March, 2000

The Wild Rose of the Chesapeake

Vol. 3, No. 3

March, 2000

This Month's Features:

Going Out Crossdressed? Plan Ahead! by Joan Stone

As Nature Made Him, by Rachel Rene Boyd

Sharing the Video Camera, by Barbara Van Horn

The First Time Shopping, by Akiko Yanai

Secretary's Report, by Becky Adams

Lucy's Window, by Lucy Stone

Girl Talk:~~Politics~~ Crossdressing -- the Art of Compromise, by Becky Adams

Girl Talk: Won't You Be a Valentine?, by Becky Adams

Early Childhood Recollections, by Barbara Jane Carter

Random Musings, by Nicole Thomas

From the Editrix

My Dear Sisters,

This month we welcome two new Contributing Editrixes to The Wild Rose of the Chesapeake . Akiko Yanai tells us about her first time shopping en femme. You go girl! And we extracted an article from Barbara Jane Carter's new web page. She would welcome your visit at http://angelfire.com/music/bjc .

Our thanks also go to our most faithful correspondents, Lucy Stone and Becky Adams. Every month they supply us with interesting and insightful observations on the world of crossdressing.

This newsletter is a labor of love for each of our contributing editrixes. Please join the staff by submitting your own insights into the world of crossdressing. You can send your input to RRBoyd@aol.com , or R. R. Boyd, P.O. Box 2252, Ashburn, VA 20146-9152.

Rachel Rene Boyd
Newsletter Editrix

Going Out Crossdressed? Plan Ahead!

By Joan Stone

During a recent Rho Tau Chapter Meeting, we held a discussion on concerns about going out crossed dressed. As a concerned wife who has accompanied her CD many times, I thought it might be useful for me to share my thoughts and suggestions on this subject with other CDs.

Lucy and I have been going places for over twenty years, but we are always on the lookout for ways to make our outings more carefree and enjoyable. For example, last year we were fortunate enough to hear a Virginia state trooper when he gave a talk to Chi Epsilon Sigma during their March 1999 weekend meeting in Williamsburg. His list of precautions for CDs to consider before going forth in public contained a few points that were new to us. They made sense to us, and we have incorporated them into the list of things we consider before Lucy and I go out. Additional considerations surfaced at Rho Tau's recent discussion of concerns, and we have further modified our list of things to consider before we leave home.

Based on our list, I have created the following simple checklist, which I believe would be useful for every CD to ask herself each time before she goes out.

Have you considered taking your identification, your medical insurance card, and your automobile insurance card?

Keeping in mind that dressed as a woman you are much more vulnerable, have you planned your route for coming and going? Have you an alternate in case your primary route is unavailable for some reason?

Do you know your state and local laws on using the ladies or men's restroom?

If you plan to shop for clothes, do you know your local and state laws about trying on clothing in women's dressing rooms?

You will need identification if a policeman stops you while you are driving your car, or you are hurt and your spouse needs to be notified. Your medical ID might also be useful in the same emergency if you need medical care. You will need your auto insurance card if you are ever involved in an automobile accident. If a policeman stops you, be sure you tell him your true identity. The trooper, who addressed us, said it is especially important to tell him your true identity, and that you are crossdressed because it is your personal preference. He said you shouldn't be harassed, but he couldn't guarantee you wouldn't be. If you should be so unfortunate to get an unsympathetic cop, remain passive until the incident is over.

Planning your route in advance saves unnecessary loss of time and keeps you from appearing lost so you become more vulnerable. Both coming and going should be well planned and executed as efficiently as possible. Planned alternate routes are a must in case of road closure or other unexpected emergency. Planning means you know where the local police station or fire station or other source of help is available in case you are being followed or harassed. Remember, when dressed as a woman, you must take the same defensive measures any woman would take.

Knowing your state and local laws concerning the use of rest rooms and dressing rooms makes good sense so you are neither embarrassed nor arrested in case you don't pass. If you are traveling remember the law varies from state to state.

