I wanted to take a moment (or several lol) to make a commentary on appearance. I have a good friend in mind here but I will not use her real name. I'll just call her Lady.
Lady recently wrote to me expressing how lovely she thought I looked in an outfit I had picked out for a night out with my sisters. It was a very simple outfit, a blue velvet top with peek-a-boo shoulders, skinny jeans and a simple belt. Topped off with a nice set of boots I was ready for the evening.
We had a lot of fun that night, it was enjoyable to be out as myself and chat with friends. Too soon the evening was over and it was back to the daily grind for us. It was a wonderful feeling to be out.
Fast forward to now. Lady writes how I should be wearing a nice skirt and tights (she's got a good point) to show off my legs. She compliments my style and flatters me with lovely compliments I blush over. She wants to see me show off my legs and be out as myself. She has done a lot to uplift me (and I am sure she has more coming).
I've been told that I have some very feminine qualities which is wonderful to hear because I was never allowed to express them. I was always afraid to show my legs, even in shorts, because I never liked them. But adorned with pantyhose and a nice skirt, they aren't too bad at all. Almost attractive :-)
When I 'protested' that she wasn't showing her legs, she commented on all sorts of reasons why. I can respect a girl who is contentious of her weight and size but I need to say something: a person's size matters not. It's the size of their heart that really counts.
In the trans landscape we are often viciously critical of our own bodies and we cannot see how we look to outsiders. Sometimes I look at my photos and wonder just what do they see in me that I cannot see in myself? Tough question.
So when others say this about themselves, I can quickly find myriad reasons for hope. You have beautiful hair! Look at that wonderful dress you have! Why your eyes are simply astonishing! I don't hesitate to see or speak of it. And yet I put it away when I look inwards, at myself. I only see what poison I was fed for so many years and shrink from feeling like adjectives such as beautiful, gorgeous, amazing or, dare I say it - sexy, apply to me.
My dear Lady even went out of her way to say I should be strutting on the catwalk. I got the sense of Right Said Fred singing I'm Too Sexy and saying how he would shake his "little tush" on the catwalk. I felt it wasn't really me, I wasn't the stuff catwalks are made of. However if Lady were strutting her stuff I would be cheering her on and, if I could manage it, whistling cat calls from the audience. I'm like that.
So when she mentioned that she needed to get photos up of herself and how she felt like she was not as pretty as she would like, Again, I felt like she was saying she had no beauty, despite her deep inner wondrous beauty. I was not ready to let her fall to the forces of darkness all to prevalent in our lives. She wanted to hide away, content to be a cheerleader to others when she may not be aware that we would be equally cheering her on. I know self-image is a sore point with so many, especially women, and it doesn't need to be. We need to stop obsessing over what makes us 'sexy' and 'feminine' and instead focus on what makes us what we are: HUMAN.
So her words caused an immediate reaction, one of support and friendship, but it brings me to another point: why can't I see that in myself? Truth be told I guess it's because I hid everything away in shame, embarrassment and fear that I could never see what I was capable of. It was quite shocking in some aspects.
In the lyrics of 'Heroine' we see this:
Alone, thy will be done
confessed, but you still feel the shame
To me I was always alone, I confessed to myself that I was living the idea of deep shame. I wasn't supposed to act, or be this way! The killer is being alone.
When Lady - or indeed any of my friends feel this way - I am subconsciously reminded that I was in the same boat. Indeed I still am in many ways. I immediately leap forward to say what I need to say, to support and encourage them. I don't ever want to have someone feel they are ugly, despised or alone. I don't work that way. It's part of my inner girl. My Samantha.
So Lady, if you read this, and I sincerely hope you will, I hope that my words will mean something to you. You need to bring your light out into the world and never fear the judgement. Those that judge you based on your height, weight, or appearance are all more shallow than a small puddle that appears after a spring shower. The ones who love, care about and respect you have hearts deeper than the sea. Deeper than the depths of the Universe, because we all see the real you and the real you is so beautiful!!
I promise I shall try to see myself in a better light and uplift myself as well. Perhaps one day those glorious legs you seek shall make their appearance on the catwalk of life and the smiles and hugs shared will be worth it all. We are both special and you have no idea until you stop putting yourself in a box others make for you. I promise I shall do my darnedest to make sure I do - and you need to do the same!
Keep smiling, dear Lady, for you are one special woman and you ARE beautiful... inside and out!!
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Oh Brother, where are thou?
We get lost...we become totally afraid and hide the truth from ourselves. Being lost is the worst feeling ever.
Today my young brother was very distraught, in anguish and in pain. Of course his sister was distraught as well and wanted to help him see where he was and what a special young chap he is.
When I was a kid, I hated who I was and I never had anyone who could explain why I was feeling like hanging out with other girls was OK. Why was I the 'mommy' when playing house with my best friend (who was a girl). Why was I OK accepting being a weak boy who never wanted to do much more than cry and bawl when their feelings were hurt. Why was it that I couldn't see, and hate, who I was back then and use it to become a strong, beefy man? Why, oh why?
Because it wasn't who I am.
My dear brother expressed a lot of anguish in a few heartfelt posts about who they felt they were not. And I knew immediately the feelings behind those words. I hate being the awkward girl, the not very girly woman who doesn't often fit in. She's not the most beautiful gal at the prom.
But when I thought this way my sister Kathy wrote 'you have a wonderful heart and a great personality". And my young brother is the same way. He's got this incredible light inside him that he can't see, yet. But I can!
Today as we got pelted with rain and slushy snow dissolved all over the place, the gray blanket stretched overhead like a tarp, I went to the kitchen to get something. I looked down for a moment and there, stretched across the floor, was a beam of sunlight. It was if nature was trying to say that the comforts I told my young brother were the right thing to do. It was if the clouds parted at that moment to remind me how wonderful it can be to be a strong and wonderful presence to another transgender human being.
Tears were exchanged through this heartfelt dialog but I never want to give up. I want to be his strength when he needs it, as his has built me up when I needed it. It was like I was seeing myself years ago and instead of hiding and trembling, I was ready to step forward and reach out my hand to someone who is going through what I went through.
Once upon a time I hated me. Once upon a time I thought I was a freak, an abomination and afraid of being seen in the fact that I liked to dress like a girl. I was alone, in the dark, afraid. I was hating myself. I contemplated suicide many times.
My brother now makes me see why I never could go through with it... it was our destiny to come together, over time, and make that connection. It was like the sun broke through the clouds of depression and shined a light on me that I couldn't fathom and he hasn't yet seen to it's full glory. That day will come.
So as I write this, I see the parallels. I tried hard to be a 'man' and buck up, but it never made me fit in. I wasn't the 'manly man' and now I know why. I wasn't born that way. But my brother sees in himself people he would rather not. I do to. When I look a certain way I cringe, I see my mom in me and she is not accepting. My family isn't. It's a tough place to be.
So when my brother says what I saw in me, I get that gut-punch reaction. I was in that place, afraid and cringing. Asking the powers that be WHY? WHY DO I WANT TO BE A WOMAN? WHY CAN'T I JUST BE 'NORMAL'??? Then his words hit me like a ton of bricks.
He didn't want to feel this way, he didn't want to show the world how wonderful HE was because HE couldn't see how special he was. When I felt the strongest anti-female feelings, I was alone. Afraid. I didn't have friends that would understand. I was ready to call it quits.
He's got so many friends looking over him, caring and concerned. It's like we are his guardian angels. I'm so happy that we connected no matter what. It's like the light of being who I really am is bursting forth like those sunbeams breaking through. A special young man needs some love, a lot of support and friends who care and love him.
And his sister loves him!
Today my young brother was very distraught, in anguish and in pain. Of course his sister was distraught as well and wanted to help him see where he was and what a special young chap he is.
When I was a kid, I hated who I was and I never had anyone who could explain why I was feeling like hanging out with other girls was OK. Why was I the 'mommy' when playing house with my best friend (who was a girl). Why was I OK accepting being a weak boy who never wanted to do much more than cry and bawl when their feelings were hurt. Why was it that I couldn't see, and hate, who I was back then and use it to become a strong, beefy man? Why, oh why?
Because it wasn't who I am.
My dear brother expressed a lot of anguish in a few heartfelt posts about who they felt they were not. And I knew immediately the feelings behind those words. I hate being the awkward girl, the not very girly woman who doesn't often fit in. She's not the most beautiful gal at the prom.
But when I thought this way my sister Kathy wrote 'you have a wonderful heart and a great personality". And my young brother is the same way. He's got this incredible light inside him that he can't see, yet. But I can!
Today as we got pelted with rain and slushy snow dissolved all over the place, the gray blanket stretched overhead like a tarp, I went to the kitchen to get something. I looked down for a moment and there, stretched across the floor, was a beam of sunlight. It was if nature was trying to say that the comforts I told my young brother were the right thing to do. It was if the clouds parted at that moment to remind me how wonderful it can be to be a strong and wonderful presence to another transgender human being.
Tears were exchanged through this heartfelt dialog but I never want to give up. I want to be his strength when he needs it, as his has built me up when I needed it. It was like I was seeing myself years ago and instead of hiding and trembling, I was ready to step forward and reach out my hand to someone who is going through what I went through.
