Connecting the Gender Dots

 

JJ Hart, from
the archives.

Many outside of the LGBTQ community, or more precisely the transgender community, think connecting the dots between male and female is as simple as putting on a dress and makeup.

One of the problems is, in order to  walk a mile in our transgender shoes, you have to learn to tie the laces first. Very few people have the patience or understanding to do it. The complexity of gender scares most people off. They think gender is cut and dried but is the opposite. 

Even those in the community have a difficult time connecting the dots and don't realize that even if we have similarities as trans women or trans men, we have just as many differences. Obstacles such as male lives, spouses and sexuality face us as the next dot to connect becomes bigger and bigger or worse yet out of reach.

During my male to female transition, many times, connecting the dots seemed downright impossible and I would never be able to move ahead in my life. My primary problem was my spouse and my male  self were standing directly in my path to gender realization and they would not move or give up their spot in my life. What I did in the meantime, was fall back into a more realistic journey to the next gender dot. An example would be when I began to get out of the non challenging mall shopping experiences and into actual interaction with the public as a transgender woman. 

Many times, the dots would totally fool me when I totally had a mis-conception of what a woman's life would be like. For some reason, I did not think I would be the one whose personal security would be challenged or my intelligence would be diminished when I jumped the gender border into trans womanhood. I was wrong in my judgement and needed to rapidly rethink my path to another dot. Of course I always knew women's lives were much more complex than men's but I did not really know until I succeeded in connecting my dots. 

The frustrating part of my whole experience was two-fold. The first part was I needed to accomplish it on my own with no help and the second part was everytime I thought I had accomplished something, immediately it seemed I needed to accomplish another milestone or dot on my gender journey. It was not until I was accepted in a small tight knit group of women friends did I really begin to make progress in the world. I learned through them, I could validate myself in the world as a trans woman without the help of much of the public, including men. Connecting these dots made my life fun again and so liberating. 

I can not begin to completely describe my experience connecting my own dots because they could be so much different than yours. The one thing we may have in common is, in order to have success in the world, you have to summon the courage to put yourself out there. Of course the problem these days is the concern for your personal safety. You have to be very careful, be aware of your surroundings as any other woman would and connect your dots the right way.       

 

Building a Dream

Image from Moreno Matkovic
on UnSplash

 Similar to many of you ,my journey to building a dream took me many years.

As I am fond of saying, over a half a century of construction. A long time when you think about it. At first the steps were obscure and very shadowy as I snuck behind my family's attention to cross dress in front of the mirror. I did not know much about what I was doing, or the tools to do it so I looked as if I was clownish, most of the time. As luck would have it, the mirror often lied to me and gender euphoria set in, before I even knew what it was and what it meant. All I really knew was how at night when I slept, I dreamed of being a girl and was sad when I woke up and needed to face the same old male world.   When I was able to escape into my feminine world, I felt so natural and exhilarated, I just couldn't stand to go back.

The years flew by and I was able to learn more and more about the femininization process I was facing. At the same time, small glimpses of what if slipped into my mind. Or, what if, someday I could make living as a woman trans or not part of my reality. As I did, the reality of building a transgender dream became increasingly difficult. Partially because, at the same time, my male life was becoming increasingly successful and it became  harder and harder to give up what I had built. Still I moved ahead as the feminine forces within me were so powerful.

Since it is coming close to the Halloween season around here, I would be remiss if I did not mention how going to Halloween parties dressed as a woman did not help me build my dream of perhaps being a full time woman some day. Back in those days, the term transgender was still in it's infancy and I did not know how it fit me. All I knew was, I worried and stressed for months ahead of Halloween about what my "costume" would be. Predictably my outfits started out slutty and evolved into going to parties dressed as business professional to see how many people would notice I was a guy at all. Overall, I had several meaningful experiences at Halloween which provided quality building blocks I could use when I seriously began to enter the world as my authentic self. As promised, I will write more about them as Halloween comes closer.