Whenever you are going out crossdressed, it always pays to plan ahead so you don't find yourself in a difficult situation where you could be embarrassed or worse. If you have a supporting wife or SO, taking her along often permits a more relaxed atmosphere and keeps away unwanted attention. And always have a plan as to where you will meet your wife or SO in case you should get separated. If that should happen, both of you can then go to the prearranged meeting place. It keeps you both much safer than you would be running around in a panic looking for each other.

I am not trying to discourage anyone from going out and having a good time crossdressed. I am only suggesting that you take time and plan your outings in advance so you can relax and enjoy them. My special CD and I always take the time to plan, and we usually have a great time. We are free from worrying about what would happen "if," because we have prepared in advance, as much as possible, for unforeseen events. To paraphrase the Virginia State trooper, "you are doing nothing illegal in most jurisdictions when you cross dress. So cross dress and go out as often as you like, but plan ahead and be careful."

As Nature Made Him

By Rachel Rene Boyd

On February 16, 2000, Terry Gross' guests on National Public Radio's Fresh Air, were John Colapinto and David Reimer. Colapinto is the author of a new book about Reimer, the man who was raised as a girl following a botched circumcision. Reimer and his identical twin brother were born in 1965. Reimer's doctor used a device called an electro-cutter instead of a standard scalpel for the circumcision. Something went wrong and his penis was destroyed. Upon advice from the gender transformation unit then operating at Johns Hopkins Hospital, his genitals were removed and he was raised as a girl. Reimer was never comfortable in the female role, and when he found out at age 14 what had happened to him, he insisted on returning to the male role. This is a fascinating story of medical arrogance and a compelling demonstration that one's gender is not determined by genitalia.

We have ordered a copy of the audiotape, which will be made available to CES members. Or you might want to purchase the book, As Nature Made Him : The Boy Who Was Raised As a Girl, by John Colapinto. It is available from Amazon.com for $18.20 plus shipping. I'm sure Amazon.com won't object to us reproducing the following information about the book from their website.

Book Description
In 1967, after a baby boy suffered a botched circumcision, his family agreed to a radical treatment. On the advice of a renowned expert in gender identity and sexual reassignment at Johns Hopkins Hospital, the boy was surgically altered to live as a girl. This landmark case, initially reported to be a complete success, seemed all the more remarkable since the child had been born an identical twin: his uninjured brother, raised as a boy, provided to the experiment the perfect matched control.

The so-called twins case would become one of the most famous in modern medicine and the social sciences; cited repeatedly over the past thirty years as living proof that our sense of being male or female is not inborn but primarily the result of how we are raised. A touchstone for the feminist movement, the case also set the precedent for sex reassignment as standard treatment for thousands of newborns with similarly injured, or irregular, genitals.

But the case was a failure from the outset. From the start the famous twin had, in fact, struggled against his imposed girlhood. Since age fourteen, when finally informed of his medical history, he made the decision to live as a male. John Colapinto tells this extraordinary story for the first time in As Nature Made Him. Writing with uncommon intelligence, insight, and compassion, he also sets the historical and medical context for the case, exposing the thirty-year-long scientific feud between Dr. John Money and his fellow sex researcher, Dr. Milton Diamond--a rivalry over the nature/nurture debate whose very bitterness finally brought the truth to light. A macabre tale of medical arrogance, As Nature Made Him is first and foremost a human drama of one man's-and one family's--amazing survival in the face of terrible odds. The human intimacy of the story is all the greater for the subject's courageous decision to step out from behind the pseudonym that has shrouded his identity for the past thirty years.

About the Author
John Colapinto's articles have appeared in Vanity Fair, The New Yorker, Esquire, Mademoiselle, Us, and Rolling Stone. As Nature Made Him is based on a landmark article published in Rolling Stone that won the National Magazine Award. John Colapinto lives in New York City with his wife and son. He is at work on a novel.

Amazon.com Review
Once you begin reading As Nature Made Him , a mesmerizing story of a medical tragedy and its traumatic results, you absolutely won't want to put it down. Following a botched circumcision, a family is convinced to raise their infant son, Bruce, as a girl. They rename the child Brenda and spend the next 14 years trying to transform him into a her. Brenda's childhood reads as one filled with anxiety and loneliness, and her fear and confusion are present on nearly every page concerning her early childhood. Much of her pain is caused by Dr. Money, who is presented as a villainous medical man attempting to coerce an unwilling child to submit to numerous unpleasant treatments.

