Gender Awakening-Michelle

A few weeks ago, you posted an article from a gurl commenting on the different times that we have to deal with our emotions, and thoughts related to crossdressing. She highlighted the way we feel before we do it, when we are doing it, and after we do it. I have been meaning to respond to that posting, but this is the first time that I have had a chance to do so. Over the years I have been to the old Karlalyn’s Oasis, at a variety of locations. I have also been to CDI in Manhattan, as well as some private parties. One thing in common with all of these places is that I was able to go there in street clothes, get dressed with other gurls, enjoy the festivities, and then change back into my street clothes. The one thing that I have noticed, more than anything else, is the sadness that I see in the faces of the other gurls, as they go back to their male persona. There have been many articles here from many gurls, with the pros and cons of outing ourselves to our family members, with the manin consensus of opinion being that we are better off keeping our secret to ourselves. I too have only shared my secret with a select few people. However, when I see the faces of the other gurls, as they transition back, I know that we would all be much happier, if we were all more accepted by society in general, did not have to hide that side of our lives, and were able to express it more freely, openly, and more often.

Thanks Michelle.

-Gender Awakenings: ” In Between Time”. (from “Crossdressers’ (CDI) Monthly” , December, 1999)

-Gender Awakenings: ” In Between Time”.

(from “Crossdressers’ (CDI) Monthly” , December, 1999)

Every CD has two sides: the original male persona with its responsibilities of job and family. Then the femme side, both the physical cosmetic “passable” part..and then the psychology of being a girl..letting go of the aggressive testoterone mind set..feeling rather than always acting. (“What’s the score ? Who won the game What’s the bottom line ?”).

But there’s a third side too. I’ve discovered it, and girls I know have confessed they experience it too. It’s what I call “In Between”. You’re on your way to the CDI apartment. You’ve left your male life; you’re carrying your female persona in a duffel bag. But you aren’t dressed yet.. You start to think about the maleness you’ve just left at home or at work and the female persona you’re about to assume. But you’re neither. You’re in Between.

I get quite philosophical about the male things I’ve just left that i love: the people, the events, the male lifestyle and, yes, the parts I want to let go too. As the subway pulls in and as I get closer to the apartment, I start to think about female me, what she likes, who she likes, and why she does it. Even as I dress, still In Between, that valuable time puts the two mes in perspective.

As the time comes to slide out of heels and stockings and to apply cold cream to my pretty face, the same thing happens in reverse as I transform from female to male.

It’s time well spent the In Between. Time to reflect on who and what’s most valuable..and why ! As though your life isn’t complicated with two personas, now it’s time to think about the Three Faces of You !

Gender Awakenings

As we all can see around us, there has been a recent proliferation of simple devices that can easily take super-clear pictures to be sent anywhere, to anyone in seconds. I would like to give an opinion on this incredible power each and every one of us has to destroy another’s life with just one simple click. My opinion is simply this: It is simply out of hand.

This technology has been around in daily life to some degree since the late 90’s – all the high-class hotel bars showing live-feed of the surrounding streets, and all the news organizations and cable sports shows trying to out-do each other with their fancy studios overlooking the street and photographing everything around them. And then rightly or wrongly, September 11th accelerated this “Big Brother” thing exponentially from there. The difference is now this monster is literally in each in every one of our hands.

Maybe I picked the wrong century to be a “girl”. Going back centuries, with every “new thing”, there have always been messed up people using the new thing either in a way it was not intended or for ill will toward others. However, more than ever before, so many people in this world seem to lack common sense, common decency, or both.

It is forever a part of life now. There is no solution to this except to say that people should realize that just because something is not illegal, it does not mean it is not inappropriate or just plain wrong. Maybe it’s not all bad; at least in this century, I may end up on Y0u Tube, but at least I won’t get stoned to death or burned at the stake. From our roving reporter.

