And now I have started dressing up again, every so often—I think all I want is every so often—and I’m ready to write about it in disjunctive and maybe all too self-conscious prose.What follows are tentative answers to persistent questions about how I look, how I want to look, why I often think that I would rather have been a woman, and why I’m sure I won’t try to become one.This essay is a substitute, not so much for a memoir, but for an unwritten, overlong, awkward, over-literal poem.
And now I have started dressing up again, every so often—I think all I want is every so often—and I’m ready to write about it in disjunctive and maybe all too self-conscious prose.What follows are tentative answers to persistent questions about how I look, how I want to look, why I often think that I would rather have been a woman, and why I’m sure I won’t try to become one.This essay is a substitute, not so much for a memoir, but for an unwritten, overlong, awkward, over-literal poem.Tags: Sigmund Freud Term PaperBusiness Plan TitleTerm Paper On MedeaOperational Plan Of A BusinessRational Problem SolvingExample Of An Introduction Paragraph For A Research PaperBusiness Plan Writers Los AngelesPoetry Essay RubricHow Write An Application Letter To A Company
I’m a man, but I like dressing up as a woman, in women’s clothes, wearing lipstick and bracelets and bright rings and women’s shoes. Maybe I just want to feel pretty, or to look pretty.
Some of those goals seem impossible, or incompatible, or prohibitively difficult; not worth what I would have to sacrifice.
On my way to the cash register I also saw a pair of shorts, for men, in a color somewhere between bronze and mustard.
I picked them out and tried them on and liked how they looked on me and bought them too.
If I were a historian or a journalist writing a book about trans culture, I’d take a few years and attend more Tiffany Club meetings, and more than a few dance-club nights, before calling this essay, or that manuscript, complete. I’d certainly write about L., now in her eighties, who served in the US military and then served, for decades, as an officer of the club. shares military stories with others her age, and defends her politically conservative views on questions unrelated to gender. also tried and failed to teach me how someone like me—who has a five o’clock shadow five minutes after a close shave—should use beard cover and foundation.
At least two folks I met at Tiffany Club are undergoing divorces.Also, it turns out, I like being addressed as Stephanie.Some of the folks I met there are learning to live full-time in their preferred gender (with or sans surgeries). I found almost exactly the skirt I envisioned at the Gap: a thin blue-jean fabric, knee-length and slightly flouncy, with double rose thread near the hem.I’ve chosen to share these parts of my life with you, if you stay with me; Jessie has chosen to share the whole of our life, not necessarily with readers, but with me.= actors’ mask), a stylized mask made of words that replaces the poet’s physical, literal body, and provides a better fit for the soul.Yet in order to think about that body, about that distance, I keep going back to some books.The single best book that I’ve read, not about “who I am” (I am many things, and so are you, by the way) but about my own experience of sex and gender, has to be Jennifer Finney Boylan’s memoir, .I minded, but not very much, because I liked the rest of my life.I even stopped wearing nail polish and sparkly rings for a while, though the poetry I published made its commitment to girlish identities, feminine alternate selves, all but unmistakable.I like to wear costume jewelry, and pastel nail polish, and I do that all the time.I like to wear skirts and tights, or dresses, too, in private sometimes, in public fewer times, and in company when I can find an appropriate occasion, which I rarely can. In my twenties I found the perfect social circle, and the perfect set of dance parties and rock clubs, where I could dress up like a girl and my friends didn’t mind—or found it charming. Then Jessie and I got married and moved to Minnesota, and my space for cross-dressing dried up.