28 January 2012 by kathleen.

I wrote a few days ago about contra dancing. The dance was a powerful experience for me, as you might guess because this is my second blog post about it. Despite being tired from 3-1/2 hours of nearly constant movement Saturday evening, I couldn’t sleep when I got home.

I never danced very much as a man. I was in high school when the Twist was popular, but my Twist always turned into a tangle! My family used to kid me that I looked like I was doing the Lumberjack Waltz. It sounded funny to them, but they actually picked up on the stiffness and clumsiness I felt; my feet seemed to be blocks of wood. So even though I took a few lessons in ballroom dancing in the mid-70’s (I was in my early 20’s), I never got confident enough to try to actually use what I learned.

My female cousins tried to teach me to dance when I was in college, but they weren’t much help. People kept telling me that I should just move however I felt, but when I did, women laughed out loud. My heritage is Polish and German-Irish; polka was what I saw my parents doing when I grew up. I felt OK doing the polka, though I was never very good at it, and there’s not much polka music playing in southeastern Virginia.

Because the contra dancing cycled me through nearly everyone in the room over the course of the evening, I had the chance to touch a lot of men in non-threatening, non-intimate ways. Wow! What a difference from one man to the next — what a wealth of information you can pick up in just a few seconds. I was surprised how quickly I could identify a man who just wanted a piece of meat to show off his dancing, versus a man who respected both himself and his partner, regardless of how well he danced.

That experience gave me a new perspective on choosing a life partner. I realized, too, that nearly all the men who made good dance partners were already married.

Posted in Being/staying married, AutoBiog | 1 Comment »

24 January 2012 by kathleen.

I am not strongly interested in politics, but every once in a while I get motivated to participate.  Today I visited my state senator and state delegate in Richmond, Virginia, as part of the annual Lobby Day sponsored by Equality Virginia. Gs, Ls, Bs, Ts, and their allies visit the state legislators and put faces and hands to the GLBT label once a year. I was one of three transwomen from my city that took part today.

It’s easy to dismiss us when we are nameless faces in a pride parade, or faceless names on email messages; it is a different story when a warm hand shakes yours and tells you that she used to be “he”. Yes, I said that. I reminded the state senator that I shook hands with him during his first senate campaign, and that when I did my name was John.  I was blunt, I know, but I hope I made the point that we Ts are everyday people you might meet on the street.

I don’t need to tell you, dear Reader, how important it is that all persons enjoy employment without discrimination on any basis.  Or that GLBT parents can give as much love to an adopted child as any other adoptive parent.   Even more important, we must not allow faith-based adoption agencies to use state money to discriminate against foster children that self-identify as gay, lesbian, or transgender.  These issues are on Equality Virginia’s radar this legislative session.

If your state has a GLBT rights organization, please support them at least once in a while.   Take some time to put your face and your handshake to the name of a GLBT person in your legislator’s constituency, and let your legislators know that you care about yourself and your neighbors.

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

22 January 2012 by kathleen.

Last night I attended my first contra dance. My fiddle teacher suggested I might want to attend. This is the kind of music I have been studying, and her band was playing. Since my partner was out of town and I had nothing else going on, I decided to go.

In a contra dance, unlike a square dance, groups of four continually form and reform through the dance, so that by the end of the night it is almost certain that you will dance with everyone in the room at least once. And unlike contemporary club dancing with thumping music, dim lighting, and people dancing individually next to each other, in contra dancing you actually touch other people (what a concept!).

I began to get nervous yesterday afternoon. Throughout my life I have found that if ahead of time I think of some bad thing happening it never does. This history prompts me to imagine as many bad incidents as I can, in order to prevent them from happening. The two awful things I could imagine happening were my hairpiece falling off, and my butt (a Classic Curves Veronica 2) sliding down my legs as I danced.

Neither of those things happened, of course. My imagination failed me; unimagined things happened instead. First, during the teaching hour set aside for newbies, I was partnered with someone I worked with 15 or so years ago; he was there with his wife. I was pretty sure he didn’t recognize me since we never worked closely together, but throughout the night I was afraid he’d recognize my voice or some other quirk of my personality and become surly.

