Self-Destruction

Image from Abbot on
UnSplash.

I was very self-destructive over the years, and I am frankly amazed I made it to the age of seventy-five in one piece.

I think my self-destructive behavior began when I was forced into a gender mold which was deeply foreign to me. When I was very young, I did not know exactly what was wrong, but something certainly was. I was somewhat older when I had my first inkling of having a condition I barely knew how to pronounce. I was gender dysphoric. As a teenager, many mornings when I woke up for the day, I did not know if I was a boy or a girl. Not a good place to be.

My first object of destruction was the car. With it, I found I could seriously injure myself and sadly others. I could race my brother with a car and go way too fast at night for the road conditions. Many nights when I came home late and lonely, my mom was waiting up and, on several occasions, told me the angel riding with me was my grandmother. She may have been right, when I wrecked one of my cars going too fast and ended up rolling it several times into a house. Very easily, I could have been killed, along with my brother. But my brother and I walked away without a scratch. Even though the car was totaled.

I was just reckless as I entered my military years as I was frustrated and lonely as I grasped at any straw to solve my gender issues. Never pausing to realize the answer I was seeking was as close facing my own inner self. For more years than I like to admit, I feared facing the truth about myself and stayed on my self-destructive path. That made two paths I was on. One on my gender issues and the other me trying to hurt myself.

To dull the pain, I resorted to self-medication with alcohol. Drinking vast amounts of beer helped me to forget my male self on one hand and made me too brave on the other hand. On nights I drank, I could see one path from the other. So, I went back time and time again.

Then, my time in the military just made my habit worse as I was in an atmosphere of supported alcohol abuse. I found I had to finally rid myself of my destructive ways when I hit rock bottom and attempted suicide. Simply, I was tired of fighting my overwhelming desire to be a transgender woman and the possibility of hurting the loved ones around me. Most importantly, I felt as if the world would be a better place without me.

Once again, my guiding angel was with me as I failed in my suicide attempt with pills and booze. Maybe it was her who finally convinced me to face my gender truth. I was born into the world as a male which was completely wrong. My vibrations were always female deep down inside and those vibes were deeply felt. Still my male self-refused to give up all the privilege he would lose and did his best to stay the course he was on. All he did was to prolong the certainty of my life. When he gave up and I could pursue the deepest truth of my life, I committed myself to moving forward into my transgender womanhood.  

With commitment came a deep-down of satisfaction and happiness I had never known in my life. I was fond of blaming my parents for the lack of happiness I experienced when I was growing up. When, in fact it was me who was at fault. I was not honest with myself, and it hurt me. I couldn't follow my dreams, and it hurt me. The deepest cut of all came with the dishonesty I felt. I was raised to be honest, and chasing my gender dreams curtailed my honesty with the world when I was busy hiding all the time. Perhaps, most frustrating of all came when I could not outrun my issues. First, I attempted to pass myself off to me as a harmless cross dresser and, when that did not work, I faced the possibility I was transgender. A big leap for my honesty.

It was the first time in my life; I could face my truth and live honestly as myself. With new women friends and my wife Liz pushing me on, I was able to restore my confidence as a woman as never before. My progress was so much more than my appearance and reached deeply into living a fulltime life as a transgender woman. My gender journey of a thousand miles did begin with a single step and I took mine.

Sometimes I wish I had made the journey sooner but then again, all of us only have one life to live and I was able to live mine.

 

 

 

Gender Selfishness

 

JJ Hart, Key Largo, Florida.

Often as I discovered my transgender womanhood, I felt extremely selfish. Who was I to sacrifice my male life with others just to cross dress in the mirror for me.

At the time, I regarded myself as a clown in drag and ugly in every way possible. With those thoughts, how could I even think I could succeed of my dream of living as a woman someday. To have any success at all, I needed to be selfish and forge a one-way path to feminize myself.  

Defining selfishness was a problem also. I went from thinking I was merely in a phase, all the way to finally realizing I was a full-fledged transgender woman. Along with all the responsibilities of living a new life. I needed to face the reality of knowing every step I took would be different and others close to me would have to come along for the ride. Or be left behind. Mainly, I am referring to my second wife, who for several reasons drew the line at helping me femininize myself. The number one reason was one I had to totally agree with, which was she did not want to live with another woman and specifically one she did not like.

