The Wild Rose of the Chesapeake
Vol. 5, No. 3
March, 2002
This Month's Features:
Chi Epsilon Sigma Executive Committie
Revised CES Meeting Schedule
CES Chapter Meeting, February 23
Faded Photographs, by Michelle Wilson
Words Women Use (And What They Mean)
If Dr. Seuss Were a Woman!
Have You Considered a Nursing Home?, by Rebecca Adams
CES Dinner Theatre Meeting,
February 23, 2002
Invocation
An UMBC Seminar on Discrimination
A Nice Morning En Femme
From the Editrix
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
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Chi Epsilon Sigma Executive Committee
* Non-Voting Members
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Revised CES Meeting Schedule
You may have noticed the meeting schedule in last month's The Wild Rose had several dates on Sunday. We misread our 2002 calendar. Most regular chapter meetings are held on the third or fourth Saturday of each month. Sometimes adjustments are made for holidays, so always consult The Wild Rose for the latest updates. The schedule for 2002 is:
| January 26 |
Fashion Show hosted by Rebecca |
| February 23 |
Comportment by Janet |
| March 23 |
Dinner theater by Marsha |
| April 27 |
"Don't Pull Your Hair Out!"…or
"The Care and Feeding of Wigs" |
| May 18 |
Program TBA …
volunteers needed for both ideas and sponsorship[ |
| June 22 |
Election of Vice President and Spouse Representative |
| July and August |
No meetings will be scheduled; an en drab picnic and an en femme Lawn Party are being planned. |
| September 21 |
Dr. Kate Thomas, Gender Therapist |
| October 26 |
Halloween Party |
| November 16 |
Program TBA
Optional: Tri-ESS "Be-All" in New York |
| December 14 |
En femme dinner party at a local restaurant |
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The Chapter meeting on February 23 was attended by 22 individuals, among whom were two new prospective members who joined that evening—Mikki and Ellen. Others attending were Ashley, Barbara VH, Becky L., Danielle, Diana and Sharon, Grace, Janet and Mary, Leslie and Martha, Marsha and Doneene, Mary Alice, Michelle, Shana, Terri, Tiffany, Yvonne and Linda.
The theme for the evening was "transformation" and the process was carried off by the team of Yvonne and Linda…"he" walked in and "she" walked out…a great deal was learned by all attending and some of us who have come to the finer details of transformations-via-cosmetics now realize how we were "trapped" all those many years ago. The presentation gave a new meaning to the old slogan of "better living through chemistry."
The eats were as great as always—thanks to those who brought things for us all to enjoy.
The coming months will see a session on wig care and feeding as well as an in-depth appraisal of the issue of cross-dressing as provided by Dr. Kate Thomas. We started having Dr. Kate give us presentations about four years ago and since our membership has evolved over that period of time we thought it would be worthwhile for the new members and their spouses/SOs to hear Dr. Thomas provide us with an update of her initial presentation on the psychological aspects of cross-dressing, its possible origins, and its implications as seen by a counselor and psychiatrist. For those of us—and there are just a few left—who were there for the September 1998 session, this will be an update—for the rest of us, this will be an opportunity to gain a little better understanding of who and what we are—and for all of us, this will be an opportunity to ask questions and get straight-forward answers.
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Faded Photographs
By Michelle Wilson
I find it difficult at times to remember what it was that I had for dinner the night before, but I can remember with vivid clarity flashes of childhood lived over 50 years ago. These pass before my mind's eye at will and with an ease that belies the many years. Tiny seemingly insignificant moments frozen in time like black and white photographs taped to the pages in a scrapbook. It is there that I can gaze in quiet retrospect upon the old and yellowed photos of my brother riding a horse down Peake Street in my home town, my dog Bowser and me playing in the yard, Grandmother Shaffer sitting in yellow painted metal lawn chair after Mass on a summer Sunday afternoon and the smell of Lavender and Chanel No. 5 that seemed an inseparable part of the silky softness of the treasures laying in the darkness of my mother's lingerie drawer.
One of my earliest dressing-up memories is when I was about four. I know it was before I started kindergarten. I can remember clomping around the kitchen in my mother's heels carrying my Teddy Bear wrapped in one of my old baby blankets. Even by the standards of the late 1940s this was not unusual behavior for one so young. As the years progressed I grew in size and interests like any other normal child. I played with boys and girls alike - tag, Red Rover, Red Light - Green Light, Hide-n-Seek, Kick the Can. There were summers filled with building forts and playing Army with the other boys in town, baseball and football were particular favorites. I also enjoyed as much if not even more the quieter times spent with the girls having tea parties, playing house, playing with paper dolls and dressing-up in old clothes found stored in basements and garages. As the girls enjoyed putting on the dresses and skirts outgrown by older sisters and packed away by their mothers, I thrilled in donning a little girl's dress with its delicate lace, soft colors and full skirts. While the girls pranced around pretending to be grown-up women I was happy just to be a little girl.
