A Coming Out Story

With the exception of my wife, I’ve only come out to people I’ve met since I moved to Chicago. When I talk to my older friends, I haven’t found much to say when they ask, “what’s going on?” Because until recently I haven’t had the willingness to come out to them, and coming to terms with being trans is so much of what’s going on for me.

Changing that began during my recent beach vacation. One of my dearest friends, L____, vacations with us every year in May. I’ve actually known L____ longer than I’ve known my wife. I didn’t have the courage until the second to last day of our trip to tell her. Finally I realized that it would be disrespectful to my love for her if I continued to keep silent.

It went well I think. Her immediate response was, “I’m surprised, but not any more surprised than when you became Catholic.” She said she knew I was never comfortable with being male in any of the traditional ways of being male. She always thought that I was comfortable with being a male in untraditional ways, though.

I have cis woman friends who look to me as the man who gives them hope for the sex. I prove that not all men are like (fill in the blank). Honestly, I worry (in my co-dependant way) that coming out as trans is going to re-enforce male stereotypes for some of these people.

L____ is the only person in my life that’s ever described me as masculine. She brought that up in fact. She said she never meant that I was macho. She explained what she did mean, but what she said eludes me. L____ wondered how many men are not comfortable with being traditionally masculine. She imagines a lot are.

I went on to explain that I’m not an essentialist and questions of masculine or feminine is not what I'm talking about when I say I’m a trans woman. I’m describing a gender orientation. People whose gender orientation matches their assigned gender don’t ever question their gender orientation. They may question their gender expression which is different.

In other words, I imagine many males question their masculinity. However I think not many males think about having a sex change operation or constantly imagine what it would be like to have been born with a female formed body. She agreed to that.

I concluded by saying that I was telling her this because I loved her. At that point I touched her leg (she was sitting next to me). She took my hand. In my insecurity I was afraid she was taking my hand off her leg because she didn’t want me to touch her now. But and squeezed my hand and said, “I love you too.”

The Scary Post

It’s been nine months or so since I started writing this post. For some reason I don’t fully understand this post has been very emotionally difficult to finish. In addition, my stubbornness would not allow me to write another post until this one was done. Well, I finally realized how self defeating that was and decided to simply post what I had written so far with a brief summary of what I intended to say next. I’m hoping I will then feel free to post more as things come up.

What I had written so far:

“Back in August, I met Beta in a one-time bohemian PA town which has taken a touristy frou-frou turn. However there are still some cool places to go. We went to a vintage clothing place that had some things I would just die for, but they didn’t fit me *dang* We also went to a fetishy shop and I tried on some things including a plaid mini skirt, but again, didn’t fit right :( It was still TONS of fun.

I drove there in boy-mode and changed into femme dress in the car (leopard spotted headband, black gauchos, a pink tank-top belted with a black belt with a circular buckle, with eyeliner and brown lipstick). I called Beta because just as I was ready to change, some lawn workers started working near the car and I wanted to wait until they moved on a bit to change. I was NERVOUS. Beta was running late and driving. I said I’d meet hir at the vintage clothing place. But as I got ready to leave the car, I was consumed with fear. I ended up calling Lumi (since Beta was driving), and asked hem if zie would “hold my hand” while I walked to the store. Zie said zie would, the loving darling that zie is.

In a way, I see the humor in my fear of walking past three old ladies in the parking lot. I was talking to Lumi about it at the time, and tried to sort out why I was so afraid. I realized that previously when I walked the streets in femme dress that I was either a) in the city that I lived (where I knew the lay of the land and therefore where to escape to should I meet hostility) or b) not walking by myself (with Lumi where zie lives).

Now I want to talk about what it was like to spend time with Beta. First and most important, more important than any of the gender stuff, is that Beta is a kind hearted and beautiful soul. Zie is also really smart and lots of fun! However, since this blog is about my gender expression journey, I want to focus on what it was like to be with another person who is transitioning in a similar direction. Now while Lumi and Beta are both exploring an orthogendered experience, in terms of public physicality Beta is challenged in some of that same ways that I am.”

That’s as far as I got. By challenged I meant we were “mis-read” in the same way and I was going to give an example. My intention was to then talk at length about how it felt to “not be alone” in my public presentation. Then I was going to talk about my wife’s reaction. I was staying with my in-laws and changed back into “boy-mode” before returning. In the kind of close-up view only a spouse would get, my wife noticed the traces of eye liner I had washed off. This was the first time I had been deliberately dishonest with my wife, since I had not told her I was planning on dressing femme. She was angry, and rightfully so. I promised not to lie to her again.