Once upon a time I hated me. Once upon a time I thought I was a freak, an abomination and afraid of being seen in the fact that I liked to dress like a girl. I was alone, in the dark, afraid. I was hating myself. I contemplated suicide many times.
My brother now makes me see why I never could go through with it... it was our destiny to come together, over time, and make that connection. It was like the sun broke through the clouds of depression and shined a light on me that I couldn't fathom and he hasn't yet seen to it's full glory. That day will come.
So as I write this, I see the parallels. I tried hard to be a 'man' and buck up, but it never made me fit in. I wasn't the 'manly man' and now I know why. I wasn't born that way. But my brother sees in himself people he would rather not. I do to. When I look a certain way I cringe, I see my mom in me and she is not accepting. My family isn't. It's a tough place to be.
So when my brother says what I saw in me, I get that gut-punch reaction. I was in that place, afraid and cringing. Asking the powers that be WHY? WHY DO I WANT TO BE A WOMAN? WHY CAN'T I JUST BE 'NORMAL'??? Then his words hit me like a ton of bricks.
He didn't want to feel this way, he didn't want to show the world how wonderful HE was because HE couldn't see how special he was. When I felt the strongest anti-female feelings, I was alone. Afraid. I didn't have friends that would understand. I was ready to call it quits.
He's got so many friends looking over him, caring and concerned. It's like we are his guardian angels. I'm so happy that we connected no matter what. It's like the light of being who I really am is bursting forth like those sunbeams breaking through. A special young man needs some love, a lot of support and friends who care and love him.
And his sister loves him!
Thursday, March 1, 2012
A Fine Young Man
Once in a great while you come across someone who just makes your heart leap a little, their kindness, friendship and support make your pulse speed up a little thinking the ultimate question: What if...?
Here I mean the type of camaraderie that comes from a new and wonderful friendship, a person whom you can show some of your experience to help guide them forward in their own life. And they in turn, younger and with more energy than these old bones can often muster, excitedly talks about their path ahead.
"I just want to be the best man I can be..." he says, a hopeful tinge to the words - as if uncertain it's possible.
It IS possible, it DOES happen and it WILL happen!!
This much is truth: we often take aim at ourselves as others do to us. The people who should back us up take a reeling stance backwards and we recoil from that almost physical blow). It's happen to a lot of us. Acceptance isn't something you can pick up in a hardware store or a grocery aisle.
So thinking about my own life and direction, this young, sweet gentleman comes along talking about his goals and wishes. He's fully supportive of me, and I of him. He's feeling down and sad because his parents aren't yet seeing what this young man sees. It's the same as the female I see in me. This young man reminds me of a younger me. Caring, sweet and a lover of nature. But whereas I was painfully shy and avoided talking to people, he's talked about going out, cutting their hair and finding that path to their personal journey. It's the same all around us, the whole transgender population. Each of us figuring out things on our own, but there's our friends supporting us and helping us.
This fine young man has a world opening up like a chrysanthemum showing it's beauty. The future is bright and full of hope, this gentleman is excited and eager to start new steps toward his ultimate goals.
He hopes he has the strength to make it. Men are usually known for strength, vitality and confidence. It's why I didn't make a very good one. But this young man, despite the challenges he knows are there, he holds his head up, dreams of HRT and becoming the man he is, way down inside.
I don't know a lot of FTM's but I have gotten to know two really amazing ones. One just told us "I've got facial hair now!!" and we were all so happy (I'd gladly donate mine lol). This young man, truly sweet, is starting on that journey, a journey that will have ups and downs, but in order to be who we NEED to be, we sometimes have to "fly in the face of convention". His words made me consider my own situation. I was reminded of myself in younger days by reading the words he says, hopeful and excited, charged full of energy. He is like looking at me in younger days, in some aspects. If I could, I would give him that chance, but I can give my support, my friendship, my hugs from afar or close by.
So when he tells me "I just want to be the best man I can be..." all I can say is this:
You already are, sweet young gentleman, you already are!
Hugs!!
Here I mean the type of camaraderie that comes from a new and wonderful friendship, a person whom you can show some of your experience to help guide them forward in their own life. And they in turn, younger and with more energy than these old bones can often muster, excitedly talks about their path ahead.
"I just want to be the best man I can be..." he says, a hopeful tinge to the words - as if uncertain it's possible.
It IS possible, it DOES happen and it WILL happen!!
This much is truth: we often take aim at ourselves as others do to us. The people who should back us up take a reeling stance backwards and we recoil from that almost physical blow). It's happen to a lot of us. Acceptance isn't something you can pick up in a hardware store or a grocery aisle.
So thinking about my own life and direction, this young, sweet gentleman comes along talking about his goals and wishes. He's fully supportive of me, and I of him. He's feeling down and sad because his parents aren't yet seeing what this young man sees. It's the same as the female I see in me. This young man reminds me of a younger me. Caring, sweet and a lover of nature. But whereas I was painfully shy and avoided talking to people, he's talked about going out, cutting their hair and finding that path to their personal journey. It's the same all around us, the whole transgender population. Each of us figuring out things on our own, but there's our friends supporting us and helping us.
This fine young man has a world opening up like a chrysanthemum showing it's beauty. The future is bright and full of hope, this gentleman is excited and eager to start new steps toward his ultimate goals.
He hopes he has the strength to make it. Men are usually known for strength, vitality and confidence. It's why I didn't make a very good one. But this young man, despite the challenges he knows are there, he holds his head up, dreams of HRT and becoming the man he is, way down inside.
I don't know a lot of FTM's but I have gotten to know two really amazing ones. One just told us "I've got facial hair now!!" and we were all so happy (I'd gladly donate mine lol). This young man, truly sweet, is starting on that journey, a journey that will have ups and downs, but in order to be who we NEED to be, we sometimes have to "fly in the face of convention". His words made me consider my own situation. I was reminded of myself in younger days by reading the words he says, hopeful and excited, charged full of energy. He is like looking at me in younger days, in some aspects. If I could, I would give him that chance, but I can give my support, my friendship, my hugs from afar or close by.
So when he tells me "I just want to be the best man I can be..." all I can say is this:
You already are, sweet young gentleman, you already are!
Hugs!!
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Leap Day...
Once in a while there comes an event that is rare, or at least uncommon. In this case the event is called February 29th. Normally it only happens once every 4 years, but sometimes it's once every 8... (don't ask, I didn't invent it).
Because the Earth takes 365 and 1/4 days to travel once around the sun means we accrue an extra day every 4 years, so the leap year day was added (it would be nice if if was June 31st say, but I digress...). But when it's evenly divisible by 400 (as was the year 2000) there isn't. Again... I didn't invent it! However, part of me wonders where the missing leap days got to (so far it's minor, only 2 days since the Gregorian calendar was implemented, 1600 and 2000, but small adds up over time)?
Anyway, I am not making this a lesson on 2/29 or the insane jealousy I fee for people born on 2/29 that age 1 year every 4 (it makes waiting to drink and vote and drive a car really hard but after that it tends to help out a lot). :-)
Speaking of leaps, I had a bizarre dream the night before last and I am hard pressed to really explain it. I'll skip most of the details, but it was like an out-of-body experience for me at first (like I was a camera filming a documentary). There was something like 'American Idol' where several runners-up (male and female paired, like you'd see in a wedding party). Then the winners (rather like a bride and groom, the girl was in a nice white dress and the man was in a tux) were announced. They stood in between the row of runners-up, the girls to the winners left, the guys to the winners right. They stood in the middle like a bride and groom. Then (hence the title) I was in the woman's body as her name was announced. I was her. I stepped forward and gave a curtsey and waved, thanking the applauding crowd. I then stepped back (hoping I would not tip over in my heels) and the man was announced. As he stepped forward to acknowledge the crowd, I leaped again, back to that roving 'eye of the camera' perspective as chairs were set up and people kept talking about arranging them.
People milled about and were all talking about how everything had to be 'just right'. I remember not knowing what was happening until a woman said (women always have smarts like that) "everything needs to be perfect for when Galvin McLeod and the 'Love Boat' crew arrive."
Seriously.
I have NO idea where that came from. Sure, I had watched it as a kid before the behind the sofa peeping of Ricardo Montalban's liquid oozing and overly creepy appearance on 'Fantasy Island'. It's not like I was stuffing my stockings with DVD copies of'Love Boat' or whistling the tune aimlessly while in the toilet stalls of public bathrooms. I don't serenade people with the lyrics from ancient history when shows were recorded on 1" videotape and often 'spliced' together (quite literally).
The leap was the interesting thing, I was aware that I wasn't in 'a body' of any sort again, but I had seamlessly leaped into the woman's body and was fluid and graceful. It was a nice experience, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Albeit maybe a curtsey wasn't the proper thing to do nowadays, it was in olden times. But since the 'Love Boat' crew was coming (no, I never saw any of them, just the preparations to host/honor them) I supposed that maybe were on a casting call for a remake? Who knows, really (unless I have a sequel dream to it lol)?