Through it all, I tried to discover why she did not like me. Since she has long since passed away, I can’t ask her for an honest answer. My best guess is she did not the amount of makeup I wore and the wardrobe I had acquired. Plus, she especially hated the idea of me leaving the house cross dressed as a woman anytime she was not around. Essentially, I was cheating on her with myself. I was the other woman. Naturally, I was torn too, as I just could not stop exploring the new world, I was excited to find myself in. All my efforts just put me in the cross hairs of my mental health. I was selfish and put myself in risk of losing a marriage of twenty-five years and give up the chance of living my dream of living as a woman. These days I make no secret of trying to take my own life with an ill-advised suicide attempt. I thought there was only one person who could truly help me, and I had burned that bridge with her. So, I was trapped.

Fortunately, with the help of a good therapist, I found my way out of the darkness I was in, and she helped me to understand the gender situation I was in. I started to take it for granted I was selfish, but I had to be to save myself and my mental health. At that point, I knew I would not have wished the period of life I just had went through on my worst enemy. My dark closet was even becoming darker even though I was beginning to explore the world as a woman. Transgender, or not because often gender borders were blurred. To focus on it, I needed to be more and more selfish in my life and every spare moment and thought had to be involved in feminization.

By this time in my life, my biggest hurdle was overcoming the loss of my second wife. Sure, she resisted losing me to another woman, but I still loved her dearly, and we did have many good times together. What happened was my long ignored inner female stepped in and immediately took over. She exposed us to many new social interactions to see what would happen and if when we conquered it, we immediately moved on to often more delicate social situations. She was really into testing me to learn how serious I was about the transition I was considering.

One of the main tests was when we decided to seek out gender affirming hormones. To do it back in those pre–Veterans Administration days, I needed to find a doctor to approve me. It was not given since I was nearly sixty at the time and had to have a health exam before I was given permission. I was approved for a minimum dose and soon was allowed to pursue a life changing hormonal program. Overall, the hormones turned out of be a wonderful gift to my inner self and allowed her to sync up her old male external male self with her strong feminine self to make a more complete human being for the first time in my life.

It turned out, my life of being selfish was the only way I could escape the male life I was born into. It was amazing how quickly my mental health recovered and for the first time in my life, I felt happy. The weight taken off my shoulders was amazing.

 

Friday on my Mind

 

Image from Kelly Sikkema 
on UnSplash. 

It is Friday and the day my Veteran’s Administration LGBTQ group meets…maybe.

I say maybe the orange TACO in Washington is still attempting to cut back staff at the Dayton, Ohio VA where the group is located. I became semi-concerned last week when the moderator did not end the meeting the way they always do. I wondered at the time if they were not telling us something. Then, this week, my fears grew when I received none of the advanced reminders for the virtual meeting. It is the only support group I have really enjoyed, so I would hate to see it go. Especially to someone like tRumpt. We shall see. Happily, my fears were put aside for another week because I just received my call in texts from the VA.

Also, summer has finally arrived here in Southwestern Ohio and with it, my chance to go through my wardrobe and pick out the items I can wear. The problem I have is, I am not supposed to be out in the sun because it increases the iron levels in my body past an unhealthy point. Since I have tried to increase my walks by a substantial amount, finding any long-sleeved tops which are lite weight and comfortable for my walks, is difficult to do. Having the neighborhood see me in the same couple of long-sleeved shirts in hot weather may be enough to attract unwanted attention.

Speaking of unwanted attention, I made a comment about pre-opt transgender women using women’s locker rooms to shower and change in. My example comes from a protest a couple of years ago in Xenia, Ohio which is a conservative little town not far from me. I had a comment from Pammie asking me why I chose only “pre-opt” and not “post-opt” trans women in my comment. First, thanks for the comment and my answer is a difficult one to write.  Because in many ways it will make me seem like a hypocrite.

How? Because I believe gender is between the ears and sex is between the legs but not too much of the rest of the public. It’s no wonder the trans woman was told to leave when she was in the women’s locker room, naked. Perhaps also, I could not imagine showing my body in a semi-public space for all other women to see. If they had any questions, I was a transgender woman, my nudity would wipe out any questions since I am pre-opt. Which means, I have had no gender surgeries. I think also, post opt trans women should feel more comfortable in their bodies. But that is up to them! I hope that answers the question.

