GenderBendy

Man in a dress no more

Yesterday I bought a dress. So what? Yeah, you’re right, not earth-shaking, but the moment does provide an object lesson in layers of becoming.

One of the first things I did after my gender revelation in ‘08 was buy a grey knit sweater-dress with a big floppy collar, at Reny’s. Oh, my, I was in state - terrified and ecstatic. I couldn’t conceive of trying it on in the store, so I took it home, discovered it was too small, and went back in an even more heightened state to exchange it. The flat hard look the young woman behind the returns desk gave me was my first encounter with the judgemental eyes of the world.

I had fun with my new dress. I put it on along with my new garter-belt stockings and black pumps and costume-jewelry pearls from Walmart and my outrageous rolled-up-sock-with-filbert-nipples boobs and posed for the camera. It was the beginning of figuring out who I was.

As time went on I acquired more dresses, of two types: fancy ones from the evening gown racks at Goodwill, and simpler everyday ones either bought without trying on or given by friends. I continued to have fun wearing both kinds at home, but the only time I wore a dress in public was when I put on one of the fancy ones for a soirée - the USM drag show, the EQ Maine dinner, a holiday party - and it was always a big deal. I never wore the simpler ones in public, even after I was completely out and living full time as a woman, because I just didn’t like the way I looked in them.

Yesterday I met Susan for a shopping date at the mall, and on the sale rack at Banana Republic I found a light soft grey-and-white V-neck dress in stretchy cotton. I tried it on and stood looking at myself in the three-way mirror. Susan looked with me.

Me, to myself: Shoulders back, dear. Chin up. Relax the lower back more, let it curve. Is it binding or bagging under the the arms? No, seems to be just right. Wow, not bad at all.

Susan: Oh, that’s really nice.

Me: I don’t know...I just don’t wear dresses. People don’t, you know? So it’s a thing.

Susan: What do you mean?

Me: Well, I have dresses, and I put them on and look in the mirror, and I see...I don’t know, I’m so tall, my shoulders are still so broad, my hips are narrow...I still see a man in a dress.

Susan: You don’t look like a man in a dress. I’m not just saying that. I want you to feel good, but I would say if you did. You don’t look like a man in a dress.

Me: Thanks, I needed to hear someone say that.

I bought the dress (Only $18 on deep discount - score!), and in a few months, maybe on the first really warm day of spring, I’m going to wear it to work. No back-up outfit in a bag in case I chicken out. I’m going to commit to the dress for the day. And honestly, I don’t think it’s going to be a big deal. Check out how far I’ve come:

12/31/2008:

1/15/2012:

I am speaking, my dear, of the theatah!

I’m gonna be in a show! I’m so excited! :-D

Here’s how it happened: I went to this show last year, the Femme Show, touring up from Boston, and really enjoyed it. It’s a variety show - theater, readings, dance, etc. - looking at the femme identity in queer culture from various angles. I was nodding and laughing and learning stuff, but I also thought, hm, no trans women up there, and also, hm, I’ve got a bunch of funny things to say about femininity; and I felt this intense impulse to perform. So I wrote some e-mails, and on the strength of the writing here at Genderbendy I got in. Just for the Portland show tomorrow night, not the whole tour, but still...a chance to try strutting my stuff! Glee!

I’ve been feeling the impluse to perform all my life, actually...watching people on stages and thinking resentfully, *I* could do that. But whenever I thought of actually doing something, I was immediately paralyzed by extreme self-consciousness and dread. Hardly surprising, given that at the time I was 100 percent committed to clamped-down hyper-controlled male mode.

No longer! The deeper cool thing about being in this show is that I am hardly nervous at all. I’m feeling confident and joyful. All eyes will be on me; all minds engaged with my words...amazing. And I look forward to trying to find that sweet natural rhythm of give and take I know can exist between performer and audience, riding the wave of their response. No doubt at show-time my heart will be beating in my throat, but hey, bring it. The adrenaline, the flash of the lights when I go out on stage, launching into my first line and off we go...sounds like a total rush. I hope so. I’ll report after.

Oh, and, what am I doing? All I can say is that it involves three or four layers of crossdressing, breast-form gags, and the elusive golden secret of femininity...and if you want to know more, you’re just going to have to see for yourself tomorrow night, darling! Wish me luck! :-) Useful link here.