Later on, I perceived I had "leaped" again, this time as a male. I was bustling about, trying to find some tissues to blow my nose and I was almost gasping, I couldn't breathe well (I woke up breathing fine). I was drinking some kind of lime juice thing (I think it may have had alcohol in it, but I am not certain) and trying to breathe normally.
Now, if you know anything about dreams (I profess I do not) maybe you can explain a few things to me:
1) The fact that I was having an 'out-of-body' experience - does that mean something?
2) When it came time for the woman to step forward, I was her (and conscious of it because I had seen her stand and step to the line and then I was her and stepping forward to acknowledge the applause) striding forward, curtseying and waving and thanking the audience.
3) The fact that I was so smooth, graceful and able to control myself as a woman, even negotiating in heels with relative ease.
4) The fact that right after, again I was 'out-of-body' and wherever she was I didn't see her.
5) The fact that when I "leaped" into a male body, I was having a difficult time breathing and seeking some salve to make me be able to breathe.
My gut instinct tells me that the female was graceful and accepted because my mind feels that is who I should be. As a male, I struggled to breathe, feeling constricted and fearing I would stop breathing. Does that make sense?
Getting acknowledgement of applause and whatever award I have might have been my minds way of indicating to me that I deserve some sort of acknowledgment of myself in feminine form that is lacking in male form. Could that be true?
The fact that in-between these two events I was again 'out of body' which perhaps might lead me to believe that I deserved some acknowledgment for my female side, being graceful and not hiding but being applauded, the male was behind the scenes, gasping and hidden in a back room forced to seek solace in whatever way they could - and perhaps my mind (or subconscious) had a lot to do with telling me that as a woman I could be more accepted and awarded than as a male.
On the other hand, is it me trying to convince myself now, awake and lucid, that that was what I wanted to see? Hmmmm....
Questions....questions....questions...
I know that in the land of dreams, as vivid and lifelike as they may seem, the mind is wresting itself from the day-to-day onslaught, trying to push questions out of the murk of the what if to the 'reality' of life. Dreaming of being a woman is nothing new. Dreaming very vividly of being a woman and waking in a sad state of disappointment has happened as well. Often I will wake up and wonder is this the day? The day I awake and realize that I am a complete woman? Those having undergone SRS will attest that they felt that way, awakening and realizing that the physical manifestations were correct and having to spend the rest of the time complimenting that with the quintessential inside, because if you only look at the skin, you are ignoring the true value of a person. Beauty is WAY more than skin deep!
So on this Leap Day, I have this compunction to wonder how the journey progresses and what the next big leap shall be. One thing is for sure, it will be interesting, and it won't star the cast of 'Love Boat' :-)
Hugs until next time!
Because the Earth takes 365 and 1/4 days to travel once around the sun means we accrue an extra day every 4 years, so the leap year day was added (it would be nice if if was June 31st say, but I digress...). But when it's evenly divisible by 400 (as was the year 2000) there isn't. Again... I didn't invent it! However, part of me wonders where the missing leap days got to (so far it's minor, only 2 days since the Gregorian calendar was implemented, 1600 and 2000, but small adds up over time)?
Anyway, I am not making this a lesson on 2/29 or the insane jealousy I fee for people born on 2/29 that age 1 year every 4 (it makes waiting to drink and vote and drive a car really hard but after that it tends to help out a lot). :-)
Speaking of leaps, I had a bizarre dream the night before last and I am hard pressed to really explain it. I'll skip most of the details, but it was like an out-of-body experience for me at first (like I was a camera filming a documentary). There was something like 'American Idol' where several runners-up (male and female paired, like you'd see in a wedding party). Then the winners (rather like a bride and groom, the girl was in a nice white dress and the man was in a tux) were announced. They stood in between the row of runners-up, the girls to the winners left, the guys to the winners right. They stood in the middle like a bride and groom. Then (hence the title) I was in the woman's body as her name was announced. I was her. I stepped forward and gave a curtsey and waved, thanking the applauding crowd. I then stepped back (hoping I would not tip over in my heels) and the man was announced. As he stepped forward to acknowledge the crowd, I leaped again, back to that roving 'eye of the camera' perspective as chairs were set up and people kept talking about arranging them.
People milled about and were all talking about how everything had to be 'just right'. I remember not knowing what was happening until a woman said (women always have smarts like that) "everything needs to be perfect for when Galvin McLeod and the 'Love Boat' crew arrive."
Seriously.
I have NO idea where that came from. Sure, I had watched it as a kid before the behind the sofa peeping of Ricardo Montalban's liquid oozing and overly creepy appearance on 'Fantasy Island'. It's not like I was stuffing my stockings with DVD copies of'Love Boat' or whistling the tune aimlessly while in the toilet stalls of public bathrooms. I don't serenade people with the lyrics from ancient history when shows were recorded on 1" videotape and often 'spliced' together (quite literally).
The leap was the interesting thing, I was aware that I wasn't in 'a body' of any sort again, but I had seamlessly leaped into the woman's body and was fluid and graceful. It was a nice experience, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Albeit maybe a curtsey wasn't the proper thing to do nowadays, it was in olden times. But since the 'Love Boat' crew was coming (no, I never saw any of them, just the preparations to host/honor them) I supposed that maybe were on a casting call for a remake? Who knows, really (unless I have a sequel dream to it lol)?
Later on, I perceived I had "leaped" again, this time as a male. I was bustling about, trying to find some tissues to blow my nose and I was almost gasping, I couldn't breathe well (I woke up breathing fine). I was drinking some kind of lime juice thing (I think it may have had alcohol in it, but I am not certain) and trying to breathe normally.
Now, if you know anything about dreams (I profess I do not) maybe you can explain a few things to me:
1) The fact that I was having an 'out-of-body' experience - does that mean something?
2) When it came time for the woman to step forward, I was her (and conscious of it because I had seen her stand and step to the line and then I was her and stepping forward to acknowledge the applause) striding forward, curtseying and waving and thanking the audience.
3) The fact that I was so smooth, graceful and able to control myself as a woman, even negotiating in heels with relative ease.
4) The fact that right after, again I was 'out-of-body' and wherever she was I didn't see her.
5) The fact that when I "leaped" into a male body, I was having a difficult time breathing and seeking some salve to make me be able to breathe.
My gut instinct tells me that the female was graceful and accepted because my mind feels that is who I should be. As a male, I struggled to breathe, feeling constricted and fearing I would stop breathing. Does that make sense?
Getting acknowledgement of applause and whatever award I have might have been my minds way of indicating to me that I deserve some sort of acknowledgment of myself in feminine form that is lacking in male form. Could that be true?
The fact that in-between these two events I was again 'out of body' which perhaps might lead me to believe that I deserved some acknowledgment for my female side, being graceful and not hiding but being applauded, the male was behind the scenes, gasping and hidden in a back room forced to seek solace in whatever way they could - and perhaps my mind (or subconscious) had a lot to do with telling me that as a woman I could be more accepted and awarded than as a male.
On the other hand, is it me trying to convince myself now, awake and lucid, that that was what I wanted to see? Hmmmm....
Questions....questions....questions...
I know that in the land of dreams, as vivid and lifelike as they may seem, the mind is wresting itself from the day-to-day onslaught, trying to push questions out of the murk of the what if to the 'reality' of life. Dreaming of being a woman is nothing new. Dreaming very vividly of being a woman and waking in a sad state of disappointment has happened as well. Often I will wake up and wonder is this the day? The day I awake and realize that I am a complete woman? Those having undergone SRS will attest that they felt that way, awakening and realizing that the physical manifestations were correct and having to spend the rest of the time complimenting that with the quintessential inside, because if you only look at the skin, you are ignoring the true value of a person. Beauty is WAY more than skin deep!
So on this Leap Day, I have this compunction to wonder how the journey progresses and what the next big leap shall be. One thing is for sure, it will be interesting, and it won't star the cast of 'Love Boat' :-)
Hugs until next time!
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Freedom to Marry! When comes Freedom to Dress?
In a crisp winter morning, twilight just ghosting the sky with a faint gray like an overreaching fog, a small SUV pulls into a parking lot. Two doors open. From one emerges a man ready to head to his office and start the day. The other is a woman, obviously his wife after they share a kiss. She is a lovely lady, wearing a nice business skirt suit.
A pair of eyes look at her, not in the lecherous way that some people do when 'checking out' someone else, but studying, examining, rather like you would clues in a mystery. The eyes watched her walk, wearing nice, comfortable flat shoes, a fabulous looking skirt falling to just above the knees, black nylons and long brown hair streaming down her back. The eyes sense a tiny bit of rush leading to the goodbye kiss, it is cold and she wants to retreat into the car to stay warm in the obviously increasingly ventilated outfit she is wearing. Of course the man is not acutely aware of this and takes his time getting his things. The watching eyes understand her desire to keep warm and smile slightly. She is a pretty sight to behold. She makes the watcher keenly aware that they would, with some practice, be able to transcend that position and be the focus of understanding eyes and not stares.