Gender Awakenings-Michelle

 I have some thoughts about the fragility of our lives in the CD world, and the impact that our spouses/families can have on it, which will probably spark some interesting responses from some of the other members, and give you some editorials for the next few bulletins. Anyone that has a spouse that truly embraces, and or encorages their CD life, is an exceptionally lucky person. There are so many of us that have had to purge themselves of their feminine things over the years, to avoid being outted by family members, and know all too well the feelings that go along with it. The self loathing that causes us to hate who we are, because of how it can turn our lives upside down, when the wrong person finds out about us, and condemns us for it. Is it really possible for us to have a healthy marriage, with a spouse that knows who we are? Are we better off living a lie, than risking everything that is important to us, by sharing who we really are with our spouses? Based upon what I have seen. There are very few women that can really accept us for who we are. Most of them are repulsed by us, and would prefer that we be “Normal”. When I met my current/second wife, I made the choice to tell her, very early on, in our relationship. Things that she did, at that time, lead me to believe that she could accept me for who I am. However, here I am, 11 years later, finding out that she really wishes that it would just go away, that she would rather pretend that it does not exist, and what she really wants is her husband back. I have considered purging. Is there anyone out there that has really been able to stop expressing this side of themselves, and live totally as a man. I have never had the desire to make a full transition. In addition, based upon my experiences with other gurls, it appears that the frequency with which I express this side of me is not as great as some other gurls. However, all that being said, I have not purged. I have done it too many times before. Each time, I have bought more things, than the last time, and had more things to purge. As much as I love my wife, and would love to be the man that she wants me to be, I also know who I am, and accept who I am. I have not purged fo that reason. I hope that I am able to work through this with her, but someday my life could take the same path that it has before. I may be ending another relationship, hoping to find someone new, who can accept me fore who I am. However, does a woman like that really exist? Maybe we really can’t expect a woman to accept us for who we are. Maybe we have to decide to either hide who we are from our spouses, or give up the idea of having a having a marriage with a spouse who can accept us. Ultimately this can be a very lonely life, for that reason. I would be very interested to hear/see the thoughts that others of you have regarding this, and how it has impacted your life.

Gender Awakenings-Dee’s Story

I

       A couple of years ago, I read an excerpt from a book called “From the Mouths of Rabbis”  while I sat in my therapist waiting room.  I found it curious that my Italian born Tibetan Buddhist therapist, Rinaldo, had this compact little book full of Hebrew wisdom.  Usually you would find books like the Tibetan Book of the Dead, or a tome of Zen esoteric philosophy by Shunryu Suzuki with vague passages about letting go of the self, or the transient quality of life.  You know, a leaf flowing down the river of time and all that crazy shit that really bends your noodle and tries your patience.

I casually flipped through the Rabbi book, relieved that I didn’t have to think too hard on this one.  Most of the writing was short and to the point.  One passage struck me.  This is what it read:

A young rabbinical student asked his teacher, a

well learned and wise Rabbi, how to live an

honorable life in the eyes of God.  The Rabbi

thought long and hard, and finally stated,

“People are born like mice, live like mice, die

like mice.  Don’t be a mouse!”

I thought about the text and smiled.  The door to Rinaldo’s office opened, and a middle aged man came out.  I sat up to go in and he quickly rushed to the door and left.   Most clients would do that, like anyone could size them up coming out of a psychiatrist office and immediately peg their malady.   Rinaldo came out of his office and gave me a big hug and kiss on the cheek and said,  “How beautiful you look.”

 II

      If there was one thing the boy who came to the door on that Halloween day in 1975 was not, was mouse.  My mother and grandmother led me from house to house that day, collecting candy from the neighbors.  I was dressed in a ultra tight Superman costume my mother labored to get me in.  The trick or treating was pretty rough going.  I was a portly and out of shape 7 year old, and the only thing keeping my legs moving was the horde of candy that would be mine at the end of the day.

     So, we walked up and down the hills of the suburban landscape, packed with houses that were exact clones of one another.  Rarely did their shapes deviate:  two story boxes on hillsides all in rows, just like in the Melvina Reynolds song.

This was Rockland County: a suburb north of Manhattan on the west side of the Hudson River.  The town we lived in was Congers, a predominately Irish Italian blend with some German sprinkled in, and we all marched to that American drum:    The fathers took that hour and a half commute into Manhattan, Monday through Friday, while the mothers raised their children, walked their dogs, cooked their dinners.  Saturdays were for shopping, and if you could, squeeze in a quick confession at church.  Sundays were for Mass, then cold cuts from the local deli pilled high on fresh rolls from Artuso’s bakery.  Dad would watch the football game.  Mom would cook the post game dinner:  roast beef or pork chops.  Then the week would start all over again.  Nothing out of the ordinary.

Conversions ranged from trivial weather patterns to watered down politics.    A conversation would start off about the weather, move onto how it was affecting their lawns, then once they were warmed up, they would talk about Watergate or Vietnam as heard on TV.  Nothing out of the ordinary.

The Mashans were the exception .  They lived at the bottom of a hill, away from the track housing, in a old decrepit farm house.  While most of the houses in the neighborhood had well manicured lawns, the Mashan’s house was blocked by trees and bushes.  You could barely see it, from the road.  Walking up the drive way, you noticed the worn white paint on the front of the house, and a porch jutting out over a patch of untended ground.