In the meantime, I was having more and more opportunities to learn I was so much more than a man who wanted to look like a woman. I even received a  comment from "Paula" across the pond in the UK concerning a blog post I wrote on the subject:

"I often think that the moment of realization that you are a trans woman rather than a cross dressing man is the Biggy! After I accepted who I am everything else that followed was just a natural consequence of that initial revelation. After I had accepted that I was in fact a woman it was perfectly logical that I would want the world to experience me as such, so I went full time. As I wanted to experience the fullness (as much as possible) of life as a woman it was perfectly natural to get medical help, leading first to hormones and then surgery. All of those decisions were the natural consequences of that first understanding that this is who I am not something I do."

Thanks to Paula and all of who comment! I could not have put it better. 

As it was, I kept on building until I formed a solid foundation to finally achieve my dream. It was never easy but on the other hand, building something worthwhile never is.  All the lonely nights I spent going out just to be alone come to mind as well as the occasions I was shunned or even laughed at. At that point my dream seemed to be so far away. Deep down I knew I was doing the right thing and kept on building. It turned out happiness was just a build away. 

When Every Night is Girls Night

Grae Phillips is still active
on Facebook if you want to 
see more. Or just keep up. 

I know I make a big deal out of my second huge transition, when I mentally moved from being a serious part-time cross dresser into being a novice transgender woman.

Sometimes I feel as if I am putting myself on some sort of a gender pedestal when I write about not considering myself a cross dresser anymore. If it comes off that way, I don't mean it to. On occasion, the written word gets in my way. Getting back to the cross dresser versus transgender statement I made, I think in my case, it was a matter of me judging my own life. Originally, as I was working my way through my early years of admiring my girl self in the mirror, I knew it could never be enough. There had to be more. I was so tired of cross dressing for one day and then two or three days later wanting to do it again. 

As I always mention, all of this occurred back in the pre-internet information era when any news and contact with like minded gender individuals, be they transvestites or transsexuals, was very difficult and rare to come by. This was even before the barrage of talk shows led by the late Phil Donohue who interviewed female impersonators such as "Grae Phillips", all the way to transvestites seeking approval from a doubting world. It was quite a bit for me to sort out. But I did. I knew I could never be as beautiful and talented as Grae but I could reach the standards of most of the transvestites I saw on my television. There was hope for my future after all.

As I progressed into meeting more and more diverse cross dressers or the women known as the new transgender group I began to think what it would mean if I went all the way and every night became girls night. In other words, a time when I would never have to go back to my old male self and live. Deep down I knew there would have to be some sort of line drawn in the sand if I did. As much as I loved all the fun of the newness of applying makeup and picking out clothes, I wondered what would happen when the newness wore off and I needed to settle into the daily routine of the transgender womanhood.

It turned out, I had nothing to worry about. I settled into my new feminine routine as if I had always should have been living this way. I found I didn't have to do much special on many days such as most cis-women do and then again still have the fun of dressing up for special occasions. It was true, once I jumped the gender border from cross dresser to transgender, I could experience what life could be like if every night was girls night.  

The Prom Gown

Image from Joeyy Lee
on UnSplash

Years ago, I received a prophetic statement from an unknowing doctor when our family was on vacation in Canada. 

When we were not out fishing with Dad, we played football on a hard-packed lot behind the fishing camp with a bunch of local kids. Being the budding football star I never was, I decided to try to play running back and was actually successful bulling my way through the opposing boys on the other team, for awhile. On a play I would learn to regret, I was picked up and thrown down on my shoulder and suffered a broken collar bone.

I say regret primarily because my Dad was not amused about having to interrupt his vacation to take me to a hospital for treatment. At the hospital, I had X-rays taken and was diagnosed with a broken collar bone. I was seen by a doctor and had my shoulder bandaged up in a sling and was told it would heal on it's own. Leaving only a tell tale bump which showed it had ever happened. Then the doctor said, since I would not be wearing any prom gowns in my future, it would not matter anyway.

I thought at the time, wait a minute! What if I wanted to wear one of the beautiful gowns I had seen on women in my future. What then. I think that comment hurt worse than the actual breaking of the bone. Plus, when I did go to proms and was stuck in an ugly tuxedo, I always looked at the girls around me for any tell-tale bumps to show a collar bone break. I never did see any. 