Yesterday the eyes watched another beautiful lady, dressed similarly to the cold morning woman, her legs reminded the watcher of the legs they had and thought heck, I could look as good that. Well, at least close. Matching legs and she was almost the same height as me (she was wearing heels as any professional woman might choose to do) and despite that I would be a little taller in heels it was almost like looking at what I could be. It was interesting to consider.
Yesterday heralded the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals ruling on Proposition 8 in California. In ruling it unconstitutional the way is paved for gays and lesbians to marry in the state. It's a step forward for progress.
But let me ask you this... when does it become okay (or legal) for transgender people to use the bathroom they identify with? When does it become acceptable to have laws or acceptance that transgender people have the same rights? To be able to go out, be accepted and not people to be ridiculed, embarrassed or made fun of?
To me, it seems a bit of a double-edged sword. Equal rights ARE important, equal protection under the eyes of the law is as well. But when equality only covers a few people and not all, it's not really equal, is it?
I say it's a wonderful thing, marriage equality, and it has been a long time coming. Detractors say it ruins the traditional family. Well, by making marriage equal for all, will people who are a straight, heterosexual couple be barred from getting married and having children? Not at all. It just gives marriage rights to gays and lesbians, and to an extent bisexual couples. But what of the transgender people?
If it wasn't against the law, we might still have separate water fountains for African-American people. Women night still have to be told you cannot vote. The majority cannot vote on the rights of the minority.
So, that being said, the trans population can't be pigeon-holed into the same class and, dare I say it, caste, as these classes of people that have been afforded equal protection. Interracial marriage is legal. A woman's right to vote is protected. Heck, even alcohol was outlawed and then overturned. It's time that trans rights also came under that umbrella.
See, most trans people live in fear of what will, or could, happen to them as members of society. I believe that gender can't be put up as a black or white issue, a simple matter of you answered True to one question and False to another. Things have developed far past those rigid guidelines.
In my last blog, I wrote how I hoped that openness and acceptance would come from the free dispersion of information. People no longer had to be alone and afraid, as I was growing up, but be able to learn, accept and grow from the times we spent getting to know real people who were going through exactly what we were going through. It was time to take a stand and open up to openness and understanding, not surrender to hate and violence.
This decision, it seems to me, opens the doors to future acceptance and understanding. People need to know that the LGBT population is out there, ready to be heard. The "T" needs to be part of that, no matter what others say we should be. In the closet, living alone and afraid, it doesn't matter. Every step we take to making ourselves more open leads to greater chances that equality will find us too.
I'm not saying this struggle is going to be easy, or smooth, but it's a struggle and isn't anything worth fighting for a struggle? We can't sit by, waiting for a golden rainbow to shine down on us and illuminate what we feel. So we must always remain vigilant and strong, support each other no matter where we are in life or our feelings and accept the truth that gender isn't black and white, but a broad spectrum of colors that highlight wonderful feelings inside.
And like that trans woman who watched the cold wife this morning go about her retinue, so the watcher would want the same freedom, the same excitement, and the same thrill to go out as herself and let no wind or laughter make her cringe and be afraid. She might look pretty good in a skirt suit. She might look nice in a classy pair of heels and a nice female business outfit. She might just look good to eyes watching her as the watcher's eyes looked at another girl.
The winds of change are still blowing...
A pair of eyes look at her, not in the lecherous way that some people do when 'checking out' someone else, but studying, examining, rather like you would clues in a mystery. The eyes watched her walk, wearing nice, comfortable flat shoes, a fabulous looking skirt falling to just above the knees, black nylons and long brown hair streaming down her back. The eyes sense a tiny bit of rush leading to the goodbye kiss, it is cold and she wants to retreat into the car to stay warm in the obviously increasingly ventilated outfit she is wearing. Of course the man is not acutely aware of this and takes his time getting his things. The watching eyes understand her desire to keep warm and smile slightly. She is a pretty sight to behold. She makes the watcher keenly aware that they would, with some practice, be able to transcend that position and be the focus of understanding eyes and not stares.
Yesterday the eyes watched another beautiful lady, dressed similarly to the cold morning woman, her legs reminded the watcher of the legs they had and thought heck, I could look as good that. Well, at least close. Matching legs and she was almost the same height as me (she was wearing heels as any professional woman might choose to do) and despite that I would be a little taller in heels it was almost like looking at what I could be. It was interesting to consider.
Yesterday heralded the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals ruling on Proposition 8 in California. In ruling it unconstitutional the way is paved for gays and lesbians to marry in the state. It's a step forward for progress.
But let me ask you this... when does it become okay (or legal) for transgender people to use the bathroom they identify with? When does it become acceptable to have laws or acceptance that transgender people have the same rights? To be able to go out, be accepted and not people to be ridiculed, embarrassed or made fun of?
To me, it seems a bit of a double-edged sword. Equal rights ARE important, equal protection under the eyes of the law is as well. But when equality only covers a few people and not all, it's not really equal, is it?
I say it's a wonderful thing, marriage equality, and it has been a long time coming. Detractors say it ruins the traditional family. Well, by making marriage equal for all, will people who are a straight, heterosexual couple be barred from getting married and having children? Not at all. It just gives marriage rights to gays and lesbians, and to an extent bisexual couples. But what of the transgender people?
If it wasn't against the law, we might still have separate water fountains for African-American people. Women night still have to be told you cannot vote. The majority cannot vote on the rights of the minority.
So, that being said, the trans population can't be pigeon-holed into the same class and, dare I say it, caste, as these classes of people that have been afforded equal protection. Interracial marriage is legal. A woman's right to vote is protected. Heck, even alcohol was outlawed and then overturned. It's time that trans rights also came under that umbrella.
See, most trans people live in fear of what will, or could, happen to them as members of society. I believe that gender can't be put up as a black or white issue, a simple matter of you answered True to one question and False to another. Things have developed far past those rigid guidelines.
In my last blog, I wrote how I hoped that openness and acceptance would come from the free dispersion of information. People no longer had to be alone and afraid, as I was growing up, but be able to learn, accept and grow from the times we spent getting to know real people who were going through exactly what we were going through. It was time to take a stand and open up to openness and understanding, not surrender to hate and violence.
This decision, it seems to me, opens the doors to future acceptance and understanding. People need to know that the LGBT population is out there, ready to be heard. The "T" needs to be part of that, no matter what others say we should be. In the closet, living alone and afraid, it doesn't matter. Every step we take to making ourselves more open leads to greater chances that equality will find us too.
I'm not saying this struggle is going to be easy, or smooth, but it's a struggle and isn't anything worth fighting for a struggle? We can't sit by, waiting for a golden rainbow to shine down on us and illuminate what we feel. So we must always remain vigilant and strong, support each other no matter where we are in life or our feelings and accept the truth that gender isn't black and white, but a broad spectrum of colors that highlight wonderful feelings inside.
And like that trans woman who watched the cold wife this morning go about her retinue, so the watcher would want the same freedom, the same excitement, and the same thrill to go out as herself and let no wind or laughter make her cringe and be afraid. She might look pretty good in a skirt suit. She might look nice in a classy pair of heels and a nice female business outfit. She might just look good to eyes watching her as the watcher's eyes looked at another girl.
The winds of change are still blowing...
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Blend or Break?
A lot of people talk about 'blending in', becoming the background, like a moving art mural that is designed to make you think people, animals, buses, small cathedrals and clouds are all streaming by. Blend in and be one with harmony you feel by being just the same as the rest, no more outstanding than anyone else. Basically sit down, stay still and let the world go by like clouds overhead. Don't mess with the natural order of things.
As a transgender person --or well showing signs that I am -- I am not one who easily blends in when I am dressed. I don't feel that it's an unnatural or shameful thing, I just know in a way I don't have that complete grasp of things... womanly things, from having been raised on a different concept than I felt (and do still feel) - how do I fit in has often been a question I have not had an easy time getting answers to.
First there was the pure state of being a sensitive kid who was awkward and liked girls more than boys. Girls didn't play sports (much) and this freaky kid didn't either. This kid was shy, introverted and in many ways verbally and emotionally abused. This nightmare child was never very 'manly', didn't play sports, watched science fiction on TV and liked being with the girls because they didn't want to play all rough. Playing 'house' this kid was always the 'mom' and that was fine. This weirdo would put pillows under their shirt to simulate breasts (even in prepubescence it was understood that this was the most striking aspect of females). Once the kid put on his mom's skirt and tried it on. It felt important to the child. This kid's best friend was a girl. The girl would be the bossy type when playing sometimes and the freaky kid who wasn't at all like a boy should be, was okay with that. She told him to do things and he did them. She wasn't mean, just authoritative. The kid thought women should be in charge.
