From a transgender forum:
I took some comments from another thread, because
it reminded me of a ‘hobby horse’ that I’ve ridden here before. It’s
about my identity as a woman. Being on the border of male and female
for 40-some years was not very satisfying. I finally got fed up.
That rang a bell with me. I was always ”directing my thoughts and attitudes,” especially as a teenager. A friend of mine (who disapproves of what I do) once said, “Every man has to figure out what he’s going to do with any feminine tendencies he might have.”
I figured it out early on, and as much as those 'girl' thoughts might have appealed to me, I could only see them leading to being either a sissy or an effeminate man. There were no other choices, as far as I could see. I must have known something about drag and crossdressing, but all I could see was that CDing was a joke and a disgrace if discovered, and a secret otherwise. I never imagined a crossdresser going out in public, and I certainly didn’t hear about it or read about it. Drag was something gay men did.
As I got older, I was more comfortable with being what people would call “a sensitive man.” From my late 20s to my mid-40s, I would have fit that description. It gave me more room to think feminine, and it made it easier to be around women. I could ‘talk their talk’ to some extent. But only to a certain point. I accepted that there were limits to what men could say or do. Again, I still didn’t want to be a sissy, for want of a better word.
This much I was able to do, as a guy. I tried not to let it get out of hand, so that I was only talking to women. My trans girlfriend did that almost all of her life—all her friends were girls or women. She just didn’t understand men. I did understand men, and I liked being around them. But the limits of who I could be as a man started to get to me.
The pressure begin to build up when I was around 43, while I was still in a relationship. I found myself adopting more of the mannerisms of my girlfriend, which was something I’d never done with any other woman that I knew of. Lynda was glamorous to look at, but she was also “one of the guys,” in the way she talked and acted, so taking on her mannerisms was a borderland between guy and gal. It didn’t stick out too much, but I was aware I was doing it. It was OK with me; I could see that whatever it was, I wasn’t going to fight it.
That is the one remarkable thing that I continue to discover on this journey. Women talk to me differently when I’m presenting another woman to them, and it’s not something that can easily be described. It’s like I’m eavesdropping in on another conversation, only—it’s me having it! It takes my breath away, and I don’t always know how to handle it when the other woman appears to forget who she’s talking to. One woman friend was talking about menopause, and said something about how she and I had to deal with some aspect of it—then she caught herself, and probably felt foolish for a moment.
What strikes me about all of this is that for me personally, there were very few rewards on the border of male-female behavior. If I kept to my side of the fence as a sensitive man, I didn’t really get much out of it, looking back. The women opened up to me a little more, true. The men didn’t care one way or the other.
After I went to the extreme of presenting a woman in the world, both men and women treated me differently. Men paid more attention to ‘sensitive’ behavior from a woman; things they would ignore from another guy. And women trusted another woman more than they would a guy, no matter how nice a guy he might be. There is no way to discover these things other than crossing the border, and it’s so surprising to find out what it’s like to be ‘someone else’—a girl version of who I thought I was all those years.
Very well put, April. This whole dilemma reminds me of walking on hot coals. There’s no way to do just ‘a little’ bit of firewalking—you either do it or you don’t. Going out as a woman is exactly like that. If there are any rewards to be had,(and I think there are some) you have to present a different appearance, and there’s no going back.
Quote from other member:
I've
noticed myself that I think and say things that are more typical of a
woman now than I normally did before. I used to specifically direct my
thoughts and attitudes in a specific "manly" way, in effect telling
myself that "guys don't think and care about that stupid girl stuff."
Maybe it was overcompensation, not allowing myself to care about it out
of fear that everyone would find out that I'm a sissy.
That rang a bell with me. I was always ”directing my thoughts and attitudes,” especially as a teenager. A friend of mine (who disapproves of what I do) once said, “Every man has to figure out what he’s going to do with any feminine tendencies he might have.”
I figured it out early on, and as much as those 'girl' thoughts might have appealed to me, I could only see them leading to being either a sissy or an effeminate man. There were no other choices, as far as I could see. I must have known something about drag and crossdressing, but all I could see was that CDing was a joke and a disgrace if discovered, and a secret otherwise. I never imagined a crossdresser going out in public, and I certainly didn’t hear about it or read about it. Drag was something gay men did.
As I got older, I was more comfortable with being what people would call “a sensitive man.” From my late 20s to my mid-40s, I would have fit that description. It gave me more room to think feminine, and it made it easier to be around women. I could ‘talk their talk’ to some extent. But only to a certain point. I accepted that there were limits to what men could say or do. Again, I still didn’t want to be a sissy, for want of a better word.
Quote:
But
women are not usually comfortable talking to men about most things
because men generally don't care about it and don't put much effort into
the conversation.
This much I was able to do, as a guy. I tried not to let it get out of hand, so that I was only talking to women. My trans girlfriend did that almost all of her life—all her friends were girls or women. She just didn’t understand men. I did understand men, and I liked being around them. But the limits of who I could be as a man started to get to me.
The pressure begin to build up when I was around 43, while I was still in a relationship. I found myself adopting more of the mannerisms of my girlfriend, which was something I’d never done with any other woman that I knew of. Lynda was glamorous to look at, but she was also “one of the guys,” in the way she talked and acted, so taking on her mannerisms was a borderland between guy and gal. It didn’t stick out too much, but I was aware I was doing it. It was OK with me; I could see that whatever it was, I wasn’t going to fight it.
Quote:
Consequently I spend a lot more time talking with women than I ever did before.
That is the one remarkable thing that I continue to discover on this journey. Women talk to me differently when I’m presenting another woman to them, and it’s not something that can easily be described. It’s like I’m eavesdropping in on another conversation, only—it’s me having it! It takes my breath away, and I don’t always know how to handle it when the other woman appears to forget who she’s talking to. One woman friend was talking about menopause, and said something about how she and I had to deal with some aspect of it—then she caught herself, and probably felt foolish for a moment.
What strikes me about all of this is that for me personally, there were very few rewards on the border of male-female behavior. If I kept to my side of the fence as a sensitive man, I didn’t really get much out of it, looking back. The women opened up to me a little more, true. The men didn’t care one way or the other.
After I went to the extreme of presenting a woman in the world, both men and women treated me differently. Men paid more attention to ‘sensitive’ behavior from a woman; things they would ignore from another guy. And women trusted another woman more than they would a guy, no matter how nice a guy he might be. There is no way to discover these things other than crossing the border, and it’s so surprising to find out what it’s like to be ‘someone else’—a girl version of who I thought I was all those years.
Quote:
Our problem is not our cross dressing. Our problem is our isolation.
Very well put, April. This whole dilemma reminds me of walking on hot coals. There’s no way to do just ‘a little’ bit of firewalking—you either do it or you don’t. Going out as a woman is exactly like that. If there are any rewards to be had,(and I think there are some) you have to present a different appearance, and there’s no going back.
_________________
The thunder follows me through the city,
roar of the street, the sound of my own heartbeat;
The thunder follows me through the city,
catch me if it can...
--Song inspired by hearing Led Zeppelin live, 1973
Have you read "Norma's Voice", by Norma Posy?
ReplyDeleteI thought it was well worthwhile.
I took a look at her website, Peter, and it strikes me as intense reading on first glance. I'm not sure how much of that I could process. "She's not there," by Jennifer Boylan, is a book that I recommend; that, and "Crossing" by Deirdre McCloskey. Both of these women were successful professors and authors of books, and both risked turning their worlds upside down.
ReplyDelete