Hello All,

Now that Susan's has risen from the ashes I wanted to restart or resume my blog.  I think for me, blogging about my journey has in many ways, been more impactful than my meetings with my therapist. 

So here goes...  Since there are (hopefully) new members on Susan's I will start with a brief of how I arrived here.  I was born in the US midwest to a conservative family and by the early age of 5(ish) I began to have feelings that were (apparently) not consistent with how little boys should feel.  It is painful to write about but sharing the following details may help others know that they are not alone.

Chapter 1.   

I essentially "came out" when I was 5 or 6.  I vividly recall watching figure skating on TV, I was enchanted with the female skaters doing their thing.  I loved their pretty outfits, their grace, their softness.  While I did not have words to describe my feelings I know now that I loved (and envied) their femininity.  Being an innocent child I spoke up to my parents and let them know that I wanted to be pretty like the girls on TV.  That did not go well for me.  I spent the next several weeks being mentally and physically abused.  I suppose my father and brother felt that they could shame and beat the girl out of me. 

So that is how it started, with trauma.  For the next many years I buried my desires deep inside me and did what I could to fit in.  This didn't really work super good as I was very small and never really developed like the rest of the boys.  For instance, I have some very feminine features such as small hands with long fingers, absolutely no Adam's apple, skinny arms, no brow ridge, etc.  All of which made me an easy target for the budding young Neanderthals of my schools.  Yay, more trauma. 

The feelings of gender while buried deep would often poke their head out, but because of the trauma of my early outing and the trauma of being picked on for being small, I would compartmentalize those thoughts.  I felt shame and fear and guilt for having them.  Something was wrong with me and I needed to make it all just go away. 

And so it went for many years until I hit puberty.  Puberty added more confusion to the mix with the raging sexual urges of a teen.  For many years that followed my desires to be feminine got mixed when the raging hormones sexualized objects of femininity.  I have vivid memories of walking through a Department store and seeing the lingerie sections.  Oh how I was drawn to the displays of bras and panties.  This was incredibly confusing.  My heart and spirit desired to wear these pretty items but my hormones saw them as something sexual.  Recalling the shame, guilt, and trauma of my early childhood I choose the hormone route as that was (in my mind) more acceptable and I would maybe feel less broken and more "normal", whatever that means. 

But I guess that is not really how our brains work.  We are who we are, regardless of how we try to fool ourselves.  That said, the shame, guilt, and PTSD of my childhood compelled me to deeply compartmentalize my feelings.  You know, box it all up, put it all in that locked mental closet, and throw away the key. 

The problem with that is those mental closets, they are never airtight.  Things will seep through the cracks, something will get out.  It always does.  In my case, and my guess is others, when things escaped I would go through the familiar cycle of buying female items, hiding the female items, purging said female items and feeling guilty and shame the whole way. Oh, fear too.  OMG, the fear. 

Over time more and more of the feelings I kept hidden trickled their way out. It happened little by little but it eventually became a constant struggle to keep it all in its closet.  The effects of this were emotional and social isolation.  If I keep my armor up and never let anyone in then I will never have to deal with my feelings and I will never get hurt again.  Right? 

Yeah, so again.  It apparently does not work like that.. 

I think the tipping point for me to acknowledge what I now know as gender dysphoria was when I was filling out a medical history form for a new Doctor's office.  You how it goes... name, date of birth, height, weight, SEX- MALE or FEMALE.  When I regained my train of thought I realized I had been staring at the MALE/FEMALE boxes for probably over 10 minutes.  10 minutes of reliving every traumatic and confusing moment of my young life.

What did I do about this you ask.  More compartmentalization, more social and emotional isolation of course!  I will chat more about how that all went but this is enough for now, more to come. 


Talk soon.

Warmly,

Brooke

Brooke!

What a great start you have made here...I am glad you are back at it little sister and I know that the threads of your life's journey will resonate with  the uncounted many who will read this in days, months and years to come...

Growing up while trying to figure this all out is a puzzle of immense complexity... we usually show up on the shores of adulthood with a large bag containing the unassembled pieces and decide it is easier just to bury the bag and hope for the best... eventually the pieces start popping out of the ground and demand we continue to assemble them... in the end, the picture they form is a beautiful thing and we often wonder why we hadn't put it together long ago... The truth is that there is a time for everything and we need to wait until the time is right.

