FIRST NIGHT

Looking back now, Mike could see how Mandy had skilfully manoeuvred him into stockings and suspenders: right from the time they had discussed Gary's up coming party. Mandy had suggested a feminine character and Mike's immediate reaction had been a pantomime dame. No, Mandy had said, not when all the others would think of the same idea. He could hear her say it even now, "Be original, novel, be unique!" yes, but what? They'd run through all the female characters, any number of princesses, Cinderella and �yes Snow White. Mandy had said that was just right as Snow White was sweet pure and innocent. "And gullible." Said Mike to himself with perfect hindsight. A trawl through the cheap clothes shops uncovered a whole new world for Mike; a dangerous one where the adrenaline high became almost addictive as he searched through the rails of dresses, skirts and tops. A little patience was rewarded with the discovery of a long white button through skirt and a t-shirt style top with sculptured patterns and motifs. The girl at the checkout eyed Mike suspiciously. Mike felt he must be blushing, but tried to carry it off as an ordinary, everyday affair. He stepped out of the shop clutching the plain white carrier bag, and found he'd been holding his breath. Two deep breaths and he was well enough to walk home. The following day, a more confident Mike ventured into the town's department store. He'd walked through the lingerie department many times carefully studying the garments while appearing not to look at them. "Looking for something nice for your girlfriend?" Mike had almost died as the sales assistant spoke. He stepped back and tangled himself up in one of the display stands. He recovered enough to nod. "Looking for a three-piece set in white?", and she went on without waiting for a reply, "Now this is nice, with the lacy panels, and suspender belt, here." Mike was horrified. Surely everyone in the shop must be looking at him. And she was still talking at the top of her voice. "Do you know what size she is, your girlfriend, her bust and cup size?" From his minimal research in a thick shopping catalogue, Mike had decided 36b was nicely middle of the road. "Yes, we've got plenty in that size. Would you like some shiny white stockings to go with it? They're a very popular line with the young ladies." She waved a packet at Mike, and he managed to smile and say, "Yes". He paid, and set off for the shoe department. This was far less traumatic. He selected a pair of size 8 white sandals from the "sale" racks before anyone accosted him. Then he hurried home to try everything on. Mike waited until the house was empty, and the he locked his bedroom door - he couldn't risk his Mum or brothers finding him dressed up. He put the bra and briefs on, stuffing a rolled up sock in each of the empty cups. The suspender and stockings were a little trickier. Mike had to reattach the suspenders to the stocking tops when he discovered the secret of being able to take his knickers down without undoing everything.
    Next came the white sculptured top, and Mike looked down admiringly at the mounds on his chest. He stepped into the skirt; the waist was elasticated and very easy to adjust. He tried it with just the last few buttons undone near the hem. He undid more buttons, two at a time, and tested the effect by walking up and down. He finally settled on about three quarters undone. Mike put the sandals on, and walked up and down some more. He was aware for the first time of the sensual effect of the skirt moving against his legs as he walked. But it wasn't complete yet. There was a male hairstyle and hairy legs to be sorted, and make-up to be applied. The ever helpful Mandy said she would help with all that. The night of the party came and Mike got his bundle out of the house without his mum seeing it. He drove the short distance to Mandy's flat, his heart thumping with anticipation. Mandy's husband Tom was out when Mike arrived. She ushered him into the box room and gave him her shaver. "You'll have to do something with those legs." She smiled and left the room. Mike stripped to his underwear and began shaving his legs. He decided to shave under his arms too, and then removed most of the body hair he could reach. Mike tingled inside as he slipped the stockings on. Everything that touched his silky smooth legs felt strange, exotic and exciting. Mike finished dressing and called Mandy. She came in wearing just her French knickers. Mike was used to seeing Mandy less than fully undressed, but he had never seen her topless. As she painted his finger nails and set about restyling his hair, he pondered on the unusual relationship Tom and Mandy had. He wasn't sure they actually went wife swapping, but they both played the field independently. He was sure Tom wouldn't think anything of seeing Mandy half naked with a man dressed as a woman. Tom arrived home at that moment, put his head round the door, smiled, and went to the kitchen to make a sandwich. Mandy finished Mike's hair and applied hi make-up. He peered at himself in the mirror and. Who was that looking back? It wasn't Mike. But it was Mikki! Mike watched the television for half an hour while Tom and Mandy got themselves ready. Mike couldn't settle. He practised trying to walk elegantly, with some success. Then Mandy and Tom came into the lounge, and demonstrated their Pantomime Horse costume. They gathered up their bottles and cans, and left the flat, walking a short distance down the road to Tom's Car. The wind blew Mike's skirt open to reveal the stocking tops and suspenders. Some passers-by stared at his exposed thighs, and a rush of adrenalin surged through his veins. He half turned towards them and the wind lifted high enough for them to see his lacy briefs: they whistled appreciatively. From that moment, Mike was hooked - he would have to do this again! The party was a pleasant enough affair, teeming with pantomime dames but only one Snow White. Several people thought he was a girl: a testimonial to Mandy's skill with hair and make-up. Mandy danced with Mike several times, always when there was a slow, smoochy record on. She held him close, pressing her body against his. Towards the end of the evening, Mandy took Mike upstairs away from the noise to talk. "Well Mike, how are you enjoying being dressed up?" "It's great!" He paused. "The only problem I've got is when I get excited." Mandy's brow furrowed into a question.
    "These briefs aren't really large enough." And Mike lifted up his skirt to show Mandy his swollen, semi erect penis trying to climb out of his knickers. Mandy's eyebrows went up, and she smiled. "Actually, I came to ask if you mind going home now. Tom's had far too much to drink, and I'll need some help getting him into bed." "Yes, of course. We can go right away." Mike was looking forward to walking outside in the breeze again. Getting to the car and then walking back to the flat was as exciting as before, even though there was no one to see Mike's display. With some difficulty, they got Tom upstairs and into his bed. Mike and Mandy retired to the lounge. "Why don't you stay the night?" Mandy suggested, breaking the silence as they sipped hot coffee. Mandy moved closer to Mike on the sofa. She put her arm around him and kissed him. Mike was too stunned to object, and then he found he didn't want to object. Her hands gliding up and down his leg smoothed his psyche. Unselfconsciously, Mike's hands explored the natural curves of her body. Her hand moved to his penis and she gently caressed it to it's full stature: it burst out of the briefs. Mike's hand in response, delved inside Mandy's knickers, finding comfort in her warmth. He stroked her clitoris with a gentle rhythm. While their coffee went cold, they warmed up, delving and exploring each other. Mandy stood up and held her hand out to Mike. They walked to the spare room and closed the door. "Let me undress you," Mandy whispered. She slowly took off his clothes, making every movement a sensual stroking sensation that held Mike in a state of euphoria. She left his suspenders and stockings on. "I want you to make love to me still made up like a woman." Mike now knew where it had all been leading to. She wanted him as her TV lover. Mike took her clothes off as she lay on the bed in front of him, and he surveyed her body. Why should he complain? He would never turn down the chance of sex with Mandy, whatever the preconditions. Mike climbed onto the bed and set about his first night of TV passion with Mandy. The End