Along the way, I had several other instances of my feminine aura shining through. I have/had a nephew who from an early age developed a very unsavory attitude towards life which sometimes carried over to me. It started with my politics clashing with his right wing bigotry and going from there. On several occasions, he secretly complimented me by saying I threw a football like a girl. He even said one time when I bought my new Porsche Boxster, I had bought a girls car. Like I said, he was trying to hurt me but was secretly making me feel good. I could not wait to be the attractive blond woman in a sharp sports car.

There were other times when I was called feminine when I was doing my best to be a macho man. Several times at work, I was called "Ma'am" out of the clear blue sky in the middle of a normal conversation with a customer. Looking back, I think it was my feminine aura slipping through my male fence. 

Even though it took me years to realize my dream of living as a transgender woman was much more than living as a part-time cross dresser, I realized there were several tell-tale signs along the way. Maybe the doctor was trying to tell me someday I would want to actually wear a beautiful prom dress which showed off my collar bone break bump. Or my evil nephew would go on to having his own insecurities to deal with. I have not seen him for over a decade, so I don't know or care. He would probably just say he was right about calling me a girl. 

It turned out there were many people who saw through my disguise and at the least knew I wasn't who I was desperately trying to be. A stable, non toxic, productive man. I failed miserably and all I ever wanted was to be the one wearing the beautiful prom gown.   

Calling me a woman was the ultimate compliment. 

A Cajun Night Out

Ohio River Pride Image
of Author JJ Hart

Recently I passed my seventy fifth birthday. To have a mini celebration, my wife Liz took me to one of our favorite restaurants which happens to be a Cajun food place called the "Swamp Water Grille." 

Even though we live miles and miles away from Cajun country, the chef/owner of the venue studied down in New Orleans and his food is incredible. Before I could get to the food, I had to go through the usual steps most women go through to get themselves ready. Since we just finished watching the Ohio State - Iowa college football game and the venue is quite casual, Liz and I decided to wear our Ohio State University sweatshirts. In addition, I added a close shave, foundation, contouring and lipstick and was ready to go after I brushed and tied back my hair. 

As I prepared, I realized I was putting the effort in to be invisible in the venue but I wasn't. For some unknown reason, I went first to the hostess stand to put our name in on the wait sheet. The first thing which happened was the hostess gave me a big smile and complimented me on my glasses so I was not so invisible after all. She was obviously of the younger generation which does not have a problem with transgender women or men so I felt warmly welcomed to the venue. Not to mention feeling a little relieved of my anxiety I was experiencing. I was further confused because I had been at the venue before with no problems what so ever. It is just a sample of the anxiety I live with. 

From there, it was clear sailing and no one seemed to notice me at all. They were all so busy with enjoying their food, friends and surroundings they did not have time for me. The only person who we were dealing with was our server who addressed us as "ladies." Which is wonderful of course. I went through so many years of disavowing my true authentic self, I don't think I will ever tire of being referred to in the feminine tense. 

As we finished our wonderful dinner and drinks, it was time to bring the evening to an end and we headed to the car. Ironically, I felt the benefits of being largely invisible to the world as an older transgender woman while at the same time being very visible to myself. It seemed everyone of my senses were heightened as I waited for someone to stare at me and say something negative. I guess no matter how successful I am in my relatively new life, I will always experience the stress and tension of be confronted in my life.

In the meantime, a little (or lot) of great Cajun cooking helped me to experience a huge dose of gender euphoria. The best gift I could have ever experienced.
    

Hate Enters the Picture

Author and Wife at last summers' group
picnic which was not held this year. 

 For years and years, I have been part of a diverse LGBTQ local support group who recently has focused more on transgender needs.

This year, as board elections neared, three former board members abruptly resigned their seats and said they were not running again. A huge problem for a six member board. Plus recently, more and more members of the general membership have declined to participate in group activities at all. All of the decreased participation particularly hurt when it came to activities such as Pride. In the Cincinnati area alone, there are four major Pride events the group did it's best to represent during the fun. 

