Posts Tagged ‘appreciation’

A while ago, someone made the following comment on this blog.  It is not a nice comment, so be warned: It may upset you to read it.

It didn’t upset me, however, and here’s why.  I am fully cognizant of the fact that some people see what we (the transgender or crossdressers) are or do as unnatural. I expect some comments like these.  I welcomed this one, because I saw it as a chance to refute some of the commenter’s claims.  I emailed the person back, asking him (I assume it is a “he”, only because natal males seem to have more of a problem with trans folk than natal females by a large degree) to explain his several comments.

To date, he has not answered me.

I leave his comment here intact, as he wrote it–spelling errors and all–so that I can not be accused of editing it to fit my desires.  Such is propaganda, and that’s not my point here.  My point in making this available is so that *I* can address his various opinions from my own perspective.

Here is what he posted to me. Again, what he says is offensive to many, so please read no further if you are easily upset.

“Transgendered people need help. There is something wrong with them. They need to see a doctor. Gay people are sick also. They are not normal. Don’t get into the semantics of what is mormal you know what I mean. Being transgendered or gay ruins people’s lives. Even their own. So do us all a favor and get fixed!”

He put many words here, but he doesn’t actually *say* anything with them. There is “something wrong” with us…okay, what exactly do you mean by that, sir?  There IS something wrong with us. It’s called “lacking acceptance”.  It’s called “feeling forced to hide ourselves away”.  What’s wrong with us, in a nutshell, is people like you, sir. It is not a thing within us that is wrong.  “Out of place” may a better term for the thing within us. “Mis-matched” is so much more descriptive and accurate. It is a dichotomy between how we feel inside and how we appear outside.

I asked him what he thought the “something wrong” was with us.  No reply.

He says we should have a doctor fix us.  But we often do, sir!  There is a term for it: Gender Reassignment Surgery. Another term applies: Hormone Replacement. Yet another term fits: Gender Identity Therapy.  There are many more terms. In effect. they all work toward helping us become the person we are meant to be–physically, mentally, emotionally, even spiritually. They help us bridge the gap between who we are inside and who we appear to be outside. They help us cope when people around us call us names, or say we are not welcome in their restaurants, or refuse to acknowledge our humanity.

Oh, wait, I get it…you meant that you wish a doctor would remove the thing within us which makes you uncomfortable.  Would you also change the skin color of the person with whom you are conversing? Would you shorten the hair of the gentleman playing the guitar over there? Would you remove that which allows your mother to speak her mind or enables her to move to another room besides the kitchen? In short, sir, would you make all people into those of your own choosing? My guess is that you would. How disappointed you must be with these annoying people constantly intruding on your life! Why can’t they all just disappear and leave you alone?

I feel so sorry for you. You must be in constant and neverending misery.

I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we cannot be fixed that way any more than colored skin can, or the guitar player can, or any woman or man can.

“Gay people are sick also. They are not normal. Don’t get into the semantics of what is mormal you know what I mean.”  (Well, I had to take a guess at “mormal”, but I believe I was able to pull the meaning of the word out of the context of the sentence.)

Why yes, gay people *are* often sick. They catch colds and contract the flu just like you do. They suffer from illness and disease, because–and I realize this may be a shock to you and you will have a hard time understanding the words–because they are human.

It’s okay, sir…breathe.  The confusion and nausea will pass if you relax and open your mind.

Yes, Gay people are human. Lesbian women are human. Transgender people are–as bizarre as you may find this–human. Just like you.

Welllll…perhaps not *just* like you. The overwhelming majority of trans, gay, lesbian or bi people I know are more open-minded and accepting than you are. For that reason–yes, I’m saying this–they are better than you.  Healthier, anyway. Hmmm…perhaps the sick ones are not we, but you, sir?

I know! You should see a doctor! Have her fix you!