Reading over interviews and reports of decisions made by this doctor, it's difficult to contain anger at the widespread results of his insistence that natural-born gender can be altered with little more than willpower and hormone treatments. The attempts of his parents, twin brother, and extended family to assist Brenda to be happily female are touching--the sense is overwhelmingly of a family wanting to do "right" while being terribly mislead as to what "right" is for her. As Brenda makes the decision to live life as a male (at age 14), she takes the name David and begins the process of reversing the effects of estrogen treatments. David's ultimately successful life--a solid marriage, honest and close family relationships, and his bravery in making his childhood public--bring an uplifting end to his story. Equally fascinating is the latest segment of the longtime nature/nurture controversy, and the interviews of various psychological researchers and practitioners form a larger framework around David's struggle to live as the gender he was meant to be. --Jill Lightner

Sharing the Video Camera

By Barbara Van Horn

I had a funny experience with video camera pictures a few days ago that is worth sharing. My daughter had our video camera out doing some random shots of nothing important and asked me how to get the still (digital) camera feature to work. I took a look and immediately noted the indicator said the still shot memory was full. So I opened up the browser to see what was on it and erase it. With my 21-year-old daughter getting helpful step by step instructions from Dad, I opened up a series of Barbara! (Just portraits. Mostly head shots. Nothing bizarre .)

The display is about 4 inches and pretty sharp. It took her (and me) about 3 seconds to get to "Oh my, look at that!" Then she announced, (loud enough for my wife to enjoy) "You look just like Grandma!" We laughed until tears ran down my face.

Now, my mother was, and still is, a very pretty lady. She also has no clue about how much her son apparently looks like her. In any case, intended or not, I took it as a very nice complement. And I'm still chuckling.

The First Time Shopping

By Akiko Yanai

I know many articles have been written about going out en femme for the first time, but I just have to write about this, because today was my first time out shopping en femme .

February 27, 2000 at 2:05 p.m., I stepped out my door headed for my car with every intention of going shopping. Nothing I have not done before except this time I was a girl. Today's weather is absolutely wonderful, so I decided to dress like any other girl would on such a nice day; jeans, a pink shirt and tennis shoes. All girl clothes of course. I usually dress this way on weekends anyway. I spent about 20 minuets putting on my makeup, and fixing my hair. It's long enough now for me to fix it up into a nice Bob style. I must admit my own hair gives me much more confidence than when I wear a wig. I guess just knowing I don't have to worry about the way it is fitting makes the difference. A quick look in the mirror, ugh, no belt. I had to borrow one of my wife's belts. I never considered belts but now I will. Something else to buy! Oh well, I do love to shop. Grabbed my purse and out the door I went, headed for the Glen Burnie Mall.

I didn't want to walk past all the kids at Toy "R' Us, so I parked over by Wards. I had to park quite a way from the entrance. Busy day due to the nice weather. Across the parking lot I went. Heart pounding so badly I thought I would have a heart attack before I got to the door. I was so scared I had forgotten to pay attention to what was going on around me. I arrived at the door the same time as two guys, maybe in their 30's, but as nice gentleman they held the door open for me and allowed me to enter first. As I walked past them I overheard one say, "I need to grab some jeans and then we will go to Best Buy." A completely normal conversation. No quiet stare, no second look, no laughter. I felt great! I had survived a very close encounter. I now started to enjoy myself.

Walking though Wards, shopping, passing other people, not a single incident happened. I was having the time of my life until I rounded a dress rack right into three teenage girls. I was instantly read. How can they do it? Giggles, eewwes, and a few "gross" comments as they ran off. I was horrified. All I could think of was get out of there. I did. Right into the mall. But I was not going to panic into running home. I walked the mall and calmed down. Did some more shopping and became so accustomed to myself, I no longer paid any attention to anyone else. I was just another girl out shopping.