I know your answers in this journey will be uniquely your own and it is an honor to be one of your traveling companions little sister!

Onward!

Ashley 😀💕🌻

Thank you dear @tgirlamg, your kindness and friendship have meant so much to me and I am certain a zillion others that are aboard this bazaar carnival ride!

I hope what I am and will be sharing is of use to someone.  It's therapeutic for me to put those thoughts to words and I hope other's will find solace in knowing that they are not alone.  The next blog entry is at the front of my thoughts but I need to step away for a day or so, it is just too emotional to jot it all down at once. 

Love,

Brooke 

Brooke, our stories are similar in many ways. I think it's a tremendous help to others, especially for those who are still searching for answers. Eventually they may read a story that resonates with them, and it may help them find their truth. It's also a great for us to occasionally go back to the beginning, and see where we started from. Sometimes our progress seems glacial, only by reading our own stories can we realize how far we have come.

Love always -- Jess

@Brooke Renee
Dear Brooke Renee:
I am so very glad that you made it back here to the Forum after our New Year's Day site crash.

It is terrific that you have re-started and are resuming your Blog thread.
As time goes on you may be able to find parts and pieces of your postings,
so please feel free to incorporate them into your new Blog thread.
    BTW:  I love the subject title "A Quaint Treatise of Brooke Renée"

I will be eagerly looking for your future postings on your Blog thread and
and elsewhere around the various threads and topics around the Forum.

HUGS,
Danielle

Alrighty, here we go with another installment. 

Chapter 2

I suppose my last post was from the childhood epiphany that I longed to be pretty to some point during high school.  So about that..  HS was not an easy time for me, for the first two years I was still small and still picked on.  Experience had taught me to keep hidden, avoid gym class, avoid sports.  Fortunately I was blessed with artistic talent and I fell right into the Art and Theater scene.  Yeah, I guess that is a bit of a cliche but it is what it is.  For the record, I was not acting, I was painting sets. 

Anyway, this was my niche and I was largely accepted by everyone which created a safe space during those tough years.  My feelings of femininity ebbed and flowed.  If they were too strong I would tamp them back into their box and try to keep going.  But art and theater are very expressive and I would often watch the girls in my classes.  I would note how they moved, their sense of style, but mostly how they were free to express themselves without hesitation.  There were times where I would become more expressive only to realize that I needed to "man it up" before I got picked on again. 

And so it went.  A life on the sidelines both from a gender standpoint and from a romantic standpoint.  Then during my senior year I met the girl that would eventually become my wife and we fell in love. 

It seemed like the budding romance helped keep the GD at bay.  I now realize that it was just a distraction and indeed the GD would return.  But now I had way more skin in the game, I had my relationship on the line.  God forbid, if she were to find out that I secretly wanted to be a girl she would be gone.  Life experience had certainly taught me that I was broken, that there was something deeply wrong with me, and if anyone ever found out I would loose it all.  So I layered up with more armor and kept all of that to myself. 

Now that doesn't mean I didn't have thoughts though.  Oh gosh, every date and every dance I would stare deeply at my GF with two thoughts coursing through my mind, what a beautiful woman I am with and dang it, I so wanted to wear that dress and have my hair and makeup done. 

And so it went.  We graduated HS, went to college and eventually became engaged.  All the while I would try to live my feminine dreams vicariously through her.  Sometimes I would sneak a peak in her panty drawer, once or twice I would try something on.  Each time this happened I would go through the familiar pattern- feelings of excitement and adrenaline followed by a brilliant moment of feeling whole and normal.  This was then immediately followed by fear and guilt and shame. 

I do recall one moment where you would think I would have been in total gender heaven.  My GF and her younger sister thought it would be fun to put makeup on me.  I agreed and they gave me the full treatment.  You'd think I would have been on cloud nine but nope.  I was so afraid of showing my cards that my compartmentalization went into total overdrive.  I played the straight face and it was an Oscar worthy performance!  I was safe but I was also very sad. 

