Another issue of the online magazine I published in the 1990s

THE SUBVERSIVE

Number 5

DECLARATION OF PURPOSE

“This journal exists to promote the concept that each human is a unique individual, intrinsically entitled with an equal right to pursue her own destiny as far as it does not inhibit others in that same right.  The Subversive shall serve as a ready forum for the free expression and exchange of ideas that do not violate this mandate, in the belief that tolerance grows from a familiarity with variety.”

–signed,

Melanie Anne Phillips, Editor

WHERE TO FIND THE SUBVERSIVE

The Subversive is available FREE as a download on America Online, Compuserve, Genie, several servers on the Internet, and various BBS around the world.

For those who wish to contribute articles, stories, personal experiences, information, jokes, or whatever Email melaniexx@aol.com on Internet, or write to:

Melanie Anne Phillips

150 East Olive Avenue

Suite 203

Burbank, California 91502

Only original material will be accepted unless quoted in the context of an original work or submitted with credit to the original author along with permission to reprint the material.

Submission of original material for publication in The Subversive constitutes a NON-EXCLUSIVE license to Melanie Anne Phillips by the author or copyright holder to reproduce all or part of the material in any media.

EDITOR’S NOTE: It is my desire to make this publication available free to all who wish to read it.  However, due to copyright laws, any overall license would allow unscrupulous individuals to excerpt portions and use it for their own personal gain.  Therefore, should you wish to upload this publication on your BBS or simply generate hardcopies for support groups and friends, please write me about a free specific license for your purpose. 

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LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Subj:  Update

From: DeniseAnne

To:     Melanie XX

Dear Melanie:

I have tentatively scheduled a court date of 11/13 to have my name changed to Denise Anne.  I will start full time on 11/16.  I am ready to get this show on the road.  If I did not plan on 3 to 5 hours more electrolysis before then, I would start tomorrow or next week.  I need a good going over first.

You were right about this being an exciting time of my life.  I feel like I am in a whirlwind.  33 days from today Denise will make her public appearance.  I am filled with excitement, but I am so frightened.

Meeting you and having you share some of your experiences with me has helped me tremendously.  I hate to keep asking what sounds like dumb questions, but I guess I am trying to see if people feel the same way that I do on certain subjects.

The EAP counselor asked if she could share my name and phone number with the minister of a local gay church.  She had had calls about other TS in the area, and until she met me, she did not know of any.  I would like to get enough together to have a support group.  That would be nice.

I hope that one day I can help someother TS the way you have helped me.  Someone on the outside can never imagine the mental torture of what a TS goes through.

Take care and I will talk to you later in the week.

Love,

Denise

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From Elaine P1

October 18, 1992

It has been much too long a time since I sat down to write.  Ever since the onset of summer, there didn’t seem to be much to share from day to day or week to week.  Correspondence with several of the Gender Room regulars fell off, at least from my end.  Suddenly, I sit here near Halloween, look back and realize just how much has been accomplished in the last few months.

I began attending a support group in May, then found another in September and joined it as well.  So far, I’ve been mostly just listening to others.  The groups are mostly TV, some of whom are dressed in public, while others leave their femme selves closeted.  The leaders of each group are pre-op TS’s, and they (so far) are the only other regular TS participants.  The Dallas group has seen two other infrequent TS members.  There is rumored to be a rather large contingent of post-op TS’s in the area, but none have surfaced in the group so far.

Finding a new therapist after leaving my first one in May has been a struggle.  Initially, I had just one name for follow-up, and it took until August to get a callback from her.  She runs a one-person office, and when she left town for six weeks of treatment for chronic fatigue syndrome, it became impossible to reach her.  She has since returned, and we had several abortive attempts at getting together.  Finally, I had to insist that we have an hour together on her nickel, so I could find out what to expect from a professional relationship with her.  She reassured me that we could work well together, but I remain unconvinced.  She comes highly recommended, as far as the help she can give, but it seems to me that she is all given out.  Owing to her medical condition, her work schedule has been drastically cut back, and I fear that her plate is just too full to accommodate me.

Some detective work netted me a bit of good news in late July.  There is another person in my job field (air traffic controller) who is a transitioning TS.  She has been full-time since July of 91, and will have surgery the day after election day.  Her case has taught the FAA everything it knows about dealing with a TS employee.  The experiences that she has been able to share with me will prove invaluable once I’m ready to make my public transition.  She flew to Texas to spend a weekend with my family three weeks ago, and I’m still trying to catch up on sleep lost during that time!!

Meeting with her provided another side benefit.  She got a lot of help from FAA’s Employee Assistance Program.  The EAP contractor is local to her, so they were able to provide particularly personal help.  She recommended them highly, and they were quickly able to refer me to a therapist in Dallas when I called them.  It was a huge relief to call and actually speak to someone in the office, rather than an answering service!!  The therapist is seeing me (at no charge to me) for an initial assessment.  When that’s done, he will keep me for further therapy, or refer me to someone more qualified in gender issues.  He has had several patients who have gone from hormones through surgery under his care, but none in several years.  He is not familiar with the Benjamin Standards of Care, so he may need some education. <grin>  I’m determined that I’ll be on hormones by summer of next year.

In August, I finally got myself together enough to go for a makeup lesson.  A TS friend in Dallas is a Mary Kay rep, and she arranged for a lesson with a makeup artist.  The two-hour lesson and a fistful of makeup came to less than $200, a bargain, I think.  Everything seems to work well, except for around the eyes.  It’s going to take a while to get the hang of doing eyeshadow and liner that doesn’t look smudgy.  But practicing sure is fun!!!

Meeting people is surely exciting!  I met my FAA friend this summer, and in the next month, I may have three new face-to-face friends.  They all come from the realm of cyberspace, so meeting them will be particularly satisfying.  One friend is coming in from California to have a session at Electrology 2000.  Another friend may be moving here, at least temporarily, from Florida.  And next weekend, my mother and I are taking a long weekend in New Mexico.  She wants to visit her brother, who is quite ill.  I get to tag along, because she has difficulty in driving long distances.  So I’m taking advantage of the situation to meet with a nearby cyber-friend.

I’m still working out the details of being Elaine while I’m there.  I can’t yet travel as Elaine, because I’m on “official business” while flying.  My uncle doesn’t know about me, and now’s not the best time to tell, owing to his illness, and the fact that I’m not nearly ready for full-time.  With any luck, something will work out.  I’ve already been forewarned that casual is the mode for New Mexico, so I’ll have to run out and find some “dress-down” clothes for the first time.

October 20, 1992

Today has not been a very good day.  It’s a day off from work for me, and I had hoped to get some other things done.  It was not to be.  We were adopted a few weeks ago by a small puppy who was wandering in the neighborhood.  She appeared to have been well-kept, and we assumed that she had owners who would miss her.  Rather than allow her to run the streets, we kept her in our back yard, in plain view, thinking that the owners would make the rounds looking for her.  That didn’t happen, and we found our family’s dog population increased by one.

Our other dog is a beagle, about two years old.  Charlie, the beagle, and Snookie made best friends very quickly.  They have been inseparable in the past few weeks.  Snookie had a wonderful influence on Charlie.  Before, Charlie was intractable when it came to going outside for the night.  If we had to resort to physically carrying him out, he would lose control of his bladder for just a bit – just enough to be a nuisance.  Charlie came to us from the pound, and had likely been badly treated by former owners.  With Snookie, Charlie was ready to go anywhere just to be near her.

Two or three days ago, we noticed that a chair on the back porch had been chewed.  It belonged to our dinette set, but the back had been broken, and we were trying to decide whether or not to have it fixed.  The dogs decided that for us, by tearing open the cover, and shredding the foam inside.

Shortly thereafter, we noticed Snookie making chewing motions, accompanied by drooling.  We assumed that she had ingested a piece of foam, and was trying to get it back out.  Today, Snookie was a big wet mess, from head to toe, and her bedding was soaked as well.  She was obviously not a well puppy.  We rushed her to the vet, thinking that he would be able to clear whatever obstruction was there.

He shocked us when he wasted no time giving us his opinion.  She had gone into one of the “chewing” convulsions just as we entered the exam room.  He immediately said that she very likely had distemper.  She had probably gotten the virus some weeks earlier, probably before she found our house.  She had probably had an initial reaction, had gotten over it, and this was the second phase.  There’s no chance of recovery, he said.

Together, we decided to have her put to sleep.  As difficult as this was, the worst was yet to come.  We had to tell our nine-year-old the news when he got home from school.  I hadn’t yet cried while the decision was being made, but his tearful reaction just tore me apart.  We had left Snookie at the vet’s office while we made the decision, but after making it, we had to return to sign some papers for the euthanasia.  Donovan wanted to go and say goodbye to his friend.  While I took care of the paperwork, Theresa and Donovan went to the back of the office.  She was being kept in a small carrier cage.  She had been fairly listless in the last day or so, which was highly uncharacteristic.  Donovan knew she was sick, and he gave her a last pat on the head.