I finally decided it was time to go. I had one more stop before I went home. Rite-Aid for some more lipstick. The lady at the register was very nice. She told me the color I choose was very pretty and would look good on me. She even gave me a coupon for a $1.00 off. I love coupons. Then home. It was the second most wonderful day of my life. My first most wonderful day one was my wedding day.

Well, thank you for letting me share this with you. I am sure you can relate. Oh, by the way, I now have plenty of belts.

Secretary's Report

(In an effort to keep all members of the Chapter informed as much as possible about the activities of the Chapter, there will be a monthly contribution from the Secretary to the Newsletter.)

There was a quarterly meeting of the Executive Board on February 20 at Grace's residence. Executive Board members present included Yvonne, Terri, and Grace; visitors included Program Director, Victoria, and members Becky and Linda.

Yvonne asked that the Secretary and the Treasurer provide a short article to the monthly newsletter in an effort to keep all members advised on activities and financial conditions. In that light, Emily's letter of resignation as Chapter Secretary was reviewed and accepted and Becky was asked to fill in for the remainder of Emily's term of office.

Future programs discussed included a program on feminine deportment by Victoria in March, a presentation on the state of his research into crossdressing by Professor Nelson Kofie in June, and the addition of a Chapter meeting in November for the Saturday before Thanksgiving.

Terri reported that she had been able to locate a potential meeting place in Columbia. The site was secure, secluded, had ample parking space, and a variety of rooms to include separate bathroom facilities and kitchen facilities. Efforts will be made during March to research this area more thoroughly and develop plans for meeting at this facility after the March session (currently scheduled for the normal location).

Grace was asked to begin preliminary planning and cost estimates on inviting Virginia Prince to be a Special Event Speaker for 2000. Becky was asked to continue the selection process for filling the Spouse/Partner position on the Executive Board. Yvonne also asked Grace to develop draft administrative guidelines for visitors and vendors attending Chapter meetings. The Chapter would have to approve these guidelines once developed and refined. A slate of potential officers for the coming year (elections are in June) was discussed; only four positions are to be filled--Vice Chair, Treasurer, Secretary, and Spouse/Partner. Grace noted that she was drawing together a set of administrative papers based on the experiences of the Chapter in its first two years of existence to assist future Executive Board members in the running of the Chapter.

Yvonne ended the session with the announcement of tentative dates for the next Board sessions on June 4 and September 10.

Respectfully submitted,

Becky Adams
Chapter Secretary

Lucy's Window

By Lucy Stone

On Becoming More Involved

We are all very much aware that many of the complications in our lives are the result of our fear of our secret being made public. Consequently, many of us feel helpless to do much to improve our situation beyond joining Tri-Ess. However, we are fortunate that a few of our sisters have been able to transcend their fears and make lasting contributions that benefit each of us. Virginia Prince and Carol Beecroft are two such members. Their pioneering efforts to establish social support groups for crossdressers resulted in the formation of Tri-Ess. Fortunately, a number of our sisters continue to work long and hard to make the world a better place for crossdressers. Our National Director and the members of her board are examples of Tri-Ess members who give tirelessly of themselves year after year so that Tri-Ess will continue to be here for all of us.

At the chapter level, some of us are more active than others. Every chapter must have members who are willing to volunteer their time and talent just to make it possible to have monthly meetings. Programs must be planned, details must be coordinated, and tasks must be accomplished. If you are active in the chapter, you are busy making things happen. If you are not, now is the time to get involved.

But our involvement shouldn't stop with our efforts to make our chapter a better place. If it does, we have contributed to building a refuge from the ignorance and intolerance that affects us all, but we have done nothing to try and combat it. We can and should use our chapter meetings not only as important places to come together but also as focal points for efforts to help reach out into the community to educate and help others.
Each of us has something to contribute to outreach efforts. One of the best ways is to become involved in the ongoing outreach programs of Tri-Ess. Continuing programs to educate the public include:

A program to put books into libraries. For $30, sets of books on crossdressing can be placed in two libraries of your choice.

An active speaker's bureau with a growing need for members to speak at colleges and universities. If you are used to making presentations at work, you might consider volunteering to participate.

Staffing of booths at various national conferences. The national organization always needs volunteers to staff them.