Then there comes a time when society no longer finds little boys playing with dolls or dressing up cute and acceptable. That time came when I was eight. A quiet little tea party with Karen Lynch and Connie Ruppert resulted in a red-faced Mr. Lynch taking me aside and delivering a diatribe on what is and is not appropriate behavior for boys. Tea parties and dress-up were definitely not on his "is appropriate" list. In my mind I wasn't doing anything wrong. Karen and Connie and I had been playing together like this for as long as I could remember. I left somewhat abruptly escorted by a still smoldering Mr. Lynch, confused, hurt and in tears. Once out the door I ran home hoping my mother could clear up this obvious misunderstanding.
When I burst through the front door I saw my mother hanging up the phone and it didn't take a genius to figure out to whom she had been talking. When she turned she was smiling, but her usually happy eyes had a sad look in them. It was a little early in the afternoon for a snack, but we made a withdrawal from the cookie jar and after filing up my Roy Rogers cup with cold milk we sat at the kitchen table and had a long talk. I certainly don't remember the conversation just the message. I never played with the girls again. My greatest fear at the time was that my father had gotten a call too. I was lucky that day - he hadn't. My luck was to hold out for another four years. At twelve years of age, life as I had come to know it ended. My mother never mentioned that day again, but afterward on those cold rainy days when playing outside was out of the question she would put a pot water on to boil and arrange cookies on one of Grandmother's antique plates and invite me into the kitchen for a little pre-dinner snack and some conversation.
As I sit here and gaze upon this one small and faded photograph I am amazed and quite taken back. I had never realized the impact those earlier years had on my adult desires. I had always placed the time of my awakening a little later when out of curiosity I began to explore the mysterious and sensual contents of my mother's lingerie drawer.
Taken as a whole, those were good years, innocent years, a time when dragons demanded slaying and fair damsels graced the court yard gardens, a time when seasons flowed together and mixed in a tapestry of colors and imagination, and a time when one little boy could use a wooden picnic table to sail the Spanish Main or step into a worn white dress and scuffed black patent leather shoes and have a tea party with the Queen and her court.
It saddens me a little to think that memories, like the spaces between the yellowed, cracked and peeling tape that holds the old faded photographs to the pages of my scrapbook, have so much more written in them than that single black and white moment frozen in time.
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"The Lighter Side," The Indianapolis Fax Daily, Monday, Feb 8, 2001, Vol 9, No. 142, page 1.
FINE
This is the word we use at the end of any argument that we feel we are right about but need to shut you up. NEVER use fine to describe how a woman looks. This will cause you to have one of those arguments.
FIVE MINUTES
This is half an hour. It is equivalent to the five minutes that your
football game is going to last before you take out the trash, so I feel that it's an even trade.
NOTHING
This means something and you should be on your toes. "Nothing" is usually used to describe the feeling a woman has of wanting to turn you inside out, upside down, and backwards. "Nothing" usually signifies an argument that will last "Five Minutes" and end with the word "Fine".
GO AHEAD (with raised eyebrows)
This is a dare. One that will result in a woman getting upset over "Nothing" and will end with the word "Fine".
GO AHEAD (normal eyebrows)
This means "I give up" or "do what you want because I don't care". You will get a raised eyebrow "Go Ahead" in just a few minutes, followed by "Nothing" and "Fine" and she will talk to you in about "Five Minutes" when she cools off.
LOUD SIGH
This is not actually a word, but is still often a verbal statement very misunderstood by men. A "Loud Sigh" means she thinks you are an idiot at that moment and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you over "Nothing".
SOFT SIGH
Again, not a word, but a verbal statement. "Soft Sighs" are one of the few things that some men actually understand. She is content. Your best bet is to not move or breathe and she will stay content.
THAT'S OKAY
This is one of the most dangerous statements that a woman can say to a man. "That's Okay" means that she wants to think long and hard before paying you retributions for what ever it is that you have done. "That's Okay" is often used with the word "Fine" and used in conjunction with a raised eyebrow "Go Ahead". At some point in the near future when she has plotted and planned, you are going to be in some mighty big trouble.
PLEASE DO
This is not a statement, it is an offer. A woman is giving you the chance to come up with whatever excuse or reason you have for doing whatever it is that you have done. You have a fair chance to tell the truth, so be careful and you shouldn't get a "That's Okay".
