It's Game Day

 

Red Wig Image from the 
Jessie Hart
Archives and the game...

Recently, the Cincinnati Reds kicked off their latest professional baseball season. Opening Day is a big deal here complete with a parade and sell out crowds at the game. 

As a guy, I somehow managed to secure a ticket or two to the game because the company I worked for knew I was a huge sports fan and it was their way to keep me happier. As a transgender woman, I also managed to go to a few games but never opening day. As I aged, the problem became when I was unable to walk long distances to get to the ballpark and had nothing to do with me worrying about being accepted by the other fans in the stadium. Plus what remained of seeing the whole sporting experience in person as a woman just reinforced the fact I could take my love from one gender to another. 

I was lucky when I found and was accepted by a small group of women who were passionate about sports also. We regularly gathered at sports bars to watch our favorite teams play while we drank quantities of good cold draft beer. Good times were normally had by all, even though our teams lost. Perhaps the best part was, since I was part of a group of other women, no one questioned my gender at all. I had my validation as a person I so desperately sought. 

With one of my friends (Kim) a friendly competition developed over which professional football team we were fans of. Her family is from Pittsburgh, so naturally she is a Steelers fan which collided head on with me since I am a Cincinnati Bengals fan. Along the way, we became so close she invited me to go along with her family to a Monday Night Football game in Cincinnati. All of a sudden, I realized what such a major deal going to a real live National Football League game was when it came to my gender transition timetable. For most of my life, I wondered what it would be like to attend a game as my authentic transgender self and all of a sudden, the time had come. 

Back in those days, I had not started gender affirming hormones yet so all I had to wear was a barely fitting wig Kim and her daughter Hope had always seen me in. Hope was a bar tended/server at one of the venues I became a regular in and initially set up a meeting between her lesbian mom and I. Needless to say, I was terrified yet still excited to take another major step along my gender path. The door to my closet was opening faster than I had ever dreamed it would. Once I made it to the stadium, it was dark which helped my presentation and I went through the initial stadium security check points with no problems and my confidence began to build. We made it to our seats and no one gave me a second look, so I was happy. After all, everyone had paid a premium price to watch a football game, not a stray transgender fan in the stands. 

The only perceivable problem I was going to have was how much I could drink. I didn't want to chance going to the women's room if I could help it but I couldn't risk having to go during the long road trip home if I had to. So I compromised and just had two beers and made only one trip to the rest room where nothing happened. I got in, took care of business, washed my hands and got out. 

Per norm, the Bengals lost to the Steelers that night, so I took some abuse from the others in the group. Little did they know how just going was a complete victory and confidence builder for me and to this day, I can't thank Kim enough for including me.

These days, the Cincinnati Reds have a young exciting team who are fun to watch and my dream is to build myself up to the point where my wife Liz and I can see a game or two this summer. 

Outreach Week

 Unexpectedly, this week has turned into an outreach week for me. 

First of all, recently I virtually attended another Alzheimer's diversity council meeting. The rest of the council is all women so I fit in quite nicely. Every once in awhile, the moderator slips up and calls me "he" but not at all in the most recent meeting. Which was nice. As I always mention, the local Alzheimer's group reached out to me initially and I have been treated with the overall respect on occasion I never see in other groups.  So, if you are facing a dire health situation with a transgender or other LGB relatives when it comes to an ugly case of memory loss, don't hesitate to research your local Alzheimer's Association for help. My passion for this subject comes from the fact my Dad passed at the age of eighty six following a prolonged tragic bout with Dementia. Also, if you happen to be in the metro Cincinnati/Dayton Ohio area, feel free to reach out to me for more contact information.

My second outreach opportunity is coming up later in the week.  Again I was approached by a transgender friend to participate in a panel discussion which will  be held at the University of Cincinnati. It's called the "Transgender Wellness Event" and I am excited to be able to meet a majority college crowd and field any questions they may have about escaping their gender closets later in life. Like I did. It will be my first such opportunity ever and I am excited. Now I have to hope my wonky cell phone GPS gets me there in one piece since I am still fairly new to the tangle of streets which makes up the city and especially the university itself. I rely too much on my wife Liz, who is a native, to get me around. 

At this point, the weather forecast is good, so I still have not decided what I am going to wear. Plus I am thinking of (for the first time in my life) taking a cane with me in case it looks like I will have to walk a long way to make my way into the event itself. 