SHOULD I TELL THE ONE I LOVE

Whichever path we choose only one thing can be certain, unless you are very lucky indeed you are likely to endure much heartache and frustration along the way. If the answer is no, you may be committing yourself to a life of secrecy and deceit, if the answer is yes, you will probably run the risk of being misunderstood and rejected. Of course, this will not be the case for everyone and I can only draw on my own experiences to come to these conclusions. However, I am pretty sure that there must be plenty of other transvestites out there whose story is not that different than mine. I can remember being as young as twelve years old standing naked in front of a mirror with my boyfriend carefully tucked out of sight innocently admiring a reflection that had a strange hint of femininity about it. At this time I had no idea why I did this, all I know was that it felt pleasant and comforting. At sixteen having secured a Saturday job and having some spare money, I found myself inexplicably purchasing woman's underwear, wonderfully soft silky and delicate panties and bras. I built up quite a collection. Whenever I was alone I would select my favourite items, put them on and spend hours parading in front of the all-important mirror savouring the pleasant feeling it gave me. To my absolute horror my secret collection was discovered by my mother and for the first time in my life I was made to feel guilt and shame for my behaviour. Despite being hurt and confused by the subsequent anger and derision, I quickly replaced my confiscated belongings, found a more secure hiding place and continued to dress up as often as possible. At seventeen I met and fell in love with my first real girlfriend, Irene, and as our relationship blossomed I longed to let her in on my little secret, but the right moment never seemed to come. When we arranged to spend a weekend away together at a caravan park in the countryside an idea suddenly occurred to me. As we unpacked I feigned annoyance telling my girlfriend that I had forgotten to take any spare underwear with me. I managed to persuade Irene to lend me some of her's and she gave me a pair of skimpy powder-blue satin panties. Feelings Later on in the local pub she playfully teased me that the outline of her panties were clearly visible through my trousers and what would all the other customers think if they know what I was wearing. I had engineered the situation but failed to take full advantage of it and express my true feelings, something I have always regretted. Instead we laughed and joked about it, I suggested that maybe I could borrow some of her underwear in the future but this was met with a cool response. The act of wearing those panties in her presence and with her full knowledge was an extremely elating experience, but not wishing to upset Irene I pushed the matter no further. However, I could not stop the compulsive desire to dress up and so I carried on in private and my little collection started to grow. I obtained a skirt and blouse, a dress, more underwear and some makeup. Our love for each other grew and at eighteen we married, moved away from home and started to make a life together.We were very happy together, but I felt that there was something missing, I desperately wanted to tell my new wife about my peculiar habit, but could not find the words or the courage to do so. As a compromise, keeping my own feminine belongings well hidden, I suggested that it might be fun for me to dress up in some of her clothes as a game, a prelude to sex. In my naivety I imagined that this solution would make it easier for Irene to accept my needs to cross-dress and that, although it was not exactly what I wanted, I at least had the opportunity to dress in feminine clothes in her presence.  
  Uncomfortable I should have been more honest and come clean, it was an uncomfortable arrangement for the both of us. Although Irene let me indulge myself it was far from perfect, she was confused that her husband, a man, should want to wear her clothes for no apparent reason other than a game, and for my part I was gaining very little pleasure from these occasional opportunities. For me, dressing as a woman had nothing to do with sexual gratification, I didn't want to become a woman and I definitely wasn't gay, and yet because of my inability to express my true feelings those were the thoughts that were going through my wife's mind. And with no logical explanation from me, who could blame her really? I spent long hours deliberating over the problem and trying to figure out a way to tell Irene, I became obsessed with wanting her to understand me. The pressure of keeping this secret to myself was starting to become an intolerable burden. It was such a simple, harmless and innocent pleasure, so why did it evoke such misunderstanding and prejudice? It wasn't something dirty or perverted, in fact quite the opposite. When I had rid my body of hair, slipped into skimpy lace trimmed underwear, pulled on my stockings and high heels, put on my skirt and blouse, placed my wig upon my head and applied my makeup I stepped into another world, a better more peaceful and gentle world. The stresses and strains of everyday life seemed to drift away, worries and anxieties were replaced with an aura of beautiful tranquil pleasure. How could this be so wrong? I stopped requesting our little game and reverted to dressing in secret again, alone and isolated, but at least I was dressing as a woman for my own reasons and not as a compromise. I continued like this for some time and life went on - we had two beautiful daughters and we went through the normal ups and downs that all couples have to endure. On the face of it we were a very happy, healthy couple except that I was leading this terrible double life. On the one hand I was the respectable loving husband and father and on the other this person who craved to dress up as a woman in secret because there didn't seem to be any other choice. The burden of keeping my feminine half hidden soon began to take its toll and I am sure my family suffered as a consequence. I became increasingly bad tempered and irritable and started to turn to drink for solace. I couldn't see it then but I became a pitiful creature full of self pity and sorrow, and it was all my own creation. I went through bouts of depression and guilt, throwing away all my feminine belongings, promising myself that I could live without it only to find a couple of months later that the irresistle urge would return with a gretaer intensity. I would then go out on mad shopping sprees replacing everything that I had lost, and so began an expensive destructive cycle that was to last for fifteen years. Every so often I approached Irene asking her if she would agree to my dressing up in her presence, but my requests were always greeted with an emphatic no. This did not help my growing anxiety and depression, but it was not her fault, it was mine. Why couldn't I have just been more honest from the beginning. It would have made life so much easier...  
  Mistake In one last desperate act I took advantage of a weekend alone with Irene while the children were staying with relatives and persuaded her to let me dress up in front of her. She agreed, but it was a mistake, a very big mistake. I felt so happy as I prepared myself, ensuring that I looked my best. Irene's jaw dropped as I entered the room in my favourite outfit, high heeled court shoes, stockinged legs, a short black velour mini-skirt, a wine coloured blouse, my face fully made up and my mousey blonde wig. she could not bear to look at me and after only fifteen minutes sitting on the sofa together she ran out of the room. I following and found her sobbing uncontrollably on the bed, she couldn't cope and was devastated, and it frightened me - this time I had surely gone too far. I had seen Irene upset before but this was different, I had a real feeling that I could lose her. That scared me. I loved her dearly and couldn't even contemplate life without her. Stripping off and scrubbing my face I stuffed all my feminine belongings into a large refuse sack and put it out with the rubbbish. I tried to comfort her, promising her that I would change, that I would block my compulsation out altogether, but it did not last long. How shallow my promise was. Once again I found myself purchasing the clothes, underwear, make-up, shoes and wig that I could not live without, and again I started to dress in secret. Then something happen to change my life again, I had embarked on a quest to become a writer. I had always been quite artistic and I thought this would be a new way to express myself. After several rejected manuscripts I decided to follow some advice and write something I know about intimately. After one more rejection, my first short story was accepted! I was overjoyed and when I told Irene, to my surprise, she shared my joy. She said she was proud of me and pleased with my success. Misconceptions As subsquent scripts were accepted we began to openly discuss my strange obsession for the first time. In the evenings when we took our regular walk in the woods I was able to explain to Irene about the many different aspects of transvestism, why people did it and most importantly why I did it. It was wonderful to be able to talk like this, to explore the myths and misconceptions and my wife listened with genuine interest and curiosity. It was like a huge burden being lifted from my shoulders and I felt ten years younger, the relief at finally being understood was incredible. I still dress up on my own when I have the house to myself because I know that it's not Irene's cup of tea and I respect that, but now there is a big difference. I have not exactly got her blessing, but I do have her understanding and sympathy and that is very precious to me. I no longer suffer from depression or pangs of guilt and can enjoy my cross dressing for the simple pleasure that it is. I now only feel happiness in the knowledge that I have a one-in-milion, long suffering, loving and understanding wife.

