Hiding in Plain Sight

I have been going out in public as a woman since early 1998; you'd think I was an old hand.  But on Sunday, after attending church services, a committee meeting, getting takeout food, fueling my car, and getting groceries, I felt a real sense of accomplishment that I was able to do all these things with little anxiety.  It felt like something new, and it took a little soul-searching to figure out why.  In a nutshell, I concluded that I was, for the moment at least, no longer hiding.

As I mentioned, I've been doing things as a woman for quite some time.  I've gone shopping and dining out too many times to count.  I've gone to museums and musicals, taken dance lessons, even went on a week-long beach vacation.  But in surveying all those experiences, I can break them down into two groups: experiences in LGBT-friendly territory and sojourns into "civilian" territory.  My strategies for dealing with each have historically been different.

For LGBT-friendly spaces, I tend to operate relatively normally; outside of my normal shyness, I have very little fear.  'Nuff said.

For "civilian" territory, my strategies have more or less been to blend in the background as much as possible, avoid attracting any attention, and for God's sake, don't talk to or look at anyone!  My anxiety levels tend to be high, and I feel very tightly wound.  Not that I've had any really horrible experiences so far.  Yes, I've been stared at, pointed at, giggled and laughed at--temporarily humiliating, not majorly traumatic.  Still, I feel much more pressure to "pass" and therefore escape unwanted attention, especially from people who react to trans folk with violence.  If I am with a cisgender person, I try to get that person to shield me from any other human contact as much as possible.  For much of my time out, that person has been the woman who is now my wife.

Take the aforementioned trip to the beach and surrounding areas.  Sounds like a trans person's dream, doesn't it?  Well, what I remember most is constant fear (that, and how much it hurts to shave closely twice a day for a week).  I was a walking bundle of apprehension, and my now-wife did nearly everything in the way of social interaction for me.  She paid for the meals (male name on the credit card, you see).  She bought the tickets to attractions.  She made the phone calls.  Meanwhile, I was like a little child clinging to my mother's skirts.  It was a relief to change back to male mode just to get away from the fear (well, and the shaving).  And so it continued for much of the next decade; despite her efforts to encourage (and sometimes goad) me, I largely depended on her to shield me from human contact.  And then, illness crept in and she became unable to be a companion and buffer on my forays out into the world.

Left to my own devices, I was forced to come up with new strategies.  For a while I stopped going places as Wendy, but I couldn't retreat into the closet again for long.  I managed to fight down the fear and begin finding new outlets.  The main outlet, as documented in previous blog entries, has become my church community: first I came out to a small group, then a larger group, then the women's group, and finally, I have recently begun attending church services as a woman.  Even though our church is LGBT-friendly, and therefore in the "safe" zone, it is still enough of a stretch and demands enough social interaction that my confidence and social skills are gradually improving.  I am also finding that my increased confidence in "safe" spaces is gradually seeping into the public arena, too.  And encouraged by the example of others, I am increasingly feeling that it's OK not to pass; being openly transgender is somehow freeing (if still scary).

I think of my journey thus far as a slowly-opening flower.  An incredibly, glacially slow-opening flower, but it's opening nonetheless.  Here's hoping that it will continue to open, at whatever pace.

My Dysphoria Ain't Like Dat-phoria

(Sorry for the title, but I couldn't resist.)

I think it's pretty hard for for people to understand my particular variety of transgender.  Heck, it's pretty hard for me to understand.  Mostly that's because of the conflict between our binary conception of gender and my internal gender, which I believe falls somewhere in between male and female.

Transsexuals have the advantages of a relatively easy set of metaphors (x trapped in a y body, etc.), and a clear destination (i.e., they identify fully with a particular gender).  I'm not saying that they have it easy--they don't.  I don't think any trans person has it easy.  But I think people have an easier time understanding transsexuals because they don't call the gender binary into question so much.

Then there's me.  I do experience gender dysphoria--there is a conflict between my internal (brain) gender and my body.  However, from all I've heard and been told, it is of a different order of magnitude from most transsexuals.  I discussed this in an earlier blog entry--I don't experience distress about my genitals.  But in large part, I do wish my body was more female-looking.  I feel better and more attractive when I'm in feminine mode.  In my case, it's mostly hair that distresses me most--the scarcity of it on top and the proliferation elsewhere.  Sometimes I do wish I had breasts, and smaller hands and feet.  Occasionally, I think about taking female hormones, but am frightened by the accompanying loss of male sexual function and the fact that it would become harder to pass as a man.  My voice is another source of conflict, as I love singing, doing impressions and generally using silly voices.  I'm getting a little better at using a more feminine-sounding voice as Wendy, but if I had to sacrifice my lower register permanently I would miss it.