All the staff in the office were very sympathetic, and they quickly finished my paperwork so I could leave to join my family in the car for a big group cry.  Theresa and I tried to make Donovan understand that crying and feeling hurt for himself because of losing a friend was OK.  At the same time, we suggested that he shouldn’t feel bad for Snookie, because she was better for our decision.  It would have been terrible for us to have selfishly decided to keep her alive for our benefit, and been forced to watch her die slowly.

Donovan cried himself to sleep tonight, with me sitting by his side.  I couldn’t help reflecting on my own situation.  I’ve never felt like a particularly good father, which is part of what makes me question my maleness in general.  But tonight, it made me feel good that I could comfort my child.  That comfort stemmed not from being a dad, or a mom, but from being a =parent.=  It told me that whatever success I had as a parent would be little altered because of the appearance I presented to the world.  And that was my day.

I can see why now my correspondence has suffered.  Half this letter was six months worth of news, and half was just today.  Could I churn out this much stuff every day?  Perhaps, but then who’d want to read all of that?

No promises will be made here for improved or more frequent letter writing.  I just hate having to break promises.  But I hope that the intervals between letters will become shorter in the future.

Peace and love be yours always.

Love, Elaine

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Reply to Elaine from the editor:

That is interesting about the six months letter equalling the two day letter.  I noticed that tendency and had to fight it every step of the way in writing my diary.  Your rhetorical question as to who would want to read that much written about each day – well, just look at how much interest there is in my diary of the same thing.  To you, it may seem overkill, but believe me, to those who have not even started, just the few words about crying, being a parent not a dad, and how you gave support to your son can be landshaking, especially to those who are so closeted they have not even allowed themselves to imagine or think about issues behind the moniker of “Change of Sex”.

You remember those days, right?  Don’t sell yourself short.  Those very thoughts ought to be shared wherever they can be, and in fact, you ought to publish them in the Subversive.  I have saved this letter in case you might want to do that.  Otherwise, keep it in mind for the future.  What you are going through is the most amazing and incredible journey you will ever take, because when you reach your destination you will have forgotten where you started.  In fact, you CAN’T reach your destination UNTIL you forget where you started.  That is, in truth, the purpose of the whole journey.  But the words you leave behind can remind you, at least in facts, of the events that happened, and can also chart the way for those who follow.  Leave a few bread crumbs and share your steps.

Love,

   Melanie

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From: Karen Day

To:     Melanie XX

I’m not sure if I wrote to you about this….if you think it might help others who are facing a similar situation, please feel free to pass this on.

I finally told my sister about me. It took a few weeks to work up the courage, but I had reached a point where I felt there was no choice. My sister and I share a garden home and though it’s big enough that we don’t keep bumping into each other I always felt trapped in my bedroom or basement office. After joining the local gender groups in August and becoming close with a wonderful person named Sharon (TS) I began to feel more and more frustrated that I couldn’t move freely in my own house. Often I found myself talking in a whisper on the phone downstairs, afraid my sister would hear me talking to Sharon or someone else.

I finally decided it was time to talk to her, but for two more weeks I couldn’t find the right time or place. In the final week I became obsessed with telling her, practicing in my mind what to say. But whenever I saw her, even when we talked quietly in the living room about problems, I still couldn’t bring it up. We even talked about gays and male/female differences. No matter what I did, I always felt like I would be bringing this up “out of nowhere”, so I always chickened out. By Friday of that week, I had broken out in a rash on my legs and my arms and was itching all the time no matter how much anti-itch creme I used.

On Sunday nights, I go to a small gender group meeting at a local hospital. That afternoon I wrote my sister a two page letter. It was the only way I knew I could ever tell her.

The letter opened by telling her I was deeply troubled by a problem  I could not face her with in person and was about to see a psychiatrist about it (Which I am). Then I discussed the local gender group and how I met a transsexual named Sharon who was now living as a woman. From there I mentioned that I understood she did not know my history and gave her a “hint” of how far back my problem went (6 yrs old as I can tell). I said there are some things I have said & done purely to “cover up” my feelings.

In the letter I told her I would probably not want to discuss this with her for at least a day. I promised not to flaunt it in front of her either. I told her I would not ask for active support, only understanding and that I would give her time and space. She was assured I am not suicidal, but that I would be prepared to move out if she was not comfortable with this. I also told her that no one else knew and to please keep it that way.

No where in the letter did I precisely say WHAT I was really talking about, I only raised the issue of transsexualism and that I had joined a gender group and had made friends with one. The letter kept open a lot, for further face to face discussion, IF she gave me a positive response.

All that evening I was edgy and felt sick inside at the meeting. I knew my sister was the ONLY one in my family who would be the likeliest to accept. If she didn’t I was washed out from them as far as I felt.

When I came home finally around 2am, I found a note on my bed from her. It said she was surprised but would back me 100%. She said it is my life and should be able to live it as I choose. I sat and cried after I read that.

Two days later, we sat down in the basement to talk. We talked for 4 hours and I began to reveal my true feelings. Basically, that I feel I want to be a woman, but need the time to find out through life experience and that NOTHING would happen suddenly in days, weeks or even months. I told her I may modify my clothes, but that I would not wear a dress in front of her or makeup until both she & I were ready for that. She was SUPER, admitting that would be a bit shocking at this time, but to give her time to understand and get used to it, and that she would never leave me hanging.

Within two days, the itching from the rash stopped.

Since, I have gone out during the day while she was at work. Last week I told her about it, that people on the streets had accepted me, even said hello to me. For the first time I saw some serious curiosity. She asked me what my wig looked like and my clothes.

I am still not wearing skirts or makeup in front of her, but she knows I am wearing androgynous women’s clothes nearly all the time now, she knows I have started electrolysis and am growing my hair, she knows I will continue to go out from time to time during the day to further test my confidence. She knows about the doctor and knows this may go a LOT further.

We continue to talk, everyday, just as we always did about all sorts of things…I DO bring up gender, but NOT everyday. I will not push her and it is working. It is becoming more normal. She sees me wearing a bracelet and neckchain, with clear nail polish and sometimes with eye lashes curled. It’s a slow transition in front of her, but I now have ONE family member I can count on to be there when the going gets rough.

I feel free, I am happy, I am exploring, deeper than I have ever before and feel like I am in control of my life at last. I still don’t know where I will end up, but I know that my sister at least will be there at the end of that road, that I am not alone.

Love,

Karen  🙂

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From: Marsha J

To:     Melanie XX

These are the closing comments from the Jerry Springer show (a local talk show) that was covering some girls from the Baton Show Lounge (Local FI shows).  And though he ends up using the wrong terminology it was a nice close for the show.

Thought you might want to put it in the next Sub.   Check it for spelling and definitely punctuation.

Springer’s Final Thoughts  (Speaking toward audience)

I’ll be honest with you, I don’t get it. I can see it, I can listen to it but I don’t pretend to understand it.  But then again my frame of reference is limited. I’m a man, I enjoy being a man, I’ve never been confused about my sexuality. Indeed since the age of 13 I’ve loved being with a woman, its just I’ve never wanted to be one.

But I also understand that my frame of reference does not encompass all human expression or circumstance, that there are others that live differently, feel differently, and who am I to pass judgement?

Someone else is not less because they are different. I suspect that there are reasons, maybe genetic, maybe hormonal, maybe environmental. But this is a big planet, there’s room for all of us, and though the lifestyles of our guests today is not one I would choose, my certainty of my sexual preference doesn’t entitle me to impose this certainty on anyone else.

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Subj:  LA Law

From: Elaine P1

OK, all you pop culture mavens, it’s time for input.

I just now sat through, for the first time ever, an (almost) entire episode of L.A. Law.  It was an episode that included the reading of a will at the partners’ meeting, apparently the will of one of the firm’s senior partners.  During the reading, a lovely woman enters the room, and apologizes for being late.  “Caught in traffic,” she says in a soft voice.  She’s wearing a violet jacket and dark colored skirt, her shoulder length hair is very stylishly done, and she presents a very feminine image.  Although her face is pretty, it’s rather thin, and some of the features are a bit severe.

As the reading continues, the gifts grow larger, until this woman, whose name is given, but it escapes me, is presented with a cash gift of $150,000.  The bald-headed partner is outraged.  He wants to contest the will.  He stands and yells to the group, “This … =THING= … [who, by the way, is sitting at the bald head’s left] isn’t even a decent homosexual!!!”  At which point, the woman stands and says (something, can’t remember) in a very deep, masculine voice, takes a huge roundhouse swing, decks the bald head.  Then she very sweetly says some sort of apology to the group, and leaves.  She wasn’t seen again during the episode.