One way or another, I plan on making it into the venue and witnessing first hand what a portion of the college age students have to say about being transgender. Plus, just being available to be there and answer any questions is also very important in this day and age here in Ohio where we are in a constant battle for our trans rights. Being in a college setting, I don't expect much push back but I am prepared one way or another.

One never knows if getting out more will help me to get out again and explore the world as I used to. Even if I have to utilize a handicapped sticker and a cane.

Transgender Plan B?

A Bright Idea from Diego PH
on UnSplash

In life, did you ever have to come up with a new plan if the one you were working on didn't work?

In my life, I had many "Plan B's" because I didn't think things out before I did them. A prime example was when I was engaging in all the cross dressing I was doing in front of the mirror when I was very young. If the truth be known, I didn't know what I would do if I was caught. Except to lie and promise to never do it again. Plus, what if I was caught shopping for makeup in a downtown department store close to where my Dad worked. In the vacuum I lived in, I just plowed blindly ahead, hoping for the best and expecting the worst never happened. Which it never did.

I suppose I always thought there was a "Plan B" somewhere if I was discovered. Somehow I would magically give up on my dream and keep marching ahead in a male world. In reality or not, I always thought there had to be some sort of back up if I failed at anything. There was always going to be another chance to put on a dress and apply makeup if I was careful. 

The first time I encountered a situation where the only back up plan was applying myself in the system was when I enlisted in the Army during the Vietnam War to evade the draft. When I went through the human machine called basic training, the threat of failure was real. The drill sergeants made it clear if you failed at something you could be recycled back to the beginning and have to start all over again. No one wanted to face that "Plan B." The result of going through basic built my confidence in that if I was forced into a situation I certainly did not want to be, I could still survive. The main problem I had was I couldn't (of course) cross dress at all and had to put my gender issues aside. During the several years which occurred before I could indulge in cross dressing again, my back up plan was to do quite a lot of daydreaming about when I finished my military service and could resume my life as I had lived it before. 

When I did finish, I found myself needing a whole new set of "Plan B''s." What happened was, I started to go all out at Halloween parties dressed as a woman. Where I learned the basics of surviving in a new exciting world as I was slowly growing up as a novice transgender woman, which was my dream. Of course the problem was Halloween only came around once a year and what was I going to do the rest of the time about my gender dysphoria. What I decided to do was sneak out of the house and into the world as my new transgender self. When I did it, I needed plenty of "Plan B's" if I was caught. My rule of thumb was to be as careful as I could and deny anything which happened if I was caught by my second wife. Not the best plan. 

As my femininization presentation improved, I found I needed a whole new plan to survive in the world as my authentic self. Primarily I needed a way to communicate with women I was meeting who were curious why I was in their world. Initially, I tried to mimic who I was talking to as far as using their vocal pitch and then even moved on to taking voice lessons to sound more like a woman. Finally, I moved to a point where I was half way comfortable with the way I sounded and I did the best I could.

I am biased of course but I feel the back up plans we transgender women or trans men face are far more impactful than those of the average person. We trans folk often face the possibility of losing almost everything as the "Plan B" we have when we enter the world. All too often, I read the sad, tragic stories of trans women losing their entire families, jobs and even friends when they made their way out of the closet. 

Hopefully, in the future, society will come around and we won't have to rely on severe "Plan B's" to survive.

Life's Little Nudges

Image from James Lee
on UnSplash

In an extension of yesterday's post, there were many times when I needed a little push to keep going towards my dream of living a life as a transgender woman. 

Perhaps the first push I needed was I had to know if I could exist in the public's eye as a novice cross dresser (or whatever label you want to put on me) at all. It seemed everytime I left my closet, I was being laughed at or at the minimum stared at. It was during those dark days I waited on any rationalization to come along to justify what I was doing to myself was right. The light I saw at the end of the tunnel certainly seemed to be the train back then. 

Somehow, I kept dodging the train and relied on the least bit of gender euphoria I felt on occasion to propel me forward. One example was the short, flirty tennis style outfit I came up with to wear to the mall. I managed enough pizazz to generate admiring looks from many of the old men who were in the mall walking at the time. Back in those days, I didn't really understand what a true validation as a woman meant to me. I was still obsessed with appearance only.

Slowly I was nudged off my appearance pedestal by comments from my second wife such as I did not have any idea of what being a woman was all about. Since I had spent nearly all of my life to that point studying the women around me, I resented the fact she said it at all but even still, I set out to find out what she meant. Sadly, most of what I learned from her comments did not come until after she passed away. At that point, gender doors began to open for me and I was nudged through them. Finally, I paid enough dues to be allowed to play in the girls' sandbox. Where the real learning started. Slowly I survived having my sandcastles destroyed and sand kicked in my face by the mean girls and I moved on.