You see, by the time the makeup event occurred I was coming to grips with a vague degree of self acceptance.  Essentially I knew I had been trying to fool myself with the notion that my feelings were simply a fetish or a hobby.  That's about it though... I was able to see that there was maybe more to it all but I was not in any place to acknowledge my "condition" any more than that.  In my mind, if I acknowledged my situation then that would make it more real and I would have to admit to myself that I was stricken with some form of a deeply deviant mental illness.

Then as my senior year in college approached our plans for the wedding solidified.  I had been hired for a lucrative career right out of college as well.  Life was about to get complicated.   

So many of us are wringing our hands in recognition of those self same feelings!  Go the distance!  Life is rewarding for all of us. Gender isn't a guarantee of happiness, not specifically i think. 

Find your balance.

Hello Again. 
 

Chapter 3

I wanted to pause my somewhat linear timeline for a chapter and talk about Gender Dysphoria and how I experienced this in my early years. 

Frankly it has only been about 5 years since I educated myself and gained the vocabulary that included the phrase Gender Dysphoria.  I suppose that may seem odd to many readers but let me explain. 

My greatest asset in maintaining my sanity was my keen ability of denial.  Yeah, I do say that somewhat tongue in cheek but honestly, I only laugh to hide my shame. Not really shame in having GD, just my shame that I had employed such a silly coping mechanism for so long.  Seriously, did I really think that I could make it my entire life simply denying I wished I was a woman?  Really?  Well, apparently I did. 

Anyway, from the age that I knew I was "different" to about five years ago my experiences with what I now know is GD has evolved a bit.  In the early years my feelings were best described as sense that I could relate better with the girls than I could with the boys.  School yard activities to sports and scouts, I just knew I fit in better with the girls.  I like art and crafts, I disliked sports and physical roughness, I loved exploring nature and was generally content with being alone rather than being with the boys. 

At this age I did not feel depressed when I saw my female classmates but I did know I rather be with them than the boys.  I certainly did not have a sense of body dysphoria or anything like that.  Probably the closest I would come to feeling the darkness of GD was envy.  I would be envious of seeing the girls all dressed up.  I would be envious of how they were treated differently than the boys.  I would muse that I wish I could be treated as they and not like I was being treated. 

I would not say that these feelings changed all that much for many years.  By that I mean, my feelings of envy did not really become stronger or darker but I would say that as I aged, the feelings of envy became more frequent.

As I approached my pre-teens and early teens is when I began to experiment with crossdressing.  This probably had a lot to do with the more frequent feelings of envy.  As I talked about in a previous post these were very confusing times, my mind was a cocktail of thoughts.  There was the envy and desire to be pretty, the raging hormones that sexualized everything, the fear and guilt of acting on anything.  I remember sneaking into a family member's room and trying on her clothes only to experience terror that I may be discovered.  OMG, how many times did I promise myself that I would never do that again only to be doing it again less than 48 hours later. 

But, the more I crossdressed then more my feelings of envy began to morph into darkness.  You see, once I got a taste of feeling feminine the more I wanted it and the more I wanted it the more I was envious of the girls.  And the more I was envious of the girls the more I began to dislike who I was.

Please don't misunderstand me.  I look back on these sessions and I now know, without hesitation, that putting on women's clothing did not make me transgender.  Rather, I put on women's clothing because I AM TRANSGENDER.  I was just going though a process to figure that out.   

But anyway, at the time these thoughts and actions would circle back to the guilt and shame I felt for having what I thought were un-natural feelings.  And so my vicious cycle of strong emotions became a commonplace.  Envy followed by an act of dressing which was immediately followed by shame and denial.  Rinse and repeat. 

This brings us back to where I left off in the previous chapter, my approaching wedding. 

Wow, Brooke --

Thank you for putting all of these memories and emotions down in words.  I think that your story will resonate with a LOT of members here and especially many of the guests of the site that are not yet comfortable enough to set up an account.  Keep going - I'm ready for chapter 4!

~Sara

Such great stuff, Brooke. Not just that you're being generous enough to share, but hopefully people can get a glimpse of just how much self-reflection went into you getting to the point where you can make all the pieces fit so well in your mind that you're able to paint this really clear, insightful narrative!