As things went along this oddball kid was a recluse from boys AND girls when puberty set in. Complicatedly shy, the teenager couldn't be with their girl friends because suddenly they were something akin to the Black Death. No longer was it cooties, it was big time stuff. True enough some girls remained okay with everything and friendships continued, but more often than not, they were aware of their own developing sexuality and the obvious changes in their bodies. They were supposed to kiss boys and such, not play games with them. So the teen got the idea they didn't fit in anywhere, in between bouts of growth and wanting to maybe feel like 'a man' or something. But the urge to dress never disappeared and sometimes panties or underwear would be acquired and tried on in secret. It was a mental and sexual thing, right? There were no adults to ask about such desires, there was no 'Internet' (yes kids, there was life before Google) to search or find out things. Going to the library was a sure way to get caught by a classmate looking at such things and wanting to study them, and then getting taunted about it constantly. The teen was awkward, insecure and with a body that was growing faster than they were ready for, making them awkward and uncoordinated. The teen sought solace in other things, like music and trying their hand at writing. They had some measure of happiness with music. Girls seemed to enjoy music and performance than men did. The teen went through spells of wondering if they might be gay, mentally retarded or just further down the evolutionary path than others who were exhibiting signs of 'normalcy'. The teen wanted to fit, they were desperate to fit, but they never quite did. The most they could hope for is to keep quiet (for shyness is a defense mechanism) and sincerely hope and pray that no one discovered the teen was wearing pantyhose under their work pants and reveling in how they felt. The only thing the teen could see through to completion was music and wearing women's underwear. Somehow the teen could not understand why they wanted...no, needed to dress up in underwear that belonged in girls' bedrooms. Silky, satiny, lacy panties were what the teen craved. Even wearing conventional briefs brought alluring mental images of wearing something feminine and feeling pretty. The teen wished they had more underwear that was smooth and soft, comforting and soothing. The comfort was about the only thing they could enjoy and draw happiness from.
Except that there was no explanation of it to be had. It was quietly shuffled to the back of drawers with the sincere hope that the parents would not find it. The uncertain treatment by the adults would make the teen feel worse about themselves, even contemplating suicide. The time was about right and no one would really care or mind.
The girls, though, the girls seemed to always find a way to care, to support, to nurture. To come to the assistance of a teen that was more prone to crying and moodiness than 'men'. Men were expected to take care of issues behind the gym after school. This teen just kept quiet and did their own things alone because they didn't want to feel trapped into having to battle with someone. They were so shy they didn't know how to ask a girl out and what's more, was frequently laughed at when trying to do certain activities, like sports. This teen was pretty miserable. Death seemed like a good fit. They'd go out in a blaze of glory. No one would care and maybe if it was done right there wouldn't even be a body to bury. A neat and tidy solution to the problem of what to do with that weird teen who was a wimp and liked wearing girls' underwear.
But like the prior things, the teen was an abject failure in killing themselves. Sure they had black periods and things just didn't get better with advancing years. But kids slowly figured out that the wimpy, bookish, awkward kid who was in the band and seemed to get along better with girls than guys (despite maybe being gay? No one knew...) also had one other thing working for them.
They were pretty smart.
Perhaps it was from the years of seclusion, the reclusive behavior of hiding the desire to wear girl's underwear and pantyhose, of hiding the ideas behind wearing a long t-shirt and imaging it as a dress, the idea of putting rolled up socks over their nipples and pretending they were breasts, the uncomfortable place they had to go when it came time for mom to insist on a haircut. The sensitive teen was in tumult, except for one area. They seemed to have no issue with wanting to be one of the girls, even in secret hidden worlds.
It's not a very comfortable place, I can tell you, being told one thing by people who ought to know and feeling the opposite. The teen wanted to dress in soft, comfortable clothes, perhaps a skirt and wanted to find a way to magically transform into a girl. So the brain began to work. Music? No, not really. Math? Not really. Science? Yes, but as a loner and outsider what person would want to find a magic powder that would make them into a woman? It was an attractive idea, but not a realistic one. Writing? Hmmmm....now there the possibilities were endless.
So the teen secretly started writing stories, mostly of an erotic nature but often when it was written from a first person perspective the scene was sometimes of a woman. I didn't know what women felt, sexually, and it was awkward to write it, but the urge was there. I could let loose my mind and have it lead me into a happy place, where I was the girl and she was having sex. In painful reality, I was neither the girl nor having sex. I could only imagine and masturbate.
There was no recourse, it seemed but to secretly order a few female things, as discretely as possible and slide them on when I was alone. I would imagine myself as a female and she was me. I wasn't a weak-kneed wimpy want-to-be 'man', I was a woman and proud of it.
But I was still alone.
The writing slowly gave birth to the idea of a consistent person, someone whom I could have as my alter ego, the civilized Jekyll to my failed masculine Hyde. And so the first glimmers of Samantha emerged from the shadows and slowly took shape.
At first she was a lesbian, she had a girlfriend. She loved wearing skirts and stockings and garters, plus shiny, smooth satin lingerie.She even had a fairly decent job allowing her to update her wardrobe with regularity. and be as sexy as she wanted to be. The stories came about from various stages involving her and her girlfriend having sex in a place where they could be caught, or even just a romantic night at home, followed by passionate sex. Her character found her way to working as a manager at Victoria's Secret, a Mecca I stared longingly at but never dared enter. Samantha could freely enter and work there with no issues. I was imagining living life vicariously through Samantha. What a girl she was... and she was all mine.
True that Samantha never had a use for or affinity for men. Her character tolerated them, even employed them. But even so, she was certain of one thing: when the lights went out and the sheets were parted, the companionship would have firm breasts and the light scents of another woman, for whom a wild ride was sure to follow, ending in sweat-laden female bodies falling asleep, exhausted from their efforts and wrapped tightly in each others arms.
The most enduring thing about Samantha, after her gender of course, for me was that she was popular. Girls loved her and she had no problems in finding a new partner or sexual ride when she needed it. The head she lived in craved the idea of being popular and liked, instead of the painfully shy and awkward exterior that more-not-than-often couldn't be described as a "man".
Samantha had traits that I found appealing in other women outside of the literary realm. She had shaved her head at least once, she had fondness for were sensitive and yet a little free-spirited as well. She liked travel and adventure and wanted to travel the world to experience new avenues of the unique sexual preferences she felt. I could imagine her (or me as her) walking down the avenues of Paris, sipping coffee and stopping into dazzling boutiques where scented roses graced the air and soon she was having a relaxing massage, naked and desirable. Then passions would ignite and one thing would lead to another.
In essence, Samantha was my exact opposite. I'd never been on a plane, never had sex, never was in any situations where I suddenly was desirable and wanted. Nothing like her adventures, her success at being herself and her hot desirability was to be found anywhere in my life, except the pages where I sucked my mind back into Samantha's universe and I disrobed from something I didn't care for and started to imagine more of my life as hers. Blending her into me. Blending, after all, leads to all things getting wrapped up neatly.
That was what I started out saying, right?
Except that in real life, Samantha was incredibly hard to reach. She was the polar opposite of me, in every way, shape and form. She was the antithesis of 'that guy' and an incredibly hard person to reach outside of stories. So Samantha began to slumber and before long, she was quiet again, her life dropped at the moment she was trying to break out, not to just blend in. She never really left my side, she just went quiet. I stopped thinking about her and she nodded off, like a train conductor might having collected all the tickets. She was just along for the ride for a while.
Life got hectic on the outside, leisure time became non-existent and I certainly was thinking less of how to dress than how to make ends meet. Conflicts came with money, resources, health and well-being, stress and poor additional habits. After all, could you blame me for letting her slip away? Life threw so many curveballs at me for so long I often thought it might be better off if I just didn't wake up again. I was so far from thinking about Samantha now that she all but completely disappeared. I was still alone, there was no avenue to seek support and paying for it was completely out of the question. I just barely had time to sleep and then I was off to work again. Struggling to make ends meet is not conducive to "living" life through an upscale, popular woman who has enough to travel the world and dress in whatever sexy attire she wants to model.
Things slowly came around, life started to settle down and I started to find some free time with which to enjoy considering new activities I had long since let languish. Like a rush of blood to the head after standing on one's head, the need for the woman became the needs of me. I started buying clothes, not just lingerie but blouses, skirts and the such. I had fixed numerous issues with my credit and was making just enough to afford small luxuries. But still I didn't go very far. I just hoped to blend, no?
But after a spell, I found myself (now thanks to the popularity and ease of access to the Internet) finding resources. Almost swooning, I realized that there were other people out there just like me! It was an enlightenment, but I was a lurker. I didn't join because I didn't know how to join as who I saw inside. Then one day I came across the notes I had made on Samantha and she woke up. More mature, more sedate and less traveled, she had grown from the sex-starved lesbian who managed a Victoria's Secret to a more graceful woman of early middle age, her thoughts no longer of shaving her head or traveling to Paris for a wild passionate massage. Samantha had mellowed a lot, but she was certainly no prude either. She still longed for sex but now she was curious. She retained her dreams of being with a wonderful female partner, but she wondered if perhaps her perfect partner was someone such as herself, the outside appearance not matching the inside complexity.
Samantha went out, in public, and things changed. People saw her and new she was "real". Kind souls told me how feminine she looked and how nice she dressed, She was terrible at makeup and wearing hair that was far too short for what I later desired, but she was out and she was a little about. Still conscientious and fastidious about how she wanted to be perceived. Her traits were anything but blending, a woman out with friends can seem intimidating to outsiders. Some wish they could mingle and bite their lips in mysterious silence, others seem uncomfortable and ill-at-ease, perhaps from a feeling of attraction to the transgender girl but feeling uneasy about why and what it means. If it's any consolation, though I don't wish you to feel uneasy understand my own thoughts are jumbled about my own sexuality. The Samantha of old and the new do share a delight in perhaps a short skirt, some heels and delightful, comfortable underwear. We both love the feeling of comfort. And we both love to shop and see what new delights can be found.