Questions:  Is this a recurring character?  Is this person’s usual presentation male or female?  Is the person TV, TS, or otherwise cross-gendered?

Maybe those questions are out of proper sequence.  I’m just surprised that, even as a non-L.A. Law viewer, I had never heard any rumbles about this character.  Anyone know any more about L.A. Law lore who can flesh this story out a bit??

Elaine

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EXPLORATIONS

by

Melanie Anne Phillips, Editor

(Letters FROM the editor)

This is a reprint of a letter I sent in reply to a cross-dresser who requested some thoughts on how to deal with a non-understanding wife and family.  I felt the content may be of enough value to publish for others, however, I have deleted the name in order to insure privacy.

Dear (Anonymous)

   This is going to sound a bit technical, which will probably be the last kind of thing you would expect in response to a very emotional problem.  The difficulty with emotional problems is that you can’t measure them with emotions.  You can’t measure something by itself.  Here is the problem in terms of Reason.  The problem is not your wife and the problem is not yourself.  The problem is BETWEEN your wife and yourself.  Now, this problem is not caused by the way she is or the way you are, but by the difference between the two of you.  If she was married to someone who did not want to cross dress, no problem.  If you were married to a woman who understood, no problem.  This problem only exists because you cannot stop crossdressing and she cannot understand.

In order for the problem to be resolved, one of you must change.  Sometimes people can change or grow, and sometimes they truly cannot.  It is not blameful to be unable to change, it simply means that the area you cannot change about is too close to the heart of your personality, and as long as you remain YOU, changing is impossible.  So what can be done?  Well, you are probably convinced by this time that YOU cannot stop crossdressing.  So for you to change is probably not an option.  But your wife has only had a little time to adjust, so it is not certain if she will be able to change or not at this early stage.  When time has passed you will know better about the answer to that.

But what if she cannot change?  What is the solution?  There are three ways to deal with  every “unsolvable” problem.  Since the problem remains, none of them is completely enjoyable, but there are no other options if neither party can change.  The first way is for the two people to separate.  Then, they are not in conflict because they do not interact.  The second way is to avoid conflict by staying off the subject.  Conflict does not occur because the subject that creates the problem is not brought up.  The final way to deal with the unsolvable problem, is to continue fighting over it.  Eventually, this may lead to the other solutions of separation, avoidance, or even in some cases, change by one of the people, thereby eliminating the problem.

I wish I could offer a “quick fix” for your problem, but there really isn’t any.  Yet there is hope.  People do change in time, and even if YOU cannot change because the desire to cross dress is part of you, you wife may very well change because her attitude is probably not part of her, but more of a held opinion, and opinions change every day.  The real key is the strength of the love you share, compared to the discomfort, the pain of change, the love she has for her parents, and many other factors.  Also considering that love is seldom equally felt between two partners.

So, my best advice is to avoid conflict while you see if she grows to change.  You will know when enough time has passed to judge that.  Then, you can decide if there is hope to resolve the problem or if one of the other options is the best under the circumstances.  Take care, keep hope, don’t let one area of conflict taint the rest of your life.  There are many other pleasant areas to focus on while you wait to resolve this one.

Love,

   Melanie

(This letter was written to an AOL friend about my progress in coming to terms with secrecy about my past versus honesty about my past.)

Hi there!  So how was your week?  I had a great one.  Work went well, and also when I asked my friend who I am working for how long I could be sure I had a job once the project we are developing is over, he said that as far as he was concerned, I would get paid the same amount forever, even though there only may be enough work for me to come in a day or two a week.  What a friend!  So, our house is secure, and the future of my family looks good.  What a relief.  If it was just me, I wouldn’t worry at all.  I can live in a box and be happy, but I know Mary and the kids couldn’t.

Also, I called up the local amateur theatre and volunteered my services to usher and help paint sets and stuff, and they are really interested.  So, I will probably be starting maybe as soon as tonight!  It’ll be great to meet a whole new group of friends that don’t know about my past.  That has been another good part of the week: I finally came to terms with the issue of hiding my past or not.  I was mistaken in thinking that there was a great difference in the way people acted toward me when they knew or didn’t know.  The real problem was that I acted differently if I knew they knew.  As soon as someone found out, I would haul out the old Dave picture and tell them all about transition and make it an ongoing part of the conversation.  I suddenly realized that it was I who was making them treat me as a transsexual instead of a woman.

Most TS fall into 2 categories, those who don’t tell and live in fear of discovery, and those who DO tell and are always thought of as TS because they did like I did, keeping that image alive to be completely honest.  But IS that honest, to keep a former truth alive?  A truth that is only one of fact, not of feeling?  For me, admitting to the fact is essential for honesty, but continuing to dwell on it is not.  Making it a part of my life from the moment of discovery is dishonest to my feelings.  So, my decision is not to tell, but if discovered to admit to it, but not proactively keep the subject open.  I will answer any questions simply and without creating other questions.  When they have asked all they want to, I will let the matter drop and never bring it up again.

It is such a simple solution it is elegant, and also its simplicity is why I never saw it before.  The problem is not outside, it is inside – the solution is not in lying, but in not perpetuating.  Now, I can cover my tracks as best I can in name changes and evidence and conversation, but I need not fear discovery at all.  When it happens, I will admit and then let it drop.  The only “me” they will see is the “me” I am now.  How can they think of me as anything other than a woman if the single exposure to the fact of my past is outweighed by the continuing exposure to me as a woman?  Well, I’m happier than I have ever been about the whole transitional thing now.  This decision allows me to partake of support groups, write articles and books, even incorporate the knowledge of my past into my career, but then to relate in the world of my “civilian” friends as just one of the girls.

Love,

   Melanie

Copyright 1992, Melanie Anne Phillips

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And now for the another installment in a serialized presentation of the book:

RAISED BY WOLVES:

A TRANSSEXUAL DIARY

by

Melanie Anne Phillips

PRELUDE

The pages beneath, chronicle my 18 month journey from a life as an apparently normal husband and father to that of an apparently  normal woman.  In the hope of capturing the immediacy of this emotional trip into the unknown, I shunned the retrospective approach, opting instead for a daily Diary.

Each entry was made on the day the events actually happened, expect as noted.  And each is filled with the raw and unpolished thoughts and feelings that held me at that moment.

Of course, this leads to a somewhat meandering story, as well as contradictions in my point-of-view and personal emotional outbursts that I’m sure will make me squirm once this is published.  But anything less would be less than truthful.  And if this document is to serve any purpose as either a tool for tolerance and understanding or as an inspiration to those contemplating any major life-change, then it must be completely honest.

November 3, 1989

Well, I’m back with more dirt on “The Secret Life of David Michael Phillips: The Untold Story”.

Age 14 or 15: One whole summer when both parents were working and I dressed nearly every day.

All through elementary school: For years I spent every recess hiding in the bushes or in the boys’ room from three or four “ruffians” who chased me threateningly every time they saw me on the yard.  I huddled in amongst the bugs and dust, fearing for my life and terrified they would find me.

Around grade four: A boy “called me out” to fight after school.  I waited for him and we raised our fists to have it out.  But I started to cry and my asthma kicked in so I could hardly talk.  He got disgusted, put down his fists and walked away, saying I wasn’t worth it, and we wasn’t going to beat up on me.  I screamed after him through the tears to come back and fight.  What developing masculine image I mayas had was shattered as I stood there, surrounded by a crowd that slowly broke up, knowing that I had lost face with every classmate I had.  (I had no friends that I could have lost.)

Junior High: Dressing in the locker room, hearing the other boys discuss what they wanted to do to their girl friends.  Wondering how anyone could want to violate anyone like that.  Where was the romance?  Where was the love?

Kindergarten: A group of girls calling themselves “The Kissing Girls” chased the boys around trying to kiss them.  I decided to form the “Kissing Boys” and chase the girls.  I couldn’t understand why the other boys didn’t want to join up.

Age 17: Going to a religious retreat with my step-dad and my best friend.  Laying in the top bunk across from my friend wondering what it would be like if I became a girl and he and I got married.  Damn!  I had suppressed that memory until this moment. Damn.  DAMN!!!

Age 18:  Sharing with the same friend my secret that I had made a super-8 movie of myself dressed as a girl (my first confession).  Telling him I was going to destroy it. him telling me he would destroy it for me if I gave it to him.  Sure…  I destroyed it myself.

Late teens, early twenties:  Making sure I didn’t miss a single episode of TV where they change bodies on Gilligan’s Island, where a spy has the body of a woman on “Get Smart”, where Darrin gets Samantha’s voice on “Bewitched”, “Goodbye Charlie”, etc.

