Journal Entries for Bobbi Joseph
Why I Left "Crossdressers.com"
June 11th, 2009 4:37 am MDT
For about two weeks at the beginning of this year (2009,) i was a member of the message board "crossdressers.com". Although i didn't get particularly close with anyone in that short time there, there were a few people whose posts and apparent personalities that i enjoyed immensely. I was really starting to feel at home there, until one particular thread, started by administrator Tamara Croft (who is not a CD,) showed me the site's dark underbelly.
Below is the last post i made there, which was deleted by an administrator within minutes. I can't be sure that Tamara did it, but the wording of the notification i received of its deletion sure sounded like her.
I don't know how many people on URNA are also on Crossdressers.com, but maybe someone from there will read this and see how the administration of crossdressers.com censors any call for justice when one of their non-CD administrators decides to insult the vast majority of their membership.
In the version i posted on the board, i edited out Tamara's name so as to mute any accusation of a "personal attack," but since everyone on the site uses a nom de plume so "Tamara Croft" isn't her real name, and she can't silence me here, i figure there's no need to give her any shelter she doesn't deserve.
And oh... just so no one gets upset with me over the hypothetical analogy i used in my response below, i used Irishmen as an example because i happen to be part Irish by ancestry. Besides, it's an example, not an actual statement of opinion. Everyone knows the Irish are among the friendliest and most welcoming people in the world... and if they don't, they should. ;)
Anyway, on with the post...
------------
Written: January 16, 2009
I've heard many times that you should never post when you're angry. Wait a couple of days and calm down first. That's generally good advice that has served me well in my life.
Here's my problem: It's been two days, and i'm still seething. Two days since a particular thread, initiated by admin Tamara Croft was closed to further debate after she told everyone that we'd receive an apology "when hell freezes over." Tamara said that "M2F's CD's are selfish and ignorant." Indeed, that was the title of the thread, which by her own admission was intended to anger the readers of the M2F forums.
Mission accomplished.
The thread started because M2F members have committed nearly all of roughly 660 infractions for either posting in F2M or GG-only threads, or voting in their polls. I will agree that any M2F that voted or posted in those areas and subsequently received an infraction is well-deserving of the "selfish and ignorant" label. That is not a matter of debate as far as i am concerned.
The problem is, there are over 6000 M2F members of this forum. Even if each and every infraction were committed by a separate account member, which by Tamara's own data we know is NOT the case (in one post, it was clearly stated that one member had been cited several times in a single thread, and that the member in question had been guilty of it before,) that would mean that at least 89% of the M2F membership was completely innocent of any wrongdoing, and thus did not deserve to be on the receiving end of her tirade - and it WAS a tirade - that went on for several paragraphs.
At the end, it closed with a statement that i paraphrase here: "If this doesn't apply to you, don't get your knickers in a twist."
Here's the second problem...
Let's say we replace "M2F's" with the word "Irishmen," and "are selfish and ignorant" with "are violent drunks."
Let's further say that someone in authority started a thread on a multicultural message board with over 6000 male Irish members, that had as its title, "Irishmen are Violent Drunks." The thread contains several paragraphs detailing the fact that 660 violent drunken escapades had been committed by Irish members. At the end, it says, "don't get upset if this doesn't apply to you."
While the members that committed those acts may deserve the label (though for many, there may have only one such incident in their lives, from which they learned their lesson,) what about the other 5400-odd Irishmen that have done nothing wrong? "Oh," you say, "the disclaimer SAYS not to get upset if it doesn't apply to you, and so they shouldn't be upset."
Wrong.
The assertion is that Irishmen are violent drunks. Not SOME Irishmen, or a FEW Irishmen, but Irishmen period. Even if they've never committed a violent act or let a drop of alcohol pass their lips, the statement "Irishmen are violent drunks" includes them. The only way the statement "Irishmen are violent drunks" doesn't apply to you is if you are not Irish!
In the same fashion, the only way the statement "M2F's CD's are selfish and ignorant" doesn't apply to you is if you are not a M2F CD! Otherwise, it does. And every single M2F that has followed the rules has been insulted by Tamara Croft, and insulted repeatedly, every time she defended the original statement as "the truth," even after being unequivocally proven wrong.
But that's not all.
There's the M2F CD's that were actually apologizing for the group. To them i have two things to say: 1: Don't apologize for me, i didn't do anything wrong. 2: Grow a spine and stand up for yourselves. We get more than enough guilt trips already for hiding who we are for whatever time we did it with our SO's. We don't have to apologize for what we didn't do! And we shouldn't have to take abuse when we don't deserve it.