Whatever you can do to further the goals of Tri-Ess, either at the national or chapter level, is important. If each of us could do a little bit more, the result would be quite significant. Crossdressing is not something that is going to cease being a part of each of us, and the best way we can help ourselves is to strengthen our chapters and get involved working to increase public understanding and tolerance.

Girl Talk

Politics Crossdressing -- the Art of Compromise

By Becky Adams

It is the primary season so why not combine two favorite topics, politics and crossdressing, in an article? It was Tip O'Neill who stated the obvious -- "all politics is local." And the origin of the other truism, the title of this article, has been lost in American political history. But these two truisms--being local as well as being a compromise--may well have direct application to crossdressers and their spouse/partners.

Virtually every author who tackled the subject of "coming out" has noted that once that emotional and psychological hurdle has been overcome, the crossdresser's immediate (and sometimes long lasting) reaction has been akin to Martin Luther King Jr.'s often quoted saying "Free, O My God, Free at Last!" And all too often the necessity to practice the art of the compromise has been lost in the rush to the lingerie department.

And therein may lie a problem. While we as crossdressers have lived with the awareness of what we are, in the vast majority of cases "she" has not. And what a surprise! Since we all live with fantasies she has found that her "Prince Charming" may not be so "princely" after all. And since romance is essentially the perceiving of the person as we would like them to be, by "coming out" we have not only squelched a lovely fantasy but most likely the essence of romance as well. So learning to compromise and to live with that compromise are all crucial arts that we need.

I would suggest that there are two skills critical to the art of compromise the ability to communicate and the ability to see the situation through the other individual's eyes. By the way, communications isn't just "talking," it is 50% or more "listening," the long ignored and forgotten skill. We need to know as much about crossdressing as we can, because we really need to prepare ourselves to answer honestly and directly the inevitable question of "Where is this going?" And listening means that we also need to see the situation through her eyes because if we can begin to see the situation as she sees it, then perhaps we can understand the questions as she means them, not necessarily as she phrases them. To cite an old "Calvin and Hobbes" cartoon punch line, "we both may be speaking English, but our words don't always mean the same thing."

To compromise also means that both parties may not get all that they might want so you've got to be prepared to be a good sport. Forget the "win-win" analogy compromise is essentially a zero-sum game if you gain something, she loses something if she wins a concession, you must willingly and honestly accept that concession on your part. If you are getting the picture that compromise is not easy, congratulations! It isn't period. Regardless of what all the books tell you, I think to achieve a compromise with your mate on a subject as rife with undertones, misunderstandings and misperceptions as crossdressing is an achievement equal to any international treaty.

To craft a compromise that is livable means that while each party has a set of core values or principles that won't be touched or altered, they also have a range of activities that are subject to adjustment. Only through candid and caring conversation can the periphery of those core values be identified and once identified, as the maps of old would say "Do not go there for there lurk dragons and demons ." When the core issues are identified, then what is left becomes the menu for the compromise effort. You need to know clearly what is your minimum requirement before you begin this exercise! Why? Because if you don't know that when entering into this discussion, then you may literally give away part of your core, making the compromise virtually impossible for you to live with.

Few of us can be as Virginia Prince and live 24/7 and hang the cost. Most of us have families we wish to keep as they are, positions within our society for ourselves and our families that we wish to maintain, and personal relationships that mean everything to us. But to have those--and to still be able to crossdress--means that we will have to reach some form of compromise with those who are closest to us. It is hard work but it is worth it. Look at it this way--it's sort of like old age. It may be tough going and there will be some ups and downs but it sure beats the alternative.

Girl Talk

By Becky Adams

Won't You Be a Valentine?

It was Saint Valentine's Day and the Washington Post Style Section had an interesting article about the "search for the perfect man." The staff writer--Ann Gerhart--did an excellent and enjoyable piece focusing on her search for, and her envy of, those other women who had the "perfect man."

Aha! You say! And what were her criteria for this "perfect man?"