In addition, pressure was put on a few to represent a group whose membership numbers into the two hundred fifty plus. Predictably, fatigue set in and board members began to become frustrated. Then, on top of all of this, the most prominent board members began to receive  actual threats. It was all too much for the members to take and they quit. It turned out, someone slipped in behind all the protections in the group's social media group and started spreading hate. All before the moderators could get the person stopped. 

Sadly, with my mobility problems, all I could do was sit back and watch all of this sadness happen. Pride this year was a prime example when the group needed help the most. I knew it, but was unable to help because of the difficulty I had getting there. Unlike so many of the other members, I was not particularly afraid of potential violence, I just could not do it. 

Any way you cut it though, the threats of harm against the transgender community does cause harm to those seeking to leave their closets and explore the world as their authentic selves. In the meantime, in the political arena I live in, the majority of the false negative comments about Ohio's Democratic senator involve his support of the transgender community. The ad's are false and disgusting. 

None of the political climate helps the group I am a long time member of. It has been around since 1968 and has been a pillar in the cross dresser - transgender local community. I feel bad I can not be an active supporter. 

I just hope the group can survive. 

What If?

 

Marci Bowers

As I spent all the years as a very serious cross dresser, I dreamed of perhaps becoming a transgender woman and what it would be like to live a feminine life.

For many, many years I was my own worst enemy as I learned the parameters of what I needed to work with. First of all, I needed to play catch up with all the girls around me who were already experimenting with makeup and fashion. I remember vividly back in the mini-skirt days how the girls in my class would not so shyly sit and cross their legs to tease all the boys. Little did they know, the affect they had on several boys such as me. I wanted to be them and wear the skirt and panty hose and tease the boys.  I was so envious of the stories my wife told me of how she would roll up her skirt when she went to school and was out of sight of her Mom. 

I always wondered what if I could ever escape the mirror and experience life the same way she did. Of course I did not and had to set my own course. A course with no guidance or peer pressure on how I looked. What if I could live as a woman remained an illusive dream. To keep my frail mental health balanced, I tried to improve my presentation on my own  As I am fond of saying, I experienced quite a bit more error than trial as I slowly learned to express and embrace myself as a novice transgender woman. To add to my excitement, my wife and I purchased our first computer and I was able to learn about other transgender women in the world. 

One of trans women I learned about and was suggested to me by a reader (thank you) was renowned sex change surgeon Marci Bowers. Even though I knew I would never consider gender surgery for myself. Just reading Bowers journey gave me hope for my future.  My fondest desire her story would pave the way for an easier gender transition for the rest of us. 

I followed my new found confidence by exploring more and more as I tried  to carve out a niche to build my dream life. Even though I was rejected on many occasions, I still managed to climb the steep slope towards my transgender dream which was coming into focus. The main discovery I made was if I was myself, I could actually have the opportunity to live on into trans womanhood. If I did, I knew the risks were great and I was jeopardizing years of male life I had sacrificed to build up. 

Still I learned I had to follow my inner soul and see what if meant to me. Since I had worked so hard to climb dual gender mountains in my life, it was time to jump and head for a hopeful safe landing.  Even though I could never hope to be as accomplished and attractive as an Marci Bowers, I discovered just enough people valued me as my authentic self, I could survive. These were the people who never knew my before person and I was starting all over with. 

Even though I was still doing the pushing, they were the ones doing the pulling me into my new world. Proving what if was possible. 

The Sixty Four Crayon Box

Image from Leisy Vidal on UnSplash

I view gender in light of all the recent attacks  on the transgender community from a certain political party here in Ohio not called the Democrats, as a big box of crayons. The whole shameful process just shows how little the Republicans care to know about the trans community,

Rather, if they like it or not, almost all humans fall on some sort of a gender spectrum. It seems, men have fewer crayons to pick from because of their innate insecurities concerning their own gender and or sexuality. Which is a whole separate subject.

I know when I began to color in my own life, I needed the big box of crayons because I did not fit the male mold I was in. Whatever the world thought of me, I needed more out of my life than a restricted male existence. Instead of viewing myself as the round peg being forced into the square hole, I started to see myself as a multi-colored individual with many new gender frontiers to explore. My journey was destined to take me far past the rather quick romance with all the pretty fashion, all the way into a in-depth dive into what a life as a transgender woman would be all about. As I was busy coloring my future, I found I needed different colors to enable me to express myself more completely.