There were a number of GG's that chimed in, basically giving Tamara a pat on the back, agreeing with her original assertion. These women are saying that it's okay to publicly insult thousands of people you know to be innocent because of the actions of a relatively small percentage of guilty parties who have already been identified and could have been dealt with privately. That is appalling and disgraceful, and these GG's should be ashamed of themselves.
Seriously, do you think ANY of us came here to be abused? I could get all the abuse i can handle by going into a redneck bar in ballet slippers and a pink tutu. HERE, we're supposed to be getting help, advice, camaraderie, and fellowship. This is supposed to be a safe haven, not yet another place for us to get slagged as a group for the actions of a few. This isn't like being in a room together, the innocent among us can't do a darned thing to stop the idiots that break the rules, so why yell at us for what they do?
Policing the rulebreakers is the job of the moderators and the administrators. These people are volunteers, and they work hard, and they take a lot of crap, to be certain. They deserve our thanks for their efforts to make this and other forums a place of civil and semi-organized discourse. But if you're going to take that role, you know that's what you're in for. You need to have a thick skin. You need to be firm, but FAIR. Most importantly, you need to have the good grace and humility to apologize when you wrong someone... because YOU are the one wielding in essence absolute power, and in the words of Lord Acton, "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." If you allow yourself to be corrupted by power such that you feel it is beneath you to admit you are wrong when you knowingly hurt thousands of innocent people unnecessarily in a fit of anger, you no longer deserve to have that power.
Dozens of new members join this board every day. Imagine one of the people that just joined in the last few days, and the first thing they see at the top of the M2F forum after logging in is that thread title. Sure makes the place sound warm, welcoming, and supportive, doesn't it? Still think an apology isn't called for?
I've been a member here all of two weeks. Maybe this thread (assuming it's not deleted outright because it brings back a topic that had been closed by Tamara after she got one last twist of the knife in,) will result in my getting banned from this board, deemed as a personal attack. I hope not. I hope that the people responsible for administering and moderating this board will think again about the whole incident and will realize just how much damage was done by that one message, just how many people were hurt by it. Because if this board can have someone in a position of great authority that can be so cold, callous, and uncaring that they can willfully and unapologetically hurt thousands that did nothing wrong and face no consequences for it, indeed can be enthusiastically cheered on by the SO's that supposedly support us, then maybe this board isn't what many of its members think it is after all.
Is it so hard to say, "I was wrong, and I'm sorry?"
-------------------
So, there you have it. Hopefully, there's a bunch of crossdressers.com members that also are on this site, and word gets around. Because Tamara Croft, who bills herself as "The Grim Reaper" on crossdressers.com, shouldn't be able to sweep the response to her bigoted tirade under the rug.
Down the Rabbit Hole
June 9th, 2009 6:29 pm MDT
The razor slides up my thigh, leaving smooth, pink skin in its wake. Behind the razor, my free hand follows, making sure there is no straggling stubble remaining on my leg. The sensation of my fingers gliding along the silky skin is exquisite, one i've denied myself for my entire adult life. Men don't do this...
Pulling the file away, i blow the dust off my thumbnail. The tip is filed straight across, as are the tips of every other finger. A soft cloth wipes them all clean, and i open the bottle of glossy topcoat. the aroma of nail polish fills the room, the scent like perfume to my senses... the only times i've ever smelled it before are when the women i've known in my life were doing their nails. Men don't do this...
Gossamer cloth slips up my calves as first one foot, then the next, step into the leg holes of the panties. My fingertips caress the thin row of lace along the waistband as i wiggle my hips and draw the panties all the way up my now hairless thighs. My eyes close, and a tear forms along the tight lid of my left eye. Men don't do this...
The pencil draws a burgundy line along the edge of my upper lip, and again, my nostrils twitch when touched with yet another forbidden aroma. The lipstick fills in the rest, and i pout - glossy, slippery, slightly sticky, and not quite tasteless, my imagination wanders... how would it feel to have other, naked lips kiss them? Men don't do this...
I don't think about it, just exist in the moment, a sense of calm infuses my soul, a sigh escapes my lips, and i smile... but...
Men don't do this. They don't. I'm a man. What's wrong with me? My body shakes as my brain assaults me with shame, scorn, and humiliation. Tears cascade down my cheeks as i wipe off the lipstick, but the taste remains on my lips... i can't hide from what i've done... i'm not supposed to do this, not supposed to FEEL like this, he says in my head. He tells me i'm sick, twisted, pathetic, and i believe him, curled up in a ball, crying on the bathroom floor.
Please... make him stop... make him...