From ecstatic to blasé in two years - First Event 2011

On Saturday I dropped in for the day at First Event, one of the major trans-gatherings that happens each year in the U.S.; it takes place each January at a Marriott in Peabody, MA, an hour’s drive south of my house. 

The First Event two years ago was the first time I ever wore women’s clothes in public, just a few months post-revelation, and it was an epiphany - one of the most intense experiences of my life. The second one, last year, was not quite as big a deal, but still, in those undercover days, a rare and exciting chance to go deep femme for *two whole days*. [Posts from last year here: getting ready (including a descrip of the first year), first day report, second day report]. This year I wasn’t even going to go until I mentioned it to my friend Jamie-Lynn and she agreed to come.

The day did yield a number of interesting moments:

Shopping for earrings in the marketplace, which was mostly focused on the needs of M to F crossdressers, I found myself passing by rack after rack because everything was just too over-the-top glam. I finally found a pair I liked at a little consignment table...quirky silver danglies featuring a variegated blue-and-grey stone bead. It was only when I got home that I realized they were clip-ons. (I still like them.)

In a panel of facial feminization surgeons, the frighteningly egotistical Dr. Z bustled in late and then hijacked the session to attack the work of Dr. O, considered by many to be the preeminent FFS surgeon in the world. He had slides of what he said were some of Dr. O’s patients (closeups of naked skull, the forehead skin clamped back), and was explaining how the work was fundamentally flawed. Dr. O was not there, but his devoted assistant Mira was...Mira who, in a session last year, told us reverentially that Dr. O is a Michelangelo. She stood up and interrupted Dr. Z’s tirade. He overrode her. She muscled in again. I left at that point - I hate that sort of conflict - but Jamie stayed, and told me after she interrupted to ask a question, which apparently derailed the battle...good for her!

I also had an interesting encounter with Jennifer, who was in the audience with me in a session. She asked a question, and her voice work was superb...a gentle, natural-sounding, and attractive womanly tone...so I began to observe her. She was about my age, height, and build, and had not, so far as I could tell, had facial surgery, but she snapped strongly femme. Her hair was soft and full and attractively styled; if it was a wig, it was a more natural-looking one than most around us. Her clothes were elegant and understated. She had a woman’s mobile face and quick soft smile, and she held her body folded softly in on itself, arms and legs crossed, spine pliable, head lowered diffidently. Her eyes also had a tendency to flit down.

I approached her after the session and introduced myself. The first thing she said was “I’m sorry.” I was impressed by how feminine that was, and at the same time my inner feminist wanted to lecture her: “Honey, don’t apologize for yourself!” She shared voicework hints with me with which I am experimenting today: put your hand on your chest as you speak and make sure there is no buzz in the chest-cavity at all; visualize your voice as floating in the air out in front of your nose; and record and listen to yourself (yeah, yeah...I know that’s key, but I hate doing it.) My overall impression was of a person whose femininity is just shining out of her, completely unmannered and unselfconscious. She was inspiring.

And, there was the panel of trans youth with their parents. There were two trans girls and three trans boys there, ranging in age from 12 to 22 or so. It was the little 12-year-old trans girl who captured my attention. She had a child’s version of Jennifer’s natural femininity...to all appearances a pretty young girl in a baby-blue girl’s top, her long brown hair held back with hairpins just behind her ears. She was sitting next to her mom and paying close attention to all that was said, completely at ease, smiling often.

As we heard each family’s story in turn, I felt tears start to come. I had to leave for a while. It was the love and support of the parents on the panel which reached me the most. I so ache sometimes for my mother’s love...for her to know me and love me as a girl...and I can never have that. I could have been like that little girl, supported by her parents, planning an early and complete transition. I could have had forty more years of life as a girl and woman. It’s not the first time I’ve mourned these losses, and I don’t suppose it will be the last.

Jamie sat with me and gave me hugs...she was great. And it was fun sharing the conference with her...telling her backstories, pointing out VIP’s, listening to her network with the activists at tables in the marketplace, and just gabbing in the car on the way down and back. In the short time I’ve know her, she has become a dear friend.

So that was First Event 2011. The main insight from the day: I have come a loooooong way in a fairly short time. From ecstatic to blasé in two years...how ‘bout that.