MIKES DISCOVERY

Mike's biggest problem was that he was indecisive. Anyone who knew him was aware that he had to be bullied into making decisions. He was a living example of the old joke: 'I used to be indecisive, now I'm not so sure' Mike's lack of positivity spilled into his personal life in unexpected ways. When Mike was a naïve 14 year old, his brother, Sean, had got married and brought his wife to live in the family home until settling into a place of their own. The fascination of having a young woman in the house was too much for Mike to resist. After Jane had been around for a couple of months, Mike had done what many boys like him would have done and decided to sneak a look in her underwear drawer... The first expedition had been carried out while the house was empty. Mike had gone through the cycle of wanting to do it, then not wanting to, but eventually his curiosity had beaten his fear. He'd quietly gone into the room (as if anybody would hear him anyway!) and opened the wardrobe door. The clothes he found were, of course, a mixture of male and female. It was only a small bedroom and Jane and Sean had to share the limited space as best they could. It was getting harder for Mike to breathe as he realised that here was a chance to discover what female underwear was really like! Countless hours spent looking at magazine advertisements and underwear catalogues had given Mike an idea of the look of lingerie. There had even been rare opportunities to briefly caress a pair of panties, a bra or a suspender belt while out shopping. Here at last was the real thing... Mike had never heard of cross-dressing or transvestism. As far as he was concerned he was only looking at pretty underwear because he liked to. Even at the stage of sneaking a look at Jane's undies it was only a bit of a thrill, nothing serious. After all, what else was a boy his age to do? As Mike started looking through the wardrobe, he was bracing himself for the possibility that Jane was not the sort of girl who would go in for 'sexy' underwear. He was fully expecting to discover a collection of old, comfortable cotton knickers and bras, nothing remotely interesting. Jane did have some plain undies, but as Mike nosed deeper into the wardrobe he found that she also liked far prettier and sexier lingerie too. Mike's breathing became quicker as he found a drawer containing things he had only dreamed of. There were satin and lace panties, bras and suspender belts. There were a couple of beautiful basques, one black, one red. Stockings of all colours abounded. Mike saw black, white, blue and even red nylons, a pair of black fishnets and lace tops...
    His hands trembled as he touched all the gorgeous underwear. The sensation of smoothness and the beauty of the lingerie, as compared with his own cotton boxers, was a revelation. Mike was totally lost in this world and when he heard his parent's car draw into the driveway he shot out of the bedroom, having tried to put everything back as he'd found it. Mike, blushing ferociously, darted back into his room, undiscovered. The thrill of what he'd found was coupled with a sense of guilt at having been going through someone else's possessions. After a few days, Mike's thoughts turned to Jane's underwear once more. It wasn't long before he was alone again. Inevitably, despite the fear of being caught he went back to look at and touch his sister in law's things. Up until now, Mike had no more thought of putting on female underwear than he had of learning Cantonese. In the presence of real lingerie he'd deciding that touching wasn't enough. There had to be a next step and it was pretty obvious what that should be. There was one particular underwear set of Jane's that made Mike feel very excited whenever he saw it. It was the perfect lingerie as far as he was concerned. The set consisted of bra, panties and suspender belt. It was made of smooth satin and delicate lace. The colour was pale pink with white lace. Mike knew that if he ever got around to actually wearing lingerie, then this would be his choice. There were many times over the next few days when Mike would let his thoughts wander to Jane's pretty pink underwear. School work was hard to concentrate on as visions of lingerie interrupted Mike's thoughts. He would come home in the afternoon, hoping that no one else would be home, so he could fulfil his fantasy. He'd then back out. The desire to try the underwear was always limited by the fear of being caught and exposed. Finally, tired of all the to-ing and fro-ing, Mike decided that he would be 'sick' and not go to school one day. Since everyone else in the household worked during the day this meant that Mike had the house to himself. The risk of discovery was next to non-existent. On the day that Mike had picked, he waited until all the normal sounds of departure for work had died away. He then waited five minutes in case someone had forgotten their keys, ten minutes in case of car breakdown and twenty minutes to allow for the possibility of someone being struck by lightning and staggering home... It was getting on for eleven o'clock before indecisive Mike actually got around to going into Jane and Sean's room. He picked out the pink and white undies, grabbed the first stockings that came to hand, panicked and put them all back. Realising that if he carried on like this he would never try the lingerie, Mike then took a deep breath, counted to ten and went back in. He picked up the ball of satin and lace, made sure there were two stockings in the mixture then marched back into his own room. Having at last achieved the first step, the rest should be relatively easy.
    Mike's 'studies' had shown him in great detail what lingerie was supposed to look like on a real body, so it was now a matter of working out the unfamiliar fastenings. This was not difficult and Mike was soon struggling to shed his clothes, impatient to put on satin and lace. He struggled with the bra before deciding that he wouldn't bother with it this time (This time? I hope there's going to be a next time! he thought) and picked up the suspender belt instead. Clipping it behind his waist proved difficult, particularly with his trembling, excited fingers, so Mike turned it around and fastened it at the front. Then he pulled it around to the proper position. The stockings came next and Mike instinctively decided that it would be best to roll them up then unroll them onto his legs. He carefully put the first rolled up stocking onto his foot then unrolled the cool, smooth black nylon up his leg. When the stocking was fully on, it was obvious that it was fastened to the suspenders by the dark welt at the top. Mike's fingers had calmed somewhat, so it was no trouble to secure the front suspender to the stocking. The rearmost strap was different! Finally, after twisting himself then twisting the stocking, one leg was covered in beautifully sheer black nylon. The second stocking was dealt with more quickly than the first until finally Mike was left with only the pink and white lacy panties to try. He picked them up then stood up, off the bed he'd been sitting on. Bending down he put his feet into the leg holes then slowly drew the panties up. This simple action was accompanied by unexpected sensations. Mike had never thought that pulling on a pair of knickers would be so pleasurable. First there was the rustle of the lace on the stockings. Then there was the brush of the panties on his bare thighs and a second's fumbling as the suspender clips got in the way. Finally Mike straightened up, at last dressed in the underwear that had dominated his thoughts for so long. His first thought was how much more wonderful it was to be wearing lingerie than he had imagined. He turned to look at himself in the mirror on his wardrobe. He gasped with pleasure at the sight of himself. The shining black nylons, the pink-and-white panties and suspenders were so pretty and feminine that Mike wondered why he had never dared try them before. It was then that Mike knew that he had made a decision that would stay with him forever. He knew that to live without the possibility of dressing in female underwear would be unbearable. At every opportunity after that, Mike would go into Jane's drawers and try her lingerie. Although he was never caught there were some near misses. None of these put him off. As far as he knew, his secret was safe.
    Finally the time came when Sean and Jane were able to put a deposit on a flat and move out. Mike was roped into the moving party and spent a whole Saturday helping. He helped with very mixed feelings - on the one hand he was glad that his brother and his sister-in-law had found somewhere to really start their new life together. This meant however that there was no further access to Jane's lingerie, so Mike also felt sad on his own account. During the moving day it felt as if all Mike's hopes were disappearing. He had no money to buy any lingerie of his own. The thought had crossed his mind that if he'd had the money, he wouldn't have the courage. By the time the move was completed, Mike was worn out both by the work and by his boiling emotions. He got home, had some food and took a shower before flopping on his bed. He dozed off for a while, waking when he felt a pain in his neck. The pillow felt oddly hard in one spot, so he reached underneath expecting to find the rolled-up T-shirt and boxer shorts that he normally wore in bed. Mike's hand connected with something that felt more like paper than cotton, so, intrigued, he pulled the pillow away to reveal a small package. Written on the front, in Jane's writing was the single word 'Mike'. By now Mike was thoroughly confused so he tore the plain brown paper open. There was a card under the paper, which Mike opened. He read: Dear Mike, thank you so much for all the help you've given us getting moved. I didn't want to embarrass you in front of everybody, so I left you a little something. I'd guessed you'd been visiting my room so I thought I'd return the compliment... On reading this, Mike blushed scarlet. He thought he'd been so careful! After the initial shock he calmed down enough to read the rest of the note. ...I'm pretty perceptive, you know, even though I do seem a bit scatterbrained at times. A girl always knows when she's been raided! Especially when she has a brother about your age who shares your interests. Please accept my gift with my thanks and don't worry. No one else knows about my brother... or my brother in law! Love Janexxx Mike was filled with mixed feelings, but it didn't stop him from unwrapping his package. His trembling fingers clumsily ripped away the paper and tape. Inside he saw a hint of white then pink...Could it be..? He pulled the contents out and finally, on his bed lay two pairs of black nylon stockings and a new set of the beautiful lingerie that he had first tried on... The End

Sylvia was the co-founder of S.T.A.R (Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries) along with Marsha P. Johnson and was the first president of the organization.

 

Silvia-Rivera-Foto-Wara-Vargas_LRZIMA20141017_0116_4

 

Sylvia was born on July 2, 1951, in New York City. Orphaned at the age of 3, she was raised by her grandmother. Sylvia ran away from home at the age of 10 because of non-acceptance of her gender orientation, and over the next 10 years survived as a hustling street queen. Sylvia has always been an activist at the street level, ready to demonstrate and ready to go to jail to make the point she is trying to represent.

 

Her most recent incarceration came as a result of the police riot which occurred following the Matthew Shepard "Political Funeral" in New York City. One of her earlier exploits was scaling the walls of New York's City Hall in a tight skirt and 4-inch heels in order to open the doors to admitting the gay and lesbian demonstrators attempting to gain admittance. (They removed her with a fire ladder before she got the doors open).

 

Sylvia was active in queer politics in the 1970s and was a direct witness of the shameful deletion of transgendered people from the proposed Gay Rights ordinance in New York City by gay and lesbian leaders who were willing to sacrifice trans people in order to get their own rights protected. In spite of "giving up" transgendered people, gays and lesbians still did not get their ordinance passed until 18 years later.