Examples were plentiful. Such as when I looked the part of a woman, how was I ever going to communicate as one. I was so busy coloring, I needed a whole new box of crayons to keep up with my life I was attempting to balance between two genders. To further stereotype the whole process, I quit using all the drab and darker colors and began to use the lighter more vibrant ones as I lived more and more in a femininized world.

The more I went to diverse transgender mixers in nearby Columbus, Ohio, the more I learned about others who were coloring in their gender lives too. I was able observe everyone from those who had almost completed their new lives, all the way to those who were working with broken crayons and severely struggling. All of it was an extreme eye opener for me because I was so naïve when it came to the transgender or LGBTQ world as a whole. Normally what happened was, I took everything in and ended up going back home and thinking about it. A solitary pursuit since I did not have anyone to talk to about it except for the occasional therapist. 

Therapy produced mixed results when several I went to did not want to discuss or see my colored design of who I truly was. It wasn't until I sought out one of the rare gender therapists back then who told me the truth. Basically, she said my picture was beautiful and there was nothing I could do about wanting to proceed on my path to transgender womanhood. I wish I would have listened and started to change my life back then but I was stubborn and hung on to my part-time male existence which at the least, paid the bills. 

As transgender women and men, we really need the extra courage to keep coloring our pictures. For example, in my case, if my health holds up, I will be on gender affirming hormones the rest of my life. Hopefully, I will need another sixty four box of crayons as my life expands as a transgender woman.

 

The Rock and the Hard Place

 

Image from
the JJ Hart
Archives

Recently, I received a comment from a reader who said in essence, I was too hard on my second wife when I mentioned her.

After thinking the comment over, I can see why it was made. First, some quick history. My second wife and I were married for nearly twenty five years until her sudden and untimely death at the age of fifty. She knew I was a transvestite or cross dresser when we were married and accepted it up to a point. The demarcation line was always HRT or me pursuing  a life as a transgender woman. For years it was fine with me as she approved me going to a motel to cross dress and go out into the world. We had an uneasy gender truce and I ended up abusing it.

The problem was, I always blamed myself for our gender problems because naturally, they all originated with me. Primarily when I began to break the promise I made to never leave the house dressed as my feminine self. Of course, I eventually was caught and all hell broke lose. She was a strong woman and knew how to emotionally battle me. She was the rock keeping me from my increasingly obtainable goal of trans-womanhood and I was in the hard place of knowing deep down it was where my life was headed.

Along the way, my second wife imparted good information about being a woman but withheld other very important facts. She would just tell me I made a terrible woman and then adding in she was not implying anything about my appearance. Leaving me to wonder for years what she meant. Mainly I found my old male ego was still in the way of my gender progress to the future. It wasn't until she had passed on and I took the opportunity to really explore the world as a transgender woman, did I understand what she meant. I finally had to walk the walk and talk the talk to move my hard place along. Femininization was difficult yet exciting for me on many occasions.

My second wife also tried to tell me to follow my dreams and give up our relationship but I still tried to have it both ways which just made things worse. She knew me better than I knew myself. 

So, as you can tell, I owe her quite a bit and wonder if we could have at least arrive to a point where we could have been woman friends. I obviously don't say it enough if I am receiving comments to the contrary. I also don't praise the cis-women who stay in marriages with their transgender spouses. I know if the shoe was on the other foot, I would have an incredibly difficult time accepting a trans spouse. As my wife said, living with another woman  was something she never signed up for. 

The rock and the hard place cost me dearly over the years. The pressure of attempting to maintain a relationship and a male life with the increasing knowledge it was all a lie built up an enormous amount of pressure and all but ruined my fragile mental health. I resorted to trying to drink away my problems to no avail and just became more depressed. I was not freed until I basically had nothing else to lose after her death. Once I was freed, I could look back on our relationship for what it was and all the good times we had and how I basically hurt it all.