Well, to quote her--and its right there in print, page C8 of the Post --"To my mind, the perfect man is a real man who thinks like a woman "

And she goes on to say in the next two paragraphs:

"Most men, brain researchers say, think like lizards. They rely on the part of the cortex that is older and more primitive. Women, however, flex the more evolved part of the cortex associated with emotion, abstract thinking, and flexible problem solving.

"Now, about 21 percent of the male population displays female brain activity, I read once in Science magazine. In that cohort are the 15 percent of all men who are gay, I figure, and the 4 percent who are straight but cross-dress , [Ed. Emphasis added] so that leaves about 2 percent of all men who are perfect men."

How interesting, I thought we crossdressers are becoming accepted as a statistic that merits no more than a second glance if that much!

Unfortunately, though--as I told her in an e-mail--she focused on the skills of her "perfect man"--the ability to cook, to sew, to be a mechanic, to be a provider. She should have focused more on the thought processes and mental and emotional attributes that cannot be taught--as a skill can be--but that one is born with and enhances over time.

Haven't heard back from her but it did get me thinking [snicker, snicker ] Yes, I guess we crossdressers are becoming more and more accepted by the general public and the media specifically. But once again the general focus is on skills and physical attributes the skill and attribute to "blend" not the inner mind and soul. And it is those inner attributes that we, as crossdressers, should recognize as the essence of femininity--inclusiveness, compassion, understanding, and sensitivity to the needs of others, selflessness. Perhaps if we emphasize those and enhance them we will indeed become real "gems"--gender enhanced males.

Early Childhood Recollections

By Barbara Jane Carter

Why am I thinking so often of my childhood? Of crawling into dark closets and the smell of the clothes hanging there, mothballs, cloves, and leaves. The shoes on the floor of the closet, my mother's, old shoes no doubt, or else they would be in her closet, not this hall closet. Why am I drawn to that closet? Why do I like to go there and close myself up in it? I try on the shoes. They are flats, a kind of oxford, low-cut, not what I would have thought of as exotic or pretty shoes. A comfortable walking shoe, plain. But it pleases me to put them on.

They would have been too large for me then, though not by much, close enough for me to have the feel of them, like stepping into another life, another skin. This was not arousing, not sexually stimulating, as I remember it, but just profoundly sweet. It must have reminded me of the times when I played dress-up with my sister and cousin at my grandmother's house. (Years later, when I was in high school, I would go to my grandmother's house with my mother, and while my mother and grandmother went to the supermarket, I would go to my cousin's room and find her stockings, try on her shoes. She was a year older than me and had better taste than my sisters, I thought, not to mention larger feet. I remember a pair of clear plastic spring-o-laters with rhinestones on the heels, some open-toe sling pumps. I never had time to try on any of her clothes. I had to be extra careful with time, and not let it get away from me).

For a time, having begun to try on my mother's bras, slips, blouses, skirts, dresses, dipping freely into the dirty clothes hamper, I imagined that I might be some kind of freak, or a hermaphrodite. I examined my chest with some anxiety, fearing that my breasts would begin to swell any day, triggered by the female thoughts I'd been having, and my fancies of being a girl. I would not really have minded having breasts, but then people would notice. No, that's not right. I would have minded. I did not want my breasts to grow, my nipples to enlarge. I believed I was experiencing what it was like to be a girl, that this was a very secret and special experience, one that no other boy ever could have had. I did not dislike being a boy, and, as the dressing began to become arousing, I began to feel guilty about it, ashamed of myself, excusing the behavior only on the grounds of my youth. I would grow out of it. (Children were spoken of in those days as always going through phases; you had to be patient if you were a parent; and, as a child, I was infinitely patient with myself.) Of course, it became harder and harder to fool myself. The "phase" went on and on. Well, I told myself, perhaps this is my fate, my destiny, my sin and my pleasure. In other ways I seemed to myself rather normal, ordinary. I was skinny, and this made me shy, self-conscious around other boys, but I thought myself not so bad looking. I had heard girls speak of boys as cute, and I fancied myself cuter than most--at least in my face. And I always had girlfriends, was crazy about one girl after another. I gave my identification bracelet away (which meant going steady) for the first time in the sixth grade.