THANKS
A woman is thanking you. Do not faint, just say "You're welcome."
THANKS A LOT
This is much different than "Thanks". A woman will say, "Thanks A Lot" when she is really ticked off at you. It signifies that you have hurt her in some callous way, and will be followed by the "Loud Sigh". Be careful not to ask what is wrong after the "Loud Sigh", as she will only tell you "Nothing".
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I'm glad I'm a woman.
Yes I am, yes I am.
I don't live on Budweiser,
beer nuts and Spam.
I'm not so egotistical that I think I have no imperfections.
I won't drive to hell before asking directions.
I act nice at parties, don't act like a clown;
And I know how to put the darn toilet seat down.
I won't grab your boobies; I won't pinch your butt.
My belt is not hidden beneath my beer gut.
I don't go around readjusting my crotch;
Or make sure my headboard bears each hard-earned notch.
I don't belch in public; don't scratch my behind.
I'm a woman, you see - I'm just not that kind!
I'm glad I'm a woman; So glad I could sing –
And thrilled I'm not covered in shag carpeting.
Hair won't grow from my ears, Or cover my back.
And when I bend over, you can't see my crack.
I don't live for golf, or to shoot basketball.
I don't swagger and spit like a Neanderthal.
I'm a woman, by chance. And thankful I am!
I'm so glad I'm a woman, not a man. Yes I am!
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by Rebecca Adams
Let's face it, gals. We're getting older day by day and that ol' Nursing Home on the Bay is just waiting for you and me.
Scary thought, isn't it? But anyone who has looked into Long Term Care Insurance, Medicare/Medicaid, Assisted Living, and on and on soon recognizes that the Inuit method of putting their elderly on an ice floe and letting them "sail" off has its positive aspects. (Following the above train of thought--or current--research into the deaths of Scott's team in the Antarctic and Sir Franklin's efforts to find the North West Passage indicate that perhaps freezing to death is indeed a relatively painless way to go.) In fact, we've signed up for our ice flow in the Susquehanna if and ever the river freezes over.
But in a more serious vein, many of us have sort of stood aside and let others in the transgendered/transsexual world carry the political burden and battle forward. We have either chosen to remain beyond the fray or have considered it not worth our while. But then the beckoning arms of the ol' Nursing Home on the Bay caused me to re-think the issue.
Right now I can indulge my cross-dressing literally as far as our mutual compromises allow…which is really pretty far considering that I really don't blend that well. So my wear of lingerie under my day-to-day clothes, my Chic jeans, the occasional nightgown, finger and toenail polish and my monthly night out (or two) provide me the necessary respites and I have no complaints.
But what if I was no longer in the constant company of an accepting and understanding wife? What if I was under the care and tutelage of Nurse Ratchet and her assistants in the ol' Nursing Home by the Bay? Do you really think they would let me even consider wearing anything but "accepted" clothing? Those are aspects we have to think about and consider. So maybe by leaving the political struggle to others and hoping for the best are paths we need to reconsider. There are some of us who are definitely not political activists while others relish the struggle. Let us not knock those who do carry the standard forward and let us support where and when we can our legitimate struggle to be acknowledged and accepted.
Only through education was the general public able to learn and accept racial integration. (I am old enough to remember the "whites" only water fountains in JC Penney stores not in just the South but in the Mid West!) And only through education of the general public can we hope to evade the prospect of being cared for by Nurse Ratchet and thus being limited to only looking at the JC Penney catalog and remembering the days of yore.
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by Rebecca Adams
There were a sufficient number of attendees to make the Dinner Theater a "go" for the 23rd of March. We are arranging for a room in a nearby motel as a "changing station" for those members who need such a facility. We will be contacting those who have signed up for attendance and let you know specifically where to meet either to change or to participate if coming directly from home en femme. We will also let you know when we can expect the motel room to be open in order to change (please, ladies, don't everybody show up at once!) as well as where the dinner-theater is and the procedures there.
Oh yes. We will also be contacting you for the payment…first-borns are not accepted as payments…checks can be made out to "CES" or to Rebecca Adams.
If you were not among the initial group don't worry, there's plenty of room and we have up till about a week before to let them know exactly how many will be attending in our group. So if you as a Chapter member find yourself free for that evening and want to join us, please drop me—Rebecca Adams--a line via e-mail and get on the "mailing list."
This dinner theater will take the place of the Chapter meeting for March.
