The following anecdote I am going to share is something that has me somewhat puzzled, and serves to better illustrate the sometimes chaotic mindset of the crossdressing male. I consider myself a proud crossdresser, but I was surprised by my reactions.
Many have designated Halloween as that one American holiday where closeted male to female crossdressers get enough courage to venture out of the house dressed as a girl.
I was asked recently by a wife of a crossdresser how I came to understand that I was a crossdresser. I was asked if it was “who I was” or “what I do”? My initial answer was to say that crossdressing is an inherent part of me and it is who I am! But upon closer inspection, I could see that that the question was a wonderful exercise to think through.
In the last few weeks I have been in conversation with my partner and other couples who have been discussing fetishes and how it applies to the act (or art) of crossdressing. A fetish is a form of sexual desire in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular object, item of clothing, part of the body, etc.
A dear friend of mine, while reading Living with Crossdressing: Defining a New Normal, mentioned that she enjoyed one of the early chapters of the book that focused on the different types of crossdressers that I have come in contact with. She said that we need to find a better term to describe us. She was looking for a term that we, as a group, could be proud of. A descriptor that doesn’t drip with an air of stereotypes and taboos. A label that doesn’t strike discord in all who hear it uttered.
Sharing the total sum of who we are as a man and woman is an important exercise for many of us.
I received my first negative comment yesterday attached to the post of the announcement of the release of Living with Crossdressing: Defining a New Normal. This woman’s comment advised me that crossdressing was not normal, but a schizophrenia on par with pedophilia and the mind of rapists.
This story serves to illustrate that members of our community can walk into a regular diner and not be gawked at or whispered about.
I am always spouting out positive quotes and statements about going beyond tolerance and into acceptance and fellowship. But what happens when I find myself making a harsh judgment about someone else? Now, I am the one who suddenly holds me in higher regard than the person I am casting aspersion over.
I was going to pick out a pair of panties and grabbed one of my favorites. There are a number of reasons why. First, it is a pair of high-cut bikini briefs that were in fashion in the 80s and early 90s. Second, I love the look and feel of the stretchy material. Lastly, and maybe most importantly, they were a hand-me-down from my girlfriend.