This past October, I went out with the gurls from my support group to a new LGBTQ+ friendly bar en femme. I wore a loose black knit dress, stockings with garter belt, breast forms, ballet flats, tattoo sleeves, a cape, and a witch’s hat. It was Halloween!
It reminded me of the scene from Transparent when Mora was with her family for a holiday; she felt as if her family was being disrespectful and insensitive of her identity as a woman instead of their father. She finally gives up on them and runs to the “gay” bar to be around people like her.
Since I knew there would be a collection of people of extreme of types, I was mentally and emotionally prepared and hardly self-conscious at all. I saw a friend across the room; I noticed I didn’t have that anxious feeling, the one where I felt alone and conspicuous in a room full of people. I was just being me, right where I was. Some people were drunk and a little obnoxious and others were feeling free enough to look at me with curiosity and generosity of spirit.
At least, these were my thoughts. I was making up stories for each of them, lol. I wanted to categorize, decide if they were straight, and I wanted to be hip with the diversity. I looked at the gay men, who comprised most of the crowd.
The music was non-stop; I found myself on the dance floor trying to find a rhythm with my own dancing. It felt soooo awkward! I felt the stiffness of being in a new body as I discovered best how to walk and dance as Lorie.
A few months ago, I went to a dance as cis male. While I was dancing, I imagined myself in a dress. My dancing changed as my imagination took over and allowed me to flow and move in a different way—a rhythm and movement that felt more natural!
At the bar on Halloween, I was actually dancing in a dress and it felt so good! I moved my legs in a different way, I twirled the cape in time with the music, pulling it back to show off my legs, and then bringing the cape forward to block the view. My legs were closer together; my arms closer to my body as my hands flew through the air showing off my black nail polish.
It was so liberating. I couldn’t stop smiling, and when I was sitting in the lounge area with the gurls, I couldn’t stop dancing—chair dancing.
I stayed out until 1:30. I haven’t stayed out past midnight in a looong time! And it was so much fun. I didn’t seem to tire; I didn’t seem to get socially saturated, until near the end.
When I got home, I looked in the mirror. My makeup was still intact, the hair, the dress all contributing to the big smile on my face. As I looked into my eyes, I saw the girl in the mirror even as a part of me said it was a man in a dress. I saw the giddy girl, the girl with a sparkle in her eyes, the girl still vibrating from celebrating her night of being feminine.
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