Three years ago” Spending several nights, while Mary was away at night school sticking a pin through the foil covering on the back of her birth control pills.  Scraping an infinitesimal quantity of the precious powder off, then sucking it into my mouth through the pin-prick hole, just to know that I had hormones in my system.

Two years ago: Committing numerous felonies by calling up pharmacies and pretending to be a Doctor’s office.  Ordering a prescription in a matronly nurse’s voice. Giving fictitious phone numbers and addresses, but carefully chosen and written down so they were in the right medical buildings and the answers were right at my fingertips.  Then calling in with my female voice and ordering my prescription, “I believe my doctor just called it in…”  Picking it up with fear, taking my glasses off so I could not be recognized later, using the pills for 50 or 60 days, then chickening out and throwing the whole lot down the toilet.  Getting back on the phone two weeks later to do it again.

Well, I’m at the office and there’s work, REAL WORK, to do.  So this pleasant tea and gossip will have to continue at our Bridge game next week.

November 3, 1989, Evening

Today I visited my new psychologist, Dr. Jayne, for the first time.  I went in Dave mode as I had felt more comfortable lately appearing as I am in reality, nothing artificial.  We sewed a patchwork quilt of emotions, speculations, needs and dreams, creating the beginnings of a pattern that will take years to become a fully detailed picture.

The session was warm and filled with understanding, support with neither editorial perspective nor coercion. A simple series of questions, answers, and monologues from both client and psychologist quite unlike my other two sessions with the psychologist provided by my insurance company.  There I had walked into a windowless lobby, lacking even a reception window.  Instead, there was a panel of eight switches next to the locked door to the interior.  You flipped the switch labeled with the name of your counselor, activating a tiny light, then waited alone until the door was opened.  The sessions were worthless, as I spent most of my time in each simply explaining what a TS was to the poor man, who tried his best, but just had no understanding at all of the phenomenon.

With Dr. Jayne, I am getting not only an understanding of myself and a comparison to others who have travelled my path, but advice and guidance on how to make the transition smoother, less painful.  And the only rule in her therapy sessions is that a session never ends without a hug.  With this help, I believe I can possibly survive this.

One interesting side note.  Walking back to my car after the session, I stopped at a Pioneer Chicken store.  When the girl in front of me had finished ordering, the man at the counter looked back at me and said, “Can I help you ma’am?”  I was flattered to death.

November 9, 1989

Last night at two o’clock in the morning on Hollywood Boulevard, in the front seat of a 1965 Buick Regal, Melanie lost her virginity.  And, God, it was great!  It was so special, so fulfilling, nothing else in my life mattered.  This was it.  This was what I’ve always been looking for.

I’m totally slipping out of “writer mode” now.  I don’t care if the sentences come out right or not. And structure be damned. ‘Cause what I am feeling is so intense I can’t get the words out fast enough and I’m afraid I’ll lose some.

It all started when I went to a new support group for the first time with a friend.  No, it actually started about eight weeks ago.  I can’t do this in order, but you ought to know that it was my electrologist who I met two months ago on a referral.  And is a TS who spent three years as Karen, but has been back in male mode for the last year and a half.

When I first called up, we really struck it off on the phone.  At my first session I found out he was into Eastern religions, and both believed and practiced a spiritual love and joy.  But he had also learned the Chinese martial arts and the derivative arts of healing.  He was a computer buff, deeply spiritual, but iconoclastic as well.  Over the last eight weeks, we would joke and speculate an empathize over life, love, and the TS experience.  Gradually, although I come there in male mode (stubble and all) I began to “fem out” as soon as I crossed the threshold.  And the last two weeks I totally went submissive during the sessions.  I also began to wonder what it would be like to be in Melanie mode, held in the arms of this strong, yet gentle person.

Well, to shorten this up (too late!), I went to my usual support group meeting last Saturday and met a new person who wanted to know about starting hormones.  I gave her my number. Next evening I was working late at the office and she called up and said that she had to move out quickly because her roommate was on drugs and threatening her life with a knife.  I told her to get a taxi and come over.  She arrived in male mode.  It was an odd re-introduction as here we were, two men, who had first met as women.  I put her up at a motel that night with the last thirty dollars I had.

Next morning I came to pick her up for breakfast and it turns out her wallet was stolen during the night.  We barely scraped together enough money between us for a meal.  I told her she could sleep on my office floor until she found a permanent place to stay.

On Monday, I brought her (in male mode) with me to my session with Alan.  I actually thought they might strike it off and be good for each other.  By the way, “Nicki” is the most attractive non-hormoned TS I have ever seen -looks about half my age and “hot”.  I wouldn’t feel at ease wearing sexy stuff like that in a closet, but it looks good on her.  Anyway, they did strike it off, and we agreed to meet Tuesday night at a support group I hadn’t been to before that Alan had, so Nicki could find a place to stay.

On the appointed day, I didn’t have time to dress so Nicki went en femme and I went as Dave.  Afterward, the group always goes to a local coffee shop that’s “cool” and that’s where we met Alan who had to show up late.

Nicki and Andy did the “hug” thing, obviously happy to be close.  Since I was in male mode, I just said “Hi”.  But as Nicki started networking to find a place to stay, I ended up next to Andy  In five minutes, I had slipped into complete Melanie mode, even though I was dressed as Dave.  And I’ve never shifted like that in public before.

Well, earlier that day, Nicki and I had checked out the Gay Community Services Center in Hollywood for housing referrals.  (I was always too shy to be seen there, and besides, I’m not gay).  But Nicki just charges in with me in tow.  We find out there is another support meeting there the following night.

So nothing turns up Tuesday night at the coffee shop, and we tell Andy we’re going to try the other group the next night.  Andy says he’s been there and how about if Nicki and I BOTH come en femme and he comes in male mode as our escort.  Its something I very much want, but am also afraid of, so I allow myself to be talked into it.  But since Nicki is so hotly dressed all the time, I’m afraid to compete and tell Andy I’m going to wear a pretty skirt and top, but I’m not going head to head with Nicki!  But he convinces me to wear my 18″ mini skirt and get don up because he wants “a babe on each arm.”

So all day Wednesday, Nicki is dragging me around town, buying make-up in male mode, testing it on the two of us in stores where they only know me as Dave.  We went places and did things to get ready that I NEVER would have done on my own. Finally, we went back to the office and got dressed.

What, with the new make-up, new earrings and all, by the time Andy picked us up, we were a coupla hot foxes.  (And I thought I was too old at 36!)  All I needed was a little bit of Nicki in my life.

I do remember putting an extra spray of perfume under my skirt, just in case…

When Andy picked us up, he looked sharp: Green turtle neck with a tan blazer, black slacks and an incredibly thin gold chain around his neck. Wow!!

I let Nicki sit next to Andy as we drove off. At the meeting we entered as planned, one on each arm. But as the meeting progressed, Nicki drifted off looking for housing and I moved closer to Andy  He put his arm around me, and I put my head on his chest.  We hared glances and smiles while I stayed there for the rest of the meeting. Once, I laid my hand on his knee and I could feel him respond with a tighter squeeze on my shoulder.  It was an incredible kick to be held in public for the first time; just like your first date.

Afterward, the three of us and an old TS friend of Andy’s went for coffee.  We sat around the table while Andy read our Chinese horoscope charts.  He and I were both born in the Year of the Snake and have matching complimentary signs.

The other friend had to leave and Nicki wanted to visit a potential roommate.  So, at one in the morning, we dropped Nicki at the apartment.  She and I had talked about my feelings for Andy all day, and I knew she was just trying to give Andy and me some time alone.

Just before we dropped Nicki off, Andy had stopped for a six pack of Chinese beer.  As soon as she had gone, we started on the beers, sitting as far apart as possible on the front seat. Andy had two, I had three, and by then I could hardly talk.  Everything was spinning.  I almost couldn’t move, and my lips were numb.  I had kept saying “more” and taking another swig, which we both knew was as delaying tactic to let the strong Chinese brew loosen me up.

After the third beer, I slurred to Andy “Well, before I start to sober up and change my mind, come here…”  I opened my arms and he came to me with strength and gentleness.

Until this night, I had never even held hands with a guy.  And the only intimate relationship I ever had was with my wife. But everything was so right, so good.  I went completely fem.  My actions, responses, even my thoughts were female.  Not forced, but just the natural; responses I had always suppressed.  I’ve never felt so female, and it still has not gone away.

Somehow, my bra got pulled up over my baby breasts and my pantyhose ended up around my knees.  It was only oral sex, and with Andy’s hormone use, there were limits to how far it could be carried.  But as Andy said, “That’s not important.  It’s the sharing.”  and it was.