"Stop baby, it's okay. He's just angry and afraid," her voice tells me. "He thinks you want to cut him out of you. He doesn't understand. It's okay... I'm here. Imagine i'm holding your hand, squeezing it. I'm not going to leave you... you're not alone."
My breath slows, the tears slowly stop. With a tissue, i wipe my face clean. The voice of the girl inside - one i've never heard, yet it is still in my head, bringing me down off the ledge, saving me yet again.
All there is left is an empty, aching sadness... Why can't he just let me be?
Bobbi - Then and (Almost) Now
June 4th, 2009 6:26 am MDT
Written: October, 2007
College, Halloween night. My girlfriend and i decide to dress as a hooker and a pimp. She's the pimp. I forget whose idea it was, but i sure didn't argue the point. As a child, i did the usual things a kid that might turn out to be a TV would do: Wore Mom's shoes, carried one of her empty purses around, rummaged around in her underwear drawer, wondering what it might feel like to wear them. As i got older, i got away from such things, as actual "vanilla" sex was new and exciting.
Then came college, and that night. I loved it. We had a great time at a little party some friends were having in my dorm. When it came time to leave, my girlfriend happened to run into a fraternity brother of mine. He wanted to haul me off to where a much larger party was happening to show me off. I panicked, practically running to my girlfriend's car, where i had what i can only call an emotional meltdown, bawling my eyes out. I had no idea why that happened back then, now i do. That was the only night of my life that the girl inside ever was able to come out... and she was afraid of discovery, ashamed of her very existence, brokenhearted that the clock had struck midnight - the chariot was a pumpkin again, and it was time to go back in the closet.
A summer or two later, i was in Philadelphia visiting a friend. I shaved my legs for the first time, reveling in the feeling of smooth skin between the sheets. But it was wrong, sick... guys don't shave their legs. I couldn't let anyone see me like this. I wore long pants for the rest of the summer, never went into a pool, even avoided sleeping with my girlfriend until the hair grew back enough to be felt as more than stubble - and i didn't let her see my legs in the light for many weeks.
The girl in the closet fell silent. I grew older, met a wonderful woman, got married. We had a child.
One night, our church was having a fund raiser. Part of the night of fun involved a "fashion show" in which all the models were cross-dressed. I was one of the models, and convinced my wife to let me shave my legs for it - it would make for more laughs, i told her. But for me, I just wanted to shave them again. The girl woke up - this time to stay.
My job allowed me to travel around the country a lot. I'd often buy lingerie - panties, bras, nightgowns, thigh-high stockings - that i'd wear while i was away, almost always throwing them out before returning home. I couldn't get caught, i didn't want my wife to know what i was doing when i traveled. In my mind, it would actually have been preferable for her to think i was having an affair if she would ever find my lingerie. She might forgive an affair, who would want to be married to a transvestite?
"But," you might ask, "she should have been able to tell, right? After all, such a femme guy would be a real giveaway, wouldn't you think?" While i did have some mannerisms that might be thought of as feminine, i also played hockey and lacrosse in college. I have a black belt in taekwondo. At 50, i'm over six feet tall, and still fairly athletic looking. You see what you want to see.
I don't travel anymore, and in recent years, stress has made my need to express my femme side more pronounced. Without the travel, i had no outlet to "relieve the pressure." That caused more stress and depression, which led to my starting an online search for answers.
As it turned out, there were a lot of other guys like me out there. Reading their stories late at night after the family had gone to bed, i was shocked at how similar they were to my own, differing only in small details. Reading their stories, i would start to shake, tears welling in my eyes. Meltdowns were becoming more common, and i felt like i was going to lose my mind soon if i didn't do something.
Finally, on the evening of September 19th, came a tipping point...
The room was lit by the light from our salt-water fish tank. My wife had told me she wanted to get a tattoo on her foot, and asked if i'd mind. She showed me what she was thinking of, and i told her i didn't mind at all. With relief, she said she'd been worried. I've been against our daughters getting them until they were old enough to do it without our permission - what they do with their bodies as adults is their decision to make, but they aren't doing anything they can't easily undo while they're under our charge - so she thought i'd think less of her somehow.
I've gone through so many up and down cycles lately, her saying that pushed a button in me. "Honey," i said, "i've got no right to think less of you. If you knew the things that were running around in my head..."
She asked me what was wrong, and i shook my head. Suddenly, my voice started working on its own. Words came spilling out, and i couldn't stop them. "I can't... you won't love me anymore... you'll want me to leave..."
She was confused, and started asking questions. Did i want to have sex with little boys? (no) Little girls? (no) Other men? (no) Other women? (no)
"Then why wouldn't i love you? What could make me want you to leave?"