My mother led her chubby little Superman up the stairs of Mashan’s porch.  I looked up at my mother who was secretly smiling to herself.  I knew she liked the Mashans.  There was Rudy, his wife Amy, and their three kids, John, Nathan and 4 year old Ida. Basically they were hippies.  Surprisingly, my father liked them too.  They had some things in common.  Both he and Rudy Mashan were artists.  My father was a commercial artist, working for the likes of Westinghouse and Mobile, while Rudy eked out a living as painter.  Both my mother and father were from the city, the Bronx to be exact. Rudy and company were from Greenwich Village.  Shockingly, I found out later in life that my parents first tried Marijuana with the Mashans.  I always thought my mother would have preferred to live like the them.  However, despite my fathers artist ability, he lacked that radical edge.

My mother rang the door bell, the ding dong of it tried desperately to pierce the cacophony of rock music that was playing from deep in the house.  There was the sound of a woman’s high heels clicking and clacking quickly to the door.

“Here’s Amy,” my mother said.

It swung open. My mother was expecting to be eye level with Amy.  Instead, the three of us looked at Nathan Machan in black silk stockings, held up by a flimsy garter belt.  The 13 year old was wearing a pair of 4” black leather pumps.  He was bear chested, obviously in the middle of his halloween transformation.  His face was heavily made up, and very beautiful, despite being quite boyish.

Nathan’s hands were at his hips, body proudly erect, looking with feminine intensity at us.  My grandmother was aghast.  My mother tickled pink.  I was confused and disturbed.  I could feel the blood rush to my face.  I felt very uncomfortable, like one of the those dreams you have when you are walking around in public, stark naked.

“My!  Aren’t you sexy,”  My mother laughed.  My grandmother huffed. With alluring female grace, he picked up a tootsie roll from a bowl by the door and placed it delicately into my orange pumpkin bucket.

“There you go chubbsy ubsy.”  he whispered,  looking coyly into my eyes.

“Nathan!  Give him more than that.”  Amy Mashan finally came to the door.  “Don’t be stingy!  Hi Joyce.  Hi Thelma.  Donald, how are you?”

“Ummmm.”  I stood there embarrassed and red faced.

“Don’t mind Nathan.  He’s doing it for the shock value.  Every Halloween he tries to one up himself.  Last year he was a German WWII Stormtrooper.”

My grandmother looked at him coldly.

“How bold.” my mother said, admiring the oddity in front of her.

My mother and Amy talked briefly, while I watched Nathan walk up and down the hall in his mother’s heels.  Every so often he would glance at me and smile.  He had me and  he knew it.  Nathan wasn’t going to let me go until the front door closed.  Finally Amy closed the door and it would be the last time I would see a male dressed in female attire until much later in life and it would be the last time I saw Nathan trip the light fantastic and bust out his mothers heels.  Nathan was not a transvestite you see, nor a homosexual, in fact, he grew into a handsome young ladies man living the bohemian life style his parents instilled in him.  His passions lay with music however, not art.  Like his father, he would be broke, but to me he was hip, sexy and darkly beautiful.

Except for a brief recounting of the incident  by my amused mother to my father over dinner, the incident was quickly forgotten by all, except me.  That night, I couldn’t get to sleep.  I kept thinking of Nathan.  Black high heeled shoes.  Sheer nylons.  Smooth chest.  Then I started to fantasize that I was wearing the shoes and the nylons stockings.  I’m not sure whether at that age I could get an erection, but I’m sure if I could, I would have.  Some boys sexual life are triggered by seeing a naked girl in a magazine.  Not me.   It was Nathan and the vision he put there in my head.  The vision was my malady and obsession.  My shame and joy.  A holy vision that dogged me.

 

Gender Awakenings-Michelle

Many of us are secretive about our need to express our feminine side. My question for this OP Ed Piece is two fold. If your spouse, family, and or friends, do not know this about you, have you made any plans for your items, should you pass away, without any warning. In other words are you at all concerned that anyone will be going through your things, after you are gone, and find out about this side of your personality. In my case, my wife knows, but prefers to just ignore it. When I pass away, she will have to remove all of my items from our home. During a time that will already be very stressful for her, having to dispose of those items, in secrecy, will only add to her stress. That being the case, I am looking for an alternative place to store my things, so that they will just be disposed of, when I am gone. While having a space at CDI would be very nice, it is a bit pricey for me, and would limit me as to when I would be able to get into NYC to use it, in that I am about an hour from NYC. I am considering renting a storage space, at a self storage facility. If anyone has made similar arrangements, for similar reasons, I would be interested to know how they have handled it, and or any facilities that are available for that purpose.

What if there was a Cure for Crossdressing?