On a positive note, my wife Liz and I are going through with plans to take a tour this fall up through Boston to Maine. The trip includes riding Amtrak as well as a couple of other dinner trains. Since I am a huge rail fan, I cannot wait for the trip. Hopefully, this time, I will not catch Covid and end up in a hospital far from home. Which is what happened to me last winter when we went to the Florida Keys.

Closer to now, my daughter is planning a big graduation party for the three grads in her family which Liz and I have been invited to. In addition to the graduation of my oldest grandchild from Ohio State, my son-in-law is graduating with a MBA from Wright State University in Dayton, Ohio and my youngest grandchild is graduating from high school. I feel old! But seriously, I am obsessed with what I am going to wear. I am thinking about wearing my yellow print maxi dress which would be very comfortable and would fit well because of the diet I have been on. But I still have some time to think about it since it is not until the July 4^th weekend.

Thanks to all of you for reading along every day and taking the time out to comment on my posts, your input makes it all so worthwhile.

Plus, as I said, the VA support group meeting is on for another week and I will let you know if something exciting happens.

 

 

 

 

Women's Spaces

 

Image from Tim Mossholder
on UnSplash.

As far as being included in the so-called women’s spaces in the world, the women’s restroom is the crown jewel of inclusiveness.

When I was in my earliest stages of transitioning into my transgender womanhood, being “allowed” to use the women’s room, seemed to be an impossible dream. What went on behind the closed doors of the women’s room was so special anyway? As destiny would have it, I was to find out. My journey began when I started to become a regular in the sports bars I write so much about. The nearest ones to my home were nearly half an hour away, so I needed to time my restroom visits carefully, once I summoned the courage to use them. You see, I had to because of the amount of beer I was drinking. One led to another. When I drank, alcohol gave me the courage to be more confident about myself but on the other hand I needed to go more often.

As I gathered my courage to use the women’s room, I tried my best to time my visits so it would be empty.  Sometimes I was successful and other times I was not, so I did my best to see and learn from what other cisgender women were doing in their “sacred” space. Most of the women I encountered were just there to do their business, wash their hands and touch up their makeup. Quickly they were gone.

For the most part, the first lesson I learned was to look other women in the eye and give them a greeting with a smile. Which would have been a huge no no in the men’s room. From then on, it was just a matter of having the proper restroom necessities handy to ensure I was able to follow proper etiquette. I made sure my cell phone was always handy in my purse so I could use it in case I needed to wait in line for a stall. I even went so far as to carry an extra small amount of tissue paper, in case I needed to loan it out to a desperate fellow user in the next stall.

From my days in the bar/restaurant business I knew how women were not always the pristine humans in a restroom they claim to be, so I knew to look before I sat down to check for any wet spots or worse. I was also careful to always check for a hook to hang my purse on, so I did not have to put it on the floor. A sure sign of a gender intruder.

Through it all, I did not see or participate in any of the brief gossip sessions I encountered. Except for one memorial evening when I needed to use the restroom in one of the bars Liz and I went to. When I went in, the restroom was tiny and packed with women talking about a certain man. As my luck would have it, one evil looking woman was blocking my way to a toilet stall I needed to use in the worst way. Without physically moving her, I needed to stare her down and say excuse me as she let me by. By this time, I did not care what she thought of me, and my revenge was coming. When I finished my business in the stall, I came out to wash my hands and check my makeup. In the meantime, she had moved to a spot near the electric hand dryer which I needed to use. As luck would have it, she was slouching against the wall near the dryer, and I was able to direct the air flow towards her hair. Naturally, she did not enjoy her new hairstyle, and I got my revenge.

I was not as successful as the time I mentioned when I was first visiting women’s rooms. Even though I tried to be a regular in the venues I visited and had no problems with using the room, I did have the police called on me twice a long time ago. To this day, I still have negative feelings about those police calls. Specifically, the one where I was called a pervert. I was deeply hurt but ended up being able to report the woman who ended up owning her own hair salon to the Dayton, Ohio LGBTQ alliance for being an anti-transgender business.

These days, here in my native Ohio, the Republican bills banning all restroom usage by transgender women and trans men are currently in court battles to determine their legality. Whatever happens, it has been decades since I have used a men’s room, and I will be damned if I will ever go back. Besides, using the men’s room would subject me to bodily harm which I certainly don’t need.

