troye Sivan

At the age of seventy four I often look back at my life and wonder how I was able to navigate the ups and downs of a gender pilgrimage. 

The way I have been able to separate my path is to roughly divide it into three segments which over simplifies the process but at the same time, makes it easier for my noggin to grasp. 

The first and most foggy time of my gender life was my early childhood. I don't remember exactly when I had a concrete idea of wanting to be a girl. I finally came to the conclusion it was around the age of ten. It was about this time when I started to explore the delights of feminine clothing from my Mom's wardrobe. From then on I started to save my allowance money as well the meager funds I earned from delivering newspapers to the rural customers we lived around. I had a powerful motivation to earn my own money and purchase makeup or clothes depending on what I could afford. 

The whole process set me firmly up for a nearly half century of cross dressing. As you can guess I had plenty of time to try different things while I experimented more and more deeply with being a woman and leaving my male life and privileges behind. I write often how I went about meeting other transvestites for the first time all the way to being approached by men. I was on cloud nine for weeks following an adventure I had after being made over by a professional at a cross dresser mixer I went to. Afterwards when I tagged along with the group I called the "A" listers, in a bar we ended up at, I was the only one approached by a guy who wanted me to stay and have a drink with him. The entire evening validated my desire to be a woman more often and at the same time made me hell to live with.

Sadly, I was destined to live this way for years, twenty five to be exact as I punished my wife for how I felt. I drank too much and tried to outrun my gender problems by changing jobs and moving to different states such as New York from our native Ohio. Instead of making my pilgrimage easier, I was attempting to make it ever harder. It almost killed me in the process as my mental health declined. The ripping and tearing of living between the two primary binary genders was just too much. I had to decide which way to go and made the choice to live in the future as a transgender woman. The problem was I was in my early sixties when I decided to leave my cross dresser phase and begin HRT or hormone replacement therapy. 

Of course now I am in the third phase of my gender pilgrimage and feel so relieved to having left all the turmoil of my male life behind. I know I did not make the wrong choice because I feel so natural with my life now. Out of an extreme level of caution, I certainly did well but on the other hand, I don't regret the male life I was able to live. Among other things, he gave me a wonderful accepting daughter and helped open the door to a relationship which led to a marriage to my wife Liz. 

I look at it this way, I was fortunate to have earned a dual gender citizenship by living on both sides of the border. An often long and difficult pilgrimage made it all possible.    

The Light

Image from Junior
Ferriero on UnSplash

 
Sadly, most transgender women or trans men experience complete darkness in their gender closet before they are able to come out and explore the world.

Of course in the pre-internet period, gender information was very difficult to come by and it wasn't until pioneers such as Virginia Prince came around did printed material begin to surface on a regular basis. As well as the so called transvestite mixers which began to crop up in other areas except the East coast. For those of us in the Midwest and other places, finding and meeting other like minded cross dressers seemed to be the impossible dream. The light in the gender closet was dim to say the least. 

Perhaps the worst part of seeing the light was determining exactly what it was. Could it be a beneficial beginning to escaping the severe gender dysphoria I was facing, or was it merely the light of a train rolling uncontrollably towards me. At any point of time, discovery of my feminine desires could lead to severe consequences to the male life I had worked so hard to survive in. It took me years and even decades to figure out the light wasn't the train. Partly because of all the time I wasn't sure it wasn't the train.

Those were the dark days of my gender despair. The days of venturing out in the public's eye only to be laughed at and rejected which led to ill-advised "purges" of my feminine wardrobe. Somehow, deep down, I knew the "purge" would only last a few days and the fleeting freedom I felt wouldn't last. I was right and before long, my desire to rebuild a feminine wardrobe and wear it became strong again. This time I wanted to climb on board the train and ride it to a new found transgender freedom, away from my old male self.  Rather than the light at the end of the tunnel being a negative, I deeply wanted to turn it into a positive.

It was approximately this time of my life, in my thirties and early forties, when I met others whom I could identify with as far as my gender struggles went. I found I didn't have to drive far to Columbus, Ohio for small mixers with a diverse group of people ranging from cross dresser admirers all the way to transsexuals. All of the sudden, the light became a beacon on what my life could become if I worked on it hard enough. I found achieving my possible goal of living a feminine life meant so much more than just appearances. My second wife kept pounding on me to be more and I took a long time to realize what she was saying. Surviving as a trans woman would mean learning to live a new multi-layered life.

Even though I had made it a huge priority to study women all my life, I needed to use the light to take my studies to another level. Think of it this way, I was pursuing a new masters program in gender before I could put the male past behind me and move forward.