I have a subject for consideration by the group, if you are so inclined to do so. If there were a cure for crossdressing, i.e a pill that you could take to make you normal, would you take it. Let me just say that I have been crossdressing off and on, since I was nine years old. While that is the case, and I have been to numerous TG/CD Clubs, etc., as well as been out in public, there are only a select few people that know that, other than my friends in the TG/CD World. That being said, if there was a reasonably simple cure, I would take it. Do I accept myself for who I am, Yes! I am sure that based upon my answer to that question, some of you would argue that I don’t, but the problem is not me accepting myself, it is the rest of the world accepting that part of me. Plain and simple, my life would be much simpler, and less emotionally challenging, if I did not have this side to my personality.

Thanks Michelle.

Gender Awakenings

I’m fascinated by how often people who dress up ask about the friendliness of places for cross dressers, tgurls, etc.

Being gender fluid, I believe I have an unusual perspective about that.

When I’m Gary (guy), or Mikey (gurly boi), I often shop for tgurl Mikelle.

I’ve shopped at Victoria Secret (several times, different locations), Sephora (even more often), and Payless Shoes while dressed as a guy or gurly boi. On Friday, I bought a wig dressed as Gary.

Here are some tips:

If possible, shop in the village, Soho, etc. More open minded down there than say, Park Avenue mid-town.

Look for young female sales people. I’ve found the older people tend to be more rigid and judgmental in their thinking. I’m sure there are exceptions, but I’ve yet to encounter a young female shop keeper who gave me an attitude or was uncooperative.

All of my negative experiences have come from the older set.

When I bought my first bra in Victoria Secret, and the sales girl asked what size, I told her I didn’t have the slightest idea. She asked if it was for my girl friend, and I said “Actually, it’s for me. She gave a little embarrassed giggle, then asked if I wanted to go into a dressing room for her to measure me. I said “It doesn’t matter, and she measured me right in the middle of the floor. She then helped me pick a good bra. I’m a 36A, by the way.

When I bought a wig on Friday, there were two sales girls, one older and one younger. I asked for the younger one’s help. I was trying on short wigs, and the older one was watching. She assumed I was just trying to look younger. When I said I want to look feminine, her attitude became somewhat mocking, but the younger girl was very kind, helpful and found me a really good short wig.

I think kids growing up today are a lot more open-minded sexually and gender-wise. So, why not take advantage of it and not exclude yourself from the pleasure of shopping for things in person.

It’s not the place, it’s the people.

Thanks Mikelle.

Living with Gender Fluidity

My gender seems to change, depending on what’s happening in my life at the moment, or what part of my brain is dominant.

When I’m deep into the left side of my brain, doing something scientific (like writing a computer program) or mathematical (like doing my income taxes), I’m a heterosexual male, in dress and behavior. I think of him as Gary. He’s the persona that developed according to societal norms.

When I’m deep into the right side of my brain, I call myself Mikelle. She’s a pansexual tgurl who loves to dress and put on makeup.

When I’m straddling the middle, I’m a bisexual gurly boi, whom I think of as Mikey. Although Mikey doesn’t dress, he wears mascara, nude lipstick, panties, women’s shoes and pants or shorts that can pass for men’s unless you look closely.

The problem, of course, is my live-in girl friend has a great deal of difficulty wrapping her head around all this. She wants to see things as gay or heterosexual, not the reality of my gender fluid nature.

However, she is trying, in her own way. She gave Mikelle a lot of her clothes that she can no longer fit into. She also helped me pick out the right shade of foundation at Sephora today.

She still can’t deal with seeing me dressed, so I can’t do it when she’s home, which is a lot.

We’re going to start couples therapy within the next few weeks to start dealing with this issue.

We’ve been together a long time and we both want the relationship to work.

Thanks Mikelle

 

Gender Awakenings

I have purged again. After all the progress in coming out to my fiancee that I had made, I was at a place where I felt like I had no choice. At first, she seemed very open to try and understand about my crossdressing, but it wasn’t long before it became very obvious that she just wanted me to be “cured”. In order to save our relationship, I got rid of all my clothes and my beautiful shoes. It was such a painful experience.

However, in the last few weeks I have learned something. The desire to dress en femme and let out the woman that I am inside is all a part of who I am. Its not something I need to be “cured” of. We talked things out over and over again and things seem to be turning out for the better between us. There were more things that we needed to work out, and my crossdressing was the one that was easier to focus on when the other issues seemed too difficult to address. Having worked a lot of things out, I am happy to say that I am back, although I’ll be starting from scratch to rebuild a feminine wardrobe.

It’s been a little while since I have done any shopping and I totally need a new wig. If anyone has places in NYC that they would recommend I’m all ears.

Thanks Alexis