Dressed as a Lesbian today

The gender line in fashion turns out to blur with almost infinitely fine gradations...I am in fact wearing all women's clothing today.  My outfit consists of:

• dark green cotton capri pants
• a Hanes Her Way cotton tee, light blue (the only difference I can see from a His Way is a subtlety of collar design)
• the purple clog-style Birkenstocks my sweetie gave me
• three silver bracelets (two from my sweetie and one from my daughter)
• dangly silver labrys earrings (from my sweetie too...she gives me presents, and it makes me happy...:-))

No makeup, hair loose and natural...I feel, stylistically, like an earthy-crunchy Lesbian approaching the gender midline as closely as she can.  I wonder if anyone will notice.

Working in femme mode tonight

It's getting to be routine...I'm going out tonight, going to work in fact, dressed.  It's the WMPG Fashion Show at Space Gallery in Portland, and I'm helping out.  It a great opportunity to take my evolving femme look out into a receptive place in the "normally" gendered world.

What little anxiety I'm feeling is around my outfit...I'm going to a fashion show, after all.  I want to look good, but still be a member of the audience, not trying to upstage the models.  So, jeans, a tight euro-style stripy top that Ardis gave me, funky low-platform shoes which, when we were shopping at Goodwill, Christina assured me were hip, hair tied back with the totemic pink crochet hair-tie, and then I think slightly outrageous eye-shadow, mascara, and lipstick to go with the necessary beard-concealing powder.  And fun jewelry...Deb gave me several nice pairs of earrings for my birthday, so one of those plus I don't know what else yet...scarf or not?  I'll know in the moment...zen and the art of cross-dressing...

The children are with me tonight, so they're going to see me before I go and when I get back...they seem blase about it.

Oh, and various co-workers will be there...I didn't even think of that at first.  Well, they'll just have to deal.

Maybe I'll see you there too...say hi!  :-)

Quite the gala evening

Last Saturday night on a freebie ticket from a friend of a friend I attended EqualityMaine's annual awards dinner at the Holiday Inn in Portland.  I wasn't sure how toney this event would be so my outfit combined formal and more casual elements:  the gorgeous green brocade top Sis Sus gave me, over my still-new-and-dark jeans, over those reliable old standbys my Walmart open-toed black pumps...plus the new pink pink scarf, my most dangly dangly earrings (and a few other pieces of jewelry), and full but (I hope) classily subdued makeup.  My hair is long enough now that I can just wear it loose to good effect.  I specifically wanted to look not dressed in drag.  I was going for straight elegant femme, and I believe I came close to pulling it off.  Yay!  :-)  As it turned out jeans were underdressy, but not too bad. 

Anyway...

The crowd was all ages but skewed 35 and older, prosperous-looking, and overwhelmingly white.  It quickly became apparent that there was a lot of money and power in the room.  (Someone gave me a tip on how to pick out the most influential people...they're the ones not wearing name tags.)  I did not realize until this party how formidable a voting bloc and fund-raising force the LGBT community has become.  There were a couple of dozen state legislators in the room, and a philanthropist or two as well. 

The gender balance was 50-50, and there were lots of touches of cross-dressing (Father Dawn looked particularly sharp in her shirt and tie)...but not many fully cross-dressed as I was.  Which brings up the main question I had going in:  how much T was there going to be really in this LGBT evening?

There was some.  Once or twice specifically trans causes or issues were mentioned.  The bulk of the evening, however, was given over to looking back at the ballot fight for marriage equality, and forward to the next round of that fight.  Now, I whole-heartedly support the rights of any two people to marry who want to...but I also feel compelled to point out that this is more purely an L and G issue than a T one.  To take myself as an example, one very possible outcome of my narrative is being a woman in a committed relationship with a man, all nice and mainstream.  True, there is a confusing variety of definitions from state to state of what constitutes a "man" and a "woman", and I might also end up hitched to another woman, so I definitely do still have a personal stake in this issue.  Just not quite so inevitably as a gay man or lesbian.

Meanwhile, "gender expression" still appears much less often than "sexual orientation" on the lists of reasons for which the nation's multitude of organizations, companies, municipalities, governments, etc. will not discriminate.  I was not legally protected, for example, from being fired for being trans when I worked recently for the U.S. Census.  In important areas trans rights lag behind those of gays and lesbians, and I didn't hear much about that.

That said, I found the evening inspiring.  I felt moved by the individual narratives of some of the award-winners, and marvellously buoyed by the intense sense of community and mutual support in the room.  So, in sum, while I didn't quite feel that I had arrived in the bosom of a new ready-made community, I certainly felt welcomed and included, and had a great time.