Never as a child would I have imagined that such a day would come where I would step out of the private, secluded existence and actually find friends who not only share this puzzling gift, but also those who are loving, caring and want to show that while you may doubt it yourself, you have the ability to be whomever you want to be. This world needs more understanding people, generous and loving, caring and concerned. Kids like me these days have new avenues to look for and communicate. May my generation be the last having to grow up afraid and alone, fearful of what fate would do to me if I revealed that deep, dark secret. It's time to let all our inner people out to grow and be nurtured by life.
Samantha may have changed, and certainly has changed me. She doesn't mind being in a position one day to blend in with her female human beings, and she is also willing to break the stereotypical view of transgender ladies (and men) as being something to be scorned and derided. I had enough scorn and derision as a kid, now I'd just like to find some peace and happiness.
Something which I know the Samantha "of old" would be totally cool with.
As a transgender person --or well showing signs that I am -- I am not one who easily blends in when I am dressed. I don't feel that it's an unnatural or shameful thing, I just know in a way I don't have that complete grasp of things... womanly things, from having been raised on a different concept than I felt (and do still feel) - how do I fit in has often been a question I have not had an easy time getting answers to.
First there was the pure state of being a sensitive kid who was awkward and liked girls more than boys. Girls didn't play sports (much) and this freaky kid didn't either. This kid was shy, introverted and in many ways verbally and emotionally abused. This nightmare child was never very 'manly', didn't play sports, watched science fiction on TV and liked being with the girls because they didn't want to play all rough. Playing 'house' this kid was always the 'mom' and that was fine. This weirdo would put pillows under their shirt to simulate breasts (even in prepubescence it was understood that this was the most striking aspect of females). Once the kid put on his mom's skirt and tried it on. It felt important to the child. This kid's best friend was a girl. The girl would be the bossy type when playing sometimes and the freaky kid who wasn't at all like a boy should be, was okay with that. She told him to do things and he did them. She wasn't mean, just authoritative. The kid thought women should be in charge.
As things went along this oddball kid was a recluse from boys AND girls when puberty set in. Complicatedly shy, the teenager couldn't be with their girl friends because suddenly they were something akin to the Black Death. No longer was it cooties, it was big time stuff. True enough some girls remained okay with everything and friendships continued, but more often than not, they were aware of their own developing sexuality and the obvious changes in their bodies. They were supposed to kiss boys and such, not play games with them. So the teen got the idea they didn't fit in anywhere, in between bouts of growth and wanting to maybe feel like 'a man' or something. But the urge to dress never disappeared and sometimes panties or underwear would be acquired and tried on in secret. It was a mental and sexual thing, right? There were no adults to ask about such desires, there was no 'Internet' (yes kids, there was life before Google) to search or find out things. Going to the library was a sure way to get caught by a classmate looking at such things and wanting to study them, and then getting taunted about it constantly. The teen was awkward, insecure and with a body that was growing faster than they were ready for, making them awkward and uncoordinated. The teen sought solace in other things, like music and trying their hand at writing. They had some measure of happiness with music. Girls seemed to enjoy music and performance than men did. The teen went through spells of wondering if they might be gay, mentally retarded or just further down the evolutionary path than others who were exhibiting signs of 'normalcy'. The teen wanted to fit, they were desperate to fit, but they never quite did. The most they could hope for is to keep quiet (for shyness is a defense mechanism) and sincerely hope and pray that no one discovered the teen was wearing pantyhose under their work pants and reveling in how they felt. The only thing the teen could see through to completion was music and wearing women's underwear. Somehow the teen could not understand why they wanted...no, needed to dress up in underwear that belonged in girls' bedrooms. Silky, satiny, lacy panties were what the teen craved. Even wearing conventional briefs brought alluring mental images of wearing something feminine and feeling pretty. The teen wished they had more underwear that was smooth and soft, comforting and soothing. The comfort was about the only thing they could enjoy and draw happiness from.
Except that there was no explanation of it to be had. It was quietly shuffled to the back of drawers with the sincere hope that the parents would not find it. The uncertain treatment by the adults would make the teen feel worse about themselves, even contemplating suicide. The time was about right and no one would really care or mind.
The girls, though, the girls seemed to always find a way to care, to support, to nurture. To come to the assistance of a teen that was more prone to crying and moodiness than 'men'. Men were expected to take care of issues behind the gym after school. This teen just kept quiet and did their own things alone because they didn't want to feel trapped into having to battle with someone. They were so shy they didn't know how to ask a girl out and what's more, was frequently laughed at when trying to do certain activities, like sports. This teen was pretty miserable. Death seemed like a good fit. They'd go out in a blaze of glory. No one would care and maybe if it was done right there wouldn't even be a body to bury. A neat and tidy solution to the problem of what to do with that weird teen who was a wimp and liked wearing girls' underwear.
But like the prior things, the teen was an abject failure in killing themselves. Sure they had black periods and things just didn't get better with advancing years. But kids slowly figured out that the wimpy, bookish, awkward kid who was in the band and seemed to get along better with girls than guys (despite maybe being gay? No one knew...) also had one other thing working for them.
They were pretty smart.
Perhaps it was from the years of seclusion, the reclusive behavior of hiding the desire to wear girl's underwear and pantyhose, of hiding the ideas behind wearing a long t-shirt and imaging it as a dress, the idea of putting rolled up socks over their nipples and pretending they were breasts, the uncomfortable place they had to go when it came time for mom to insist on a haircut. The sensitive teen was in tumult, except for one area. They seemed to have no issue with wanting to be one of the girls, even in secret hidden worlds.
It's not a very comfortable place, I can tell you, being told one thing by people who ought to know and feeling the opposite. The teen wanted to dress in soft, comfortable clothes, perhaps a skirt and wanted to find a way to magically transform into a girl. So the brain began to work. Music? No, not really. Math? Not really. Science? Yes, but as a loner and outsider what person would want to find a magic powder that would make them into a woman? It was an attractive idea, but not a realistic one. Writing? Hmmmm....now there the possibilities were endless.
So the teen secretly started writing stories, mostly of an erotic nature but often when it was written from a first person perspective the scene was sometimes of a woman. I didn't know what women felt, sexually, and it was awkward to write it, but the urge was there. I could let loose my mind and have it lead me into a happy place, where I was the girl and she was having sex. In painful reality, I was neither the girl nor having sex. I could only imagine and masturbate.
There was no recourse, it seemed but to secretly order a few female things, as discretely as possible and slide them on when I was alone. I would imagine myself as a female and she was me. I wasn't a weak-kneed wimpy want-to-be 'man', I was a woman and proud of it.
But I was still alone.
The writing slowly gave birth to the idea of a consistent person, someone whom I could have as my alter ego, the civilized Jekyll to my failed masculine Hyde. And so the first glimmers of Samantha emerged from the shadows and slowly took shape.
At first she was a lesbian, she had a girlfriend. She loved wearing skirts and stockings and garters, plus shiny, smooth satin lingerie.She even had a fairly decent job allowing her to update her wardrobe with regularity. and be as sexy as she wanted to be. The stories came about from various stages involving her and her girlfriend having sex in a place where they could be caught, or even just a romantic night at home, followed by passionate sex. Her character found her way to working as a manager at Victoria's Secret, a Mecca I stared longingly at but never dared enter. Samantha could freely enter and work there with no issues. I was imagining living life vicariously through Samantha. What a girl she was... and she was all mine.
True that Samantha never had a use for or affinity for men. Her character tolerated them, even employed them. But even so, she was certain of one thing: when the lights went out and the sheets were parted, the companionship would have firm breasts and the light scents of another woman, for whom a wild ride was sure to follow, ending in sweat-laden female bodies falling asleep, exhausted from their efforts and wrapped tightly in each others arms.
The most enduring thing about Samantha, after her gender of course, for me was that she was popular. Girls loved her and she had no problems in finding a new partner or sexual ride when she needed it. The head she lived in craved the idea of being popular and liked, instead of the painfully shy and awkward exterior that more-not-than-often couldn't be described as a "man".
Samantha had traits that I found appealing in other women outside of the literary realm. She had shaved her head at least once, she had fondness for were sensitive and yet a little free-spirited as well. She liked travel and adventure and wanted to travel the world to experience new avenues of the unique sexual preferences she felt. I could imagine her (or me as her) walking down the avenues of Paris, sipping coffee and stopping into dazzling boutiques where scented roses graced the air and soon she was having a relaxing massage, naked and desirable. Then passions would ignite and one thing would lead to another.
In essence, Samantha was my exact opposite. I'd never been on a plane, never had sex, never was in any situations where I suddenly was desirable and wanted. Nothing like her adventures, her success at being herself and her hot desirability was to be found anywhere in my life, except the pages where I sucked my mind back into Samantha's universe and I disrobed from something I didn't care for and started to imagine more of my life as hers. Blending her into me. Blending, after all, leads to all things getting wrapped up neatly.