I was going to wrap up with an important realization I got checking in with my process group (a variation on group therapy). A few people talked about their fear of how much I was going to change as I transitioned. It occurred to me that for all the changes I was going through, the changes looked much greater to those around me. I was trying to express something that has always been there. For others this seemed like a much more radical change. This actually lessened my own anxiety and helped me to see how much I was taking on other people’s fear. I am not changing in essence.

So that’s it. I seem to have gotten stuck on expressing how meaningful being with Beta was (and still is) to me. Perhaps the words to express my joy and relief and my love are not available to me. Perhaps the emotions are just too overwhelming to describe. I don’t know. This is the best I can do at the moment.

Bathrooms and Make-up.

Bathrooms and make-up are gender designators that all trans and intersex people come up against in one way or another. When was the last time you saw a simple crescent moon on a bathroom door instead of a symbol of male and/or female? Did you know that Ms. magazine lost it's advertising for daring to have a picture of a woman without make-up on the cover? This post is about my relationship with both as played out on two consecutive days.

I had managed to avoid using the bathroom at the club where I've been dancing dressed femme. That changed on July 24th. Basically, I couldn't "hold it" this time. I was faced with the decision to either use a bathroom or go home early. I was aware that fear was operative here. Two fears presented themselves to me; 1) fear of getting beaten up if I went to the men's room. 2) fear of being yelled at and told "you don't belong here" by cisgendered women. I discovered I was less afraid of getting beaten up than I was of being told I didn't belong, and so I went to the men's room. Nothing happened beyond a startled look or two.

Underlying my fears was how I expected cisgendered people to react to their own fears. Cismen's fear of threats to their masculinity do not seem legitimate to me at all. A ciswoman's fear of men invading their space has a basis in real danger all women face in this world. My dilemma in respecting ciswomen's fear, however, is that in doing so I am letting someone else's perception of my gender outweigh my own. This had something of a depressive effect on me.

I began to focus not on my own internal experience, but on assumptions about how others perceived me. I began to think about the fact that my being dressed femme did not communicate transgender. I worried that others saw me as a transvestite. More accurately, I was worried that people saw me as a BAD transvestite. When I decided to begin dressing femme, I realized I had to be willing to f*ck with peoples heads. Not maliciously at all, it was simply a reality that by expressing femininity (especially without the intention of passing) I would blow people's minds*. Particularly the unquestioning cisgendered mind.

The next day as I hovered outside a make-up store, waiting for Tammy to arrive and help me select lipstick and eyeliner, I noticed a woman inside the store giving me a severe look. I assumed she thought I was loitering outside a cosmetics store to ogle the ladies within, but I have no idea what she was thinking. Whatever the actual case here, one phenomenon that transforms my gender dissonance into dysphoria is when other women view me with fear or suspicion because of my physical form.

Tammy arrived and we went inside. She introduced me to her preferred salesperson, who I will call Kitty. Kitty had bright yellow eye shadow that could have been outrageous, but totally worked on her. At first, Kitty and I each deferred to Tammy. Kitty wasn't disrespectful at all, but did ask what I wanted make-up for. Tammy looked at me and asked who should explain this. I ended up giving Kitty the contexts in which I would use the cosmetics (daytime Milwaukee excursions and clubbing at night) without going into being transgendered.

We started with eyeliner. Kitty suggested a waterproof gel applied with a brush for two reasons. One, because I have a significant eyelid fold, and water soluble eyeliner would fade. Secondly because brushed on eyeliner is versatile and can be subtle for daytime and more flamboyant at night. While applying the eyeliner she remarked that she wished her boyfriend would let her make him up. Both Tammy and Kitty remarked on how my face brightened when I saw myself in the mirror.