The bottom line (no pun intended) to all of this is, be careful when you use the women’s room and know the written and unwritten rules of the room. Above all, your basic confidence in yourself will be an integral part of your experience.

My disclaimer and limits on all of this comes with when a pre-opt trans woman attempts to use a women's only locker room. I can understand all the problems which comes with doing this and I agree. It should be a women's only space.  

 

 

Loneliness

 

Image from Engin Arkyurt
on UnSplash. 

Growing up as I transitioned from my unwanted male birth gender into my feminine one, often I was intensely lonely. The mirror was no replacement for real people.

Since I was still in the pre-internet generation, I found it impossible to reach out and socialize with any others with similar gender issues. I mean, how strange was it that I wanted to be a girl anyway? To make matters worse, the thought of who I should be dominated my daily thinking. I separated myself from the rest of the world my age. I lived in a rural area with very few friends to start with, so I had very few potential friends to begin with. To combat my problems, I did the usual male reaction and internalized everything since I had no choice on coming out to my parents.

It wasn’t until I learned of the “Tranvestia” publication and Virginia Prince that I learned there might be a light of my gender tunnel which was not the train. I learned maybe an entire life of loneliness was not in store for me. I eagerly read of all the other pretty transvestites in the pages who managed to even stay married and have a career. Life went on for me in the 1960’s and then, all of the sudden, I had bigger problems ahead than wanting to be a girl. At that time, the draft for the Vietnam War had me directly in its crosshairs, with very few alternatives to consider. One of the main ones was what I was going to do concerning my gender challenges. Somehow, I knew the drill sergeants in Army basic training were not going to allow miniskirts as part of the uniform.

Making the best of a bad situation, I enlisted for three years to attempt being included in the American Forces Radio and Television Service and thanks to a couple contacts I developed with my congressman, I was fortunate enough to make it and left home for my three-year tour.

In the Army, I was anything but lonely and my confidence as a person increased, but at the same time my inner woman suffered. I resorted to my old habit of daydreaming of what I would do to make myself the most attractive woman I could following my military discharge. I even dreamed of which new car I would buy to show up my fiancé who deserted me when I had to join the Army. Instead of receiving mail from home from a girlfriend or lover, all I had was me and the letters I received from mom. The forced teamwork activities of basic training kept my mind off my basics for the most part. Was I a man or a woman. Certainly, basic was no place to figure it out. I needed to be the best man I could be to get by.

Time went by and I was awarded a spot with AFRTS which in turn, kept me out of most of heavy-duty Army duties. I was sent to Thailand, then Germany so I was able to see and sample two other cultures. Courtesy of Uncle Sam. Best yet, I was able to fight off my loneliness and even met my first wife and mother of my child in Germany where she was also serving at the time.

I suppose you can say I became quite self-contained as a person by the time I was discharged by the Army. I even went as far as coming out to my closest friends as a transvestite and my mom when I arrived home. I was successful with my friends who did not care and rejected by mom who wanted to send me to a psychiatrist. We never mentioned my gender issues again until she passed away. Sadly, she never knew (or accepted) she had a daughter instead of a son.

When I entered the time of my life when I finally learned and embraced the idea, I was transgender, I entered an entirely different set of being lonely, primarily because everything in my life was in question including my sexuality. I quickly discovered on the nights I went out to be alone, I was attracting much more female attention than male. Which I loved. I just needed to be careful where I went and who I talked to being a single trans woman alone. After a couple of close calls, I started to take more precautions and became safer.

I finally emerged from my loneliest period of my life, which I call my dark time, with new women friends and even a new wife in my life. Who I am still with to this day.

Sadly, I still carry the scars of my lonely times in my life, and I am still very guarded with others. I have a regular reader by the name of “Georgette” who wrote in and said our transitions never end. I am sure my transition from my lifetime of loneliness will never end either. But as far as the entire transgender community as a whole goes, I know I am fortunate.

Climbing Walls

JJ Hart

 When I transitioned from male to the feminine person I was all along, I hit many walls.

As it turned out, some were short walls and easy to climb, and some were almost insurmountable. The problem quickly became which were which. Very early on, when life was simpler, the act of applying eye makeup initially presented itself as a major hurdle, or wall. Once I conquered that challenge, I was able to move on to bigger and better things. Little did I know, I would be facing bigger walls to climb. A few were so tall I could barely see my dream of living fulltime as a transgender woman at all.