We phoned Nicki’s beeper and she came down.  We got some fast tacos (Andy buying) and Nicki stayed in the back seat while I snuggled and cuddled and melted into Andy as he held me close.  One or two more quick kissing sessions and we went home. We said goodbye, Andy left, Nicki up to my office, and me home at five in the morning to lie in bed next to Mary, to know that I have loved her for 14 years, but to also know that all the best times in those 14 years combined, were nowhere near as fulfilling as that one evening with Andy

As I fell asleep, I knew that all doubts had been erased from my mind.  I am female, I always have been female, always will.  If I died tomorrow I would be happy.  I would be complete.  But I want to live.  I want to live as Melanie for the rest of my life in the hope of losing myself in even just one more evening like this.  Dave is dead, if he ever really lived.  But Melanie has her whole life ahead of her.

November 14, 1989

Oh, God…  Get yourself together!  Its only the end of the world. Yeah, but its a great world.  Yeah, but its coming to an end.  Maybe, but we just don’t know yet.  True, but you said you could die tomorrow and be happy.  A smile on your face, even.  I remember, “A smile on my face”, your exact words.  Rhetoric, pure rhetoric.  You know I always exaggerate.  Well, not exaggeration so much as mistakenly believing that every emotional catharsis is final.  And that’s your downfall.  Yes, and also my upbringing.  So you blame your parents?  Hell, I’d hate ’em if I didn’t love ’em so much.  Uh, huh… but let’s get back to this latest mood swing….

Alright, I’m at the peak of fulfillment, staring in the abyss of… well, an abyss full of shit, actually.  And not just ordinary shit, mind you, but good, warm, gooey crap – the kind that gums up your hair and fuses your eyelids shut when it dries.  Shape it up!  Or should I say, cut the crap.  (There are ladies present!)  Ah, now we get down to it!  Finally, God Dammit!  What took so long?  You’ve never beaten around the…  Yes!  That’s it!  To have a bush!  Whether ’tis nobler in the mind, or grandeur than all hell in reality.  Reality becomes fantasy becomes reality and Quid Pro Quo.  If I become female, will being male become a fantasy, memory or fading nightmare?  Only my hairdresser knows for sure.

You see, I spent last night at Andy’s until midnight.  Electrolysis first.  Then hugging while I lay on his chest on the floor watching “Comic Strip Live”.  Still bearded, but feeling female, being treated same.  Curling up with my man or TS or whatever the hell he is, or she is or you can call me Ray, or… God!  Stop it!!!

So, shaving and dressing and painting my nails. Car door opened for me as my heels sink into the over-watered parking strip.  Ride at night, he’s in charge.  Slams door with fist to open stuck automatic window.  Macho Bullshit.  I love it.  Opens door at restaurant.  I think parking attendant reads me.  What am I doing wrong?

Great dinner.  I don’t gotta pay.  LOVE this!  Drive by the drive-in.  No shows good so we no show too.  Back to Alan’s.  His dad says “Hi”, as we occult the TV on the way back to:

Andy’s lair:  He makes us some tea.  Puts on Robin Williams tape, lays on bed.  I lean back against him, his arms enclose me. Slowly, joke by joke, I slide lower until we lay together; his front form-fitting to my back.  I roll onto my back, he moves onto me.  Female responses so strong.  I finally know what passion means.

Frustration as I yearn to respond with equipment I don’t yet have.  The “Phantom Limb” syndrome in reverse.  Waking up to realize that I have fallen asleep in his arms.  He is asleep, but still encircling me with protective strength.  I smile, half-groggy, and drift off again.

And the damn Cub Scout meeting tonight.  Leader training, adults only, but had to bring my son, but okay ’cause eight other boys there.  Self-conscious of my long fingernails; spend all evening trying to hide them.  Old stirrings of happy campers.  Good times in Boy Scouts ’cause code of behavior is regimented, by the book.  First time I knew how to respond.  Instincts don’t work.  How do the other boys know how to act?  What did I miss?  How am I different?

Mary knows about last night.  Still loves me, says so.  Happy, laughing, pets me on the head: she makes it so damn hard…  But I don’t like women anymore.  The old “Two Month, 180 degree Shuffle”, with a short deck.

All talked out and nowhere to go.  E-I-E-I-OOOOO.  And that’s the weigh it wuz.

Got help me.

November 17, 1989

Half my life has been lived in the last two weeks.  Nicki is still living on my office floor in Mike mode. And we talk every day, kind of a round the clock support group.  For me, still living at home with my family, this continuous flow of conversation with another TS has been perhaps my salvation, perhaps my doom.  For I have gotten so in touch with myself that the inner me has actually risen to the surface for the first time within memory.

And my experiences with Andy have been so fulfilling, so complete, that the painful tear in the fabric of my soul that has hurt so deeply for so many years has left me without a forwarding address.  I miss Andy every moment I am away from him.  And sure I know it is probably only a “first time” infatuation.  I am inexperienced, not naive.  Yet, this knowledge does little to diminish the warmth that rolls through me as I replay my closeness with him.

I went to my son’s Cub Scout meeting the other day as the Den Leader – described in the manual as a “male adult”.  Mary had picked up the uniform shirt I am required to wear and gave it to me that night.  As soon as I buttoned it on, I looked in the mirror and when I saw the military-looking doughboy who stared back at me, my skin began to crawl.  I forced myself through the meeting, trying to employ the techniques I have used comfortably for years as an adult leader in childrens’ groups.  But I just couldn’t pull it up anymore.  That part of my being had vanished completely.

By the time I got home, my heart was on my sleeve and my temper hair-trigger.  I lost control, yelled at my sweet six-year-old daughter and threw the can of Coke across the room.  And I watched as Mary dutifully wiped the sticky brown ooze from the wall paper where it stained.

I cheered up a bit that night, but slept fitfully.  Yet, when I awoke, the yellow Fall Sun was brightening the dried leaves still clinging thickly in anticipation of the first sharp wind.  I felt so at peace.  I looked down at my T-shirted chest and admired the growing mounds of softness, that even in recline rose gently above the valley floor.  I looked at my long fingernails and recalled the night before.

Suddenly, an emotion both strong and simple rolled over me, imparting undeniable knowledge.  Something had changed.  Something was subtly but powerfully different.  While I slept, my self-image had split apart and recongealed in a new form.  In my own mind, I had become female already.

Yeah, I know I’ve said things like this before, but each time previously it was always kind of just that I let myself feel female for a while without self-retribution.  But on this Thursday morning, I didn’t just KNOW I was female, I really FELT it.  Deep down inside.

So I cut off my fingernails.  I don’t need the crutch anymore.  And I knew I could pull off the leadership of my son’s Cub Scouts without fear of shrivelling my fresh, pink female personality.  It is locked in, secure and permanent.  My responses are my own, natural and unretouched for public consumption.  It doesn’t matter if you plop a female brain into Arnold Schwartzenegger’s body, you won’t bet a male.  And it doesn’t matter what I wear or don’t wear, or how long my hair is.  I am female, know it, accept it, love it, am unashamed of it.

So I shall continue to grow my hair.  And I shall remain on hormones.  And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to dress up and look pretty.  But that is not where I live.  It is not me, but merely the trappings. And SRS itself is not a sex-change, but merely cosmetic surgery.

I have come home to myself. To the person I never knew I was.  And I love being her.  I am overwhelmed by the joy of being surprised to find out I am truly someone different that I even thought our imagined.  And I am joyously anxious to set out on my new life of self-exploration and discovery.  Look out world, here comes Melanie.

November 26, 1989

My “femaleness” comes in waves.  There are times when I remember specific intimate moments with Alan that I can’t strangle an involuntary gasp as the deep satisfaction of that memory rolls over me.  And there are other times when the joy of playing with my kids or sharing something with Mary is warm and cozy.  I don’t think I will ever change my conception that I am truly female, but now the desire to complete SRS has changed from a need to a want.  And I must decide if my family is more important than that aspect of my transformation.

That I want SRS is uncontestable.  Indeed, my only fear is that I will end up an unconvincing freak, not representative of either gender.  But the notion of physically being female remains strong.  And yet, does it outweigh the established family?  Will potential loneliness as a female be more satisfying than unfulfilled but shared life as a male?  This I do not know.

Mary has said that even SRS would not drive her from me, as long as I maintained a male image for her.  I do not know if this is even possible due to the hormone use, but should it be, and should I be able to find a way around the “full time” requirement, I would surely opt for surgery at the earliest possible date.

You see, my male genitalia are really if little interest to me.  Sure it has served me well, and I do enjoy the pleasure of the sensation.  But the inner joy of my times with Alan (most recently with all our clothes on and never reaching climax) is so great the “sex” itself as a physical feeling pales into nonexistence.  The thrill of being penetrated, the ultimate  expression of closeness, is something I must experience before I die.  And I better do it before I’m such a shrivelled old hag that nobody would have me!

