I hate transsexuals…

I hate transsexuals.  Well, that’s not exactly true.  Granted, I don’t care for the phenomenon where if you get two TSs together, within minutes the topic goes to hormones, what they’re taking, and at what dosage.  No, I don’t hate transsexuals.  I hate how they make me feel.  And when I say that, I mean I hate the way I feel when I’m around transsexuals.

Because, let’s face it, no-one can make you feel a certain way.  We’re in control of our emotions.  I can decide how I feel about anything.

Okay, to clarify: I hate how I feel when I’m around transsexuals: like a pretender.  Like a wanna-be.  I’m just a crossdresser.  And there’s nothing wrong with that.  But did you see how I said that?  “Just a crossdresser,” like there’s something to be ashamed of.  Like a crossdresser is less than a transsexual.  And we’re not.  Are we?*

Oh, granted, many of my TS friends considered themselves CDs before changing the label, seeing a therapist, and getting on the ‘mones.  But, are crossdressers merely undeveloped transsexuals?  Are we in the larval stage, when TSs are either in the cocoon, or hatched like a butterfly?

As I said, I’ve known plenty of people who waited until their 40s, 50s or even 60s to make the change.  It could be because they were in denial.  It could be because they had greater social pressure to deal with.  It might be they were waiting for more stability in their lives, the kind that only comes after years of hard work.

Or maybe it was because they’d graduated beyond dressing up once or twice a month, standing in front of a mirror, taking a bunch of pictures and maybe hanging out in a loud, smokey bar.  Because that’s what crossdressers do, right?  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.  We indulge ourselves until we’re full, and then we put it away until the need gets too great to resist again.

Maybe that’s the difference.  Maybe we’re all the same, but the threshold for self-indulgence is different.  That sounds like a good theory, until you consider most transsexuals do away with many of the trappings of femininity that crossdressers love: really high heels, garters and stockings, pantyhose, frills and lots of makeup.  Many of the TSs I know do their best to blend in, and live as women-born-women.  Even if that means flats and mom jeans.  In fact, consider the sartorial choices of most natural born and transsexual women: it’s practical.  Almost androgynous, if you will.

And that holds little appeal for me.  I can do jeans, a polo shirt and sneakers just about any time.  As a matter of fact, that’s one of the things I like about being a guy.  No muss, no fuss.

But, I also like, (sometimes), the effort and care it takes to look pretty.  And I like being able to have a foot on each side of the gender divide.  Although not at the same time.

So, why do I feel inadequate when I’m with transsexuals?  The answer may be in the first time I felt that way: September, 2008.  Southern Comfort Convention.  Here were all these TSs going to seminars about transitioning on the job, getting necessary paperwork, health care needs post-op.  And there I was, just trying to look pretty.  It struck me that I was shallow.  Many people had to deal with real-world issues, and I was playing in a land of make-believe.  Once the conference was over, I could grow my goatee back, put on a wife-beater t-shirt, and swig beer with friends.  They, once they left Atlanta, would be facing many of the same issues, including discrimination, and disapproval from family and friends.

As a part-time T-girl, I could get more involved in grassroots civil rights organizations.  I could write letters to lawmakers in support of trans-friendly legislation.  I could talk to civic groups and college classes about transgender issues.  But I don’t.

Because I’m afraid.  I’m afraid of being outed.  I’m afraid of my co-workers laughing at me behind my back, or to my face.  I’ve cultivated a public image as a normal, straight guy, that, while not butch, is definitely not all that feminine.  And I’m afraid of having that image shattered, and people seeing the real me: vulnerable & sensitive.

So maybe that’s why I’m uncomfortable around my TS friends: they’ve cast off the shackles of what’s expected of a human, and are living the way they want to live.  It’s not about clothes or makeup.  It’s about being a whole human.

Can a crossdresser live that way?  Sure.  It’s happened before.  But I’m not ready to graduate to that level, whether or not it means going full time.

But if I do, and you catch me discussing my hormone regimen, feel free to smack me.

*In defense of transsexuals, of all the people I’ve known, of all the profiles and blogs I’ve read, I’ve only seen one TS who looked down her nose at crossdressers.  And she struck me as a bit of a nut, anyway.

Category: Transgender Opinion