This was the first time I ever danced with a man; many men, actually, as the night wore on. I had never danced much as a man, but I had taken some dance lessons 30 years ago. I was hoping I had forgotten all traces of dancing as a man. All night I was tense, clumsy, and slow, partly in fear of giving myself away as a former male, partly because I am on the chubby side, and partly because this was so new to me.

I had also forgotten about testosterone — not mine but that of the men dancing. A few of the men danced like maniacs. I don’t know if they were high on testosterone, or if they thought the faster they swung their partner the better dancer they were. Good Lord! If you’ve never danced with men you have no idea what women go through. I still don’t know if their dancing was extreme, or if my clumsiness was the problem.

The fourth issue was my voice.  It’s usually pretty believably female if you’re looking at me, but as the night wore on, I was getting fatigued and my voice started giving out unladylike grunts.

Overall, I’m glad I had the experience, but at the moment I don’t feel an inclination to repeat it. That inclination could change over the next weeks, because between the scary parts it felt good to move my body and to touch other bodies.

Posted in Passing, AutoBiog | 1 Comment »

19 January 2012 by kathleen.

I’ve never had a request like this before, though I’ve heard of the process.  I will honor this one and see how it goes.

There is a new documentary in process, The Joneses.  It hasn’t been released yet; it isn’t even finished.  They are still seeking funding, and if you like you can help them through KickStarter. If you like what you read about the film on KickStarter, you can contribute funds to the production of the film. You could even be listed as Associate Producer!

The documentary is about a 70 year old transgender matriarch and her two adult sons, living in a bible belt trailer park in Mississippi. The film revolves around this unique family’s optimistic search for true love outside their now close knit family unit in the Old South.

More information on the film can be found on the project page at KickStarter.

Please note that I have not seen this film. I have no financial interest in it (though I might contribute), and I haven’t received any financial incentive to mention this film on my blog.

This sounds like a worthwhile project, and I hope it succeeds.  Whether or not I like it or recommend it depends on how sensitively it treats the characters when it is finally finished.

If you have any opinions about this blog supporting the KickStarter process, please leave a comment.  I may or may not ever do this again.

Posted in Media and Arts | 2 Comments »

18 January 2012 by kathleen.

Some years before I started sequence of tasks leading up to transition, I considered the options I had in dealing with my transgender.  The primary goal was to be rid of maleness, and for me that put the testicles at the top of the disposal list.

As a male-bodied person without male reproductive organs, how could I continue to live my life?  I wasn’t adequately aggressive for a man even with the testosterone I had; removing the source of testosterone might relieve pressure in some ways, but would probably make my life harder in others.

I concluded that — for me — the right thing to do was to live as a woman.

You don’t have to agree with me.  That conclusion was, and is, right for me.  Something else might be right for you.  I ponder important decisions for a long time, but once I decide, I pull out all the stops.  I decided to become a woman as completely and as thoroughly as I could be.

Back in the mists of time, I had a manager whose key word was discipline, by which he meant, “Do it my way.”  I developed my own definition: discipline is doing the right thing, whether you feel like doing it or not.

Some of the things I’ve written about passing in recent weeks remind me of things I chose to do because I decided they were the right thing for me to do as the woman I was becoming. They would not have been the right thing if I’d decided to remain male, but having chosen to become female, it “fit” to do them. I wrote once before about doing what is expected, which is to say, doing whatever it is that fits the situation you’re in.

It is not my place to say what you should be, how you should live your life, or how you should express your transgender. You need to identify what is right for you, then live that rightness, all day every day, whether you feel like it or not.

Posted in Passing, AutoBiog | 1 Comment »

12 January 2012 by kathleen.

Suppose you are 100 feet away from a person.  What gender clues do you see?  You may see a skirt on a woman, but an awful lot of women wear pants these days.  Three-inch heels would probably be recognizable winter or summer.  What else?  Hair — you might be able to guess gender from the shape of the hair, because even when the hair is long, men don’t wear it “up”, or flipped at the ends.  You may or may not be able to distinguish a purse at this distance.  You could probably identify a lumbering, swaying male gait at 100 feet.

