URNotAlone

The Problem of Passing Too Well

November 2nd, 2008 8:39 pm MST

Not too long ago, I had a new experience that I’d like to share with the group. I was invited to a party at a local club where there was a very mixed crowd. The crowd included people from different “alternative lifestyles,” including a few TG people. My friend who is a CD told me the time the party started, and she said that she’d be there around that time. I got there right around that time, and…. no friend. A call to her revealed that she had gotten a late start, and was probably 45minutes away. The club was not in the best part of town, and I was alone in the parking lot, dressed to the nines. I decided that going into the club alone was probably the safest thing.

Once inside the club, I was greeted warmly by the people at the door, but I suddenly came to the realization that there was almost no one there. The only other person there was a not too bad looking guy. As I walked into the room, he smiled at me and came over to say hi. We began to talk and chatted for a while as other people began to fill the room. My friend finally got there, and she began to talk to various people around the room. I ask my new gentleman friend if he wanted to meet my friend, and I began circulate, meeting various people.

            As I began to talk to various couples, it began to dawn on me that no one…. NO ONE…. knew I was trans. I got asked if the guy I was with and I were married. We told them that we had just met. I got asked if I had any kids. I answered no. And so the night went on. To put it bluntly it was a wonderful feeling. To be accepted as woman without question was inconceivable. I knew I passed most of the time, but this was something new. At one point, I began to talk to a couple who were swingers. The woman in the couple told me how pretty I was, and began to flirt with me. When she saw that I was a little uncomfortable, she asked me if her flirting was making me feel ill at ease. I told her that it didn’t, and that I was bi.  Suddenly she really became interested. The man that I had started the night with was also watching our interaction with intense interest.

As her interaction with me began to progress towards something more then just flirting, I reached a point where I thought, “I have to tell her.” When I told her, she was shocked. She said to me, “Wow, I can’t believe it. You really fooled me.” In the next several minutes, that word “fooled” and its many derivations was used over and over again, and the implication was not a positive one. I tried to explain to her that my intention was not to deceive her, but to simply express who I was. She was still cordial to me, but the friendly and playful way she had received me had turned to a cool air of tolerance. The same was true for her husband, and the man who a few moments ago had been confused as my husband. After a few minutes, I excused myself saying I had to use the bathroom. I didn’t return. I wondered to myself if perhaps the only way not to “fool” others was to walk around the club with a sign around my neck saying, “Beware, Tranny.” Needless to say, I was a little hurt.

As I moved about the club, I talked with various people. The way they related to me and certain things they said showed that they believed me to be a genetic woman. While this still continued to be affirming, the spell had been broken. I wasn’t a genetic woman. I was a tranny. My earlier interaction also made me a little paranoid about the guys that came up to hit on me. Anyone who got a little “touchy-feely” with me was greeted with the warning, “before you go any further, I need to tell you something.” I found out that maybe I wasn’t so paranoid after all. I swear to God that some of the guys reacted like I had told them I had the plague. Not everyone reacted that way, however. One very handsome man who was thin with salt and pepper hair approached me, put his arm on my shoulder, and asked me if I minded him touching me. I responded that I didn’t but….. well you know the rest. His reaction was wonderful. He said, “Wow…. really? I wouldn’t have known.” His arm didn’t budge from its place on my shoulder; that is until it slid down to my waist. He followed up with, “You’re still beautiful.” We spent some time together, and I found him to be a very caring and loving. Silly me though I didn’t get his number. Sometimes even a redhead can do blond things.

As I reflected on my experience at the club, I was struck by something. This was my first social venture out of the gay ghetto. By this I do not mean going out to stores, restaurants, or doing the things that people do in their lives. I’ve done that a lot. I mean this is the first time I’ve been out in a club, bar, or social occasion where people didn’t know up front that I was a transsexual. Or to put it more plainly, this was the first time I let myself be exposed to men or women that might find me attractive, yet didn’t know I was a transsexual. That milestone was bittersweet. For one brief moment I touched something I desired immensely, to be completely accepted as a woman. Furthermore it showed that I held some appeal to men that weren’t “tranny chasers.” Yet, this experience also showed the stark reality that transgendered people face. Something that I’d heard other people express, but had not experienced myself to a great extent. That reality is that transgendered people are faced with a catch-22. If they are out as transsexuals, people look at them as unnatural, and will not see them as true women. If they hide their transsexuality, then they are viewed as dishonest and deceitful. What’s a girl to do? Or more to the point, what is this girl to do? That I haven’t quite figured out yet, but I guess I’m going to have to.