We moved on to lipstick, the impetus of this excursion (see the P.S. in post "Flow"). I wanted an everyday daytime lipstick and a "slutty" red. We looked a various shades and chose a hot pink color to try on as well. When I saw the hot pink on me, I was just thrilled. My five o'clock shadow (and it's always 5 o'clock it seems) did interfere with the aesthetics for me, but even so… it was exciting to see myself "dolled up." Tammy and Kitty pointed out that I was giggling xD

Now I still have not fully understood intellectually how wearing the outer trappings of femininity expresses my inner sense of gender. From an abstract left brain point of view, my femaleness exists no matter what I wear. I would suspect that hot pink lipstick is a right brain phenomenon. I don't feel "more" of a woman with it on. I don't think I even "look" more like a woman with it on. What I am doing is letting my own perception of my gender outweigh someone else's.

Something I'm struggling to articulate is the relationship between my sense of myself as a woman and my desire to be feminine. I am fully aware that there are ciswomen that aren't particularly feminine. There are feminine cismen as well. Logically, it doesn't follow that wanting to be feminine is the same thing as being true to my own perception of gender. Nonetheless, that is my experience of it.

When Lumi first took me to her closet and had me try on her old clothes, I was overcome with emotion and was at a loss for words. Later I named that experience, "I'm home." Upon reflection I'd name the experience of seeing myself in make up, "that's me." I was using color I found beautiful (sentimental even) to augment my face, my body, in a way that touched my inner sense of femininity. Was some of that sense of femininity cliché? Iconic? Did it matter?

We next tried on two shades of red. It turns out the darker shade gave me the effect I wanted. Kitty showed me how to get the classic bow lip shape. I joked about the effect being slutty, but really I wanted to broadcast feminine sexuality. Intellectually I understand feminine sexuality is not about lip color at all. What I ended up doing was kissing Tammy's wrist and the lipstick print on her skin was nonetheless an icon.

One of the most important aspects of my trip to the cosmetics shop was that it reminded me of my vision about going forward with gender expression. That vision seemed to say, "remain playful." The bathroom dilemma, in hindsight, was an indication that I was starting to take this too seriously. I SO needed to play with make-up the next day <3

*God bless Tammy (and Kristen & Toast) and my other cisgendered friends who have blown my mind by showing me such loving support <3

Flow

I went dancing in a long skirt last night :) I realized I hadn’t since my “debut”, other dancing nights I wore a short dress or Capris. I noticed a remarkable difference. My dancing may not have looked too different, and I can’t say I had more fun in a long skirt, but… There was fluidity to my dancing. There was an added ease or grace to my movements. For example my sexy moves were more sensual. There were some erotic feelings not because of the skirt, but because of the flow with which I moved. I did often notice that my legs “felt” less constricted, though I don’t think they actually were. I noticed that feeling my hair brush against my face (which I usually feel when dancing) added to the sense of flow. I was more free to move somehow. Anyway, just thought I’d mention this *shrugs*

P.S. I was back in school this week and it seemed like at least once a day I’d get some comment such as, “You know (i.e. experience) ‘fill in the blank’ because you’re a guy.” I wanted to rebel and I texted Tammy yesterday asking her if she could do my make-up that evening. I wanted full eye shadow visible in a dark club on the dance floor and bright lipstick. She texted back “define bright.” Slutty Red I replied. She said red was tricky and we needed to go shopping for that some other time, so she used eyeliner under the brown lipstick I had to punch up the visibility.

To Mace or Not To Mace

Prior to my “debut night” (see ‘Big Deal’ post), my SL friend Bau suggested I get mace. I took hir seriously, but didn’t get around to it. I’ve since been out femme-dressed a few times with no incidents… until last night.

I went dancing with my friends Tammy & Toast, but at a different club than I had before. Because the club was a) more mainstream and b) in my own neighborhood, I didn’t want to go QUITE as femme as I have. I wore a leopard spot headband and leopard spot skin-tight Capris, a black sleeveless shirt and a short sleeved black hoodie, plus eye-liner and lip-gloss. Toast (a cisgendered male) has long hair and wore a skirt and make-up. Tammy was in black with a short skirt and spikey hair.

I first suspected trouble when I saw the baseball cap guy pushing shots on his friends (who were sitting alongside the dance floor). He was drinking liquor and beer and obviously drunk off his ass. He came onto the dance floor and was deliberately dancing backwards into Toast. He had that drunken trying to get away with it but telegraphing what he was doing thing (for example he kept looking back over his shoulder to make sure he was heading for Toast). Finally Toast exchanged some words with baseball cap guy. Toast then stormed off the dance floor. I positioned myself in such a way that ‘b-c’ guy couldn’t pull the same shit on me, but I didn’t want to let the guy stop me from dancing. Eventually Toast and Tammy came back to the dance floor and ‘b-c’ guy started talking to Tammy and she told him off as well. He continued to look and point at us as he talked to his friends. I noted (just in case) that he was wearing sandals and I was wearing combat boots.