 

Sylvia Rivera took a hiatus from active political work from the late 1970s to the early 1990s, when she worked as a food service technician with the Marriott Corporation in Tarrytown, New York. Nevertheless, during this period she never missed the Christopher Street Liberation Parade (now known as the New York City Heritage of Pride Parade). She also organized periodic drag shows in Tarrytown. In the early 1990's Sylvia returned to New York City after losing her job, and went through several years of homelessness, living on the same piers where Marsha P. Johnson was found dead.

 

Sylvia resumed her political activities as an advocate for homeless people, queer people, and the transgender community. In 1997 she came to live at Transy House. She continues to be active on the Stonewall Riot Veterans, the Metropolitan Gender Network. the MCC of New York, the Anti Violence Project, The Fed Up Queers, and many other organizations. Sylvia Rivera has been featured in many books and articles dealing with Stonewall and queer activism.

 

One of the best sources is "STONEWALL" by Martin Duberman. She has also received many honours and awards in the United States and overseas for her lifetime of political activism for the queer community, including recognition by the Washington DC Transgender Alliance, the AmBoyz, and the New York Puerto Rican Gay and Lesbian Organization.



SOUNDING LIKE A WOMAN

Fortunately for us, there is no such thing as a 'normal female voice'. Our voices are almost as individual as our faces, and any individual voice is capable of great variation. We can speak nasally, harshly or huskily almost at will. You will, no doubt, think your voice is too low in pitch, but bear in mind that pitch is only one factor in a voice, and other factors can compensate for low pitch. Earth Kitt's voice, for example, is very low pitched, but is unmistakeably feminine. In fact, a low pitched feminine voice can sound very sexy. It is important to remember that your are not trying to get a completely new voice, just to feminise your own existing voice. Your dialect or accent should be preserved, and you should be careful to keep your individuality. Relaxed self confidence is a necessary first step in developing your new feminised voice. Undue tension in any part of the body will interfere with the easy functioning of the vocal chords. This is often accompanied by excessive concentration which also prevents natural speech. Before starting an exercise, stretch your muscles to remove any undue tension, and then relax. As much like a cat as possible, stretch and relax. Try to avoid doing the following speech therapy exercises when there is too much background noise - complete silence would be ideal. It may even be a good idea to draw the curtains to help dampen the sounds of the outside world. Stretch, and relax.... Breath Control After relaxation, breath control is the next most essential in feminising your voice. Good speech stems from breathing correctly and in a controlled way. If you cannot control your breath you will not be able to control your voice. Stand with your body weight slightly forward, with heels lightly on the ground, shoulders loose and head erect. Take a deep breath and allow it to escape slowly and evenly. Practise this once or twice before attempting to use your breath to speak. When you do speak, be careful not to spend all of your breath at the beginning of the phrase. You should have enough to last comfortably until the end of the phrase, or even have a little left over. Allow any extra breath to escape without sound. A puff of air at the end of the phrase is both unnecessary and unfeminine. Controlling your breath as above, repeat the following phrases: I am going shopping today Could you tell me the time please? Can I try this blouse on please? Practise these over and over, until you're happy with your breath control.  
  sounding2.jpgPitching Right Male voices are generally lower in pitch than those of females. Therefore, a woman with a very low voice and male inflection stands out. Pitch and tonal range are not the only differences between male and female voices - only a part of the difference. The object of these exercises is not to produce a falsetto, but to incorporate higher notes into your speaking range. The voice is closely integrated with personality. Inflection, volume and voice quality are used to express emotion. Trust your natural femininity and have fun with the exercises! Continued relaxation is very important - stretch and relax... Pitch is determined by the degree of tension in the muscles controlling the vocal chords, which are in turn controlled by your own perception of the sound you are making. When you want to sing a note, you don't tense your vocal chords deliberately - instead, you hear the note in your mind and the vocal chords adjust themselves, the process is subconscious. Speech works in the same way. Vocal muscles can, however, be exercised - and flexibility improved - provided that you have plenty of breath and keep your neck and throat muscles relaxed. Before starting any exercise, here are a few points to remember: Avoid smokey areas Avoid stress so you can develop a pattern of relaxed and easy breathing Develop a different speech rhythm - melodic rather than a business-like staccato pattern based on a narrow range of notes. Bearing this in mind, try counting 1-2-3... 1-2-3... 1-2-3...... Then, raising the pitch a little (though still speaking, not singing), repeat again. Keep practising at different pitches, and the exercise will help you to add a more melodic character to your voice. Voice Variety In this exercise, the voices you use should all be very different. Try to approach each as best you can, but don't be disheartened if your first efforts are disappointing. Variety is the spice of life - try as many different voices and pitches as you want... Husky Feminine Voice - "It is time I went home now" Low pitched, but less husky voice - "It is time I went home now" Medium pitch feminine voice - "It is time I went home now" Higher pitched voice - "It is time I went home now" Try them all again and again until you feel confident in a variety of voices - you can learn to use all these voices in everyday speech to express your different emotions, just as we all use our own male versions naturally.  
  Setting the tone A further difference between male and female voices is their tone. In puberty female vocal chords lengthen and the lining of the pharynx becomes thicker and softer. This produces a mellow, soft tone. Male vocal chords increase in mass and length, and the pitch descends. These tonal differences can be manipulated by using exercises to lengthen the vowels. Working on neatening your pronunciation will also pay dividends. Research shows that women's pronunciation is 'correct' for a greater proportion of the time than is men's. However, this does not mean that you need to change your accent - merely to be more careful in the way you speak. Stretch and relax. Breathe easily... Sound the first letter of the phrases softly, feel your mouth forming the sounds, and stretch the vowels a little: OO L-ah L-ah Ahoy ahoy - stretch to A--hoy ahoy that ship ahoy Cold, cold, it is so very cold Boom, boom, the gun went boom Stretch and relax. Breathe easily... now try it again... Once you are satisfied with your lengthened vowels, at least for the present, you can move on to your inflection. Quality Inflection When we speak we do not do so in a monotone. Rather, our pitch rises and falls naturally. This modulation of pitch is known as inflection, and it is this that gives our voices their expressive qualities. Inflection is especially important in personal conversation - it shows whether or not we are listening attentively. Many of the diffferences between male and female voices - especially in inflection - arise from the kind of things we say. An employer does not coo softly at someone receiving a reprimand, nor does one bellow sweet nothings into the ear of a lover. Generally speaking, women use inflection more than men. This reflects their nurturing role with children - although the quality is still visible in women who do not have (or want) children. The next exercise is designed to improve your inflection. Stretch and relax. Breathe easily. Then try saying: OH - (pitch drops) No - What (pitch drops) a (pitch drops) pi - (pitch drops) -ty I can't (pitch drops) and I (pitch drops) won't (pitch drops) believe (pitch drops) it Step (pitch rises) up Step (pitch drops) down Be (pitch drops) qui- (pitch drops) -et!  
  Putting it all together It is time to put together everything we have learnt so far. So, stretch and relax, breathe easily, then repeat the following nonsense rhyme, trying out all that you have learnt: Dong Dong Dong! Bonged the great big gong. The Hong Kong gong Had a long sad song Of woe and wrong, Of woe and wrong! Bong Bong Bong Dong Dong Dong Bong Bong Bong Bong! Dong Dong Dong You can hear the gong In old Cantong. The Hong Kong gong In old Cantong You can scarcely hear the gong The Bong-Dong gong Remember, it is all a question of practice - and if you can manage to clearly recite the above rhyme, while paying attention to the techniques we've covered, you'll know you've made excellent progress. Try listening to yourself with a tape recorder, and continue to work on your breath control, tone, variety and inflection until you are happy with the way you sound. Stretch and relax, breathe deeply... Stretch and relax, breathe deeply... Good luck! For a more in-depth guide to elecution, please see our Speech Therapy Course which includes four audio cassettes, which take you through voice exercises allowing you to practice and evaluate your progress.