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Untitled Post

November 2nd, 2008 8:37 pm MST

The Problem of Passing Too Well

Not too long ago, I had a new experience that I’d like to share. I was invited to a party at a local club where there was a very mixed crowd. The crowd included people from different “alternative lifestyles,” including a few TG people. My friend who is a CD told me the time the party started, and she said that she’d be there around that time. I got there right around that time, and…. no friend. A call to her revealed that she had gotten a late start, and was probably 45minutes away. The club was not in the best part of town, and I was alone in the parking lot, dressed to the nines. I decided that going into the club alone was probably the safest thing.

Once inside the club, I was greeted warmly by the people at the door, but I suddenly came to the realization that there was almost no one there. The only other person there was a not too bad looking guy. As I walked into the room, he smiled at me and came over to say hi. We began to talk and chatted for a while as other people began to fill the room. My friend finally got there, and she began to talk to various people around the room. I ask my new gentleman friend if he wanted to meet my friend, and I began circulate, meeting various people.

            As I began to talk to various couples, it began to dawn on me that no one…. NO ONE…. knew I was trans. I got asked if the guy I was with and I were married. We told them that we had just met. I got asked if I had any kids. I answered no. And so the night went on. To put it bluntly it was a wonderful feeling. To be accepted as woman without question was inconceivable. I knew I passed most of the time, but this was something new. At one point, I began to talk to a couple who were swingers. The woman in the couple told me how pretty I was, and began to flirt with me. When she saw that I was a little uncomfortable, she asked me if her flirting was making me feel ill at ease. I told her that it didn’t, and that I was bi.  Suddenly she really became interested. The man that I had started the night with was also watching our interaction with intense interest.

As her interaction with me began to progress towards something more then just flirting, I reached a point where I thought, “I have to tell her.” When I told her, she was shocked. She said to me, “Wow, I can’t believe it. You really fooled me.” In the next several minutes, that word “fooled” and its many derivations was used over and over again, and the implication was not a positive one. I tried to explain to her that my intention was not to deceive her, but to simply express who I was. She was still cordial to me, but the friendly and playful way she had received me had turned to a cool air of tolerance. The same was true for her husband, and the man who a few moments ago had been confused as my husband. After a few minutes, I excused myself saying I had to use the bathroom. I didn’t return. I wondered to myself if perhaps the only way not to “fool” others was to walk around the club with a sign around my neck saying, “Beware, Tranny.” Needless to say, I was a little hurt.

As I moved about the club, I talked with various people. The way they related to me and certain things they said showed that they believed me to be a genetic woman. While this still continued to be affirming, the spell had been broken. I wasn’t a genetic woman. I was a tranny. My earlier interaction also made me a little paranoid about the guys that came up to hit on me. Anyone who got a little “touchy-feely” with me was greeted with the warning, “before you go any further, I need to tell you something.” I found out that maybe I wasn’t so paranoid after all. I swear to God that some of the guys reacted like I had told them I had the plague. Not everyone reacted that way, however. One very handsome man who was thin with salt and pepper hair approached me, put his arm on my shoulder, and asked me if I minded him touching me. I responded that I didn’t but….. well you know the rest. His reaction was wonderful. He said, “Wow…. really? I wouldn’t have known.” His arm didn’t budge from its place on my shoulder; that is until it slid down to my waist. He followed up with, “You’re still beautiful.” We spent some time together, and I found him to be a very caring and loving. Silly me though I didn’t get his number. Sometimes even a redhead can do blond things.

As I reflected on my experience at the club, I was struck by something. This was my first social venture out of the gay ghetto. By this I do not mean going out to stores, restaurants, or doing the things that people do in their lives. I’ve done that a lot. I mean this is the first time I’ve been out in a club, bar, or social occasion where people didn’t know up front that I was a transsexual. Or to put it more plainly, this was the first time I let myself be exposed to men or women that might find me attractive, yet didn’t know I was a transsexual. That milestone was bittersweet. For one brief moment I touched something I desired immensely, to be completely accepted as a woman. Furthermore it showed that I held some appeal to men that weren’t “tranny chasers.” Yet, this experience also showed the stark reality that transgendered people face. Something that I’d heard other people express, but had not experienced myself to a great extent. That reality is that transgendered people are faced with a catch-22. If they are out as transsexuals, people look at them as unnatural, and will not see them as true women. If they hide their transsexuality, then they are viewed as dishonest and deceitful. What’s a girl to do? Or more to the point, what is this girl to do? That I haven’t quite figured out yet, but I guess I’m going to have to.

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Looking Forward - Looking Back

December 29th, 2007 1:00 pm MST

Looking Forward, Looking Back

I know it’s passé to do a “year in review” around New Year’s, yet as I look back on this year, I am struck with the magnitude of the changes in my life, and all I can do is shake my head in wonder. At this time last year, things were very different. In my working life, I had just finished my first quarter of nursing school, and the most difficult challenges were yet to come. Socially, I had my head buried in my books, and my life revolved around that. I also still lived in fear of the “Wicked Witch of the North” (aka my ex), and her ablity to "out me" as she had done in the past. Concerning transition, I was at a "tipping point." I was struggling with myself as to whether to start hormones, afraid of it and yet wanting it. Heck, at the time I was even sweating piercing my ears.