Leaving my safe yet dark gender closet and trying my hand at living as a novice cross dresser or transgender woman in public suddenly presented me with many new walls to climb. Iniitally, there was the omnipresent pressure of presenting properly in public as a woman. To do it, I needed to overcome how my old male self-thought I should look and change it to how my femininized self knew how I had to look to blend in with her cisgender counter parts. Plus, I needed to do it on a regular basis as people were starting to remember me. There were no more changing names to fit a new wig I was wearing. At least I needed to understand that even though strangers knew I was not a cisgender woman, I needed to prove I was a person who was nice to know and got along in the world. Most of all, I was not some sort of a freak, and I needed to remember in the overwhelming number of cases, I was the first and only transgender woman the public had ever met.

The frustrating part of this time of my life came when I was taking a step forward towards climbing another wall, then slid back down when I hit it. I was rapidly losing all the press on nails I bought as I was trying to climb. I seemingly always had problems with moving like a woman. No matter how much I tried, I still ended up moving like a stiff football player in public when I walked into a venue. I worked long and hard to correct the problem and finally succeeded to an extent. Putting femininized self into motion was a problem so large, it was only topped by the communication problems I was having dealing with the public. Basically, I was scared to death of talking to anyone. It was particularly frustrating when I began to talk to other women, who I very much wanted to be friendly with.

On the other hand, men were not a problem at all, since for the most part, they left me alone. The problem was partially solved when I took feminine vocal lessons and the rest with pure practice. Finally, before I came off being unfriendly with other women, I just gave up, relaxed and did the best I could to enjoy and learn from the conversations I was having.

Before I knew it, the walls were coming down and I was gaining the all-important confidence I needed to reach my lifetime dreams of being a woman on my own terms. My terms became rather obvious over time. No major gender surgeries which I thought were too expensive and risky for a person my age of sixty. I would just have to take all my learned experiences out of the closet, put them together and do the best I could.

Another of one of my remaining tallest walls was doing more for my inner self. I solved it by becoming eligible for gender affirming hormones. My initial thought was the changes I would experience would be external, not internal. It turned out, the internal changes were more immediate and far reaching than the external changes. In fact, I can and should write an entire blog post about my changes on HRT. Briefly, I entered an entirely, the new, softer world. Suddenly, I could cry, and my senses improved. Perhaps the biggest one was I was more susceptible to changes in temperature. I learned all those years of thinking women were faking it when they were cold was true. When I was reaching for my coat on a chilly evening.

Certainly, HRT helped to tear down most of the final walls in my gender journey. I say most because I do not think all my walls will ever be totally gone. After all, I have lived most of my life as a man with all the resultant experiences and privilege. No matter what I do what is left of him will still be with me. His former life will always be with me. I just need to learn from him and conquer all the walls he put up in protest.

Pride Month

 

Image from William
Fonteneau on
UnSplash. 

These days, specifically, Pride Month means many different things to many different people.

Of course, the deluge of bigotry set off by the orange Taco felon in chief, has emboldened gender bigots everywhere to come out from under their rocks and attack the LGBTQ community as a whole and the transgender community specifically. If you are still in your closet, the bigotry probably has given you pause to consider where to go next with your gender transition, and should you attend a local Pride celebration at all.

Years ago, when I first began to check out Prides on my own, I was not happy with the number of drag queens I saw who ended up representing the transgender community if they were trying to or not. Then there were the cross dressers teetering around on their painful high heels, just to experience a day out. Overall, I saw precious few transgender women like me.

Fortunately, as the years flew by, my views on Pride began to change too. I began to see more and more trans women in the crowd. All the way to the parade marshal’s being transgender also. To me, it finally meant, we as a group were finally claiming our rightful spot under the LGBTQ umbrella, rather than always being left out in the rain. I finally reached a point where I could attend Pride and have a good time with my lesbian friends.

Bringing this all back into the present, it does not matter much what my prior Pride experiences were, it is how you feel about going today, or this month. Of course, there are safety concerns with so many crazies out and about in today’s world. Sadly, it only takes one to ruin it for the rest of us. Also, my mobility issues have severely limited my ability to go at all. So, I cannot go and be seen without lots of pain. I feel too, I did my part earlier in life so others can today.