WHATS IN YOUR HANDBAG

I think the oddest thing in mine is a four-inch nail. No - it's not for emergency repairs to the dancefloor after I've been dancing, but more of that in a bit. First, a few things which are not in my handbag... Once upon a time, when I had a larger handbag, it always contained a hairbrush. My current one does not. Before putting on my wig I brush it thoroughly. However, touching up the wig (once it's on my head) is better done with the fingers. Brushing can leave the wig with a flat, unnatural look. Fingering creates a more untidy appearance which looks much more natural. So - when I'm out strutting my stuff I don't need a hairbrush. I sometimes carry a spare stocking or two in case of ladders, but there aren't any in my bag at the moment. The darker the stockings one wears, the more important this is - the slightest damage to a black stocking is glaringly obvious. Currently, mine are pale - a shade the manufacturer calls 'natural'. With these, the sort of damage stockings pick up on the dancefloor is very hard to see. They don't last forever of course, but they are wearable in a worse state than black ones. The down side to this is that the paler the stockings, the better job you need to make of shaving your legs! Another thing absent from my handbag is money. It's hard to dance with a bag flapping about on your shoulder. For disco numbers, there's a kind of teenage charm about dancing around your handbag, but it's a bit limiting - having to keep to a single spot on the dancefloor. When it comes to ballroom dancing, the bag is just a nuisance. It's best just to leave the bag where you're sitting, but an unattended handbag containing money is not a good idea. My money goes into a little purse on my belt - it looks a tad like a hand grenade, but it is very useful!  
  handbag3.jpgAlso absent are most of the make-up products I use - foundation, blusher and eye make-up are all missing. I've tried carrying these, but found that once they were on they were on for the night. The only make-up items I carry with me are a couple of products genuinely useful for repairs during the course of an evening. One item of make-up I do carry with me is face powder, with a couple of little pads to apply it. Dancing in a wig is a hot business. They say that horses sweat, men perspire, while ladies only glow. A night at the disco can have me glowing like a pig. As the glow trickles down my face, a little extra dab of powder can fix a multitude of sins. I also use the powder as a base for lipstick - the other make-up product I carry. I tend to suffer from slightly greasy lips and used to have a lot of difficulty in getting the lipstick to take, especially on the lower lip. A bit of powder (not too much) leaves my lips dry and ready for the colour. Actually, I use the lipstick more often during the course of the evening than the powder. A little bit of extra lippie can do wonders to a face that's starting to lack something or other. More - there's something deliciously feminine about sitting down and putting on your lipstick. Along with the lipstick, I also carry lip-liner - invaluable in defining a sharp edge to lips that have become smudged over the course of an evening. (See our make-upguide for hints on applying make-up) An essential accessory for both make-up products is a mirror. It's handy for checking whether more make-up is necessary,and indespensible for putting it on. I used to carry a plain rectangle or round mirror, but found it was apt to break if carried in a handbag. Apart from the risk of seven years' bad luck, broken glass is dangerous and certainly not what I want to find on thrusting my hand into the bag. It also spoils the impression, sitting down doing one's lips with a shard of broken mirror in the left hand - deliciously femme?? Get real! The mirror I use today is actually 2 mirrors, normal and enlarging. They are in a solidly constructed hinged case which, when shut, preserves them from harm. Both mirrors are useful - the normal one for checking the appearance of my whole face, the enlarging one for work on my lips.  
  handbag.jpgTransgender Resources A Survival Kit for a Night on the Town, By Annie Peters Lipstick is not the only thing that can wear off during the evening, and I also carry a small perfume spray. I think it's important to smell nice as well as look good. Spraying it on is, of course, another action in the deliciously feminine category, but don't overdo it - your fragrance should not precede you by too much! Less feminine is a handkerchief - and not a delicate lacy one, at that. I have already mentioned 'glowing like a pig'. When the glow stings the eyes something substantial is needed to blot it. Used with reasonable delicacy, the hankie can be better than a tissue for mopping up the glow without wrecking the eye make-up. Carrying tissues as well could be a good idea - but I tend to use a bit of paper from the toilet. It does well enough, and avoids the accumulation of a layer of disintegrated tissue at the bottom of my bag. In some places the toilets run out of paper - but more can sometimes be had if one has the gumption to ask at the bar. Much more ladylike than a hankie is a nail file in a little plastic case. Rough nails not only look less than perfectly femme, but wreck stockings. It also has a little hook at the end for removing dirt. Dirty nails - varnished or otherwise - are a real no-no. Also metal are four small safety pins. I keep them pinned together for convenience - a solitary safety pin at the bottom of the bag is very hard to find, and when a safety pin is needed it's usually needed in a hurry. A cluster of four pins is much easier to locate. Their purpose (need I tell you girls) is emergency repair to clothes. At the bottom of the bag, with the pins, is a small card with a dozen or more kirby-grips. The grips can be useful for keeping a wig fixed to one's real hair - especially if the wig's webbing is past its first flush of youth. Another use for a hair grip is to pin back one's real hair if it seems determined to escape from the confines of the wig. That's especially important if wig and real hair are different colours. And that leaves only... the four inch nail. It's for the toilet. As a trannie out on the town, one has to be careful about using toilets at all. There are places - mostly gay - where there isn't any great problem about using the ladies, but it shouldn't be taken for granted. Be careful, and check it out first - but it is sometimes possible. In several ladies toilets I've used, the sliding part of the bolt has been missing from the cubicle doors. A nightmare scenario is to be sat there with my knickers down, only to have a woman with more sensibility than sense burst in on me. At best, a trannie is only allowed in the ladies under sufferance - and there are limits one must not cross. So... slide the four inch nail into the bolt fixings and it's securely held. A handy tip, perhaps. Remember, you read it here first!

SILICONE SILOXANE BREAST MANUFACTURING

Ultra thin, high tear strength PUR translucid film ( the external skin of a breast form) High purity, high durability silicone gel. We use siloxane oligomers as raw material for the polymerisation of the vinyl end capped and addition cross linkable poly siloxane polymer. f880_1945genresbreasts.jpg High efficiency platinum catalysts (the platinum compound promotes the cure of the silicone to a gel consistency). Adhesion Promotion compound (to ensure perfect adhesion of the silicone gel to the PUR skin for maxium durability of the breast form).  f880_1946genresbreasts.jpg  
  We need to thermoform the outer skin into the shape of a front and back side breast form. This is done in a heated mold and vacuum. After the application of the silicone gel nipple inside the front skin and the completion of its curing cycle, we can then form a closed envelope by welding together front skin and back skin slongside its perimeter. Yet we leave a small orifice on the top of the envelope through which we shall fill in the liquid silicone gel later.   Now we need to prepare the silicone gel. After polymerizing and end capping the siloxane intermediate, we need to purify the resulting silicone gel polymer from volatile components by filtering and a following distillation process at 200 degrees C under high f880_1941genresbreasts.jpgvacuum. The result is a viscous, high purity, transparent, 100% silicone liquid with a content of 99.95% of non volatiles, a silcone polymer which is useful for medical applications. In order to form a silicone gel suitable for a breast form the polymer needs to be cross linked by means of a "cross linker compound" and a platinum catalyst.       To "cure" the polymer to a gel, we now admix the cross linker/Platinum compound in an adequate ratio to accomplish a life like mobility and consistency. The silicone polymer, cross linker and platinum compounds are now inspected by quality control and released for manufacturing.   Now we fill the liquid cross linker compound and platinum catalyst containing silicone gel into the skin envelope. After curing the silicone polymer to a gel the breast forms are being conducted to the finishing department. Finally the filling orifice is closed, the excess skin trimmed and after a final inspection the breast forms are ready to be packed into master cartons for warehousing and shipping.