Fast Forward 12 months and I’ve graduated, I’m working as a nurse, and I’m beginning to put my life back in order. I’m no longer afraid of anything my ex might do. I’m beginning to date, although not so successfully – yet ;) I’ve met some great people who have become friends. Transition has made me more comfortable in my skin then I ever thought I could be.

The upcoming year however has its possibilities and its challenges. First and foremost, I come into this New Year with a ton of debt that I’m going to have to work my ass off to get rid of. Second, looking ahead, there is a whole ton of money I have to get together for my transition. Finances are going to be a big thing in the coming year. This coming year will also (hopefully) be the year I can finally cut the last ties between me and my ex. This is an event which I am looking forward to with intense anticipation. This year I’ve also resolved to begin to come out to friends and family. All in all, 2008 looks to be an interesting year.

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Julia Serano's "Whipping Girl:

August 26th, 2007 10:39 am MDT

From Chapter 16: "Love Rant" from Julia Serano's "Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity "My friend, still seemingly perplexed, asked me, "So if it's not about genitals, what is it about trans women's bodies that you find most attractive?" I paused for a second to consider the question. Then I replied that it is almost always their eyes. When I look into them, I see both endless strength and inconsolable sadness. I see someone who has overcome humiliation and abuses that would flatten the average person. I see a woman who was made to feel shame for her desires and yet had the courage to pursue them anyway. I see a woman who was forced against her will into boyhood, who held on to a dream that everybody in her life desperately tried to beat out of her, who refused to listen to the endless stream of people who told her that who she was and what she wanted was impossible. When I look into trans women's eyes, I see a profound appreciation for how fucking empowering it can be to be female, an appreciation that seems lost on many cissexual women who sadly take their female identities and anatomies for granted, or who perpetually seek to cast themselves as the victims rather than instigators. In trans women's eyes, I see a wisdom that can only come from having to fight for right to be recognized as female, a raw strength that only comes from unabashedly asserting your right to be feminine in an inhospitable world. In a trans woman's eyes, I see someone who understands that, in a culture that's seemingly fueled on male homophobic hysteria, choosing to be female and openly expressing one's femininity is not a sign of frivolousness, weakness, or passivity, it's a fucking badge of courage. Everybody loves to say that drag queens are "fabulous," but nobody seems to get the fact that trans women are fucking badass! It was at this point in the conversation that I realized that perhaps I find trans women attractive because I see a little bit of myself in them. In their eyes, I see a part of myself that nobody else ever seems to see, the part that those who haven't had a trans female experience never seem to understand. And perhaps it's narcissistic to be attracted to someone who reminds me a bit of myself. But after spending most of my life feeling ashamed of who I was and what I desired, I'd like to think that maybe my attraction to trans women is a sign that I am finally beginning to learn to love myself."

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My life now, such as it is

June 16th, 2007 10:21 am MDT

My life has been crazy these last two months. I’ve had a real love/hate relationship with school lately. Every day I’m more convinced that I made the right decision when I decided to go into nursing. The flip side is that the program I’m in is an accelerated program. The program puts two years of classes and clinicals (work in the hospital) into one calendar year. It’s a serious strain on my classmates and my sanity. The pressure, stress, and exhaustion are almost unbearable. Thank God, it’s almost over.  Transition is proceeding well. I’ve only been on hormones since February, and I’ve seen some very noticeable changes. I’ve had to buy baggy shirts to hide the breast growth. It’s not like I’m even a full A cup yet, but if I wear a tight t-shirt they are very noticeable. I’ve also noticed changes in my hair, skin, and fat distribution. And for those of you that might have fantasies about well hung TS’s, I’ve also noticed some significant but expected changes there also. It doesn’t bother me, because at some point I’m planning to have that part of me disappear anyways. Sorry guys; fantasy isn’t reality.  On that note, I’ve been thinking a lot about the difference between fantasy and reality. I often get comments from CD’s on how cool it must be to be TS, and experience the changes that come with hormones and surgery. On one hand they’re right, it is cool. But on the other hand, I don’t think it’s cool in the way they think it’s cool. For TS’s it is cool because it’s like a pain they have experienced all their lives stops hurting. It’s cool, because it’s a relief from that pain. CD’s on the other hand interpret “cool” as exciting or enticing. Sorry girls, but day to day it’s not all that exciting.   What is exciting (and scary) is that I’m getting on with my life. I’m accomplishing goals that I thought were impossible to attain, and overcoming hurtles that I thought were insurmountable. Life hasn’t been easy, and I don’t expect it to get any easier, but I’ve survived. That in and of itself is a victory.   

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