It could be a decision to attend Pride these days is as personal as it has ever had been. Around here (Cincinnati), there are Prides every weekend. From very big to very small. All give the LGBTQ community a chance to be themselves and mingle with other like-minded individuals. Through rain and shine, I cannot remember never having a great time. From doing table work with the transgender-cross dresser support group I was a part of to going on gay bar pub crawls with Liz on a bus, we tried to do it all. Then there was the time my lesbian friends and I all got together and made the trip to Columbus, Ohio from Dayton to go the biggest Pride in Ohio. Great times were had by all, and I gained confidence as a transgender woman by trying it.

It should be noted, I did not do all this suddenly, and I needed to work my way up to the fun over the years. It is easy to say, but if I did not look out of my closet door and wonder what it would be like to go to a Pride, and try, I would have missed a big piece of my life as I transitioned into transgender womanhood. On the other hand, going to Pride has become an increasingly personal decision with the country where it is now. I know quite a few readers have expressed to me where they are in their transition and how attempting something like going to Pride would be a big risk. The fun part is, for once, you don’t have to worry about passing because people watching is one of the big sports at Pride. Just find a comfortable seat and enjoy the view.

Whatever decision you should decide to make, just make sure you are safe and comfortable in what you decide. Be prepared to collect loads of information from many LGBTQ friendly organizations. Some of which may help you in the future. In the past, at a Cincinnati Veterans Administration Pride (when they were allowed to have them) a man stopped at our table for information and later almost immediately started their transition. So, you never know.

The only other words of wisdom I have is, wear comfortable shoes! I did not for one year and paid the price. Regardless of the party atmosphere at many Prides, it is a solemn occasion when you consider the month was born out of Stonewall Bar protests in New York City. Basically, the drag queens revolted, and change began. It may take another revolt to do it again. In the meantime, enjoy your Pride month. Even if you are doing it in your closet.

 

 

Redemption

 

Female Impersonator
Kim Christy. 

Redemption is a largely vague term, and I am oversimplifying it for use here, but I do use it to describe the very few humans are ever given the chance to stop our lives and start all over again.

Fortunately, transgender women and transgender men are part of the very few who can put the brakes on their life, stop and then start over. In my life, I was always trying to outrun my gender dysphoria and was usually going too fast to slow down. Let alone stop. Another problem was, when I did slow down enough to look around, I became scared and then sped up again so essentially, I was just chasing my own tail.

As I did, I just eventually learned, I was just where I belonged. On my way to my dream of living full time as a transgender woman. I can not stress enough, how paranoid I was of ever reaching my dream. The massive hurdles of family (spousal approval), friends and jobs always come to mind.

Redemption for me also meant when I transitioned into a feminine world, I needed to do it in a graceful way. I certainly did not want to be one of the mean, frustrated older women I knew in my life. I always thought those women suffered from large amounts of testosterone gained in their lives when their estrogen naturally goes down. I had already suffered from testosterone poisoning through much of my life and never wanted to go back. I was fortunate when I learned my inner feminine woman believed the same ideas I had, and she was very gracious when she was finally released to lead her own life. She had the chance to experience the world in a positive way and did. She was able to get along well as she sought out the guidance, she needed to enter a dark new world and give it light anyway.

Fear turned out to be my powerful motivator and, as difficult as it was, I used it to my advantage. I guess it worked because my world opened in a magical way. I also can’t stress enough how my appearance only was a starting point, and I had to use it only to open very basic doors. Then when I went through those doors, I needed to begin to carve out a real life as a transgender woman. Much of my new life started when I picked up my dog and moved in with my future wife Liz in Cincinnati. My biggest example was when Liz and I began to go to various “Meet Up” groups and I began to meet strangers for the first time in different settings. I went to craft groups, writer’s groups and even a knitting group or two. The bottom line was I was able to build my confidence in my new self, and I highly recommend “Meet Up” groups if any exist in your area.

Through it all, I was prepared for rejection but only really received it once when Liz and I went to a lesbian Valentine’s Dance years long ago. At the dance, I was busy minding my own business when this evil woman comes up to me and started to be very nasty. She kept asking me what my “real” name was. It took a while to rid myself of her bigoted self, but I managed to before Liz came back with appetizers from the serving line. In all the time I had dealing with the lesbian community, this woman was the only gender bigot I ever had to directly deal with. I am/was fortunate.