Eventually he and his friends left and I thought that was over and enjoyed the rest of my evening. Until closing time came and as we were getting ready to leave, baseball-cap guy showed back up without his friends. Now I was spooked. I started to discuss with Tammy and Toast arrangements for walking home together. I didn’t think it was safe for any of us to walk home alone. The DJ (a friend of Toast) overheard and said “which guy?” Toast pointed him out and the DJ started yelling at the guy to get out of the bar. Baseball-cap guy started yelling back at the DJ that he was going to call the cops. Eventually the owner of the bar and the bouncers took over and got ‘b-c’ guy out of the club. Potentially, however, he was outside and angry. When Toast, Tammy & I left the club, we didn’t see him. We put Tammy in a cab; Toast walked me home and had his bike to ride home. So we all were unscathed, but I’m thinking I better get that mace now.

A Few Thoughts

I went north to spend a few days with Lumi. We went out quite a lot “dressed”; me in femme-dress, Lumi in boi-mode. We went to the post office, ate in restaurants, shopped in local quirky stores and big chains. We got a lot of double takes, and in one case got the “evil eye” from an old man. I did find that my normal hyper-vigilance ratcheted up a few notches to the worrying about “who’s going to come running to beat me up” level. I hate to admit it, but I was feeding into stereotypes, being particularly wary of construction workers and large men. I also had some fear that we would be refused service, but no; in fact all the shopkeepers and restaurant staff we’re as cordial to us as they were to anyone else. Other than that there was ease and comfort and naturalness to being dressed femme. I’m just me and this is how I dress.

In a conversation about some “survivor guilt” (waiting to come out late in life when I’m relatively stable and knowing I’ve avoided a lot of suffering that my fellow gender transgressors suffered), Lumi reflected on the difference in reaction to transwomen based on age. Zie said something about the threat to manhood and sexuality that a young transwoman has on cissexist men is stronger than the threat an older transwoman would have. I thought later that this could be related to what I’ve read about older women’s invisibility, going off the radar after a certain age. Some idea is forming about this but it hasn’t developed yet.

The day after I got home I was with a group of friends and acquaintances and the subject came around to what boys are like. Some of my friends were new moms and one in particular was talking about a book promoting the currently popular idea that our education and socialization no longer lets boys be boys. There isn’t enough aggression allowed in the classroom and playground these days. The book apparently suggested that parents play rough with boys. Both mothers agreed that their sons responded well to jumping and being tossed about. Then it was suggested that one child’s interest in trucks and big machines was because he was a boy. A non-mom told a story about a recent encounter with a young boy who giggled upon seeing her cleavage. She then jumped to the conclusion that the child was a “guy” already. This angered me. In trying to express my anger to some trusted friends I found myself confused…

You see, when I was in denial about being a transwoman, I used to take the position that there were NO inherent gender traits. I was all nurture and no nature in my philosophy. A factor in my taking this stance was, no doubt, due to the fact that very few traditionally male gender traits were part of my experience, and many traditionally female ones were. In a way, I suppose, I was claiming there was no such thing as gender at all. The social construct was a lie. Coming out of denial, however put a different light on this. I found that I wanted to claim the female-gendered traits as my own, as some kind of proof of my true nature; though I couldn’t say my sense of being a woman comes from these traits. I am still uncomfortable with assigning traits to a specific gender. Certainly not everyone who has untraditional gender traits is trans. No doubt there is some balance between nature and nurture, but what is it? Lumi asked me if I had read Serano's “Whipping Girl”. Zie suggested I read it with the caveat that zie didn’t agree with everything the book said. I picked it up today and will report back when I’m done reading it.

The Big Deal Is That It Wasn’t a Big Deal

May 29, 2008: My public debut* in femme clothing**. I went dancing in a club with two cisgendered girlfriends, Tammy & Kristen.