Two more fun insights:  Femme mode turns out to be useful for avoiding people I've known as a man and don't want to talk to...one such looked right at me and didn't recognize me at all.  That was good for a secret smile.  And, I not only enjoyed, as I always do, going out dressed as a woman; I also enjoyed going out not dressed as a man.  What a revelation:  I may never have to wear a suit and tie again as long as I live.  Wow.  I can so live with that.  :-)

Bits and pieces

I fear my last post built a little suspense which I have since failed to provide the release for...apologies to anyone who was on tenterhooks.  :-)  My sister was visiting from Colorado over the weekend, and then fund-raising started at my radio station (that number again: 874-3000), so I've not had a second to post again until now.

The setup was, I proposed to change into full femme mode in the bathroom at my work in order to be on a panel at a trans conference taking place across campus, then walk back and change again after.  I did it, and it went all right.  I got one scoff-and-eyeroll, but also some smiles and, my favorite, a truly blasé response from the work study students.  There really does seem to be a generational difference:  people my age and older often seem uncomfortable with my gender non-conformity; people under 30 tend to just roll with it.

The panel was interesting because our audience was mostly health professionals - nurses and counselors and such - and it was clear from the questions that most of them had very little understanding of what it means to be trans.  I'm finishing a query letter and book proposal which I will soon be sending out, trying to get an agent for a memoir, and I find myself feeling newly motivated by the sense I brought out of that session of just how much basic education remains to be done.

While she was here my sister took some pictures of my face for me...front, three quarters, and profile, hair pulled back, no makeup, muscles carefully unsmiling...so I can send them to a woman in the UK who specializes in photoshopping what you could look like after facial feminization surgery.  When I have my before and afters, I will post them here.

My most recent development:  I suddenly found myself today coming out to Amy Goodman, the host of Democracy Now!  I had called her to record a pitch for our fundraiser, and she remembered me from previous similar conversations and asked about the name change, and there I was stammering my explanation.  She offered congratulations and best wishes, which was very kind of her.  Who knows what might come of that someday?  In any case, yet another proof is one was needed (it wasn't) of my newfound lack of shyness.

One more thing I've been wanting to record here...a couple of weeks ago now my daughter decided after some trepidation to tell her friends at school about my trans identity.  She was a little surprised, I think, at how well it went.  As I understand it one of them laughed, one just nodded, and the third asked a bunch of questions.  Then they gave me a wonderful gift:  another new name to add to my growing collection.  She texted me:  "They've decided to call you Madame Deeve."  With their permission I have changed the spelling, and whatever other name(s) I also end up using, I will proudly answer from now on to Madame D'Yves.  Isn't that elegant?  I love it! :-)  Thank you Sarah and Cheyenne and Sam!

Full femme debut at work today (just for a minute)

There's a transgender conference happening on the USM Portland campus today, where I work, and I have agreed to be on an "ask a trans person" panel.  It's from 1:30 to 3pm.  Originally I was going to take the whole day off to do this, but why?  I don't need all day to change any more...I don't even need an hour.  And I'm totally out at work.  So yesterday I asked my boss if he minded if I changed here at the station before walking over, and he said that would be fine...

...so later today I'll be taking half an hour in the bathroom to shave, do my makeup, put on my skirt and top and pantyhose and heels and jewelry and scarf (not necessarily in that order), and then I'll step out into the hall and get my coat and purse and walk out the front door and across campus. 

Yeah, I have butterflies, but not too bad.

My one unanswered question...should I prep my coworkers, or just appear on the scene?  To prep might be to make too much of it; to just appear might make someone more uncomfortable.  I am pleased to feel that I can trust myself to make the best choice in the moment.

Steps

I had a doctor's appointment yesterday, which I had made weeks ago because of the persistent redness on my neck from my first electrologist.  That was just to get me in the door, though...my real reason was to take her measure as a possible transition-ally.  When I broached the subject she told me she has had other trans patients, and was matter-of-factly open to working with me, if very brisk...she was running an hour late and wanted to try to catch up with her schedule, I think.  I asked if she was going to be around for a while...some of the doctors in that clinic are just passing through...and she said yes.

She asked if I was on hormones yet, and I said I wasn't, and she asked if I wanted a referral to an endocrinologist, and I opened my mouth and said "yes."  I had been thinking of waiting until summer to start hormones, but that's just an arbitrary plan from back when I told my children that I was planning to transition.  And even if I do go see this endo soon, it doesn't mean I have to immediately start taking the pills.  Still, I'm moving toward that first consult, and that is a step.