Love it! 😘

Thank you @TXSara and @imallie for your kind words and encouragement.  While not always comfortable, heck actually kind of cringy at times, sorting my life through written words has been therapeutic for me as well.  I try to discuss this stuff during my sessions with my therapist but I am not really good at that. 

I do sincerely hope that other ladies out there like us can find some fellowship in our shared experiences and know that they are far from being alone.  They need to know that the cars on the transgender carnival ride are  packed and the line to ride is very very long. 

Warmly,

Brooke

Good morning ladies, I tossed and turned quite a bit last night.  Lots of thoughts racing through my head, one that I kept coming back to was I needed to jot down some words about the good and/or exhilarating moments of my self discovery.  So far my story has been one of the not-so-good. Yeah, maybe I am procrastinating and avoiding the post nuptial Chapter.  Whatever.  In any case, here it goes. 

Chapter 4

Looking back at my early teen years and those moments of self discovery I must allow myself to laugh at some things, shake my fist at the cosmos for other things, cringe at a few, and finally hold dear some truly beautiful moments of self discovery.

I guess to get this party started, let's get right to laughter part.  I mean, I can laugh now but at the time this was some deeply serious stuff.  Total soul searching.  During all those moments where I was exploring my desires through dressing I was wrestling with what it all meant.  Why am I so drawn to women's clothing, what is this all about?  The word Transgender was not a part of my vocabulary.  What was a part of my vocabulary was the word "crossdresser". 

OMG, is that what I am?  Society had taught me that crossdressers were a deviant mix of néer do wells whose mere existence would bring the collapse of polite society or at a minimum, spread Venereal Disease.  That's right, VD.  How do I know this?  Because I just got done watching "the" SEX film in Health Class. 

Come on, some of you remember this.. The school would send home permission slips, once signed they would divide the boys and the girls into different rooms and show, presumably, the same film to each gender.  Pretty much a vain attempt to stave off free love, teen pregnancy, and the spread of a disease that was the hallmark of the unwashed masses. 

What I took home from this experience was 1) I wonder if the girls watched the same film?  2) VD was spread by people that engaged in naughty behavior and my recent desires were clearly in the naughty column.  In my little brain, it was just a matter of time before I gave myself VD. 

Oh wow, that little jaunt down memory lane is hilarious but in my defense, I was young, I was terrified of these feelings, and okay, I was not the sharpest tack in the box. 

Anyway, I found myself at an existential crossroads.  I could define my activities in one of two ways.  I could label myself as a "crossdresser" which would certainly mean a life living in the gutter plagued with painful urination or...  I could simply accept that I had a sexual fetish.  That seemed to add up.  I mean, my raging hormones sexualized everything.  Seriously, everything..  Shoot, a vaguely well timed episode of Judge Judy would do it for me but I digress. 

Don't get me wrong, I wrestled with the fetish label too.  Thinking back to what I saw on the Phil Donahue Show, people with fetishes were definitely in the same zip code as the crossdressers.  But it still seemed the lesser of the two evils.  Looking back and laughing, I'd say I laid a pretty solid foundation of denial.  Nice work for a young teenager! 

Fate, or the humor of the cosmos, also had a hand in my confusion and torment.  Maybe torment is a strong word, perhaps looking back the cosmos was simply trying to nudge me in the direction of more self discovery.  However labeled, it seemed I was frequently at the right places at the right time to keep my feminine feelings at the front and center. 

Here's one vivid experience I will forever recall..  I was walking along the road not far from home and I stumbled across an adult magazine that someone had discarded, it was one of those adult magazines that featured explicit stories.  To add complexity my life, the universe found it humorous to make this magazine the "feminization" issue.  Seriously.  Page after page, story after story.  It was treasure trove of literary masterpieces in which loving partners transformed their husbands and boyfriends into beautiful women. 

"What the French Toast" universe!  I had just recently compartmentalized my "hobby" as a fetish and now this?  Really?  They repeatedly used the word "crossdresser" too!  Oh God, I knew I was doomed.  I was going to be cast aside by society AND I was getting VD for sure. 