As my world widened and I actually learned I could make it in a transgender world, it seemed each night was a bigger and bigger push in the right direction. Destiny showed me a path and I took it. My small group of lesbian friends showed me how to validate myself without a man and secured once and for all my sexuality. I was living my dream and decided to take it a step forward by beginning gender affirming hormones. After all, at the age of sixty, if I was healthy enough, what was holding me back. It turned out nothing was except for a surprising reaction to the new femininizing hormones in my body. It was much more than a nudge when my breasts developed to a point where they were easily visible under all my old male shirts. All along, I thought the process would take longer but it didn't and it was time to come out to what was left of my family. 

The coming out process showed me both sides of coming out as a transgender woman in a male dominated family where I was supposed to be the patriarch. Because I was the oldest surviving man. My brother rejected me and my daughter accepted me is the short and sweet version I relate to so much here in the blog. 

Even though it was at times a very difficult and rough gender journey I went down, life's little nudges made my life anything but boring. In fact, it tended to be on the terrifying/exciting side.   

Trans Crisis Management

 

Image from the Jessie
Hart archives. From the Ohio 
State Student Union. 

Over the years as I went through the process of living my life as a transgender woman, I encountered many instances of crisis management. 

Some of the encounters were funny, some were anything but funny. Several come to mind as I write this post. Probably the most humorous account came at the ill fated expense of a water balloon I used as a breast form one night when I was going out to my regular venues I loved the feel of the balloons. They provided a realistic bounce and even matched my body temperature if I filled them with water of a certain temperature. Of course, as I was doing all of this, I knew how fragile my fake breasts would be. And, a night I remember well, it happened, one of my beloved water balloons broke sending water down my clothes. I was lucky in that I was headed from my seat at the bar to the rest room and had just made it to the safety of the women's room, if it was empty at the time. It was empty and it saved me from any rushed explanations of the water which I caused. The only crisis management statement I could come up with was I was pregnant and my water broke. What really happened was, I gathered my one breast self together and left the venue like nothing happened, then headed home determined to find another form of realistic breasts. 

The next  profound crisis management encounter I remember was one of the worst I ever have had. It happened in another venue I went to regularly. After consuming my usual amount of beer, I naturally needed to innocently use the women's room. When I did, I didn't notice the woman who came in after me and I should have. I saw her and an older woman  I perceived to be her Mom come in the door and pass nearby me at the bar. The older woman wasn't shy about glaring at me but kept on going, minding her own business. I should have known my relaxation would come back to haunt me because when I came out of one of the stalls in the restroom, I was confronted by the daughter. Out of the clear blue sky, she started screaming at me and began her tirade by calling me a pervert. 

At first, my fight or flight mechanisms kicked in and my first inclination was to vacate the rest room. Instead, my inner female kicked in and faced the red faced screaming woman. Somehow during her rant, I was able to learn she ran her own hair dresser salon. When she slowed down, I asked her for a business card so I could pass it along to a very influential local LGBTQ organization and naturally tell them about my negative experience with her. It worked because she abruptly stopped and left the rest room while I not so calmly washed my hands, checked my makeup and returned to my seat. The whole experience taught me to always be aware of my surroundings and other potential problem people in it. 

Of course, these two examples are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to dealing with our own brand of trans crisis management. From makeup and fashion  struggles when we first come out of the closet, all the way to unwanted government discrimination, we face it all. I am sure all of you have faced your own crises over the years. Maybe going back all the way to being caught cross dressing in your Mom's or sister's clothes when you were growing up. Surviving it all was the challenge while preserving our mental health. Sadly, with the extremely high rates of suicide in the transgender community, too many don't make it. In fact, we just had a local trans musician commit self harm and die last week. 

Crisis management with all of us just needs to be a priority. 

Transgender Ego Revisited

Image from Chloe (I think)

 Recently I received a comment from Amara concerning a post I did in 2011!

Unfortunately she was asking about a dress in a picture I used back then. I didn't know the answer for her. Plus I really don't know where the image came from. Back in those days, I didn't always give credit where credit was due. Which I regret now.

