NOTE: This is a rework of a piece I wrote in 2020 that was included in “Breaking Out of the Binary: A Gender Adventure” by Logan Matlock. The book was published in June, 2021.
I first started dressing up when I was twelve. To put that in perspective, it would have been around 1966 or roughly 54 years ago. To begin with, my “stash” consisted of discarded items of my Mother’s that had been placed in a large bag for donation to Goodwill. In those days, there weren’t too many other sources that could be raided discretely. Once procured, they had to be hidden carefully so as not to be found by a diligent parent or snooping sibling. Besides, the opportunities to have the house to myself so that I could sample the mysteries of femininity were rare..
The sixties were not a time when a boy with potentially transgender tendencies would have been accepted or supported. Sure, Christine Jorgensen had undergone her gender reassignment surgeries in 1952, and her celebrity hadn’t diminished, but she was a celebrity — more or less one of a kind – and not considered a role model for young men. Homosexual men were not yet referred to as “gay,” and most who were “out of the closet” were hugely successful only in some aspect of the arts. Lesbian women were not discussed, and the concept of transgender did not yet appear in conversation at all. Cross dressers were considered as freaks. As far as I can tell, the closest that American society ever got to a transgender dialog then was the 1968 publication of Gore Vidal’s novel Myra Breckinridge, and that might be stretching a point. The work is a satire of the rigid social norms of gender and sexuality of the time, but it was really only revered among a few critics and considered a dirty book by everyone else. So, better to keep it one’s proclivities carefully hidden so as not get the living crap beaten out of you by your dad or your schoolmates.
I wrestled with my feminine side for decades. The struggle persisted through college, throughout a forty-plus-year (and counting) marriage, across the raising of three children, and over the course of my professional career. During that time, I was able to find small pockets of time during which I could be alone as my genuine self.
The rise of the internet changed the world. First came Amazon and YouTube. Now with some disposable income, I could gradually acquire clothing and makeup. It took time to master sizing (and to know when there wasn’t enough information to decide), but gradually that came together. I could even purchase real breast forms online! YouTube began to provide tutorials on everything imaginable, so I could begin to figure out the art of makeup. (Honestly, I had an easier time with high school physics.) More important, though, the first decade of the 21st century ushered in a change in the conversation. Gender dysphoria became openly understood as a medically acknowledged condition. Society’s views on gender issues changed dramatically during that decade. Forums and support groups sprang up. It’s not that some of this hadn’t been in place for a very long time, but during that decade the internet opened up accessibility by an order of magnitude. More important than all that, there was finally a term for me: gender fluid! And amidst all of this, Erica emerged.
What did not change for me was the struggle with my feminine side. It wasn’t until our youngest came out five years ago first as non-binary and then later as transgender that I really acquired the tools to recognize and, more important, accept my own transgender self. It was as if all the balls in a pachinko machine had finally found their slots. I began to spend more time as me. I became involved with a larger transgender community through social media. I became involved in transgender and non-binary advocacy. I even was able make my first public appearance as Erica in May of this year. But that is a story of its own which must wait until another time.
After all this, I’ve not transitioned, begun HRT, or gone public. I am out to my family and a few close friends, but that’s all. I’m sixty-seven and although retired, my life is complicated. A full transition is simply not realistic even though desired. Yes, I probably will start hormones someday, but nothing more. I will continue to interact with and support all my friends in the trans community who have been so supportive and inspirational to me. Life remains a rich and wonderful journey which can perhaps best be summed up by Winnie the Pooh: “Rivers know this. There is no hurry. We will get there.”
Erica and Friends 