THE REALITIES OF GENDER REASSIGNMENT

For the transexual, the challenges that have to be faced in making the great changes involved in gender-reassignment can be so enormous as to shake one's resolve at every step of the way. But, with careful consideration and adequate forethought, they need not be overwhelming. However, anyone who assumes that the challenge lies in learning to dress properly, wear nice clothes, maintain an attractive hairstyle and to use make-up to good effect is really only scratching the surface. True, these aspects are important and cannot be overlooked if one is to fit into the new role, but they do not transcend all and if pursued without consideration of the vaster and more critical realities of becoming a woman, they may become rather superficial. After all, clothes, make-up and appearance are the prime considerations of the transvestite, but for the transexual the entire issue goes to the very core of ones being. Both the cause and effect are so all-embracing that a very realistic attitude to the deeper issues affecting women needs to be developed by the transexual. Biological women are many things in the eyes of men. They are the giving, yielding sex, traditinally bending and surrendering to the more agressive and powerful male. The very sexual act itself puts them (traditonally) into the underlying and characteristically subservient position. They are the nuturing sex, capable of imparting unique shelter, security and love to their children. The bonding between a mother and her child starts at the very first moment of holding and suckling, and from that time on, the relationship has a special quality that cannot quite be equalled by the father. Despite the unique role of women in the continuance of mankind, they are often cruelly reviled and denigrated. Motherhood is supposedly honured and even deified in all societies, yet women are often treated abominably, are objects of lewd humour and are used as chatels and servants by their lords and masters. Women have had to fight through history for their rights in a male-dominated world. Consider some historical facts: All the great religous leaders have been men - Jesus, Mohammed, Confucious and Buddha for example - as have been every pope, archbishop and, until recently, ordinary clergy in most churches. In politics women leaders have almost exclusively been during the post-war years. The UK, India, Pakistan, Norway, Israel and others have all had female leaders in recent years, but look at what women have had to endure to reach those positions of eminence. The first milestone of modern democracy was probably the signing of the Magna Carta in 1215, but it took another 700 years before women began to be granted the vote in most countries. The emancipation of women has opened up opportunities in many professions and businesses. Women lawyers, doctors, accountants and company directors are today an integral part of the community and not objects of curiosity. However, there is a downside and it is far from pleasant. Pornography, frequently featuring women in all sorts of highly exaggerated, distasteful and downright lewd situations is churned out by a multi-million dollar sector of the publishing and film industries, supported by an army of writers, webmasters, photographers and artists. This industry is forever testing the limits of public tolerance, including child pornography and satanism.  
  Hostility to women also seems to have taken on a new destructive face in our society and is a matter of concern to sociologists, theologians, the law and the medical profession. Prejudice, supression and even violence are never far away. The same sort of prejudice and ignorance affects the transsexual in many other areas of our society. We know that if we are to enjoy peace of mind we must shake off the disturbing ambivalence which can make a misery of our lives. But equally we have to recognise that there are limits which preclude us from moving into a cosseted and beautiful world of sheltered femininity. None of us has gone through the process of growing up and developing as females from the day of our birth, even though our instincts tell us that that is what should have happened. Transsexuals go through emotional turmoil, enormous pain, inconvenience and expense because they know that they really are women trapped in a mans body, and this is the price of escape and fulfilment. However, I have not met one who has said that she would not go through it all again if necessary. I have not met one who has not felt profound relief in getting rid of the penis and testicles which have been the hallmark of male superiority since the beginning of time. Equally though, I have not met one who has not had to confront society's ignorance and prejudice. These problems should be faced with as much honesty and courage as one can muster. A transsexual must recognise that in addition to the stigma conferred on him by his or her condition, there are other hardship is involved in simply living life as a woman. Some may try to take refuge in self-imposed isolation, thus creating a sort of ghetto for themsleves and associates. This is a state to be avoided if humanly possible. As I see it, these are the fundamental considerations that must be confronted: Am I happy and proud to be a woman? Am I happy to accept the known and established limitations which are inevitable in living as a woman, keeping in mind that living as a woman and womanhood itself are not quite the same thing? As I am now a woman or in the process of becoming one, can I honestly accept the tolerable limitations of womanhood? In accepting these limitations can I also recognise it as my duty to my sisters to fight for and uphold the rights of women in terms of equal compensations for equal work, the same levels of security that men expect and the same freedom from oppression? Am I prepared to accept that role-reversal is not my aim? Am I prepared to accept that there is a poor future for a world in which there is a dominant and an inferior sex? Not everyone will be able to answer these questions affirmatively, but we all owe it to ourselves to confront the realities of becoming a woman with the knowledge that it is loaded with obstacles. But if these questions can be answered objectively and with honesty, the chances of succeeding as a real creative woman, making a distinct and valuable contribution to society, will be much enhanced.

10 WAYS TO COME OUT OF THE CLOSET

'Coming out is hard to do...' as Neil Sedaka might have sung. The idea of other people, especially one's nearest and dearest, knowing what we get up to is for some trannies a vision from hell. We imagine horror, betrayal, ridicule, disgust... I know one TV who has spent over thirty years in a stable and loving marriage with grown up children, and all without breathing a word to his wife. 'If I had known in my youth what I know now,' he told me, 'I would probably have saved up for the operation. But in those days it was unheard of, so I followed the conventional route. Now, how could I possibly tell my wife, after keeping it a secret for so long? What would I say? "Oh, by the way darling, I thought I ought to let you know that I've always wanted to be a woman and I spend my weekends away dressed in high heels" ? No, the scene is hardly to be imagined.' But many of us do manage to break the news without too much trauma. Are there any tips to pass on? Here is my personal repertoire of possible routes out of the closet, but first a health warning: some are more successful than others! Tell it straight, tell it early I must have been about 19 when I told my fiancee (now my wife), after we were going steady but before we were engaged. I can't claim to have had the nerve to say it face to face - this was in a letter. Perhaps the best method from some points of view, as I was able to pick my words carefully; she had time to think it through, take soundings from her best friend, look it up in the encyclopaedia, whatever. It wasn't for several years that she actually saw me in a skirt, but knowing about it in advance took some of the shock out of it. And more importantly, it avoided the hurt of an unadmitted secret. On the other hand, perhaps she was so astonished to get any sort of letter at all from me in those student days, she was prepared to overlook what I put in it! 'There's something you need to know...' This was a technique that I used with my two assistants at work - Geoff and Janet. I was in a politically sensitive job, and decided that if the news ever did come out, it was better to have my colleagues prepared and on my side. We were all three radical and broad-minded, of similar ages and good friends, but not emotionally close. Geoff's response was: "Oh, is that it? I thought for a moment you were going to say you were having an affair." Janet's reply was to ask me if I wanted any clothes out of her mail order catalogue, and would I help her buy undies for her gay friend as a Christmas present, as I'd have a better eye for his style than she would. 'Oh, that old thing...' This method is one I keep in reserve for more casual acquaintances, where the topic comes up in conversation and admitting to being a TV is no big deal. It depends on the casual throwaway and goes along the lines of : "'Tootsie'? Oh, yes, I really enjoyed it, but you know that it's nothing but showbiz. I didn't think it portrays at all what being a transvestite is like. The only film that really gets us right is 'Just like a Woman'. What me? Oh yes, been one for years. Anyway, I'm a real fan of Dustin Hoffman, but I do think he was far more convincing in 'Rain Man'...."  