I went to the movies with Andy Friday night – my first drive-in!  And for the first time, I went out with nothing artificial.  My own hair, my own bustline: the real me.  The only difference between me and a complete woman was that tag of flesh between my legs.

Andy and I shared two six packs of smuggled-in beers while we watched “Eddie Murphy – Raw”.  We laughed together, snuggled together, and I cried on his chest while he told me, “It’s all right… Let it out, babe…”  Then we came back up to my office and had the final two beers.  I have never been so drunk in all my life.  I tried a coffee and liqueur as a nightcap and got violently ill.

I crawled to the women’s room on all fours and puked up in the toilet.  Then, I crawled out, got sick again in the hall and passed out on the floor.  Sometime later, I felt Andy picking me up to my feet.  I complained that I just wanted to stay there, but he would have none of it and herded me back to the office.

I awoke to find it daylight already (my first all-nighter).  Andy had covered me with a blanket from his car and snuggled up behind me.  I woke him, as I had to get home soon and pulled him to me.  I felt so female, so wanted, so sensual.  He rolled over on top of me, gently spreading my legs and pushed my knees up in classic missionary position.  and then, with all our clothes on, made love to me, his woman.

My responses were so natural, so uninvented. For the first time in my life, I knew how I should behave, not from the mind, but the heart.  I have never enjoyed anything so much as being made love to in that manner, my head cradled in his hands, his strong yet gentle thrusts pushing undeniably against me.  Even now, my insides go mushy just thinking about it.

God, its always been so hard to be male, to try and figure out how I should act, what I should say.  Every move second-guessed.  But now, as Melanie deep inside, I act by instinct, without consideration or censorship.  Moves I’ve never practiced are my true nature.  And the future?  Day at a time… just a day at a time.

(Copyright 1992, Melanie Anne Phillips)

(The Transsexual Diary series will continue in the next edition of The Subversive)

I urge you all to keep a diary of YOUR personal journey, whether it be through transition or not.  The attitudes and even the order of events becomes cloudy through time, and I am continually amazed to re-read things that memory would have me believe had happened differently.  If nothing else, it is a good way to see long-term patterns in yourself that you cannot see except in retrospect.  That objective view alone is worth the inconvenience of keeping a journal.

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MAKE UP TIPS

A continuing series by Mary Kay AND Avon representative,

Lynda J1

Silent Witness to the Soul

Before you open your mouth to speak, your fragrance says a lot about who you are.  Are you soft and romantic?  The earth mother type?  Exotic and mysterious?  Sweet and innocent?  Are you sophisticated or seductive?  Or are you the clean, fresh outdoorsy type?  Your fragrance, combined with your mood, appearance, and general personality gives a complete picture.

One fragrance can be chosen as a “signature” fragrance.  If you choose a favorite and wear it always, when someone you know smells that scent, it will remind them of you.  Some women don’t like to be limited to just one scent, but choose each day from several fragrances to fit their particular mood.

Choosing the right fragrance(s) can take some time.  When testing fragrance, test no more that three at a time.  Any more than that will start to smell the same after awhile.  Choose a fragrance whose “bottle fragrance” you like.  Pick up the bottle and sniff.  If it has a pleasing scent, try a little on your wrist.  Fragrance will mix with your the oils on your skin and your personal chemistry and will smell differently on different people.

Fragrance has layers of scent called “notes.”  Immediately after applying the scent to your wrist, you will first experience the “top note” of the fragrance.  As the base of the fragrance begins to evaporate, you will notice the “middle note” of the fragrance.  The middle note of the fragrance occurs as the scent reacts to your body heat and your personal chemistry.  This “middle note” may last for 30 minutes to an hour.  Finally, you will experience the “bottom note.”  This note can last from 2 to 6 hours.  Sometimes the difference in the top, middle, and bottom notes is very subtle, sometimes dramatic, and sometimes a fragrance has only one consistent note.

To make fragrance last longer, purchase several forms of the scent: talc or bath powder, bubble bath or bath oil, cologne, perfume, body and hand lotions, and some companies even offer deodorant or hairspray with the same scent as the cologne!  Colognes or perfumes should be applied to pulse points such as wrists and neck as well as warm places such as the crook of the elbow and the backs of knees.  A little applied to the ankles will cause the scent to follow you through a room.

If you can’t wear fragrance on your skin, you may be able to use it on your clothing.  Just be sure to test it in a small, inconspicuous area first to check for staining.  Spraying fragrance on your clothing is a good way to make the fragrance last longer too. 

                Another trick is to put a small amount of cologne on a cotton ball and tuck it into your bra or a pocket for all-day scent.  The cotton ball can be removed later and tucked into your lingerie drawer to lightly scent your undergarments.

If you’re like me and like to use a different scent for every mood, store your fragrances in the refrigerator to prevent them from deteriorating.

A few more tips:  NEVER mix fragrances.  The components of each fragrance are individually balanced and mixing them usually gives an unpleasant result.  Keep fragrances away from direct sunlight, whether in the bottle or on your skin.  Fragrances in the bottle will deteriorate more quickly and fragrances on your skin may cause photosensitivity or increase the risk of sunburn.  Also remember that sweet or flowery scents attract bees during summer months.  It’s best to save those fragrances for evening or indoor use during the summer.

Be considerate of others.  Dousing yourself in your favorite scent may be a wonderful experience for you, but can be an unpleasant experience for others in enclosed spaces such as cars or buses.  Also, be aware that too much fragrance at a dinner table can mean an unpleasant dining experience for those around you since smell and taste are intimately entwined.  Your dinner guests may not appreciate a mouthful of lobster that tastes like musk or sandalwood!  If you are unsure of how much is too much, ask a friend who will be honest with you.  Just because you can’t smell your fragrance doesn’t mean other people can’t.  If you’re applying your fragrance more than two or three times a day, it could be that your nose has just gotten used to the scent, while others around you are very well aware of it.

Fragrances considered “romantic” are usually the mixed or single florals such as “Tea Rose,” “Jasmine,” “Jontue,” and “Jungle Gardenia.”  “Orientals” or “exotics” are generally sweet and spicy.  “Animalic” fragrances have a musky smell, and “Greens” have a fresh, grassy, or citrusy scent.  The “sophisticated” or earthy scents have a blend of woods and mosses.  “Sweet and Innocent” fragrances smell powdery and light.  Is that important to know?  Only if someone wants to give you a gift of fragrance and asks the general category of fragrance you prefer or if you want to sound like a fragrance expert when talking to your friends.  The most important thing to know is what you like and how it makes you feel.

Personally, I like the florals and citrusy scents the best.  Most musks make me sick to my stomach after a few minutes and woodsy-mossy scents make me feel like taking a shower immediately.  I have been surprised occasionally by the description of a scent and the way it smelled on me.  Some floral mixtures are very overpowering and some musks smell fresh and powdery.  The only way to really tell is by trying it on yourself.  Don’t go by how a fragrance smells on someone else.  Everyone’s body chemistry and skin oils are different.

Most of all, enjoy the freedom and relaxation of choosing scents in different forms.  There is nothing as soothing as a bath scented with your favorite fragranced bubble bath or bath oil.  A slathering of scented body lotion on your legs after shaving makes your legs feel like silk.  Burning a candle scented with your fragrance can create a romantic mood for both you and your partner.  Wearing fragrance can make you feel more feminine and pretty, even on days when your hair has a mind of its own.  It can pick you up when you’re feeling down and calm your mood when your nerves are fried.  Fragrance is more than makeup for the mind, it’s a soothing balm for the soul.

As always, if you have questions or comments, please don’t hesitate to send e-mail to me, Lynda J1.  If you would like to receive catalogs to order cosmetics, jewelry, fragrances, and gifts through the mail, send a name (your choice) and address where you would like to receive the catalogs.  All information is kept confidential and you can stop receiving the catalogs anytime by notifying me by e-mail.  If there is a special topic you would like me to address in this column, let me hear from you!

Editor’s Note:  Remember, Lynda J1 is YOUR Mary Kay Representative.  Support her efforts here by placing your orders with her, a real nice way to say “Thank You!”  All orders are held in confidence, and orders will be shipped in plain wrapping.  And you’ll never find a more understanding or knowledgeable make-up consultant for your special needs.

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FEATURE ARTICLES

A Trip to the Voice Doctor

by Sarah Williams

aka: Sarah 6238

                I arrived at nine o’clock sharp and walked into the fanciest doctors office I’ve ever seen. Dark green plush carpet , tasteful antiques, about a million dollars worth of art on the wall.  The receptionist asked me to have a seat and said that the doctor was running a little late today. 

