PRISM & PEN — AMPLIFYING LGBTQ VOICES THROUGH THE ART OF STORYTELLING

This Transgender Woman Would Like To Assimilate

Being accepted as a woman is important to me

I would like to state from the beginning that I am a binary transfeminine woman. The opinions I express are from that perspective. Non-binary transgender people are valid, and I love them. I don’t precisely understand the non-binary experience. I want to know more about what it means to be non-binary.

I have been lying to myself. It’s okay; I lied for my own good. If you tell a lie enough times, you might start to believe it. Until you can’t anymore. Passing is a very sensitive subject in the transgender community. It should not be, and is not required to have a wonderful life. Whether one chooses to try to pass or not is an individual decision. There are many transgender people who give a rip about passing.

I am not one of those.

When I first came out as transgender, I had an attitude similar to a runner-up at the Oscars, “It’s an honor just to be nominated.” I was out of that godforsaken closet, and I was not going back. At the beginning of my transition, I had no idea what would happen to my physical appearance. The most annoying abbreviation for me is YMMV! I hate that expression. What that means is that they don’t know exactly what will happen to any one transgender person, because our healthcare is not well researched. I would have never dreamed of passing and being accepted as a woman when I took my first pills. I started my transition at 56 years old. That is kind of late to the party. I figured that keeping my expectations low was the best thing for my mental well-being. I don’t like to hope for too much. If I don’t expect too much, then I won’t be crushed when the desired event doesn’t happen. I had hoped that, at best, I would look like my homely sister if I had a homely sister. Passing and being accepted as a woman was not attainable, so why bother dreaming about it?

I took my hormones. I went through a second puberty. I would rage, then cry. To me, I seemed perfectly rational. To the rest of humanity, I was a nut. After a temper tantrum, I apologized to my oldest daughter for my behavior. She is not the most empathetic of people. She said, “I had to learn to deal with it and so will you.” She was right, of course, and I have since then adjusted to the hormonal changes. I went into some sort of automatic pilot, took meds, and did the stuff that my transition required. For me, this included getting laser hair removal on my face. The trial and error of trying to find a wardrobe that represented who I am. The cycle went something like this. Buy a bunch of clothes that look cute on the cisgender model, donate those clothes, and buy some more clothes. I practiced applying makeup. I am older, and I want my appearance to resemble older women. I have a makeup routine that I feel comfortable going out in public with. I have received several compliments on my makeup. My favorite was from a woman a little younger than me who said. “Girl, your makeup is on point.” I floated home after that encounter.

Over three long years, I began to realize that I might actually pass and be accepted as a woman. “Screw that,” I thought; I am a proud transgender woman, and I don’t care about passing. Of course, I cared. I care deeply still. I have always wanted to look like and be treated like a woman. I want that now more than ever. There, I am now telling the truth; I would love to pass so that I could assimilate into society as a woman.

It’s Showtime

Since, I have come clean with myself and admitted that I want to assimilate as fast as possible. My entire perspective has changed. I used to be open to almost any question about my body, and my life. Recently, as I fine-tune my presentation, I would not know how to answer any questions about my body. I think it started when I joined the local LPGA amateur golf league. I had four hours of non-trans-centric socialization with cis women. I am hooked. I want that all of the time. I could see a future where I might even forget that I was born wrong. That is a dream. I’ll be happy if I can get more socialization with women, as a woman.

Could Passing Really Be Possible?

Now it’s real, I have said to myself and the world that I want to pass sufficiently enough to assimilate into society as a woman. Now I am terrified all over again. If I let myself believe that assimilation is possible, I might get my hopes up. That just would not do. I felt for a few moments today what putting it all on the line felt like. Not bad actually. I have been assuming everyone could read me as trans for some time now. What if they can’t, and I out myself by telling people information that they really don’t have a right to? If I intend to get very close to someone, I will loop them in.

Lately, my deadname has become more uncomfortable to hear. I don’t think I am that name and actually forget sometimes that they are referring to me. I am not out one hundred percent at work. I have all of the name change paperwork filled out and I am gonna do it soon. It’s 400 bucks and work has been slow because of supply chain issues.

I guess I should have been honest with myself and everyone else. But the lie was so safe, so comforting. I couldn’t imagine that I possibly could pass three years ago.

Give the hormones a chance to do what they should have done years ago. Being transgender will teach you patience. You can't rush perfection.

Love, Kitty