Every once in a while, something will happen in our house - i'll do something, or say something, or we'll be watching a sad scene in TV and i'll start to cry - and i'll say, "I'm such a girl," or "i'm just in touch with my feminine side." Other times, i'll make a funny comment, and she'd say, "oh, you're so gay," and i'll answer, "I'm not gay, i'm a transvestite... there's a difference." And everyone laughs. One of those comments had been made earlier that very evening. But i digress...
"...What could make me want you to leave?"
"Because i'm not really joking." My voice trailed off, "they're not really jokes..."
There was a pause, during which she did some metaphorical mental math, figuring out that 2 plus 2 equaled 4. "Oh," she said. "Now i understand."
And just like that... the closet door was open.
There was crying. I cried a little, she cried a lot. She wanted to know exactly what i wanted to do... did i want to become a woman? (No, i just like wearing the clothes... and other things.)
"What other things?"
It was hard, she wanted specifics for everything, and while i've dreamed of being open, i had no idea of exactly how far i'd actually want to go if given the chance... i honestly didn't know the answer to some of her questions, and i was on thin ice - i needed to be honest, but what could she take? How far was too far for her to go? In her shock, nearly anything might be more than she could handle.
We talked for hours, but a lot was jangled emotions. We went to bed, and she cried herself to sleep. She had a nightmare: I had come into a wedding reception attended by everyone we knew... in a long black wig, a headband, black hotpants, a skin-tight top, fishnet stockings, and stiletto heels.
The next afternoon, we went out again and talked more. She understands now that this isn't about me getting everything i want, but about us finding a lifestyle we can both be happy in, one that lets me explore and express both the masculine and the feminine parts of my personality, but without making her forget the man she married. She's accepted the first steps. I'm trying to take it slowly, but each new thing she sees gives her mild panic. We talk about it, and she relaxes, i think.
Coming out was every bit as hard as i thought it would be, but the result - so far anyway - was better than i expected. My wife has been accepting, even supportive to a degree, though she's still fearful of how far i might go. She understands that i'm going to buy clothes, a wig, shoes, put on makeup, and go to meetings en femme, but has never seen "Bobbi." For that matter, neither have i... not since that Halloween night in college anyway. I worry that seeing me as Bobbi will push her over the edge. I think she does too.
Yet, in spite of those worries, there are two dramatic differences in our home life in the past month: When i wake up in the morning, i'm happy, and my wife and i have come closer together.
---
Written: July, 2008
Coming home from work last night, i found my oldest daughter and her boyfriend in the kitchen, putting together a grocery list. She was going to make dinner for the family, and he was going to run to the store and get the missing ingredients. As her boyfriend pulled out of the driveway, i was headed to my bedroom to change out of my work clothes.
"Dad, come here and sit down with me," my daughter said. "I need to talk with you about something."
Every morning, before i go to work, I log on to Gmail and check to see if i have any messages. I reply to anyone that has sent me anything, sign out, and finish getting ready for my day. Yesterday, i followed my usual routine. When i signed out, response was slow. I was in a hurry though, so i got up and went on with my morning preparations.
As i sat down with my daughter, she said, "Dad, I left my laptop at Bill's apartment last night, so I used your computer to check my email this morning. Your email account was there. So... I know."
Oh, i forgot to mention... the email account that i check every morning is Bobbi's. I only use it for my cross-dressing contacts. Every message was from one or another CD/TG message board that i belong to, or a personal message from another transgender. We've been having intermittent connectivity problems with our ISP recently, and must have lost our connection when i attempted to log out. The logout never completed, and Bobbi stayed logged in until my daughter went to check her messages.
My wife is no longer the only family member that knows what i am.
I've been so afraid of how my children would react, afraid that they would be disgusted or repulsed by the knowledge that their father isn't who they thought. My daughter was happy. My secretiveness, especially where the computer was concerned, was, in her words, "freaking her out." She had all sorts of sordid fears about what i was "up to," and what i might be hiding, that knowing the truth came to her as a huge relief.
She understood why i would want to hide it, but told me that i had raised her to be accepting of differences in people... that she was a product of what i had taught her, and she was okay. "I don't know why you'd think i wouldn't be okay with it," she said. I was barely able to hold back the tears.
She wanted to know how her mother was doing with it, and i told her. "Are you guys all right," she asked?
"Yes," i told her. "We have our struggles every once in a while, but we're good."
As i got up, she hugged me tighter than she has at any time since she was eight years old. "I love you," she said. "But sometimes, you can be really stupid."