                My stomach was doing the most interesting things down there.  As is usual in surgery I had been asked not to eat before coming in.  It might have also had something to do with the fact that I’ve never had any surgery done before and the thought that this was the first big unalterable step on the way to becoming the woman I’ve always needed to be. 

                As I sat there, worrying, thinking about all the things that could go wrong, I could still hear Dr. Mayer going through the list of possible complications on my first visit, things like,  scarring,  infection, trouble swallowing, and five or six other things I can’t remember. The one that scared me the most though, was that my voice might just return to it’s old pitch sometime after surgery.  He said what ever happened there was no way to fix it again and that I’d be stuck with the way it turns out, good or bad.  He made it clear that he wasn’t making any promisees, or guaranteeing anything. 

                I asked Dr. Mayer, exactly what he was going to do to make my voice change.  He told me the technique was his idea, and that only he and god could do this, and that neither of them was going to tell anyone else.  He said he was afraid that if he told how it was done, some fool who wasn’t as good as he was would try it and screw it up.  Then the technique would get a bad name. Well OK, I didn’t like that much, but squeamish as I am I’m probably better off not knowing.

                I must have set in that waiting room for at least two hours, though it seemed more like a week.  Finally a nurse came and took me to a room and got me into one of those cute little hospital nighties. Then I was off to the operating room. I sat there for a long time, shivering, wondering if this is just a dream.  Then the nurse came back and started doing all those nurse things, installing all kinds of wires and sensors all over me. When she’d finished she told me to take it easy, don’t worry, and don’t pay any attention to the things the Dr. said to her during the operation.  She said it would sound like every thing was going wrong, but that this was just the way Dr. Mayer was during surgery, and it was really going to turn out fine.  I was to speak when he told me to and there would be times he would ask me not to swallow.  I had no idea how hard that would be.  She covered my eyes and the rest of me except for my neck and in came the doctor.

                As soon as he came in he asked the nurse “did you give her your little talk”.  She said she had and then he asked me to speak into a mini tape recorder for a few seconds.  He then began to shoot me up with a local anesthesia all around my adams apple and started drawing on my throat with a felt pen.

                As soon as I was good and numb he began to cut. The incision was about two inches long, it followed a line that already existed on my neck so it wouldn’t show later. As he cut he used an electric device to stop the bleeding. I could hear lots of sizzling and the sound of his scalpel.  I began to wish they had put me out entirely.

                From the time Dr. Mayer walked into the room, It had seemed he was in a foul mood, and though he was always polite to me , he was incredibly rude to his nurse.  This got worse and worse as we went along.  I, of course, couldn’t see what was going on, but from the sound of it he just couldn’t get what he wanted from her.  He’d say “OK, pull it up this way, no that’s too far, come on get it right honey.” “I can’t do this if you can’t do what I tell you”.  “NO, that’s not right  I can’t see”.  “Please honey, this is getting all screwed up, if this doesn’t work its all your fault”.  “Don’t be stupid, pull it over here”.  It got so bad I couldn’t see how she kept from punching him out right then and there.

                This all went on for about an hour. Sometimes it hurt a lot but I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think I could talk.  I could feel him suturing something that was very tough in my throat.  I think he broke several needles doing it. He kept repeating “don’t swallow,  don’t swallow”.  I tried to keep from it but the urge was incredible.  Sometimes I couldn’t stop and he’d say “OH SHIT, DON’T SWALLOW”,  you’ve got to stop swallowing.  As he worked, he’d ask me to say something. I’d try to talk, some squeaky noises would come out, and he’d put in another stitch.

                Finally he said “that’s as far as I can go, it sounds pretty good”.  I wasn’t so sure, but I was so relieved that it was over, I didn’t argue.  In a few minutes I was stitched up and he was gone. It felt like there was a huge lump in my throat when I swallowed, and it seemed like I was going to choke, but I fought the urge because the thought of gagging and coughing scared me to death.

                The nurse got me up and cleaned me off, and back into my dress.  She took such good care of me that I started to feel a little better.  She gave me the post opp instructions and I was out the door.

                There I was, in downtown Beverly Hills, feeling sick, scared and lost.  Here’s one point of advise, don’t do anything like this alone.  I found my rental car and sat there for a while just trying to breathe and get my head together enough to drive. I needed to eat so I stopped in at a fast food joint for lunch, which I promptly threw up in the parking lot.  I didn’t like that much, but it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it was going to. I felt a good bit better after that, and I went back to my room to see if I could sleep. 

                The doctor had asked me not to turn my head side to side or tilt it back for at least two weeks. this made driving in the big city kind of tough. I had a lot of pills to take for pain and swelling and to prevent infection.  It figures, the antibiotic he gave me was a pill that would choke a horse,  but I managed to get them down anyway.

                If you should ever get desperate enough to try this crazy operation, there are some things you should know. The first is that no matter what anyone tells you, it hurt.  It hurt a lot for the first two weeks, and for the next two it felt like I had a cramp in my throat.  The pain is almost gone now after six weeks, but my voice is still hoarse most of the time. I don’t think that I was one of Dr. Mayer’s big successes, they said that the goal was to give me a voice that sounded female on the phone. I still have trouble convincing people on the phone that my name is Sarah, but as I get back more and more control of my voice, it’s slowly getting better.  At first I had almost no dynamic  range.  Now I’ve gained back about half the range I had originally and I feel it stretching a little every day.

                The voice modification surgery, as its called, cost $4,000 not including travel and expenses.  They ask that you stay in town for at least two days after surgery, so they can check up on you.

                Looking back, though the whole ordeal was as hard as anything I’ve ever done, I’m very glad I did it.  The change I got wasn’t all I had hoped for, but it did help a lot. It gave me at least $10,000 worth of confidence. I’m no longer afraid to talk and person to person I seem to pass without question. I feel reborn and my new life feels so right.

                If you wish to get more info you can write to the doctor at: 

                The Beverly Hills Institute

                of Aesthetic & Reconstructive Surgery

                416 N. Bedford Drive

                Suite 200

                Beverly Hills, CA      90210 

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PREPARING FOR FULL TIME

By

Denise Anne Fell

When I first began on hormone therapy I knew that the day would come when I would have to start the Real Life Test or as commonly called Full Time.  I began planning how I would prepare

for this day but even more important how I would prepare the people that I work with.  I mean going to work one day dressed as a male and coming in the next dressed as a female is not an everyday occurrence.

I made an appointment with the head of our Employee Assistant Program provider.  I explained my feelings to Cynthia at the first meeting and told her of my plans.  This was prior to my first injection.  I had an appointment between the first and second injection and we talked about what I should do.  At one point I actually thought about requesting an early or disability retirement or just resigning and start working out of my home.

As things began to develop more rapidly that I expected, I knew that I was going to have to let someone in management know.  I gave some serious thought about who I would feel comfortable talking to about this matter.  I decided on the Section Chief.  She is between my immediate manager and the Branch Chief.  I asked her if we could have a private talk.  When she suggested her office, I asked for the Conference Room.  She gave me a funny look and said she could meet with me at 1:00 that afternoon.

It was a long 3 hours.I sort of beat around the bush, and finally asked if she knew who Christine Jorgensen was.  She replied no.  I said Dr. Renee Richards, she said no.  I said Tula?  She said yes.  I said “He is going to be a she.”  She said who?  I said me.  I asked her if she had noticed anything different about me.  She said your hair is longer.  I said, no, something else.  I sat up straight and her reply was, Now that you mention it.I explained that I had thought about retiring or quitting, but I did not want to.  She said then don’t.  She also assured me that I would not be harassed by anybody in the Branch, at least during working hours.  I told her that I had scheduled an appointment with a Labor Relations Specialist and that I would talk to her about my options. We left if at that and went back to our respective areas.

We met again the following week.  I said that I would like to have a branch meeting, at which I would not be present, but I would arrange to write a letter to my coworkers and that I would ask the EAP Counselor that I had been talking to about coming to this meeting.  She said that sounded like a good idea.  I then went and talked to the Branch Chief.  She handled it very well and had no problems at all concerning this upcoming change.  I received a lot of reassurance from her and I also told her of my problem of getting the new manager that I was scheduled to be assigned when we decentralized the branch.  I was told not to worry, I would not be assigned to her.  That eased my mind of a potential problem.

I next made arrangements to have a meeting with my immediate manager.  I told her of my upcoming plans.  She was totally shocked and stared at me in disbelief as I told her of how I had felt for so many years.  All she said is that she would handle it when the time came.I had my meeting with the Labor Relations Specialist.  After the initial shock wore off, she replied that she was there to see that my rights were not denied.  That I not be harassed by coworkers but on the same hand that this not disrupt the work in the Branch.I told her that Cynthia had agreed to come to the meeting and talk about transsexualism.  We set the tentative date for this meeting to the morning of October 8th.  That was fine and I felt much better about the entire situation.