After the appointment I fetched my children, who were hanging out at the music store (they're on vacation this week) and took them home, and when we got here I really wanted to be dressed femme.  So far when they are here I've felt OK about going back into drab for them, but this time I asked them each separately if it would bother them if I put on slightly more feminine comfy-clothes than they were used to seeing, and they both made faces (twisted mouth, eyes averted) but said OK, so I went into my room and put on the soft white hip-hugger pants with the flare below the knee which Ardis gave me, and the black scoop-neck sweatshirt with red and white flowers crocheted on it.  Plus I still had the mini-aubergine earrings in I had already been wearing, and one of my new Rayon-disguised-as-natural-fiber Indian scarves, and I took off my stocking cap and let my hair fall forward...and we had an evening.  After the first few minutes there was normal conversation, joking...I think they were both a little uncomfortable, but it went all right. 

A big step actually.  I've been pondering for some time how to take it, and in the end, as with coming out at work a few weeks ago, I found myself in a moment which felt right, and acted. 

I have a new question I ask myself these days, not just around being trans, but in all my interactions with others:  What do they need?  Not, what do I want in order to feel I have been helpful, but how can I really help them?  Right now I think my children really need the opportunity to safely express what they are feeling.  I have offered them counseling in the past, and they've declined.  Last week I made an appointment with my counselor for this coming Friday and told my dear offspring that I want them to accompany me. I really want to get them talking, and I am, I hope, prepared for them to express hurt or fear or anger or sorrow...if these are feelings they are feeling.  If they do, I expect I will feel very bad, and it will no doubt slow me down...but I don't think it will stop me.  I can't think of anything non-catastrophic which could stop me now.

The chocolate-covered mandarin orange segments were divine

Happy Valentine's Day to me.  I love me.  Thanks me, I'm truly touched.  :-)

I feel giddy.  The party was really fun, and I did in fact do some flirting and also some networking...social and professional.  I feel so young and new, still, when I am inhabiting my femininity, I tend to forget that I'm a smart competent grownup with a lot of good life experience, and that people will respect that.  I have little sense of my own worth, I think...a "what, little 'ol me?" kind of thing.  Which is stupid.  Why should I not be accepted and liked and respected by people?  I'm an interesting person, to say the least.

Fun crowd...a mix of academics, neighbors, and parenting-friends.  Not quite the high-powered literary gathering I was expecting, but that's probably just as well.  Nobody batted an eye at me, even though my shapewear and dress pushed me well past "normal woman" into tranny-caricature.  I was by far the most voluptuous individual there... :-)  It was valuable to be able to  look at other women playing dress-up and to see how close I actually already am without enhancements of any kind, just in my own skin, to being shaped like a woman.

The poem-reading didn't end up happening...I gather our hosts thought it would interrupt the energy of the party, which seemed right.  We all just taped our poems up on a door.  Mine was a little damp...I had been carrying it, folded up, in my decolletage...  ;>

Early in the evening I danced a little in a loose group of dancers, enjoying feeling slinky and sexy, but still really dancing alone.  Then, later, I really felt like I wanted to dance with someone, a man, and a self-confident handsome middle-aged gent with whom I had had a short conversation earlier in the evening was standing there, so without thinking about it I stepped up to him and said "Are you secure enough in your masculinity to dance with me?"  "It would be my pleasure," he said, and we danced.  Not touching...the kind of face-each-other-and-wiggle I remember from college.  He made small talk.

A little later, in the standing around saying goodbye but actually having more conversations phase, I do believe he chatted me up.  He was solicitous, bordering on gallant...he told me if I ever needed an ally, to call on him...and he said he wanted to give me a hug, so we hugged.  And I liked it.  Oh, I did.  This was a social interaction I grasped intuitively (or at least so it felt):  the beginning of a negotiation.  And behold, I become aroused as I type.  I really really might be a heterosexual woman.  I want to flirt with men, excite men's interest, toy and play with and tease men, and in the end succumb to their strength...oh, my, it's getting warm in here...

I did some emerging from the cocoon last night, is what I did.  Not all the way.  Big parts poking out now, though...legs and feelers... hints of wings.  I pause now and respirate, extremities trembling a bit...soon I will be all the way out, drying my wings in the sun...then that first tentative spread and flex, and a launch into whimsical serendipitous flight... :-)