Finally I arrived at a point where my closet door had opened widely and my long hidden feminine self was able to take over. She was able to take over the light and enable it to be so much brighter.

Ode to Halloween

 

Halloween image from
the Jessie Hart Archive (Tom on
Left)

I have lived long enough to experience Halloween coming full circle.

Early in life I experienced the urge to wear a feminine costume but never had the courage to break out of my gender closet and do it. Plus I lived in such a small rural area, there weren't too many kids to go around and once you were pigeon holed into a certain category with your peer group you couldn't get out.  Examples included friends who were good or bad students as well as those who were always the outstanding athletes in the class. There was never any space for a stray boy who wanted to be a girl.

So I had a deeper reason never, ever express my feminine longings at all on Halloween. On top of all of that, I never saw any other boys who were dressed as girls. No cheerleaders, princesses or any of the stereotypes from the female world. The only time I can remember ever seeing a fellow male in drag or cross dressed was for selected festivals in high school. I was amazed at their male to female transformation. Plus I did hear the gossip concerning another guy in school I didn't really know who was dressed in his sister's clothes for his "costume" as the rumor went. I was so envious!

Once the years progressed and I naturally achieved more freedom to be my own person, I was able to pursue more courageous goals as far as Halloween went. I tentatively used the holiday to sneak out of my closet and explore. Could I dare make it in public as my feminine self. Very early I learned lessons I could take with me for years as I transitioned. I found if I dressed more conservatively at Halloween I indeed could have a chance to present well in the public's eye as a woman. As it turned out, all of this would be just the beginning of what I could learn on my ever rocky gender journey. 

Halloween made it possible for me to understand I could indeed live a life as my authentic feminine self. The only real problem came when I could only experience my terrifying yet exciting new life once a year. I was increasingly forced into the real world to learn my new gender lessons. All of which were made possible by Halloween.

Ironically, the more I learned from my initial experiences, the more I found the lessons would serve me well when I transitioned into a world ran primarily by women. If I could get other women to accept me, the better and easier I would have it. I also learned the hard way the process I would need to go through with men to attempt acceptance. Along the way, when I learned the better I presented at Halloween parties as a woman, the more of my male privileges were lost. Almost instantly, my old male friends began to leave me alone with the rest of the women. 

These days I have gone full circle with Halloween. It has served it's purpose of launching my journey down a path to be a full time transgender woman. So I don't have any need to go to any parties with elaborate costumes. I have done all of that and it is time to sit back and recognize Halloween for all the amazing experiences I was provided.

Forces of Nature

Image from the Jessie Hart
Archives

 As we go through life as transgender women or trans men, we just have to develop a hard shell of sorts to get us by.

Sadly, we often have to resort to hiding and sneaking around our family's back to at the least keep our gender dysphoria issues at bay. At least in my case, even though I wasn't proud of it, I spent hours or even days trying to figure out how I could do my cross dressing. Even to the point I wish I could get back just a portion of the creative energy I expended on dressing like a girl. Obviously, it is way too late now to worry over expended energy as the entire process made me stronger.

Little did I know, I would need all of the strength I could summon to make it through my upcoming long and twisted gender journey. Along the way, I needed to survive all the unkind external forces I would end up facing. Before I grasped the importance of learning how to cross dress my male body to blend into the world. Possibly the biggest lesson I needed to learn was cis-women ran the world I wanted to be a part of. Without the women's help and approval, there would be no way I would be allowed to play in their sandbox, as I like to refer to it as. 

To be a force of nature, I needed to learn to be a gentle force. In other words I needed to play off my gender differences. I could never try to claim my womanhood the same way my friends did but I could claim my right to admittance to being a woman because I had always felt deep down I had always felt feminine. All the way to the point I had always been a student of everything feminine. I paid my own dues in so many ways to finally pave my path to my trans womanhood. One of the most amazing parts of my journey came when I was chosen to be a part of a photo shoot here in Cincinnati which featured all sorts of different kinds of women. 

Being a force of nature is often a burden also. On occasion I think people expect too much from transgender women or trans men. For the same reason we are feared in some circles these days, other people want to hate on us as a community. Mainly because they don't understand our lifestyle. It is especially evident to me when it comes to certain politicians I have recently seen. Primarily when my "gay-dar" immediately went off when I saw the new Speaker of the House who has repeatedly issued homophobic comments. 

All in all, it takes every bit of knowledge we trans people have acquired to make it in a world hostile to us. In a climate where certain political parties and religions are trying to erase us, the fact remains we have always been here and always will. 

Rest assured, we are true transgender forces of nature. Trained to do our best to survive as a tribe and never go back.