“Being transgendered or gay ruins people’s lives. Even their own.”  I specifically wanted to know what sir meant by this statement. I admit it perplexes me.  In my experience and based on the stories I’ve read and heard, it is the other way around. Family members, supposed “friends”, complete strangers…many of these cause problems for those of us who identify with one or more of the letters in “LGBT”. Many who purport to love us instead reject us…do you know the pain that can cause? Oh that’s right…you’ve never been rejected, have you? You’ve never walked down a street and been taunted or sword at–or attacked and brutally beaten or even killed–because of who you are. No, because you’re perfect, I forgot. Nobody has anything bad to say about you.

For just a moment, I want you to call to mind the person you love most in the world–besides yourself, if you can.  Picture their face, feel the warmth of their smile as they caress your cheek. Now imagine them telling you you’re worthless, that they wish they’d never met you, that they want you to have never been born. In short, picture them ripping your heart apart with their words.

You *begin* to know that through which we sometimes have to go.

We ruin people’s lives? No. More often, the ones who reject us usually go on living their lives in peace, while we are forced to pick up the shattered remains of our souls and *try* to live our own lives.

We live in pain, too often, and for too long. We shed tears over lost loved ones–who are still alive, but with whom we can never again be. *Our* lives are ruined far more often and in far more permanent ways than those with whom we interact, and it is not we who are ruining them.

If I am ruining your life just by being, sir, it speaks volumes about the fragility of your existence.

Ruining our own lives? Sir, we are trying to simply live those lives. We are trying to heal from being broken by people around us. Often we are doing this alone, because we cannot ask for your help. We help each other. We strengthen our sisters, heal our brothers, because you will not. And no matter how hard you try to keep breaking us, you never will. We are stronger than you, sir. We are healthier than you. I’ll go out on a limb and guess that even in our oft-time misery, we are nonetheless happier than you.

Your last comment is the most disturbing. You tell us to “get fixed”, and I sincerely hope you do not mean that in the veterinary sense. Because that would be indicative of a very sick mind. It borders on a threat to our lives–to my life–which is an offense to both sensibility and law. So I will assume you mean it in the medical sense…which I have addressed above.

Sir, I gave you a chance to explain your words, to make your case. I offered to post your comments and explanations here on my site, to give voice to your ideas. I invited you to do so. You ignored my invitation to dialogue. Are you so unsure of your own mind that you are afraid I might sway it with mere words?

You should know that we are strong–stronger than you realize. You should know that your words do not sting us as you wish they would. We have heard them before, we have processed them, we have found ways to draw upon them for our strength. In short, sir, your words make us stronger. We know ourselves, sir…or we are learning who we are, and it is a wonderful journey!  In discovering ourselves, we see the good in those around us, and we build and encourage and strengthen that good! We polish it, make it shine, turn it into a mirror to reflect God’s light into dark corners like yours. It burns, that Light, does it not? But it only burns because you have wrapped the cold darkness around you like a cloak.

You should know that cloak is thin and weak–its threads will fray and unravel under the onslaught of the Light. It will be easier on you if you open your mind to it, and allow it in. Oh I know, sweetie! It is so hard to do that! You are so afraid of the Light, but the Light WILL NOT HURT YOU! The pain comes from the darkness, and your vice-grip on it. Once you let go of it, the pain will disappear. How can I prove that to you?  I can’t. You must take a leap of faith before you can feel it. You must trust that it will happen.

Yes, transgender people need help. We need need it desperately and constantly and fully.  We need acceptance, we need employment, we need insurance. We need love. We need life.

But we *have* help. We help each other, we accept each other, we support each other, we love each other and we allow each other to live. Non-trans people give us those things, too, sir, believe it or not–many, many of them. And more are accepting us every day. Your corner is getting smaller, I’m afraid.

We have life, we have acceptance, we have love, we have support.  And your words, sir, can never change that.


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I bought a dress!

Okay, some of you are wondering why I make it a big enough deal to title this post with that information.  Here’s why: this is *my first dress*!  The first dress *I* own.