  f542_1143.jpg'You're not going to believe this...' Not so much a frequent tactic, more a matter of making a virtue out of a necessity. For instance, there we were on holiday, all dressed up and somewhere to go - it was carnival weekend and we were on our way to watch the parade. Suddenly we realised that Carole had returned home early with the key to the cottage where we were staying. The only duplicate was with the landlady. The only way to get it - drive to her house. The only snag - I was in a sweater and skirt. Well, I thought, as I knocked on the door, it is carnival time... "Bonjour Madame" said her husband, not recognising me silhouetted against the sunlight. I wish now that I'd introduced myself as my own twin sister, to see how long it took him to cotton on, but being an honest soul I said "Come off it Henry" in my deepest baritone. Squeals of delight from him and Anna: "Quick, get the camera!" Afterwards, she told me that the giveaway was that I'd dressed too carefully for it to be just a carnival costume. Crisis of passion A tactic that can only work with good friends. There I was with Maria, discussing business organisation. She was about to leave for a meeting with a client, and was as usual dressed in her professional woman's outfit, an extremely snazzy blue skirt suit with a crisp white blouse. Her make up and hair were impeccable. I heaved a deep sigh and said: "I envy you in that suit". She looked blank. "no really, you look just terrific. I'd love to go out dressed the way you are now". Surprised she was, no doubt, but certainly more flattered than offended. Pardon my bloomers This scenario sounds like something straight out of trannie fiction, but it actually happened to me. I had a rush job on, which I couldn't manage on my home computer. Christine, a colleague, offered to let me work on her machine, but it would mean spending several days in her cottage while she was away at the office. So along I went, and along went a change of clothes in my briefcase. The trouble came (haven't you guessed) when she arrived home an hour earlier than expected and found me in a blouse and skirt, scurrying for the bathroom. Red faces and profuse apologies followed... Now this could have been a disaster, but in fact the upshot was the note she left me the following morning: "Please do not feel bad at all, you did not do anything wrong. I'm glad you felt comfortable in my house! In addition it is none of my business and will stay between us (in case you are worried about that). PS if you want something different, why don't you help yourself in my closet upstairs? Shoes are about all over the place". God bless ladies like Christine. My friend Dominique insists I did it on purpose...... It's all an act Carnival time again, and this year there were so many of us that I refused to cook Sunday lunch for 20, and instead ordered a ready-prepared meal from the delicatessen counter at the local supermarket. It was Saturday morning when I went to pick it up, and I was dressed in my discreetest skirt length and smartest heels. The shop assistant, poor fellow, was out of his depth as he helped me steer the two trolley-loads to the checkout. "This gentleman will be bringing the serving dishes back." he explained to the cashier. "Lady!" I corrected him, "When I ordered the meal on Tuesday I was a gentleman, but for the carnival weekend I'm a lady!" "Sorry Sir" he stammered.... ah well, you can't win them all!  
  f542_1142.jpgDon't look now... In case this list makes it seem that every time I tumble out of the closet I fall on my feet, here's positive proof that you can't win them all. While that same shop assistant had been fetching the goodies from the kitchen, I'd been cruising the shelves for wine and fruit tarts. Five yards away I spot Lynne - a friend, but not somebody I particularly wanted to come out to, at least not in a supermarket on a Saturday morning. Had she seen me? Head she read me? She gave no indication of either, so I played it cool and turned away. It must have been six months later that Lynne, after falling out with me over an entirely different matter, spilled the beans - not to me but to my in-laws! Fortunately, they were already in the know, but the blood runs cold to think of what might have been had they not already known. Alternatively, the blood runs hot to think of Lynne's cheek! Have you read the latest? A major life-change is perhaps a good moment to make a clean breast of things. A case in point was when my in-laws decided to move in next door. There were several reasons why we decided that they ought to be told - after a year or two of openness, I didn't fancy returning to the days when I had to creep around in hiding. And then there was the risk of them finding out from a gossipy neighbour - perhaps I had had a kind of premonition about the 'Lynne incident'. How to break the news? I tackled Stella first. "You know, when you're away in the summer, we'll be letting out the cottage. Well - you should be aware, some of the people who rent it are a bit out of the ordinary. That is to say... it's not so much them as me.. erm.... Look, there's an article in this magazine that explains it". Then I handed over the article about myself, complete with photo. Up went her eyebrows, but she's a game type and took it in her stride. No woman who goes ballooning for her 60th birthday is going to be fazed by a minor detail like seeing her son-in-law in tights. Chicken Out! Nevertheless, I couldn't face up to telling my father-in-law, so I asked Stella if she'd do it for me. She must have told him straight away, there was a slight coolness in his manner when he came round for a drink that evening. After all, this was a guy who's been known to mutter darkly about 'bloody poofters', but as a Freemason he knows a thing or two about wearing funny clothes! He's never actually seen me dressed, but the two of them did buy me a broach the following Christmas. In conclusion So my score so far is about 8 and a half out of 10 - not a bad rating. So what lessons have I learnt? Firstly, most people (even if they discover the truth by accident) do not conform to the 'Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells' stereotype. People's responses have ranged from indifference to mild amusement to open-hearted acceptance, but very rarely hostility. The one person who has teased me about it did so so gently that I didn't even notice - until my wife explained later what he'd meant by asking me if I went to Roedean. Secondly, for the most part the people I have come out to have fallen into two categories: those whom I trusted in the first place, or else those whose opinion is fairly irrelevant (such as the man on the delicatessen counter). There's no point in making yourself a hostage to fortune by giving yourself away to anyone you know you can't really trust. Next, almost all the people I've come out to have been women. This is probably not an accident, for several reasons. I feel more at home in women's company than in men's, and I find them less threatening. It may possibly be that they find me less threatening too - perhaps many men who are confronted by an emerging TV will think that he's making a homosexual advance at them, whereas women are less anxious if they imagine I'm gay? Either way, I've found women more positive, men more indifferent. And remember, once you've come out, this doesn't solve all problems. It certainly doesn't provide an excuse for flaunting at every given moment. Confide and be yourself by all means, but never impose.