That was what I started out saying, right?
Except that in real life, Samantha was incredibly hard to reach. She was the polar opposite of me, in every way, shape and form. She was the antithesis of 'that guy' and an incredibly hard person to reach outside of stories. So Samantha began to slumber and before long, she was quiet again, her life dropped at the moment she was trying to break out, not to just blend in. She never really left my side, she just went quiet. I stopped thinking about her and she nodded off, like a train conductor might having collected all the tickets. She was just along for the ride for a while.
Life got hectic on the outside, leisure time became non-existent and I certainly was thinking less of how to dress than how to make ends meet. Conflicts came with money, resources, health and well-being, stress and poor additional habits. After all, could you blame me for letting her slip away? Life threw so many curveballs at me for so long I often thought it might be better off if I just didn't wake up again. I was so far from thinking about Samantha now that she all but completely disappeared. I was still alone, there was no avenue to seek support and paying for it was completely out of the question. I just barely had time to sleep and then I was off to work again. Struggling to make ends meet is not conducive to "living" life through an upscale, popular woman who has enough to travel the world and dress in whatever sexy attire she wants to model.
Things slowly came around, life started to settle down and I started to find some free time with which to enjoy considering new activities I had long since let languish. Like a rush of blood to the head after standing on one's head, the need for the woman became the needs of me. I started buying clothes, not just lingerie but blouses, skirts and the such. I had fixed numerous issues with my credit and was making just enough to afford small luxuries. But still I didn't go very far. I just hoped to blend, no?
But after a spell, I found myself (now thanks to the popularity and ease of access to the Internet) finding resources. Almost swooning, I realized that there were other people out there just like me! It was an enlightenment, but I was a lurker. I didn't join because I didn't know how to join as who I saw inside. Then one day I came across the notes I had made on Samantha and she woke up. More mature, more sedate and less traveled, she had grown from the sex-starved lesbian who managed a Victoria's Secret to a more graceful woman of early middle age, her thoughts no longer of shaving her head or traveling to Paris for a wild passionate massage. Samantha had mellowed a lot, but she was certainly no prude either. She still longed for sex but now she was curious. She retained her dreams of being with a wonderful female partner, but she wondered if perhaps her perfect partner was someone such as herself, the outside appearance not matching the inside complexity.
Samantha went out, in public, and things changed. People saw her and new she was "real". Kind souls told me how feminine she looked and how nice she dressed, She was terrible at makeup and wearing hair that was far too short for what I later desired, but she was out and she was a little about. Still conscientious and fastidious about how she wanted to be perceived. Her traits were anything but blending, a woman out with friends can seem intimidating to outsiders. Some wish they could mingle and bite their lips in mysterious silence, others seem uncomfortable and ill-at-ease, perhaps from a feeling of attraction to the transgender girl but feeling uneasy about why and what it means. If it's any consolation, though I don't wish you to feel uneasy understand my own thoughts are jumbled about my own sexuality. The Samantha of old and the new do share a delight in perhaps a short skirt, some heels and delightful, comfortable underwear. We both love the feeling of comfort. And we both love to shop and see what new delights can be found.
Never as a child would I have imagined that such a day would come where I would step out of the private, secluded existence and actually find friends who not only share this puzzling gift, but also those who are loving, caring and want to show that while you may doubt it yourself, you have the ability to be whomever you want to be. This world needs more understanding people, generous and loving, caring and concerned. Kids like me these days have new avenues to look for and communicate. May my generation be the last having to grow up afraid and alone, fearful of what fate would do to me if I revealed that deep, dark secret. It's time to let all our inner people out to grow and be nurtured by life.
Samantha may have changed, and certainly has changed me. She doesn't mind being in a position one day to blend in with her female human beings, and she is also willing to break the stereotypical view of transgender ladies (and men) as being something to be scorned and derided. I had enough scorn and derision as a kid, now I'd just like to find some peace and happiness.
Something which I know the Samantha "of old" would be totally cool with.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
A New Page in a very old story
Sometimes in life you stop and think, about your situation, your goals, your dreams...whatever plops down at that very moment when you draw an unusual aside that actually fits. You find a parallel that you may not have thought about before. A twist on how to arrange things in your mind, often cluttered by a panoply of myriad confused ramblings clamoring for a voice or a way out.
So I happened to be chatting with a girlfriend last night and I started on about the Principia Mathematica, written by Isaac Newton and published in the 1680's. Being somewhat of a science "geekette" I was struck by an interesting parallel to my own life. The Principia, as you may or may not be aware sparked the discovery of calculus (actually Newton had to build the framework of calculus, use it to describe astronomical events and then break it back down into geometry scholars could understand) and I thought, as we were discussing something how I was rather finding the underpinnings of my own existence and how, even if I was not sure how the grand scheme would be, I was finding some diagrams to work it out a little more. Like so:
Now it's true that I have found a complicated way of life, and a confusing one as well. My friend remarked how she found it 'cool' that I could live in-between two worlds as I do. I find it sometimes a true blessing and sometimes I wish I could just make up my mind (that's for another blog, another time...) - let's be honest it does make life a bit challenging! But if the diagram above bears any testament of will, the path from him to Samantha is full of things that will tug you off course. Newton found that the Moon's motion in the sky was incredibly difficult to figure out (he was quoted as saying that it was the one concept he worked on that gave him a headache), so the journey of one girl, all by herself, but not alone, is enough to give one a headache, plus indigestion, dandruff, diarrhea and the shakes all at once! There's no book on how to live life, no quote that magically makes other people understand you. Nope. There ARE resources but the ultimate resource is you have to just go and experiment until you get it right.
So that being said, as I was thinking all this through I figured I needed to 'write' my own guide, at least to myself, and laughingly called it the Principia Samanthatica. Now remember that Newton only had some conceptual ideas and the geometry of Euclid, etc. to base his reasoning off of. He didn't have a rocketship or advanced telescope to make deductions. He just looked at what data he had, figured it out as best he could, tested as best he could and then settled each concept. He was trying to make the data fit the observations and not make the data the pinnacle of some deeper attempt to glaze over a concept and make it something it was not.
So when I start 'writing' the chapters that lead me where I will go, I don't know what the result is. I may have to bend some ideas into shape and I may have to shatter a few chains about myself, gender identity and being fluid about myself. My goal is not to (hopefully) create a mass of confusion but to create a symbol of hope for myself and others. Each day is a chance to construct a diagram, plot out the data and factor it into the greater person. Looking at how you walk, an interaction with someone, a lesson learned, a conversation held, a concept discovered, a skill mastered... all those things are part of this 'book'. By books can we pass along knowledge to those who come after us.
Some will say that being 'fluid' about gender makes one 'not count'. I have heard this a number of times "if you don't fully transition you don't really count." Count for what? I see people all the time that are just barely skimming the surface of gender variance and they count to me, even if they skedaddle from those moments so fast you'd think it was a dragonfly darting here and there, hunting for a quiet spot to rest her wings before moving on to her next great journey in her quest. So is being different than say, you, dear reader, what you're trying to convey to me? That since I am 'different' in my expression or my thinking, I don't 'count'? Yeah, that's a WTF moment... women used to not be able to vote because they were 'different'. African-Americans had to drink from a separate fountain because they were 'different'. Gay people were treated as the scourge of society and the cause of AIDS, because they were 'different'. I don't think I need to draw a diagram to show you that whatever was being lobbed at me made no sense. OK, so I am different than you. Are you sure you're not different too??
Now the factors involved can change, but I am always trying to 'solve for' S. She needs her time among the gals finding out what works and what doesn't. She needs to contemplate her own needs and wants and factor those into that bigger equation. It's not to make the equation harder to understand, or needlessly complex, but just to find out my source, the wellspring that makes me tick and is the framework of who I am. This being is a complex dimension of intricate strands, each with it's own ideology and direction. Some thoughts are like force carrying vectors, you can't see the cause but you can see and prove the effect. So Newton did with the (likely apocryphal) tale of the apple and equating it to the Moon. So Samantha is, in effect, falling towards her gender identity but she never quite reaches it. It takes a degree in analytical reasoning and sound judgement to journey beyond the simple get-up-go-to-work-come-home-walk-the-dog-go-to-bed kind of humdrum life. I have another dimension that adds complexity and, yes, a bit of apprehension, to my existence. I can see the effect, but not the cause. QED
Truth be told, it's a little justification for those that lob these sorts of gems our way (for I am not alone in who I am and what I feel). Just because YOUR box doesn't have room in there for me, so I don't believe I'd want to be in your little velvet container in the first place. You can't accept me for who I am then don't bother with me. And I shall not bother you either. Don't come along and build someone up stating how wonderful it is that 'you' are so terrific, wonderful and caring, but then say you don't count because you are a second (or worse) class citizen in the trans community. Really? So it's one hand reaches out to embrace while the other is brandishing a knife? That's just wonderful, isn't it?