Some other regrets I have now looking back was the ego I needed to deal with when I first came out as a novice cross dresser or transgender woman. I know for certain if I looked back at the overall subjects the blog covered, they were overwhelmingly centered on how I looked. Sadly, I suffered because I was still operating under the impression my male self thought I should look. And, how his ego was effected by how my trans self was treated. 

To make a long story short, her (my) experience wasn't always pleasant and I came home in tears It seemed the mirror was lying to me at every turn. Finally I went back to my cross dressing basics and changed my perspective on going out in the public's eye. As much as I hated to do it, I needed to admit my second wife was right about how I looked. Instead of being the "pretty, pretty princess" as she put it, I needed to learn to tone my look down so I could blend in with other women in the world. 

Ego-wise my outlook changed from emphasizing how my old male self thought I should look in public. Going from worrying what men thought of me, all the way to being able to better interact with the other women I met. Which became very important because the majority of people I met and interacted with were other women. I learned from them women have ego's too, just different from men. A couple times I learned the hard way not to interact too closely with another woman's man or boyfriend and  then needed to treat the claw marks in my back. 

I became a quick learner when it came to dealing with a new transgender world. In my girl's nights outs in learned how the women treated each other with no men around and then how they interacted when men were added in the evening. The change was dramatic. 

As much of a change as my feelings today versus 2011. I can't imagine or put into words all the changes I have gone through. Before I wrap up this post, I did manage to find the dress and image Amara was referring to. Just guessing but I wonder if the person was a candidate in a womanless beauty pageant which used to be prevalent in society and the South before the fervent anti-transgender attacks. Even though I wish I could say I would or could even wear that dress in the photo. it is certainly not me and never was. No matter how hard I tried.

As always, thanks to Amara and all of you who take the time to read and comment to all of my posts. Your input makes my efforts so worth while.   

Leaving me For Years

Image from Brock Wegner
on UnSplash

I become a little amused when someone thinks I overnight completed my gender transition from a fairly successful male to a struggling novice transgender woman. 

To put everything in perspective, it took me nearly half a century to figure out my gender issues and how I needed to deal with them. Perhaps you noticed I used the word needed and not wanted because deep down I knew I never had a choice in my life. My gender journey was pre-written for me and I just had to follow the script.

For me it meant dealing with years of extreme gender dysphoria which wrecked my life and several relationships along the way. It was an extreme struggle for dominance from the two binary genders which lived within me. Naturally, even though he wasn't happy or satisfied, my pre-destined male life just didn't want to give up all the male privileges' he had worked so hard to gain. While, on the other hand, my feminine side had to put up with the fact she felt so free and natural when she was let out of my gender closet. 

The struggle left me in a situation for years where I couldn't win. I was in some sort of a gender trench warfare when one side had a little success, the other side would come back to reclaim victory. Battles were won, purges were made but the war went on and on. First I tried to hide in the mirror but that didn't work when I began to escape into the world as a cross dresser. All of a sudden, I discovered I might be actually able to live a dream life as a transgender woman if I worked hard enough to do it. At that point, I sat out to take better care of myself and lost nearly fifty pounds so I could fit into the woman's fashions I so admired. Plus I started to take better care of my skin so my makeup was easier to apply and I looked more natural doing it. 

At that point, I tried to outrun my gender dysphoria the best I could by changing jobs and locations where I lived way too quickly. In a space of three or four years my second wife moved from our home in Ohio to the metro NYC area, back to a very rural area where we heated with wood and finally back home again. All I finally learned was I couldn't out run my problems. They all began and ended with my gender issues. 

Even with all the problems I mentioned, I still did not want to give up totally on my male self. In many ways, the life he had carved out from such a bleak beginning was just too comfortable. What happened then were the years I spent as a novice transgender woman. All of them were scary yet exciting times to live through. 

So no, my decision to leave the male world behind was not an overnight decision. It just turned out he was leaving me for years. 

A Transgender Inch Equals a Mile

Image from Jessie Hart Archives
Civil War Cemetery Cincinnati

Distances are often very blurry when it comes to beginning and pursuing a gender transition. 

The meaning wasn't lost on me when I began to remember what many of my more experienced dating male friends said when it came to discussing their girlfriends. The biggest complaint was when the guys gave in an inch with their women, the women took a mile. 

As I transitioned into the feminine world, often I thought the same thing about my inner girl self. Or, as soon as I cross dressed in front of the mirror, the more she wanted. Specifically, she wanted out of the mirror and into the world. Quite early, it meant making the trip to the mailbox to check to see if there was anything in the box. I so enjoyed the feel of the outside air on my freshly shaved, panty hose covered legs. 