One more experience that added fuel to the fire.  This was a time when my mom seemed to be rediscovering her love for shopping at the local mall, she and I have always had a very close relationship so she would bring me along for company.  It did not matter where we parked, it did not matter what store we walked into, we would ALWAYS walk directly into or past the lingerie section.  Every store, every time.  All day long I would come face to face with rack after rack of the prettiest bras and panties available.  Heck, this even happened in stores that did not typically sell women's wear!  Much less lingerie!  I was once again doomed. 

I did not really realize it at the time, I guess looking back I do now.  The universe WAS nudging me toward a beautiful moment of self discovery.  As my mind quieted, as my hormones settled, I was able to experience what I now know as moments of affirmation.  I remember my first time putting on women's underwear when my mind was not clouded with fear or hyper sexualization.  It was a moment of exquisite clarity .  The house was empty and I had plenty of privacy.  Taking my time, I carefully entered a family member's room, opened her dresser and selected the most feminine pair of panties she owned.  They were silky nylon trimmed with lace in a beautiful pastel peach color.  Stepping into the garment I did not feel fear nor did I feel arousal. Instead, I felt pretty, I felt normal, I felt complete.  At that moment in time, I knew without hesitation, that I did not have a fetish.  There was something to this and I needed to figure it out.

Good Morning Ladies.  I am not sure I am in the best headspace to write another chapter, this stuff is not super easy to talk about.  But maybe it's therapeutic.  So I guess here we go. 

Chapter 5

If you have suffered through my previous chapters you know that I, like many, knew I was not like the other boys from an early age.  Because of cultural conditioning, and a fair amount of domestic violence, it was very clear to me that I needed to hide. 

Unfortunately, the feelings we all have do not hide well.  At least not very well from ourselves.  Sure I could play the part and I might be somewhat convincing on the outside but none of that could cloak the tempest raging between my ears, in my heart, and in my soul. 

Compartmentalization became my only savior.  As I chatted earlier, I was very troubled with labels such as crossdresser.  I felt having that title on my metaphorical name tag would make it official, I was broken.  So I suppose I compartmentalized my feelings in a box without a label.  That's it, just an unmarked mental box.  Granted, it was an unmarked mental box that I opened frequently but unmarked nonetheless.  Simple enough right?  I mean, every label that society offered came ladened with unsavory connotations so I will just live without a label. 

I now know that box did have a label, it was written in a language that can only be read when one has accumulated the wisdom of ages.  Looking back that box was clearly festooned on every side with the word DENIAL in big bold pink lettering with sparkles, and maybe a rainbow.  There was probably a unicorn too. 

Anyway, I lacked the vision at the time to see that so I motored on. 

My compartmentalization game was very strong though and I managed to limit my feminine desires to just panties.  Nothing else.  As the years passed that dam would prove porous but for the time being it held.  Oh gosh, I remember hanging out with the guys and an image of a woman in lingerie would appear on TV or in a magazine.  Everyone would Ooo and Ahhh.  To fit in I would do the same but internally I would be thinking that while her choices were very pretty they would not work on my figure. 

So that is how it went.  I was very successful in hiding my true identity, no one knew a thing. 

As I approached my wedding day however I began to get panicked.  Here I was, about to wed the woman of my dreams and I possessed this deep secret.  Surely she would drop me like a bad habit if she ever found out.  We both came from traditional type families so we did not live together prior to our marriage.  Keeping my secret whilst alone is one thing, keeping it when married is another.  Keeping my feminine nature hidden when married to a very feminine presenting woman is a whole other kettle of fish.  I knew I was about to be surrounded with all the trappings of the life I so desired for myself.  How in the heck am I going to control myself, how am I going to keep from ruining everything?

My only answer was to strengthen the box.  More layers, more locks, more hiding.  At all costs I must never reveal my true identity, never.  There was a problem with that plan though, one I would not discover for many years.  You see, over time all of that hiding affected my ability to emotionally connect with my wife like we had prior to our wedding.  I became withdrawn, I focused on anything that would divert my attention from my "condition".  It is all ironic really. I did this out of a desire to preserve our marriage but that backfired and the years of hiding made me barren angry person and this is what nearly robbed me of my marriage. 