I feel redemption was not as severe as it could have been. During my life in my male years, I did my best to be kind to others, especially in the LGBTQ community all the way to hiring a transgender waitress at one of the restaurants I managed. Even though she was a natural for the job, when I left, the next manager ended up running her off the job. I also had to deal with bigoted guests in another restaurant I managed when they refused to be waited on by a gay waiter. Instead, I told them to leave. Anytime I could, I tried to pay my experiences forward to a time I would need it.

Another very important set of lessons I learned by working in the food business was how cisgender women navigated their worlds when they were basically under stress. Or, how important it was for the women to form cliques when men formed teams. The importance of being accepted by an alpha female was not lost on me when I transitioned into transgender womanhood.

Speaking of transgender, today is the birthday of my oldest grandchild who also happens to be a trans graduate of The Ohio State University. They are pursuing a career as a civilian in the Navy this fall, so I am very proud! They are a nuclear engineer.

Happy Birthday.

Also, thanks to Susie Jay for writing in and commenting on the blog! It’s good to have you along. I agree with your question about Kim Christy. I had forgotten about them as a female impersonator. It's a term I saw in the Wikipedia reference on Kim. Been awhile since I have used it.  

 

Coming Home

 

JJ Hart (Center) Wife Liz on Left, 
Daughter on Right. 

The process of crossing the gender border from male to female, always felt as if I was coming home.

From the beginning, my dual genders clashed, causing me to often sacrifice my already fragile mental illness when I was diagnosed as being bi-polar. Naturally, it was difficult to separate one issue from another when I became depressed and just wanted to curl up in a ball and left alone. On most occasions, I could just cross dress in front of the mirror and take my mind temporarily off my trip to find my true home.

The trip proved to be much longer than I ever thought it would. I never considered it would take me on a fifty-year odyssey. Complete with too many blind curves and dead ends to mention. If I was to attempt to mention any of the major problems I had with my transition was there would be so many more transitions than one. The gender border crossing was so complex, it would take me several different ways at once. I finally came to the point where I was simply trying to raise the bar of living as a transgender woman every time I went out in public. In my earliest days, it meant concentrating on more than just my feminized appearance. I needed to put my appearance, no matter how good or bad, into motion. What good would it be to look like an attractive woman if I was moving like a linebacker.

Every time I made a move forward in my transition, I could imagine myself living my gender dream. Which in most cases scared me more than anything else. What would my life be like without all the male privilege I worked so hard to earn. Perhaps the only stable idea I learned was I was much more than the casual cross dresser who just wanted to put on a dress for certain occasions. As suspected from my earliest days of admiring myself in the mirror as a girl. I wanted to do much more such as be a girl or at the least find out if the public would accept me as one.

I put many hours of work into my femininized presentation. I tried and tried to get my makeup right, even to the point of losing nearly fifty pounds on a diet I undertook. When I lost weight, I was able to fit into my stylish clothes, so it was a huge win for me. Along with the intense skin care routine I followed. Suddenly, I discovered I could use less make up and prove less was more. All these moves proved coming home indeed may be reality if I kept working hard enough. For the first time in my life, I made a concerted effort to achieve a very real goal. My transgender womanhood.

As I said, coming home involved several other minor and major transitions. I began to do so called womanly duties such as grocery shopping into my days when I could. I also added gift shopping at Christmas (and other times) to my time as a woman. Through it all, I was learning how the world would possibly accept me when I was able to make it home. All these actions showed me the feasibility of proceeding with my gender plans, though many questions remained unanswered.  Such as, what would I do about the basics of my life such as what to do about my wife, extended family, friends and having a basic income to live on.

It was around this time when destiny set in to provide me with major answers in my life. Tragically my second wife passed away, at the age of fifty, along with most all of my very few male friends. As far as family was concerned, my daughter stepped up to be my most steadfast ally, until my third wife Liz stepped into my life. Finally, I learned if I waited a relatively short period of time, I could take an early retirement on Social Security and solve my financial issues. The only loss I sustained was with my brother and his extended family who roundly rejected me. So much for close family ties.

When I made it to my true home, it was like day and night. It was as if a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. My mental health improved with the help of therapy, and I was better able to face my life on a more equal basis than I ever had before. Surprisingly, I had very little re-arranging to do to live in my new house. It seemed my inner female self-had been not so patiently waiting for her chance to take over my life. Once she earned her spot in the public eye, she knew exactly what to do to survive.