What I discovered was as soon as I made the very short trip out of the door, my girl dreamed of doing more and more in the world. So much so, my entire life was effected to the point I would become very grumpy almost to the point of disorientation when I couldn't cross dress again. The whole process just didn't seem fair because I was doing the best I could with the very limited resources I was able to put together. Fashion was difficult to find for my rapidly growing body but I could manage to buy my own makeup with my very small allowance I earned plus the money I put together from having my own newspaper delivery route.

Through it all, I managed to get by when my inner trans self wanted to take an extra mile when I was giving her an inch. I thought it was some sort of a gender poetic justice when my male friends complained about their girlfriends and I knew exactly what they were talking about when I wasn't outwardly involved with a girl at all. 

It wasn't until much later in life when I could begin to give up more than just an occasional inch to my transgender self and discover all I was missing. More and more I was able to take the extra mile. Even though I was scared (or even terrified) to do it. Such as the first night I went to a "Fridays" bar/restaurant for a cocktail. I ended up sitting in the parking lot for a good thirty minutes checking my makeup before I gathered the courage to go in. Once I did, and began to breathe again, I was able to relax and enjoy myself.

At that point, I was very proud of myself and considered I wouldn't challenge my novice transgender woman for more. After all, I had just given her the mile she wanted and I thought she should be satisfied for awhile. Needless to say, none of that worked. Instead of going to the so-called gay venues she had been going to, she wanted more of the "Fridays" vibe she succeeded in. I found she could become a regular fairly easily by being friendly, minding her own business and above all, tipping well. All of a sudden, a new life was beginning. No matter how scared of it I was at the time. 

Perhaps the biggest transgender inch becoming a mile was when I started gender affirming hormonal treatment. In what seemed a very short period of time, my body femininized as well as my inner self. I was feeling more emotional than ever before in my life as the new hormones took effect. The whole process was close to running a record setting mile. 

All along, my old male self was fighting giving up every inch he could. Not wanting to lose his life and all he had worked for. It turned out, once I went all the way into an new exciting transgender world, he lost the battle and the victory belonged to my stronger half. My feminine self as she took the final mile.

Walking the Transgender Tightrope

 

Image from Johannes Plenio on 
UnSplash

I have never been accused of being coordinated at all which completely held me back when it came to me being able to participate in any sort of athletics except for football which often meant dealing with brute strength. 

Little did I know, I would have to develop my own sense of gender coordination to deal with my gender dysphoria. It turns out the better I became navigating the world as a novice transgender woman, the more balance I would need to survive in life. What happened was, the better I became with makeup and fashion, the more confidence I felt and in addition I was gaining the all important confidence to try more and more exciting yet terrifying experiences as my feminine self. 

Doing the more I could possibly hope for led me to trying to walk part of my life in my old male gender and part in my newer female one. My second wife even approved of a plan where I could have three days a week to leave the house dressed as a guy, go to a motel, cross dress as a woman and basically do whatever I wanted. Then dress back into my boring drab male clothes and come home. It didn't take long for me to become bored with this arrangement and I began slipping out of the house behind her back when she was working. Out of sheer willpower I needed to begin being more coordinated in how I was trying to run my gender conflicted life. There was really only one thing I knew for sure, I loved my feminine side and wanted to do more and more to let her out. 

Sadly, the whole process of trying to balance the two genders fighting for dominance within me was destroying my already bi-polar fragile mental health. I tried therapy and for years had only one therapist tell me the truth...there was essentially nothing I could do about wanting to transition into a transgender woman. I was what I was and I should accept it. Of course I wasn't smart enough to take her advice. I still wanted to save what was left of my long term marriage to my second wife while at the same time exploring what could be possible if I actually had the courage to transition into a fulltime world as a transgender woman. 

Finally, after falling off the tightrope more times than I can say, I could take the mounting gender pressure no longer and tried suicide as a solution. Just before my wife passed away from a massive heart attack, I thought I "purged" for the final time and got down from my tightrope. I grew a beard, gained a bunch of weight and overall was miserable but I gave it my best effort. 

I proved to myself I wasn't coordinated enough to navigate something complex enough as a gender tightrope and moved on to living a life as my authentic self. I am not one for regrets but if I allowed myself one, it would be I would have had the courage to transition earlier in life (before the age of sixty.) I would have saved myself so much time, effort and frustration as I attempted to balance my gender tightrope.