It's Alexandria...

Hi ladies,

My name is Alexandria, and I first felt my “feminine sense” when I was about eleven years old. At that time I definitely wanted to dress like a woman. Sometimes I wanted to be a woman. Sometimes I wondered if – and felt like I might actually, secretly be – a woman. Sometimes my feminine self-image/identity turned me on, and sometimes it just helped me feel like myself.

It’s still a bit confusing, and I’m still asking myself some big questions.

“Am I ‘just’ a man who likes dressing up like a woman?”

“Am I a woman stuck in a man’s body?”

“Am I a man sometimes and a woman sometimes? Am I a little of both?”

“Is that even a thing?”

"Is it OK that I have a crush on her and want to look like her at the same time?"

“Holy ****, am I trans!?!?”

Trying to repress these impulses and ignore these questions for the better part of thirty years has been exhausting. There’s only so much inner turmoil a person can bear before something has to give, right? Mercifully, the world has become a more compassionate and understanding place since I was a kid. It’s still not totally acceptable to be a gender nonconforming male, but (depending on where you live) there are plenty of safe and affirming spaces.

For example – just the other day, I was having lunch with a colleague from out of town. When our conversation turned to LGBTQ rights, he mentioned that his son had recently come out as bisexual and planned to go to Senior Prom in drag. My colleague confessed that this news made him a bit uncomfortable, but he was supportive and happy that his son could feel safe and confident being himself. “Wow,” I said, thinking to myself how much more fun my prom would have been if I could have safely and confidently worn a gown instead of a tux, “that’s awesome. I wish I’d had a dad like you when I was 18.”

With societal change happening around me and repression festering within me, I guess I finally reached a tipping point a couple of weeks ago. After several days of pronounced dysphoria, I decided to look for help. I went to the local LGBTQ bookstore and told an employee I had questions about my gender and wanted to learn more. I was directed to a section of books on gender theory and memoirs of trans people. I picked up a few titles, and when I went to pay, the person at the register suggested I might be able to find help at the nearby LGBTQ community center. So I dropped in, picked up a pamphlet, and gave them a call later.

Later that evening, as my wife and I got ready for bed, she could tell my mood was off. She asked what was wrong. At first I insisted it was nothing, but after a few minutes of deflecting I took a deep breath and decided it was time to say something. I told her I wasn’t sure about my gender, that I had wanted to dress as a woman for most of my life, that I had tried on my mom’s clothes, that I had gotten caught twice, that I had a collection of women’s lingerie that I had thrown out during our last move, and that I was tired of ignoring my feminine persona. I even told her I was jealous that she got to be Wonder Woman last Halloween and I didn’t.

I told her I wanted to know that, if either of our children ever had questions about their sexuality or gender, they would get the support and unconditional love that our parents couldn’t have given us. I wanted the world to be better for our kids…and everybody’s kids, really. And hiding my identity wasn’t helping.

She affirmed that she loves and supports me, but she’s not in the same place as I am and she needs time to process everything. That seems pretty fair to me. How could she be in the same place, given the enormous disparity between the few days she’s spent processing this information versus the decades I’ve been living with it? It feels wonderful, though, knowing that an important part of my identity, hidden so long from the person I love the most, is no longer hidden. We’re still awaiting long term results, but our initial experience suggests that this revelation might actually improve our relationship.

Outwardly, I’m still a man, still masculine in my public gender expression, and I’m being very discreet about who knows what about me. But I’m no longer treating my gender questioning as a shameful problem. That’s why I’m on board here at CDH. I’m finished repressing my femininity, and I want to learn, find community, and grow as I receive and give encouragement.

That’s me, ladies – thanks for welcoming me.

Alex D