Yeah, i guess i can.
-----
Written: October, 2008
I have two daughters. Over the past couple of years, as my depression and anxiety grew and i spent more and more time trying to come to terms with myself, i've been very secretive, especially where my computer was concerned. I tried to not be obvious about it, but they picked up on it, and more than once had asked their mother, "what's up with Dad? Why's he acting so sketchy?" I haven't done it as much since coming out to my wife in September of last year, but sometimes, they would still get "creeped out."
My oldest is in college. She found out her father was a cross-dresser by accident a few months ago. A network glitch cause an e-mail log-out to fail, and later in the day when she went to check her mail, she saw my (Bobbi's) inbox. She very quickly figured out what it was about, and told me she knew that night. She was incredibly supportive and accepting beyond my wildest dreams. She said she was relieved to know that what i'd been hiding was something that was, "not really a big deal," in her words.
My youngest is a high school senior. According to all the information i've read, it's the worst possible time to tell her, but i felt in my heart that if she found out by accident some months from now, and then that she was the only family member left out for a long time, that she would be angry and resentful - not just to me, but to her sister and mother as well. To me, that was the greater of two evils. My wife and oldest agreed.
So, last night was the night i chose to tell her.
Telling her was, in its own way, the most difficult coming out i've had with my family. At least the lead-up and preamble were. I told my wife while in the middle of an emotional breakdown, and as i said earlier, i didn't "come out" to my oldest, she opened my closet door and found me. This was the first time my outing was planned, with all the fear of rejection that comes with such an occasion.
But once the words came out of my mouth?
"...i'm a cross-dresser."
"What... like Eddie Izzard?" She suddenly started to laugh. "Oh, I understand now! No wonder you like him so much!"
Actually, i like him because he's funny as hell, and just *happens* to be a cross-dresser, but i wasn't going to spoil the moment. ;)
Other than that, her reaction was more one of, "okay, now what?" My wife was with me, and held my hand as i struggled with the first words; encouraging me when she saw my preamble was making my daughter scared. The "I hid something about myself from all of you for years," made her ask - seriously believe it or not - "Did you kill someone?" Next up was, "Wait... are you not my real father?" (Umm, sweetheart, if that was the case, your mother would be doing the talking just now.) ;)
But once the truth came out, there was no yelling, no crying, (maybe a couple of tears from me,) no drama at all. She said she could tell that her mother and i were okay, and that was what mattered most to her.
I told her our family life wasn't suddenly going to change. The news may be a revelation to her, but the reality isn't new to me. She wasn't going to come home from school today and find me walking around in a skirt and heels. (What am i, June Cleaver? Seriously, who wears heels at home?) ;)
When we finished, she hugged me and gave me a kiss. I then left to go to the supermarket for some ice cream. When i came back my wife pulled me aside and relayed an exchange between the girls.
Oldest: It all makes sense now, doesn't it?
Youngest: Yeah, he's not creepy once you know why.
Teenagers. ;)
The whole world seems a little like a Dali painting today. I know my family truly loves me, because finally, for the first time, they all really know who i am.
So this is what freedom feels like.
----
Written: January, 2009
Over the course of the past year, i've had my emotional peaks and valleys. No matter what i did, it seemed i never felt "real." Whether presenting masculine or femme, it still felt like a facade. But starting last August, with the help of some tests, things started to make sense. I took the COGIATI test in Auguest, the Bem a bit later. There have been a couple of tests since, the names of which i've forgotten. In all cases, with remarkable consistency, they showed a person that is slightly more feminine than masculine in gender identity - the emphasis on "slightly." Regardless of the scoring system used, i came up with results that showed a person in the range of 55-60% feminine. The terms i've read for this state are androgyne, or transgenderist - a gender identity that encompasses both male and female, in roughly equal parts. Past what most think when they think of a CD, not as far as a TS. (I guess calling myself a cross dresser isn't completely accurate.) Small wonder nothing felt like a "real me," because no matter how i dressed, half of me wasn't there.
I've started getting away from dresses and skirts, long wigs, and trying to pass as all girl, in favor of a look that for lack of a better term, i'll call a "reverse tomboy." The first time out in this mode felt amazing, and i'm starting to feel like i've finally found a way to be one whole person instead of two half people. Nothing i could present 24x7, but in trans-friendly environments, something i could feel real in and i think look fairly nice.
My wife and i still have the occasional hiccup. Her trust issues are still alive and well - less pronounced, as having our girls in the know and accepting has helped a lot - but still there. If nothing else, i've been finally able to answer her questions about how far i want to go, and she's still here.
It's a start. :)