I do think of transitioning to full-time female sometimes.  But, unlike most of my transsexual brothers and sisters, I would feel loss at giving up my male identity.  And since my gender dysphoria is not so severe that it overrides all other concerns, and absent a third gender role in society, I'm left with a choice.  I can transition to full-time female, which I believe would be a better fit in some ways.  However, I would most certainly lose my job, and given the fact that the IT pool is so small in this area, I would almost certainly be blacklisted and either have to take a job in another profession or move.  Since the state I live in does not recognize same-sex marriage, my marriage would be invalidated if I managed to get my gender legally changed to female--not good at any time, even worse given the state of my wife's health.  Furthermore, I would be a lesbian with male genitals, which would perhaps make me even more of a social pariah.  Of course I could have GRS (Genital Reassignment Surgery), but since I really have no desire to do that, it would be a surgery forced upon me by social pressure and not something I really wanted to do.  Oh, and some, perhaps all, of my family would cut off contact with me.  The employment difficulties mentioned before would no doubt force me to move, so I would be separated from my friends--and I don't make friends quickly or easily.  This is not a very appealing scenario.

The other choice is to remain as I am--living in a male role most of the time, spending enough time in a female role to keep me sane.  It's a compromise solution, but I get to keep my job, my family, the friends I treasure.  I'm lucky in that I have an accepting spouse and a church community that has thus far shown me nothing but love and support.  Right now I'm not thinking much about the future or how my circumstance or feelings may change in times to come.  I'm just taking one day at a time, grateful for what I have.

The December of Wendy

It's been a long time since my last post. Events of the last few years have made my life increasingly chaotic and my time to devote to this blog has been, and will continue to be, limited. My wife is suffering from a degenerative disease and so she needs ever-increasing amounts of care. Plus I have involuntarily changed jobs. So, too, time for getting out and about as Wendy has decreased. Until very recently.

I had a couple of landmark events earlier in the year. Back in May I made my first appearance during a church service as Wendy. That went very well, but it was a big step and I felt I needed to draw back and get my bearings. Then in November I attended our church's Women's Retreat for the first time, to my knowledge making me the first person to have attended both Men's and Women's Retreats. That also went very well; although I only attended for one day instead of the whole weekend, I participated in a number of activities. One of the scariest in a way was doing an hour-long yoga workshop. I do yoga pretty much every day but this was my first time as Wendy. I was a bit worried about losing my wig and/or breast forms, but somehow managed to keep together. Anyway, it was an enjoyable day, I was totally accepted, and I was invited back next year.

Meanwhile, a TS woman joined our church choir, and somehow her presence spurred me toward making further appearances as Wendy during church services. I still had some apprehension about this; as I have blogged before, it is difficult to switch genders back and forth in a social setting. I felt like I almost had to renegotiate all my relationships with people who know me primarily through my male identity. I also had major apprehensions about stand up in front of everyone while singing in the choir. I talked about these things with the minister of our church; she was very encouraging and positive, and assuaged my fears for the most part.

At church

So for three Sundays in a row in December, which happened also to be special holiday services, I attended as Wendy. I even rehearsed and sang with the choir--in the tenor section. I could have sung alto, but our choir has a greater need for tenors. That felt a little odd, especially on a couple of songs where the tenors and basses sang sections without the altos and sopranos. Mostly I felt very relaxed and not out of place at all. Occasionally someone slipped and called me by my male name, but I expected that. A number of people didn't recognize me, even though I sat in my same old place and sang in the same old place. Even the choir director didn't recognize me at first, despite having been given advance notice! I was a little disconcerting having people I know walk right by me with no sign of recognition, though. I was greeted with some warm hugs and compliments, too. It was overwhelmingly a positive experience.

New Year's Eve

I followed that up with an all-too-rare shopping trip and a New Year's Eve party as well. As the party was disco-themed, I scored a pair of very gaudy sparkly silver 4-inch platform heels. I wore a formal gown and a tiara to top it all off. I had a wonderful time that night, too. I saw a number of people I hadn't seen in a while, hugged some, surprised others, danced, talked, and generally felt a warm glow. Incredibly, I didn't break an ankle in those heels, though I did lose a pair of sequined earrings.

Having ended the year in so glorious a fashion, I am now faced with questions: What now? How often am I going to attended church services as Wendy? Where am I going? But those are topics for other blog entries.