WHY WE ENVY WOMEN

Views expressed in this article are not necessarily those of Transformation. In our present society there is no room for an intersexed person. Society demands that we be either male or female. This is dictated from the moment of birth when the doctor announces "It's a boy!" or "It's a girl!". From this moment on, the infant's fate is sealed and his/her training starts in earnest. The decision is made as to which colour the baby will wear - pink or blue. We call this the pink blanket / blue blanket syndrome. While we agree that SEX is determined by what is between the legs (the method employed by the medical profession), we can't agree that this should automatically determine the infant's GENDER for the rest of its life. The very existence of homosexuals, transsexuals, transvestites and transgenderists proves that nature is far more complicated than that. "Sex" is determined by the visible anatomical organs that a person is born with, and it is impossible to change this sex, in spite of what some doctors might claim. The so-called "sex change" simply leaves a castrated and mutilated male. The man has been provided with an orifice that looks remarkably like a vagina, but of course, it isn't. It is simply a tube closed at its inner end and serves no purpose except to provide an orifice to receive a male penis during intercourse. The breasts of such a man / woman are often made of silicone and are incapable of serving their natural purpose - feeding a baby. It is also impossible for the sex-changed male to conceive a baby, since none of the necessary internal organs, such as ovaries and womb, are present. We believe that many men who have the sex change operation really desire a 'gender change', which can be done without surgery, and for whom surgery may in fact be the worst solution. Gender is invisible. It is in the very soul of each human being. It is the learned behaviour pattern of each individual, described by society as masculine or feminine. Usually there is no conflict between "sex" and "gender". Sex is what you are born with, and gender is the behaviour pattern you are taught. A man's sperm contains two factors. They are called the X and Y sperm cells. A woman's egg contains only female X cells. At the moment of conception, when the man's sperm enters the women's egg in the womb, the sex of the child is determined. It takes X + X to produce a female, and X + Y to produce a male. The foetus contains ALL the necessary information to develop into a boy or a girl. The foetus is asexual until about the 4th month of pregnancy. At this stage, if the child is to be a boy, and this is determined by the presence of the Y factor, the glands which will become the testicles will move towards their natural position. The penis will continue to develop and the gland which would have developed into a womb becomes the male's prostate gland. All this is brought about by hormones secreted at vital stages as a result of the Y factor from the father's sperm. If the child is to become a girl, the same glands which bacame the boy's testicles will remain inside the body and become the ovaries. The womb will continue to develop and the development of the penis is halted, becoming the clitoris. Two facts become clear. First, the sex of the child is determined by the father. Second, there are far fewer differences between men and women than our social order is willing to admit. In fact, men and women are basically the same, except for the reproductive organs and the associated hormones that go with them. But, from the moment of birth, training starts to make the infant behave in a masculine or feminine manner, determined solely on which set of sexual organs happens to be between the legs at birth. The soul of this infant isn't considered at all and it is a matter of "You will do as you're told and not what your nature dictates".  
  f675_1257.jpgBoys will be given toys such as guns, tanks, cars and construction kits, all things which will make him aggressive, competitive and, dare we say it, destructive. It doesn't take a genius to see that children's television shows are also designed to reinforce this attitude among boys. Boys must be tough, and their training is designed to remove any softness or vulnerability, which is regarded as 'sissy'. Girls, on the other hand, are given sewing kits, tea sets, doll's houses and miniature household appliances. Everything designed to ensure that the little girl will grow up into a loving, gentle and caring woman. She is trained to be a mother and housewife, whether she likes it or not. Pity the poor boy who prefers playing with dolls rather than guns! It doesn't matter if being gentle and loving is part of his nature. If he wants to take an interest in his mother's cooking or any other 'feminine pursuits' he will be severely dealt with. Such 'sissy' ideas must be removed from his mind at all costs! 'Tom Boy' behaviour among little girls doesn't seem to draw such drastic corrective measures. In fact, daddy rather likes his tom-boy daughter. But this same daddy will not tolerate any sissy behaviour from his son - in fact, he will be utterly disgusted. We believe the term 'sissy' should enjoy the same status as 'Tom Boy'. This would be a start in correcting our hopelessly confused social training process, the classic situation in which the only acceptable interests for men seem to be sport, drink and cars - women, on the other hand, are expected to be interested only in babies, cake recipes and gossip. This situation is graphically illustrated at parties. Man and wife arrive together but immediately seperate to join male or female groups. And why should hubby and wife stay together? They don't even speak the same language! Men feel that women will only spoil their fun and women feel that men will stifle their conversation. Men stand on one side with their beers, talking about who will win the football, while the women gossip and watch anxiously how many drinks their husbands are having. Women readers will say: "But men don't have to be that way!". You are right. But unless a man wishes to be a social outcast, he will behave like that. Our social order demands it. I suspect that many men would prefer to join in the female gossip, talking about fashion or hair styles, but wouldn't dare.The fear of being called a sissy is too great! Women have long been fighting for their rights - these include whether to have children or not, equal pay and the right to dress as they please. This has resulted in women moving into what were previously exclusively masculine domains, competing with men for the top jobs and salaries that go with them. The truth is that women are winning the 'battle of the sexes'. Many job categories have been taken over by women. Take, for example, public relations. Who wants to deal with a balding or grey-headed man in a suit when they can have an attractive woman, stylishly dressed with beautiful hair to represent them? Other fields where the same thing is happening are advertising and estate agents. In every job where appearance is important you'll find a woman. Women make the best sales persons. Even the motor trade will realise this soon.  
  f675_1259.jpgWomen take the trouble to groom themselves, to look young, beautiful, vibrant and alive. Men, on the other hand, cannot use make-up to improve their appearance. They don't use creams on their faces to keep the aging process at bay. Their fashions are often, to say the least, dull. Men have to be satisfied with what they were born with. Women are now moving strongly into engineering, electronics, architecture and the medical profession. It is now a fact that women make better drivers, pilots and doctors. All this is proving to be a tremendous threat to men. The advertising profession is breaking down the male ego by depicting him as a useless, idiotic buffoon. In television advertising you find it is the man who makes a mess of things and the woman who comes to the rescue. A lot of television programs follow the same theme. Imagine a little boy seeing all these television programmes. He will model himself on the parent he most admires. Even if his father is a strong personality, that may not be enough to convince him that maleness is the preferred role. If the father is weak the boy has no choice but to model himself on his mother and those beautiful, successful females he sees on television. Here you have the beginnings of gender confusion. The boy either accepts his indoctrination and the social order as it is or he fights it. If he fights it, he either becomes homosexual (because he fears female domination) or he joins the ranks of women. This usually means he becomes a fetishist, a transvestite, a transgenderist or a transsexual. In any of these cases the man will find himself loving and envying women their relaxed and indeed, lately, elevated social status. Today our entire social order is geared towards the likes and dislikes of women. It has become a matter of social survival for men. At this point it might be useful to give a breakdown of the various related cross dressing activities to show where transgenderism fits in. Fetishism Fetishists are attracted, mostly, to feminine underwear, high-heeled shoes and stockings. Sometimes they steal women's underwear from washing lines and shops. For them, the wearing of feminine clothing is solely a stimulant for sexual gratification. This sexual release could be by masturbation or with an understanding female partner. Both partners will behave in a typically heterosexual manner with intercourse taking place in the usual fashions. The fetishist, by his very behaviour, accumulates a lot of guilty feelings, which normally cause stress releated problems later in life. From the fetish stage it is a very short step for a male to want to dress in a completely feminine costume. At first, it is usuzlly out of curiosity "just to see what I look like". Then he discovers he likes what he sees in the mirror. The next stage occurs when the man enjoys what he is doing so much that he starts toying with the idea of going out in public dressed as a woman. Now the transvestite will start to look at his appearance critically for the first time. He will note where he needs to improve in order to pass as a woman in public, probably buy a wig, learn the art of applying make-up through fashion amgazines (or his wife or girlfirend if she is willing to play along) and will learn which styles of dresses, skirts, blouses and shoes will best suit his figure. If successful in perfecting an acceptable feminine appearance he will venture out i public in a very limited way. At this stage the sexual element in the man's dressing decreases and he becomes more conscious of the feminine side of his nature. However, he is still very much a male and will pursure his normal manly interests such as sport and drinking sessions with his friends. In fact, he often overcompensates and becomes aggressively macho. Only at infrequent times will his feminine element come to the fore and demand his attention.  
  f675_1260.jpgThe next stage creeps up on the transvestite in a very subtle fashion. He finds himself envying the world of women, the wide selection of clothing and accessories available to them and their freedom in not having to wear a wig or 'falsies'. The real changes start when he develops a strong desire for a more feminine figure to "hang his clothes on", in particular to posess his own breasts. By then he has usually resorted to shaving his legs and arms, and may even have begun to get his beard removed by electrolysis or plucking. In his search for help he is vulnerable to traditional medical dogma which, through ignorance, tries to convinve him to either quit or else have a sex change. Neither are what he really needs or wants. He now becomes very dissatisfied with the masculine gender role. He will embark on a course of feminising himself as far a possible, including the taking of female hormones if he can find himself a willing and understanding doctor. He has not turned his back on his male side, he has merely changed priorites, wanting to live as a woman while remaining a male. He / she will be living as a woman at every possible opportunity, resenting the occasions when he / she has to dress as a man. Sexual attraction and release, however, remain heterosexual. There are no signs of homosexuality, although some transgenderists may call themselves male lesbians. It is possible that he / she will undergo the first stages of a sex change - breast implants, removal of the testicles, but these acts are gender motivated in order to feminise the body as mouch as possible, and not sexually motivated. This is usually the point at which the true transgenderist comes to terms with what it is possible to accomplish. He / she is usually living as a woman full time by now and has had to sacrifice a certain portion of 'his' sex life. Any further operations can only be sexually motivated. Transsexual This group can usually be differentiated from the preceding cases by a strong desire for an active sex life in which they wish to be the recipient of the male organ and need the necessary equipment. The transsexual will deny any allegation of homosexuality as he regards himself as a female trapped in the wrong body. This is the fundamental difference between a transgenderist and a transsexual. The transgenderist desires a gender change, but his sexual interests remain the same as any normal male's; the transsexual wants sexual relations with men. Only a small percentage of men who have the sex change operation are truly satisfied. They will never be able to bear children and will always wonder if there are traces of their previous manhood left. And there usually are.  
  f675_1261.jpgFemale Transgenderists Women have the freedom to dress as they like, cut their hair short or long, and to wear make-up or not. Women's liberation has bought them their freedom. Men, on the other hand, are expected to be coarse and loud and act as if they are devoid of love, tenderness and compassion. They are forever on their guard against anything that could put their manhood in doubt. The transgenderist has, through his earlier femme experiences, discovered freedom while playing in the feminine gender role and will move mountains to keep it. He knows only too well that such freedom will not come to all men in his lifetime. We need a thorough study into the needs of the transgenderist. These include: Hormone Therapy- As any good doctor knows, this should not be done without the strictest supervision. But since there are so many doctors with 'moral' objections, many TGs buy hormone tablets in the black market. Beard Removal- Unfortunately most TGs can't afford it. Most countries refuse to do the operation until beard removal is complete. Breast Implants- Most transgenderists suffer extreme breast envy. It makes a feminine appearance much more convincing as hormone-induced breasts are not always sufficient. Removal of the Testes- This often becomes necessary to stop the internal war between the natural male hormones and artificial female hormones. Removal of the testes allows the female hormones to do their work more efficiently and improves the feminine appearance dramatically. Job Opportunities- Vital if the transgenderist is to survive financially. Most transgenderists are still qualified to do the jobs they did as males. But, owing to ignorance, he will probably be fired by his employer. Government workers are often forced to resign from their jobs. The Americans have found, much to their surprise, that since they started helping men achiev 'she-male' status, the demand for complete sex change operations has dropped by 30%. Similar experiences have been found by some South African plastic surgeons. This is proof that there are more transgenderists than transexuals. All that transgenderists are asking for is: Freedom to live with our wives and families in peace The privilege of having a job and earning a living The right to be human andf have the same feelings and sentiments as other people. We too can be hurt Acknowledgement of our existence and a place in society so that we too can have happiness and peace Conclusions The transgenderist faces unique problems which should not be likened to those of the TS. There appears to be plenty of help and understanding for transsexuals but absolutely nothing for the transgenderist. In fact, many in the medical community do not even acknowledge their existence. It seems to us that so long as the medical people insist on naming 'sex' as the motive for transgenderism, they will not begin to understand the condition. They must first understand that the condition is socially motivated. Views expressed in this article are not necessarily those of Transformation.