Sadly that revelation did not come for many years, not until more damage was done.  About two years into our marriage my wife became pregnant and my panic shifted into overdrive. 

I'm really enjoying reading your stories Brooke!  While we are all different people with varied backgrounds, there's so much that I find in common with your stories.  Writing is definitely therapeutic- the words have power just in helping your mind sort through the jumble that all these feelings were at the time... and in hindsight the unspoken nudges that were always there.

Looking forward to reading more!

Hugs!!

Caela

I'm so glad you're back and sharing your story. I love that we have a safe space to tell our stories and be mentored by others.

Looking forward to the next chapters.

Laura

Quote from: Brooke Renee on January 20, 2024, 08:10:37 AMThe word Transgender was not a part of my vocabulary.  What was a part of my vocabulary was the word "crossdresser". 

OMG, is that what I am?  Society had taught me that crossdressers were a deviant mix of néer do wells whose mere existence would bring the collapse of polite society or at a minimum, spread Venereal Disease.  That's right, VD.  How do I know this?  Because I just got done watching "the" SEX film in Health Class. 

Come on, some of you remember this.. The school would send home permission slips, once signed they would divide the boys and the girls into different rooms and show, presumably, the same film to each gender.  Pretty much a vain attempt to stave off free love, teen pregnancy, and the spread of a disease that was the hallmark of the unwashed masses. 

I did not really realize it at the time, I guess looking back I do now.  The universe WAS nudging me toward a beautiful moment of self discovery. 

I remember those classes exactly!  Very embarrassing, I thought I should have the girl parts.  At home wearing my sister's hand-me-downs, I didn't feel like a boy.  Unquestionably her clothes were better.  Even as I grew to adulthood, I felt full masculinity evaded me.

Thanks, Brooke, for finding the strength to put all of this out there. While somewhat painful, it might be useful for you to do, but it's definitely going to benefit others who might be confused about those same feelings. As I'm sure you recall, my first thread (before the crash) was all about my fears and doubts - how I figured it was all just a "kink" or a fetish. We have so much in common.

I still struggle with this...all of this. Why?

There's some much talk in certain circles about "grooming" and "turning kids trans". The fact is that about 1 in 20 kids has some sort of feeling that they don't exactly fit neatly on the side of the gender binary to which they were assigned when they were born. There isn't a dern thing we can do to prevent that, it just is. Imagine checking in with those kids from time to time and asking them how they feel about gender, both theirs and that of those around them. Imagine allowing young people to explore their genders, to be honest with themselves. Imagine creating a framework in which people just *evolve* to be whatever their hearts and brains tell them they are. Why do people still think this is a bad thing? Really, who is it hurting?

Reading the above paragraph will surely make someone's head explode. Folks don't want to be bothered with this stuff.

If we (you and I and others) had simply been allowed to explore our feelings and modes of expression, so much suffering could have been avoided. It would not have changed who we were. It simply would have enabled us to be, without constraint.

That seems pretty reasonable to me. Go forth, Brooke, and be you. Imma try to do the same.

Thank you so much @CaelaNotKayla @LauraE @D'Amalie @Courtney G !!!

That last chapter was not easy to discuss, it took its toll so all of your encouragement really came at the right time.  Thank you again ladies! 

@Courtney G, I sometimes allow my mind to wonder what would have happen if when I essentially came out at the age of 5 my parents reacted with support versus unrestrained negativity.  My thoughts follow a familiar path where I have these beautiful visions of growing up as a young girl and developing into a woman.  Sadly, the result is always the same.  The warm, beautiful moment of affirmation morphs into a depressing crash of reality.  But the moment is great while it lasts. 

I love you all and I would be lost without you,

Brooke

Good morning ladies.  Thank you for all of your support and kindness to keep going with this blog.  Today's Chapter will explore how our culture shaped my view of trans people and ultimately led to my own internalized transphobia. 

Chapter 6

I was born in the late sixties, came of age in the late 70s and early 80s so certainly no internet.  Being Gay or Lesbian was considered a dirty secret that you must keep to yourself, especially living where I grew up.  I don't think the word "transgender" was even a thing. 