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by Kalina
Walking downtown
My attention
Was attracted
By a shop window
A lacy sheer nightgown in deep pink
And the same peignoir
Going with it
With my heart beating
I entered the store
And bought them
Spending all my last money
And I rushed back home
And tried 'em on right away...
The feeling was gorgeous
When I looked at myself in the mirror
And lighting seven purple candles
I invoked my Angel
And asked Him/Her a question
Disturbing me from my childhood
"Why am I THAT?
Why am I a cross dresser?"
And feeling the flows of His/Her divine energy
Running through my sinful body
The answer appeared with NO words in my mind
"Don't you know, kid of God,
The Soul has NO gender
You are masculine, feminine and divine
All on one..."
And He/She disappeared as a lightning
Leaving me with my thoughts
And taking away my troubles, fears and sorrow
I thank The Providence
For this answer
Now I really know who I am.
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On February 14, Marsha and Doneene, Terri, and Rebecca participated in a 90-minute seminar at UMBC on the subject of discrimination. This class was part of the honors program provided to 14 selected freshmen at the UMBC campus. The Chapter had been contacted by the instructors to determine if we were interested in participating—of course the immediate response was "Yes!" as this was another potential chance to educate the coming generation as to who and what cross-dressers are.
The class was designed to be on the aspects of discrimination towards minority groups and while we tried to work that aspect in as frequently as we could we soon found that the students were interested in far more than how we perceived discrimination. They had done some reading on cross-dressers but nothing of a significant nature. Their perception of cross-dressers was still of the "Jerry Springer/Ru Paul" genre and we came across as a total surprise to the entire group—instructors as well!
The questions were thoughtful and challenging, indicating that several students had gone beyond the assigned readings and had gone to the Internet for issues. One student in particular raised a telling point—telling because it pointed out a deep-seated issue that still divides and still bothers many of us. This student—a young woman—wanted to know why we as cross-dressers—compared to gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transsexuals—were not willing to be on the public barricades or in the frontlines of the political disputes over discrimination. Our individual and collective answers acknowledged that we indeed have been willing to let others carry the load on such matters. However, in comparison to the GLBT participants, many of us fit a pattern where we are still "in the closet" and to be "outed" would harm many innocent members of our families. We—as cross-dressers—do not have the life style or personal demands placed upon us that many members of the GLBT community do so we live quietly so that others in our community can quietly live. We also pointed out that within our CES chapter we have several activists who are engaged in lobbying and activities related to educating the public on our sub-set of the GLBT community (our sub-set being the trans-gendered community). While the Chapter does not publicly endorse or participate in these activities, we do encourage those among us who can and want to do so to speak out and participate. The student smiled ruefully and said that our answers didn't appear to be satisfactory, at least to her—we agreed that the responses really weren't satisfactory to many of us either but that was what our position was.
As with our participation at Ville Julie and at Goucher, this one at UMBC was an excellent opportunity to educate and explain what and who we are and to each student, both male and female, we were not what they expected—we were more. And by our openness and candor in responding to their sometimes very intimate and personal questions, we put stereotypes to rest and definitely provided some new perspectives for them—student and faculty—to consider.
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by Kalina
Waking up in the morning today I was hugged by the rays of the sun coming up...So I got up full of joy and happiness, regardless all my troubles. The sun rays were reflecting on the glossy pink satin of my nightgown, gently touching my body. I opened the window, hearing the birds singing...Spring in February? It sometimes happens in Bulgaria...Galya, my girlfriend, the first WOMAN who accepted Kalina in all respects was still sleeping. I leaned upon her and kissed her tenderly. Lisa, our cat was meowing, as if saying, "Kalina, you bloody human, I'm hungry!" "Life is gorgeous, Kalina!" I'm thinking, going to the kitchen to make some coffee..."May these idiots at school pay me the lousy salary at last..." "No, stop. Kalina, be patient, God applies to all of us to be patient."
En drab again. I hate getting dressed in the morning...My pink nightie is on the floor and Lisa lies over it. I'm slowly putting on my blue nylon lacy panties and black jeans over them...Wish it was my black leather skirt...I'm jumping into my socks (need darning, LOL) and put on my gray sweater...GRAY...As a mouse. And in some minutes I'm gonna be one of all these mice on the street. Kalina is turning to Yassen. Just a guy like all male creatures. But some males are...womamen...Or boygirls....Or SHEMALES. The softness of the warm spring wind touches my body as my blue negligee. Cross-dresser--dress crosser. TraVESTite. Common with the Roman Vestal virgins? Or with Avesta-the Holy book of Zoroaster? No. Just a man, wearing the clothes of opposite sex.
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Page Created: 3 May 2002