I told you how my wife wants to deny my crossdressing.  She is so far into this denial that she has told me to lie to her about it, so that she can go on trying to see me as her rock, her stability, her reassurance.  She tells me it’s my secret and I should just go on keeping it a secret.

Because I was trying to avert a full-fledged breakdown as I was coming out to her, I told her it was nothing more than an occasional urge to wear women’s clothes–four or five times a year, I said.  I wish I could have told her the truth, but I’m not joking when I said I was trying to avert a real breakdown.  As it was, it was a very near thing, I think.

The truth is that I love thinking of women’s clothes, all the time.  I like appraising other women’s outfits, sometimes wondering if I could pull them off, usually just admiring them.  I love wearing all kinds of feminine clothing–underwear, dresses, skirts, blouses…if it’s even remotely feminine, I’ll try it.  I especially like wearing pantyhose and tights.  There’s just something about the feel and look of them that makes me feel good. Some of you know what I mean.

But I was telling you how my wife wants me to keep it secret.  When I get the urge, she says, I should just take care of it, and she doesn’t need to know, and she doesn’t want to know.  She also feels violated because I had worn her clothes, so I decided this week that A) I’d keep it as secret as I possibly can (I held one secret for twenty-five years, I can hold another), and B) I’d buy my own clothes.

So for the first time ever, I went on-line and ordered a dress.  It’s hot pink, A-line, above the knee, with a wide matching sash that ties in a big bow in the back.  *Very* feminine.  I also ordered a pink bra and black panties, and berry-colored tights.  I’m nervous and excited about doing it, and hope the dress fits well and looks good.  I picked up some pink lipstick, too, even though I’m still figuring out makeup.  The only thing missing, and I hope it’s a good choice for the outfit, is silver pumps.  I’m on a quest for silver heels, girls!  🙂

I have no idea yet where or how I’ll hide these from my wife, but I will.  I’m hoping I’ll have a chance to wear it soon after I get it, but I’m putting my trust in God and awaiting His timing. If He wants me to wear the dress, He’ll give me the opportunity.  If all goes well, I may have two days coming up that I can spend in the dress–from 8:30 in the morning until 3:00 in the afternoon.  Please, Lord, let that happen!

We were watching television yesterday, and a show was on where they were doing shoe makeovers.  You know, pull women off the street, tell them their footwear is lousy, and put them in more fashionable shoes.  Lot of heels, lot of boots–both of which I love.

Naturally we were commenting on which ones we liked,  which ones we thought worked and which ones just didn’t. Which ones I thought would look hot on her. She stopped in the middle and asked, “You mean on me, right?  You’re thinking about them on me not you, right?”

Remember that she needs constant reassurance that I’m still her rock, her foundation, right? Remember that she asked me to lie to her about my dressing and desires?

So I reassured her, told her I didn’t think about wearing shoes or anything like that.

Well, darling, that’s not entirely true. I *love* looking at shoes, I do like wearing heels, and yes, dear, I *can* walk in them. But here’s the thing:  I don’t think about wearing them all the time.  Usually, I’m just admiring and appreciating a sexy shoe or a hot boot.  I don’t actively imagine myself wearing every pair of heels I see.  Do you?  Can I not just look and say “Those are sexy”, without wanting to try them on?

Okay, some people have a shoe fetish and need to try on every pair they see.  That’s not how I roll, though.  I just like to admire.  A pretty or sexy shoe on a well-turned ankle is like art to me.  Do you need to possess every great painting you admire?  Don’t you just like to look at it, follow the brush strokes, let the colors and patterns release the serotonin and make you feel just plain good?

Anyway, that’s me.  Yes, I do sometimes wonder what it would be like to wear a dress or a pair of boots or some sexy tights…but *not* all the time.  I *do* like to look and appreciate and admire, nearly all the time.

“Come Unto Me, All Ye Who Labor and Are Heavy Laden, and I Will Give You Rest” -Matthew 11:28

God’s peace,


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