The girl was the daughter of a rich dentist, who years later (the father I mean) capped my broken front tooth. Although she had no Spanish blood to my knowledge, she took lessons in flamenco dancing and was noted for her performances in school assemblies, complete with black tiara and fan and castanets, a red lacy dress with many-colored swirling petticoats beneath. Her braces did nothing to diminish the effect for me, but there was always a certain giddiness to her that gave me pause. Her father had an old accordion that he strapped onto me one day. I had been taking accordion lessons for about a year, but this accordion was much bigger than mine was, heavy and smelling vaguely of sweat and dust, many of the keys sticking. I could not get a tune out of it.

It never occurred to me to leave the house while dressed up. Where would I go, after all? This was a suburban neighborhood, without sidewalks. But the thought didn't cross my mind, and probably wouldn't have, no matter where I lived. When I went away to college, and then left the state a year or so later, I was without clothes for a time. I sometimes fantasized buying some things, but money was scarce and, anyway, the opportunity to wear them was very limited, living as I was in communal or near-communal flats and rooms. In my imagination I still dressed, observing women carefully on the street and in newspaper ads and assembling in my mind a very satisfactory wardrobe.

I had been married about a year when I at last got up the nerve to purchase a pair of high-heels. They were black patent leather, with the pointed toe and spike heel fashionable then. We lived in a basement apartment in San Francisco's Fillmore District, and the day I bought the shoes I hid them in the narrow passageway that led from the street down to the apartment. That evening my wife went out to SF State for a course she was taking. I drove her--no, she took the streetcar, but I was to pick her up so that she wouldn't have to ride the streetcar back at night by herself. When she was gone, I retrieved my shoes.

Although I had no clothes of my own, I could wear some of my wife's. She even had a coat that I fancied fit me (it must have been way too short). I realized that I had to shave my legs. I had never done this before, but when I was younger I did not have such dark thick hair on my legs. The process was more tedious than I had imagined, consuming valuable time, but when I slipped on the hose I knew that the effort was worth it. I don't remember what else I wore. A skirt and blouse, no doubt. And nylons, of course. I put on some lipstick and perhaps reddened my cheeks a bit. The coat was gold, I remember. I tied a scarf around my head. Then I walked out the door.

Lord, was I nervous! First I walked to the end of the passageway, then turned around, went back to the apartment. Repeated this several times. No one used this passageway but us. It led only to our apartment and to a storage area beyond. So there was no great danger as long as I didn't go out the second door, which opened directly onto the sidewalk. Naturally, I had to go beyond that outer door. I don't know why I felt such a powerful urge. As I said, I had never felt it before. I guess I had never felt so womanly before. The idea that I was wearing my own high heels! The very sound of them reverberating in the passageway as I walked back and forth was intoxicating. I just had to go beyond the door, if only to the corner and back. In part it was a matter of trying out my new shoes, breaking them in. Simple enough. But it was also a matter of proving my womanhood, as if all that had come before, the secret raids on the dirty clothes hamper, the closet meditations, the studying of the fashion advertisements, was preparation for this.

Anyway, I told myself, this was not a busy street, especially this time of night (must have been around eight or eight-thirty), a quiet residential neighborhood. I peeked out the door. No one in sight, good. I could not see in the other direction, of course, and no sooner had I boldly pushed open the door and stepped out than a man came up behind me. What a fright! He walked past me, did not even turn and look, but I was so scared that I walked straight to the car, parked at the corner just a few doors down, and I quickly got in, locking the door behind me. Another man was coming from the other direction. I leaned down in the seat to hide. What if he saw me, tried to open the car door? He did not. I listened to his footsteps. Not even a hesitation. I peeked up. All clear. I made my break, rushed out of the car and back to the passageway--what a relief to close that door behind me! But I had done it, I had proven to myself that I could do it. So that was over. I walked down the passageway, proud now. Back in the apartment, I had just enough time to change clothes, go pick up my wife.