What can you see at 50 feet?  I would say it is very likely you would recognize a purse on the person, if she were carrying one.  You could probably distinguish shoes with one- or two-inch heels at this distance.

As you get closer, smaller details can resolve uncertainty, though at 25 feet it could be difficult to distinguish a short-haired woman wearing low-heeled shoes from a man.  At this distance, though, details of the person’s shape can help.  If the shoulders are wider than the hips, or the belly hangs over the belt, it’s almost certainly a man you’re looking at.  A broad behind and a busty top almost certainly indicate a woman.  In the winter, or at a greater distance, a coat might hide those details of shape.

As you approach a person, the gender is likely to be apparent within 20 feet almost all the time.  Some angles of viewing, and some bodies, could deceive you, though, and take you by surprise.  The person’s voice as a gender indicator becomes useful within 20 feet.

I suggest that you look at people over the next few weeks, to help you decide which details of appearance would an asset in helping you pass.  I think that carrying a purse and wearing shoes with distinct heels are the two easiest clues to add to your appearance.  Smoothing your gait takes more work, but it, too, is relatively easy — no surgery is required.

If you are concerned with passing, there are some quick and easy clues to provide to the world around you.

Posted in Passing | 3 Comments »

7 January 2012 by kathleen.

I was talking with a friend the other day about the letter she was composing to the head of the small company she works for.  The company is too small to have a separate human resources (HR) department, so The Boss will make all decisions.

I wrote last year about The Letter. It is easy enough to do, but ever so hard to get it right. I have read letters that a few people have written.

Too often the letters attempt explain why the writer is transgendered; or they intend to justify why the writer has to come out. Your boss, your neighbor, your uncle — these people don’t need to know why. The world is not just: you are not coming out to bring justice to the world. If you’re explaining or justifying, the only audience is yourself, so tear up that letter and start another one.

It may be appropriate for you to state matter-of-factly that you intend to begin working in your chosen gender on a certain date, and for you to assure your boss that your ability to perform your job functions will not be diminished. It is certainly appropriate to ask that you be treated with dignity and respect.

That’s the letter then: one paragraph to state the date and the nature of your transition; a paragraph to ask for equitable treatment; and a closing paragraph thanking the reader for cooperation and assistance.

There is no place in such a letter for apology; there is no place to beg for permission; there is no place to even ask for approval; there is no place for threats, either. The decision to transition is not negotiable; you must transition. There may be room to discuss exactly how and when — details of name change, the exact day and time of your first day at work, and so forth — but you have already made the decision to change.

This reminds me why I defined transition as I did in the glossary, that the transition is the overnight switch from living in one’s birth gender to living in one’s essential gender. You go into work on Friday as a male, and you go into work the following Monday as a female. Period; it’s done in a heartbeat. That’s the transition. The process starting with electrolysis or hormone replacement therapy and ending with sex reassignment surgery will take several years, but the transition can occur overnight.

If you choose to write a letter for your coming out, be clear why you are writing it. If you must explain, then explain it to yourself. Tell your readers only what they need to know, and do not confuse the issue with discussion, opinions, or reasoning.

Posted in Transition on the job | 1 Comment »

3 January 2012 by kathleen.

There is another chapter to my last post explaining why I want to pass.

I worked at passing as a man for the first 60 years of my life. Yes, I was born male, but it didn’t come naturally to me. It was a constant process of reflecting on events in my life, and of deciding to correct my behaviors (or not, as the case may be). Learning to live as a man was a constant process.

Learning how to live as a woman doesn’t stop when you have surgery, just as learning to be a man didn’t stop when, as a boy, you started to shave your beard. The constant change in womens’ clothing and makeup continues to generate revenue year after year because women, more so than men in my opinion, continually seek to improve their appearance. Men give up; men will wear the same shirt and pants day after day even when they can afford a closet full of clothes. Perhaps you know someone like that.

As a woman, you can express a huge range of behaviors and of dress. For me the excitement of transitioning arose in part from the freedom to explore those ranges. If you’ve transitioned recently, or plan to soon, that freedom awaits you.

Posted in Passing | 1 Comment »