Really. I promise. Cross my heart.
I know, I’m wearing a dress.
No, they’re not real.
Yes, that’s lipstick – Raspberry Rush actually.
The rest of the world is blessed in it’s ignorance. They get to lump all the “sexually deviant” folks into a single bucket of “them” (usually pronounced with a sneer). Sexuality, as with most things in life, is not so easily separated into black and white. Rather, it is a tapestry of colors that cover the gamut of sexual preference, gender identity and gender expression. With much of the common knowledge running aground as a transgender myth.
In my life being transgendered has forced me to confront my own sexuality. I identify, in part at least, as a woman and often seek to express this identity in the clothes I wear, the way I look and the activities I undertake.
In those moments when I identify as a man I’m quite confident in my heterosexuality. My wife’s movement, her body, her voice, her scent – they send my heart a flutter (among other things ).
When I am a woman, lets just say it gets more complicated. Though my lovely wife may not appreciate it, she still has a wondrous effect on me. I long for the feelings of protection, love, adoration, softness from one who is strong. Yet the thought of this being a man does not appeal to me. It’s as if I long to play the feminine part with a masculine partner who is not a man – Take that Freud!
My point in sharing is not to disclose details of my private life with you, or even to hold up myself as a prototypical example of all crossdressers, for surely this isn’t the case. I want to point out that the diversity of human sexuality is not confined to a few discrete points. It’s not possible to create a set of categories and use these to accurately define everyone, as is wonderfully captured by a poetic recounting of the third gender.
Live who you are. Love who you are. Define yourself by what is in your heart.