You might hear someone mention the term transvestite which when spoken immediately sounds like a pathology.  All of the popular and religious culture of the time hammered that point home as well.  I grew up in the buckle of the Bible Belt and even though my family was not very religious we were definitely imbedded with an entire community that was.  We were sort of like a Where's Waldo picture.  Anyway, there just was not available resources to learn about these types of things.  Heck, merely asking a question would quickly draw unwelcome attention. 

This situation basically ceded LGBTQ+ education to daytime TV. 

In the early days it was The Phil Donahue Show, then Riki Lake, and Springer.  Basically they all followed the same recipe.  A family would come on and one of the members would use this opportunity to reveal a closely held secret.  Sometimes it would be incestuous, or an extra marital affair.  Or it might be swingers or diapers or who knows what else. 

And sometimes the family member would reveal that they wanted to be a woman. 

In every case, the conversation would de-evolve into a violent brawl where the episode climaxed with someone being hit with a chair.  Roll the credits. 

As a young and confused person with deeply concerning thoughts regarding their gender I was horrified by what I saw.  OMG, is that my future?  Considering my own violent history it seemed so. 

I saw that people with notions like mine were at BEST treated as though we had a disease where the treatment would surely involve being institutionalized.  "See!  You tried on a bra and you caught a raging case of the Transvestite!".

At WORST folks like me were seen as deceitful, liars, criminals, perverted, and a general menace to all of society.  Cue the villagers with the torches and pitchforks.  A vision of my future frequently played out in my head:

"Hey, that's a dude wearing a skirt, get him!" 

"Officer, it's not a skirt, it's a Kilt"

"Yeah right, tell that to the Judge you Nancy"

Then on Halloween night of 1987 something truly magical and life changing occurred.  I met up with a bunch of Art and Theater friends at the local University and watched the midnight showing of the Rock Horror Picture Show. 

OMG, I was so happy!  I was watching a room packed full of people, many of whom in full Rocky Horror themed costumes, cheering on Dr. Frank N Furter as she pranced around the big screen in full makeup and lingerie. This was amazing!  No villagers with pitchforks, no bible thumpers, just happy people celebrating a great time. 

It's funny to think back, but this was my first "positive" transgender roll model.  Okay, okay.  Yes, Ms. Furter did kill Eddie with an ice axe but.. he was ill tempered AND he was riding his motorcycle in the house.  Seriously, who does that?  I think he had it comin'.

In any case, for years to come I would be front and center for subsequent Rocky Horror screenings.  Could I sing the songs and tell you the plot line?  Not really, I just sat in the audience and soaked in the notion that maybe, just maybe I was not broken or mentally ill. 

Then in 1991 Hollywood put an end to the party with the release of The Silence of the Lambs.  Overnight, the angry mobs were re-invigorated with a new villain, Buffalo Bill.  Even though Jonathan Demme has repeatedly apologized for not making it more clear that Buffalo Bill was not trans, the damage was done.  Hate crimes occurred, people were singled out.  There were probably actual villagers with actual pitchforks. 

The damage to my sense of self would also prove irreparable.  Well, maybe not irreparable but certainly an open wound for years to come.  One that would shape how I saw myself, one that would shape how I saw others like me.

Hi Brooke,

It looks like we both lived in parallel universes. There is so much in your latest chapter that I experienced as well. Especially that Rocky Horror Picture Show experience evoked some old memories. I had the soundtrack on vinyl LP and was constantly listening to it. At that time there were also a couple of gender swap movies around, like Tootsie or Switch and I always hoped something like that would happen to me.

Yes, in the early 80's the term 'transgender' was unknown to me too, although I was aware of the term 'transsexual' and knew its distinction from transvestite. Growing up in Europe might have helped a bit too as I still very vividly remember a serious discussion about being transsexual on some late night discussion format on Austrian TV. In the late 80's and early 90's there were also some pretty well done (for the time period) documentaries about transgender people on German and Swiss TV.

Yes, coming to the US in the late 90's and watching a Jerry Springer show was certainly a culture shock.

Hugs,

Heidemarie