So as this life rolls on, I learn these lessons and you start to see the paint chip away from other people too. You realize that you play by that 'golden rule' but when others don't you start to figure out deeper meanings to how the paradigm shifts to fit their expectations of who you should be. Sorry but no one defines me BUT me. If you say I am an outsider, a bitch, a confused coagulation or I don't count, then so be it. Don't let it bother you because I don't need it in my life, but I will tell you that finding out what is under that rock will sometimes make you shiver or make your skin crawl. Peeling away the outside often is just fine, you get to know someone well, the inner layers are better than the outer shell can hold. Their framework is a diagram of content leisure and understanding. Still, as Newton wrote 'every action has an equal and opposite Reaction'; so it is the case with the trans community, we see some elements that don't want a gender fluid or a dynamically different person in their midst because we're not the same as you'd like us to be. I've heard it time and time again... people who call you names because you aren't following in THEIR footsteps. If you were a true 'leader', you'd embrace everyone and help them see their potential and built up their strengths and shore up their weaknesses, not call them names, honey. It's just you trying to throw shadows on your life by making fun (or calling people names) to cover the fact it once happened to you. You hated it and were ashamed. Now the heel fits and you are kicking out at others because you feel you are empowered. Or mightier than others, or... whatever. The framework works out like that. Not every result of your calculations is going to work itself out to a nice simple answer. Newton said "I can calculate the motions of the heavenly bodies, but not the madness of people." You can calculate the result of an equation via one method and get one answer, change the way you do it and you get a different answer. And then the self-doubt creeps in and you wonder if maybe BOTH answers are wrong. Sometimes they are, truth be told. You sometimes need to just break off bits and pieces, deducing what you need and leaving the rest aside for a later time. It's also easier to simplify things by substitution in order to make the larger picture more worthwhile. It's the same with life, sometimes the simple outweighs the complex, and can be extraordinarily elegant, like a fine woman in a superb and gorgeous gown.
OK... so I hope I am making a small point as you read this and maybe you take this into YOUR heart and nurture it. Looking at the underlying framework of who you are, the factors that made you who you are and what you will become, they are all there. Look at people whom you admire, for their courage, steadfastness, artistry, whatever... trans or not. Look at them and use their life, their actions and their understanding to bolster your own and build you up higher. Their actions can often lead you to think about your own decisions and help guide you to the solution that works best for you.
Even Newton didn't just wake up and think 'gee, I think I'll go discover a new branch of mathematics today' and shuffle off with his pipe and robe to scrawl some notes. He himself wrote "if I have seen a little further, it is only from standing on the shoulders of Giants". Let that guide you, inspire you or maybe just awaken that sense of the framework of your own life and use it to create something uniquely your own.
May your solution be elegant and may your harmony be completing.
So I happened to be chatting with a girlfriend last night and I started on about the Principia Mathematica, written by Isaac Newton and published in the 1680's. Being somewhat of a science "geekette" I was struck by an interesting parallel to my own life. The Principia, as you may or may not be aware sparked the discovery of calculus (actually Newton had to build the framework of calculus, use it to describe astronomical events and then break it back down into geometry scholars could understand) and I thought, as we were discussing something how I was rather finding the underpinnings of my own existence and how, even if I was not sure how the grand scheme would be, I was finding some diagrams to work it out a little more. Like so:
So that being said, as I was thinking all this through I figured I needed to 'write' my own guide, at least to myself, and laughingly called it the Principia Samanthatica. Now remember that Newton only had some conceptual ideas and the geometry of Euclid, etc. to base his reasoning off of. He didn't have a rocketship or advanced telescope to make deductions. He just looked at what data he had, figured it out as best he could, tested as best he could and then settled each concept. He was trying to make the data fit the observations and not make the data the pinnacle of some deeper attempt to glaze over a concept and make it something it was not.
So when I start 'writing' the chapters that lead me where I will go, I don't know what the result is. I may have to bend some ideas into shape and I may have to shatter a few chains about myself, gender identity and being fluid about myself. My goal is not to (hopefully) create a mass of confusion but to create a symbol of hope for myself and others. Each day is a chance to construct a diagram, plot out the data and factor it into the greater person. Looking at how you walk, an interaction with someone, a lesson learned, a conversation held, a concept discovered, a skill mastered... all those things are part of this 'book'. By books can we pass along knowledge to those who come after us.
Some will say that being 'fluid' about gender makes one 'not count'. I have heard this a number of times "if you don't fully transition you don't really count." Count for what? I see people all the time that are just barely skimming the surface of gender variance and they count to me, even if they skedaddle from those moments so fast you'd think it was a dragonfly darting here and there, hunting for a quiet spot to rest her wings before moving on to her next great journey in her quest. So is being different than say, you, dear reader, what you're trying to convey to me? That since I am 'different' in my expression or my thinking, I don't 'count'? Yeah, that's a WTF moment... women used to not be able to vote because they were 'different'. African-Americans had to drink from a separate fountain because they were 'different'. Gay people were treated as the scourge of society and the cause of AIDS, because they were 'different'. I don't think I need to draw a diagram to show you that whatever was being lobbed at me made no sense. OK, so I am different than you. Are you sure you're not different too??
Now the factors involved can change, but I am always trying to 'solve for' S. She needs her time among the gals finding out what works and what doesn't. She needs to contemplate her own needs and wants and factor those into that bigger equation. It's not to make the equation harder to understand, or needlessly complex, but just to find out my source, the wellspring that makes me tick and is the framework of who I am. This being is a complex dimension of intricate strands, each with it's own ideology and direction. Some thoughts are like force carrying vectors, you can't see the cause but you can see and prove the effect. So Newton did with the (likely apocryphal) tale of the apple and equating it to the Moon. So Samantha is, in effect, falling towards her gender identity but she never quite reaches it. It takes a degree in analytical reasoning and sound judgement to journey beyond the simple get-up-go-to-work-come-home-walk-the-dog-go-to-bed kind of humdrum life. I have another dimension that adds complexity and, yes, a bit of apprehension, to my existence. I can see the effect, but not the cause. QED
Truth be told, it's a little justification for those that lob these sorts of gems our way (for I am not alone in who I am and what I feel). Just because YOUR box doesn't have room in there for me, so I don't believe I'd want to be in your little velvet container in the first place. You can't accept me for who I am then don't bother with me. And I shall not bother you either. Don't come along and build someone up stating how wonderful it is that 'you' are so terrific, wonderful and caring, but then say you don't count because you are a second (or worse) class citizen in the trans community. Really? So it's one hand reaches out to embrace while the other is brandishing a knife? That's just wonderful, isn't it?
So as this life rolls on, I learn these lessons and you start to see the paint chip away from other people too. You realize that you play by that 'golden rule' but when others don't you start to figure out deeper meanings to how the paradigm shifts to fit their expectations of who you should be. Sorry but no one defines me BUT me. If you say I am an outsider, a bitch, a confused coagulation or I don't count, then so be it. Don't let it bother you because I don't need it in my life, but I will tell you that finding out what is under that rock will sometimes make you shiver or make your skin crawl. Peeling away the outside often is just fine, you get to know someone well, the inner layers are better than the outer shell can hold. Their framework is a diagram of content leisure and understanding. Still, as Newton wrote 'every action has an equal and opposite Reaction'; so it is the case with the trans community, we see some elements that don't want a gender fluid or a dynamically different person in their midst because we're not the same as you'd like us to be. I've heard it time and time again... people who call you names because you aren't following in THEIR footsteps. If you were a true 'leader', you'd embrace everyone and help them see their potential and built up their strengths and shore up their weaknesses, not call them names, honey. It's just you trying to throw shadows on your life by making fun (or calling people names) to cover the fact it once happened to you. You hated it and were ashamed. Now the heel fits and you are kicking out at others because you feel you are empowered. Or mightier than others, or... whatever. The framework works out like that. Not every result of your calculations is going to work itself out to a nice simple answer. Newton said "I can calculate the motions of the heavenly bodies, but not the madness of people." You can calculate the result of an equation via one method and get one answer, change the way you do it and you get a different answer. And then the self-doubt creeps in and you wonder if maybe BOTH answers are wrong. Sometimes they are, truth be told. You sometimes need to just break off bits and pieces, deducing what you need and leaving the rest aside for a later time. It's also easier to simplify things by substitution in order to make the larger picture more worthwhile. It's the same with life, sometimes the simple outweighs the complex, and can be extraordinarily elegant, like a fine woman in a superb and gorgeous gown.
OK... so I hope I am making a small point as you read this and maybe you take this into YOUR heart and nurture it. Looking at the underlying framework of who you are, the factors that made you who you are and what you will become, they are all there. Look at people whom you admire, for their courage, steadfastness, artistry, whatever... trans or not. Look at them and use their life, their actions and their understanding to bolster your own and build you up higher. Their actions can often lead you to think about your own decisions and help guide you to the solution that works best for you.
Even Newton didn't just wake up and think 'gee, I think I'll go discover a new branch of mathematics today' and shuffle off with his pipe and robe to scrawl some notes. He himself wrote "if I have seen a little further, it is only from standing on the shoulders of Giants". Let that guide you, inspire you or maybe just awaken that sense of the framework of your own life and use it to create something uniquely your own.
May your solution be elegant and may your harmony be completing.
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