Now a new anxiety. I could easily enough keep it a secret that I'd worn her clothes, gone out, but what about my shaved legs? Should I say nothing, hope that she wouldn't notice? Oh, she would notice, though, no doubt about it. No, I would have to say something to her, prepare her for the discovery, and confess what I'd done. Maybe she would understand. Maybe she'd be amused. It turned out that she was rather angry. I told her that I'd bought the shoes and that, trying them on, I saw that I'd need to shave my legs. I told her in the car, as we drove over Twin Peaks toward Market Street and the Fillmore, the lights of the city stretching before us, and the Bay Bridge beyond it, Oakland and Berkeley shimmering in the outer darkness. Seeing her failure to understand, her anger, I apologized. The hair on my legs, I assured her, would grow back, and I wished that she wouldn't take it so seriously. But I was contrite, ashamed.

Not so contrite and ashamed that I couldn't shave my legs several more times that week, as if to keep them smooth for as long as I dared. Couldn't I say that hair grew back slowly? Who could say how long it would take. So I shaved them two or three times in the next couple of weeks, enjoying the pleasant sensation of the smoothness of my knees rubbing against my blue jeans. Finally I did let the hair grow back, and did not shave them again for many years, ten or eleven, at a time in my life when I resolved to pursue those feminine urges in earnest.

I kept those first high heels for the longest time. My own daughters, not knowing where they came from, played dress up in them, and I remember fondly the sight of each of them, taking turns, teetering in the black patent-leather high heels! The shoes are gone now, thrown away in one of our moves, but of course I have a closet full of high heels and flats now, and my daughters, too, have their own.

Random Musings

By Nicole Thomas

I've only been writing these pieces for a few months now. Most months there was some issue burning in my mind and the column practically wrote itself. Not so this month. For a week or two now I've been struggling to come up with a topic. My personal life has quieted down and crossdressing is becoming much more matter-of-fact. While these are good things, it leaves me with little to write about! As a result, I think this is going to end up as a collection of small tidbits.

Duality:
I am constantly amazed by what I consider the duality of the crossdresser's life. On a typical meeting Saturday I'll spend the day doing "manly things": car maintenance, yard work, painting, woodworking, home improvements, etc. Then the "magic" hour arrives and the transformation begins. My male self gets put away and Nicole comes out to play. The next day, most likely I'm back to "manly things". I don't find this shifting of gears disconcerting. It's just plain normal for me.

Expectations, Divisions, Common Ground:
Males are expected to behave and dress in a particular way. These expectations, imposed from without, usually lead us to guilt, and can become a prison. With each other, we can find total acceptance. We share a common secret and it binds us together. Through our interactions we learn that we can be good people and be crossdressers. We learn that our own opinions and values are more important than those of society. Thus, it was surprising to me that even within the TG community there are deep divides. Some groups are politically active, others not. Some groups are open, others not. Some cater to all segments of the community, others to a smaller faction. Each group thinks its way is the right way. Rather than embracing our diversity we allow it to separate us. Most of us would like to be better accepted into society. It's hard to see how society will accept us when we are unable to accept all of our sisters. Distancing ourselves from some factions of the TG community is not going to get us accepted any faster. They're not going to care whether we are heterosexual or homosexual, transvestite or transsexual. All society is going to see is a guy in a dress. We need to emphasize our common ground and work together. Only in this way will be able to win the acceptance we desire.

Expectations II:
The preceding paragraph took a real turn from where I thought I was going (I had to alter the title to fit). Our group is the self-avowed "low heel crowd". We are a group for heterosexual male crossdressers and their partners. As such, we have rules for conduct and general appearance, which we are expected to follow. For me, this means that many of my outfits are unsuitable for CES meetings. It's not a real problem, because I get to wear them on special nights, or to TGEA meetings where things are a bit looser. I find that the borders of my TG world are gray and fuzzy. The edges are constantly shifting. Sometimes this puts me at odds with CES philosophy. As a result I'm finding that there are some aspects of my transgender experience that I am reluctant to talk about with other CES members. This is really too bad. There's a lot of fun to be had out there, but sometimes we have to break out of the box to get to it.

(Nicole asked me if she should publish these last 2 essays, because they question some of CES policies. She assures us that she recognizes the reasons for these policies and respects these policies. She just wishes there were more respect and tolerance for others within the broader transgender community. Ed.)

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