I SO didn’t do this alone. Besides the physical presence of T & K, there were those who helped me put my debut outfit together. I wore in a bright red long spandex skirt, the first I bought since I was 28. My friend Mary went out shopping for that skirt with me (God bless her). This skirt flares out beautifully when I spin xD. My orthogendered friend Lumi (who has given me most of hir femme wardrobe) provided me with the empire waist paisley red white & black top; which is cut in points at the bottom and hides my belly really well. Lumi also hand-made the magnetic black bracelets I wore. Rather than buying one, my friend Toast suggested I got to the craft sore and make my own velvet choker ribbon. Toast helped me shop for the leggings I bought (but didn’t wear – more on that later). Tammy sent me to the store where I got my killer combat boots with frilly swirl detailing ::grin::. Then there are all the friends who have given me emotional/spiritual support, to name just a few who specifically gave my butt a push towards public expression; Shiva, Beta, Talia, Alison, John and so many more.

Tammy not only went with, but did my hair and make-up first (Tammy is my hairdresser as well as my friend). I had discovered before I got to her house that the tights just wouldn’t stay up. Partly the material, partly I’m the wrong shape for them I think. Tammy pulled out of her drawer a pair of seamed fishnets for me to wear (God bless her). She said fishnets will stay up (and they did). When putting on the eye make-up, she gave me a blow by blow explanation of what she was doing and would hold her hand up to show me where to look. It was so sweet :) She also did amazing things to my hair with a flatiron. I looked in the mirror when she was done and was just awestruck. I looked beautiful. Really beautiful***.

Off to the club. Tammy drove. In the car there was a moment when I wasn’t even conscious of what I was dressed like, which I thought was a good sign. I was at ease already. Earlier in the day, I was excited and anxious and called a dear friend who gave me great advice. She had a therapist once that told her, “You have to be willing to have bad sex.” So she told me that I had to be willing to have a bad debut. “The point is you’re doing this, whether or not you have a good time doing it.” We got there and Tammy asked the bartender to hold onto our purses (after reminding me to take out my lip gloss for touch-ups). Kristin met us there and Tammy introduced us to a few of her friends. A few people I was introduced to seemed to me to have bemused looks on their face, but others didn’t react at all to my looks.

The club isn’t a tranny club, or a gay club, it is a very tolerant come as you are club. It was 80s night in the club, the kind of club music I used to dance to back in my college days (when it was new). Then She Wants Revenge’s “Tear You Apart” came on. Not an 80s band, but 80s influenced. It’s a song often played at the virtual club Fracture owned by my friend Beta. It was like my Second Life**** family was with me.

I danced for about three hours. Tammy had joked that I would do nothing but spin in circles because I was so enamored of the way my skirt flared. I spun a bit more than I might have otherwise, but not excessively; though at the beginning Tammy did call me on looking at my skirt while I danced :). A few times the skirt did catch on the bottom of my boots, but fortunately didn’t stretch it out. I did find myself holding the sides of my skirt and swished them around :). An interesting thing happened with the fishnets. There was a rip in the crotch and occasionally my “manhood” would catch in it, calling attention to what many misguided people think determines gender. It was an almost ironic touch I think.

But the way I danced was not only about how I interacted with my clothes, but the freedom of expression they afforded me. Both Tammy and Kristin told me that I looked like I was having so much fun they were having fun too. Afterward I was talking to Tammy about it. I related it somehow to something that happened to me earlier in the week. I was running down the street and had the sudden “you run like a girl” fear. I learned to run more “macho” in my youth in order to avoid getting beaten up. It has never come naturally to me and I still “catch” myself and run in “macho” mode. But this time, this time I didn’t. I ran like I ran, whether it was like a girl or not. There was a similar freedom in my dancing on May 29^th. I love to dance and often dance enthusiastically. Now I was dancing with abandon. There was joy, too. Pure joy.

*I don’t count my 29^th birthday ’cause that was a private party, and I don’t count the Halloweens because it was Halloween. I should also mention that I did take Lumi & hir daughter out for sushi in pigtails and a lace top previously, but that was without make-up and I wore “male” pants and shoes.

**I don’t want to say “en femme” ‘cause I wasn’t trying to pass, and I don’t want to say “cross-dressing” because despite my physical form I was dressed appropriately for my true gender.

***My spouse wants me to maintain internet anonymity so I won’t post pics here. Any of my SL (Second Life) friends can IM me in game and I’ll be happy to drop a pic into your inventory :).

****A very involving 4-D (3-D graphic/real time) multi-user computer interface where I identify as Trans, but embody as female.