The Woman Within

As we approach another Thanksgiving Holiday, a tumultuous flurry of thoughts whirls about through my mind.  Some of these thoughts are my own and some are thoughts for those friends who add another deep level of perspective as well on this day. For many of us, Thanksgiving will not be what it was when we were a child.  We will not be the lighthearted and bubbly children who used our imaginations and our lack of foresight into the adult world to create a day of our choosing and to celebrate, unfettered, in play.  For many of us, having endured a lifetime of personal, family and, for many, financial struggles, this can be a sobering time of reflection and of what and who we have in our lives, what things, aspects and loved ones have passed and are no longer with us. I have been told by many that I come across as a very positive person, with an abundance of bubbly laughter and a persona that is entertaining and enlightening to be around.  But, as I said recently in a conversation to s

The Girl I Never Knew -Christen B It was years long ago Perhaps when about age five Someone who I knew I truly was First knew that she was alive Others thought she was a girl It was her curly hair they would say The comments she remembered well Visions of an earlier day Through the early years of school She had friends with whom she would play It was always with all of the girls With whom she confided in each day Her best friend was the little girl Who visited from across the street Imaginative games were our world Our worlds combined were complete And as time and life wore on Our worlds began to be torn away Aspects of the world I had been living in Were taken from me each day The girls in school left me alone The girl next door, she stopped seeing me too They were becoming more as women I was alone and felt nothing I could do The toys of my sister’s They were one by one taken away Each was replaced with another That I was told I would enjoy a

A good friend, Sherri,  published a piece on Transphobia recently and it brought to light, a darker aspect within the greater bounds of society that I have found disturbing myself.  We are judged NOT by who we are but often by how we are interpreted by others.  We are told and have heard, many times, the saying to "Not judge a book by it's cover", yet this is exactly how we, as transgender individuals, are interpreted in many instances. I know of a number of transgender individuals who have completed their gender reassignment surgery but have had notable encounters attesting to their being questioned of their gender in public accommodations.  Societal expectations of feminine appearance often dictate whether or not one's gender presentation is questioned, irregardless of legal or plumbing status being congruent with that of their assigned gender. I've had the opportunity to view this discordance from the opposing end, where no one seems to ascertain me as an

Be it far from me to ever wish to stratify, segregate, elevate or separate myself within the transgender realm, yet interestingly, I have begun to notice and piece together just this sort of rift which has begun to developed.  In the transgender continuum, there is a huge difference between "doing" and "being".  There are many I know who find that simply emulating a woman in form and fashion is but enough to suffice their being.  They are those who "do".  Dressing and emulating the feminine form are the key and primary factors.  Photos and pictures arise in high numbers which validate presence and to entice with a show of form. Then there are those of us who are out as transgender women, as women.... who dress because that is who they are and feel they are... deep inside.   The dressing is simply a state which provides for the congruency which exists deep within and allows for integration and association within the female group which one feels most comfo

How can so many smiling pictures I post not even come close to portraying what hurt and sadness and betrayal I feel inside?  It truly amazes me how well I have learned over the years and decades to bury these feelings so well.  Yet still, I am unable to forever hide this pain and these thoughts from my self.  This post is one which will be different from the many you may have read.  I truly do not like to vent my sadness or my hurt and would rather choose to post only the bright and positive and of the good of things to come.  But the weight that has been hiding and lurking within is becoming more and more omnipresent in my conscious thoughts by day and my agitated lucid dreams by night. My mom passed away a horrible death from dementia in January... something I blogged about in this link here . It was the end to many of the dark secrets and  more dark secrets I had written about and hoped were put firmly behind me.  Yet the box of Pandora is rarely kept closed for long without it

I know many who say or who have said that "Halloween is the 'free night out' for crossdressers and transgender individuals alike. I suppose that, in one sense, it is... but in many ways it is not as well. For those who have spent countless anxiety ridden years hiding their feminine sides from the world in fear, it is a night that can bring a sense of acceptance or, at the very least, a perceived tolerance when they step out the door into the world for that one night. I beg to differ however in the entire premise of that perception.  The realizations are subtle but poignantly made in my last stop of my story of that evening... Joanne and I went out for a night on the town on Halloween Night. Neither of us were dressed for Halloween as we were not heading for a party, but rather, were heading out for an evening of shopping and dining. At the local Kohl's, no one perceived or was cognizant of any variance from the gender I was presenting as... save for one young, 1