Recently, I was reminded about something I had previously written about and had been exposed to on many occasions… but had forgotten about completely. I have spent much of my Savannah time away from crossdressers, interacting with the larger LGBTQ world and the general public over the last two years. There is a difference between masculine and feminine energies while dressing.
Recently, I was graced with two random acts of kindness—maybe, more like acceptance—as I lived and spoke my truth as a dual-gender person.
I didn’t expect it. Savannah was meant to be a periodic feminine gender expression. I didn’t realize her visibility would be an example to others to follow.
“I have a few transgender friends. They want to know what needs to happen for people to no longer be ‘clocked’.” It was a brilliant query, in my opinion. This young man was speaking on behalf of friends who feel that all eyes are on them. And, that those eyes are appraising and judging them.
I was prepared. I swear I was. I checked the American Airlines website for what was allowed in carry-on luggage. I made sure of the restrictions for the size of the make-up I could bring in the same quart-size bag. I made sure of the dimensions of my single bag and personal bag. I even made sure of what make-up was allowed in the cabin and what my breastforms and hip pads would be considered as a class of products (they are considered prosthetics, btw). I had it all figured out… or, so I thought.
The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance…
We are surrounded by people every day—from work, to drivers sharing the road, to friends and family, to neighbors living across the street and behind the white picket fences. Unless you are living in a cave or on an expanse of ranch acreage that takes hours to travel, we have people around us in some capacity. And, that is not necessarily a bad thing. The human animal is a social one, typically more comfortable within a vicinity of others than being in isolation.
I wonder often about beauty. I strive for a version of it every time I pull out my makeup case and prepare to transform into my Savannah persona. Every time I look in the mirror—after donning my wig and brushing it out—I question why I even bother to try.