I had trusted a few close friends with my so called secret, but that could have been a mistake.  I believe that I was betrayed by one of the last that I told.  That is incidental, but I would caution about telling more than one person.  That way if it gets out, you know who to blame.

Well, all of the sudden my breasts had some rather rapid development.  It got to the point that people were asking questions, not to me, but to my manager and the other managers.  My breasts became almost impossible to hide, and to be honest, I did not particularly care to hide them.  I had wanted to have my own breasts for as long as I can remember.  I was happy as could be about the development.I began to think that maybe the meeting was too far off.  I was getting such rapid breast development and I knew that I could not hide it for long.All of the sudden, I began to get asked questions.  Finally, one of the people I trusted said your secret is out.  I really began to get nervous.  This is not what I had planned.

I went and talked to the Labor Relations Specialist, and asked about an earlier meeting with my coworkers.  We agreed that it would be on the afternoon of September 24th, provided everything could be arranged.Everything was changed and the only change was that the letters that I had written could not be passed out at work, but I was assured that everything would be covered.  I agreed with reservations.I left prior to the meeting.  I had asked a couple of people that knew to call me and give me their view of the meeting.  Everyone that called told me the same thing.  It went better than they would have expected.  Between all the people that called me, only three comments were heard.  Two were negative and one was marginal.  The comments came from people that I expected to accept with no problem and the people that I expected to object seemed to take it very well.  You can’t second guess human nature.  I was pleased with the response from my coworkers.

The following week I told a few other people that I associate on a daily basis, but do not work directly with.  The response was, “What’s your point?”  “Do you expect me not to associate with you because you wear a dress.  A friend is a friend.”  I received almost total support from my friends both at work and those that I associate with on a social basis.  I did lose one friend, but maybe he wasn’t such a close friend after all.

The main problem seemed to be my younger brother and youngest sister.  They have totally ignored me.  My younger sister has more or less accepted this and still associates with me.  I guess that you can say that sometimes “water is thicker than blood.”

I have no illusions of this being easy.  I expect that my going to work the first day as Denise will be one of the hardest things I have ever tried to accomplish.  My coworker’s acceptance of this will make it easier, but it still will be difficult.I have no doubt that I will be read for quite awhile.  That too can be overcome, because I will be working towards a dream that I have wanted all my life.  When you see the light at the end of the tunnel, you can face tests that you might not have wanted to try in the past.I hope that this will help some of you decide on how to announce that you are going to start your Real Life Test.  This is something that you have to come to grips with.  Planning everything out will make a difference and it helps if you can have the support of your employer and gain the acceptance of those you work with.

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REVERSE PASSING

By Tracy WH

Yes, you guessed it from the title, I have to try to pass as my male self for the first time in nearly a year and a half!  None of you know the background so I’ll fill in the blanks.

I’m working as a legal assistant for a firm in Salt Lake City as a woman, and have been for the past 17 months.  I’m serious about my life as a woman, to the point of having my breasts augmented nearly 7 months ago.  I’m a 34c and quite proud of my figure.  I’m waiting for the “right time” to go all the way and do the surgery thing.  For right now I’m content with my life, and am in no hurry to finish.  I’ve recently turned 24 and have plenty of time for that later (after I’ve saved up the rest of the money). 

As my male self I traveled to S. Korea with the Peace Corps and learned to speak Korean quite well, and used that language skill and experience on my resume.

Another firm in Salt Lake has a client that is opening an American business in Seoul.  They had heard that I spoke Korean, and are willing to hire me as a translator/legal advisor for two to three months while they are getting things set up. 

To make a long story short, my passport is as a male, and the people that are going to hire me know me only as a woman.  Here’s where the conflict arises.

I had known that this might come up, and had been doing some asking around on line, and reading some of the downloads concerning legal identity changes.  I didn’t really think that it would go this far, but here I am with a South Korean visa in one hand and a plane ticket in the other.

I’m really puzzled as to how I’m going to get through customs/immigration, but I have a plan.

I had to submit a photograph of me along with my visa application, and did myself up as a man quite well.  The photos matched close enough, and I only had to practice my male signature a few times to get it right.

However,  a photograph passing, and a living breathing (and potentially nervous) person passing are two TOTALLY different things.  I’ve been practicing in preparation for the big day, and have a few tips on “reverse passing” as I’ll call it.

First, anatomically there is the problem of the “units” attached to my chest.  That shouldn’t be too much of a problem, I just buy a very tight jog-bra and wear a really loose sweatshirt on the plane (corporate types don’t care what you wear on a 14 hour flight).

Second, hair can be pulled into a tail and worn in a hat.  Shouldn’t be too much of a problem, besides, many men have ponytails these days.  The biggest problem there would be the cut and style difference from the passport to the “actual head”.   

Again, easily explained.

Third is the removal of all makeup and traces of ANYTHING.  One thing I have been doing is wearing only one earring when “reverse passing”, and then it is a simple gold hoop.  If I let my whiskers grow for about 3 days, I look like an adolescent teenager with a light beard.  With the singular earring the effect is pretty good.

I have been buying wine coolers and beer as a man in the supermarkets around town to make sure and get ID’ed to see if I can “reverse pass” effectively.  So far, so good.  Much to my amazement.  One funny story about buying alcohol.

The first time I went to buy coolers as a man since living as a woman, I accidentally took my purse in.  WHOOPS!!!!  I didn’t realize what I had done until I had gotten to the checkstand and had to actually take out my license.  I had it in a Dooney-Burke billfold (very feminine looking) in my matching purse.  I was so nervous I’d be “read backwards” (this does get a bit confusing) that I dropped my license on the floor.  As I bent down to pick it up, I thought I saw the check-out boy look down my shirt and see my breasts.  I could have died!  I tried to regroup and just handed it to him with a $20.  That’s when I looked down and saw my well manicured nails.  Luckily I only wear clear enamel, but no man I know of has nails this pretty!  The checker gave me a quizzical look, but I rationalized that off as being an old ID.  He didn’t say anything, but I was so paranoid I was sure that he knew.

I hurriedly took my change and ID and stuffed them in my purse.  I took the coolers, and BRISKLY walked out to my car.  All the way out the door and to my car, I imagined a hand grabbing me on my shoulder and asking me to come back into the store for a “little chat”.  I got to my car and threw myself inside.  My head was spinning, my heart was pounding, and I was nearly out of breath!  I just sat in my car laughing/crying at myself for being so stupid!  I am usually so methodical and plan things out, but I just got lazy and didn’t think before actually going to the store. 

I went home laughing the whole way, sat down in front of the TV and watched Vertigo while drinking my trophies.  I felt pretty good after about 3 of them.

That story got long really fast.  Sorry.

Anyway, here is where it has gotten tricky.

All of the partners in the business have decided to travel together.  This would pose a problem for me if I were to have to pass as a female to them, and as a male to the customs people.  Again, this has been taken care of with a little schedule juggling.

I suggested in one of the organization meetings, that I travel ahead a few days, set up short-term accommodations, purchase a vehicle, and schmooze the Korean partners before their arrival.  This was met with warm welcome, as none of them had ever been there.

So, as far as they’re concerned and will ever know, I’m a woman, and will work with them as one.  I’m  pretty proud of my little trick, but still a little nervous.  I hope that this goes off smoothly and have no glitches.

I’m not sure if any of this means anything to any of you (how many “any’s” can you put in one sentence?), but I thought it might be interesting nonetheless.

Let me know SOON if any of you have advice or tips that might come in handy.  I leave on Oct. 18, and don’t have much time.

Keep sending logs, mail and gifs.  I’ll be calling Honolulu to check out how things are going in the gender community while I’m gone.  I’ll be sending things back as well.

I can leave a mailing address to anyone who would like to get letters mailed to them on disk.  I am taking my powerbook and can format for either IBM or Mac.  I run Word 5 on Mac, and can convert to WordPerfect from DOS.

Well, I’ll wrap this up.  Thanks for listening, and for any advice that might come my way. 

Don’t forget me!

Tracy WH

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AMERICA ONLINE GENDER GROUP STATISTICS

Contributed by Marsha J, Gender Room Secretary

Attendee Stats as of October 1992

For you spatial thinkers,

Geographic distribution

AZ.   3  BC.   1  CA.  22  CO.   2

  CT.   4  FL.  12  GA.   1  IL.  12

  IN.   4  LA.   4  MA.   7  MD.   2

ME.   1  MI.   3  MN.   3  MO.   3

  MS.   2  MT.   1  NC.   2  NH.   1

  NJ.   7  NM.   2  NV.   1  NY.   5

OH.   5  OK.   2  ON.   3  OR.   2

  PA.   5  SC.   1  TX.   6  UT.   1

  VA.   3  WA.   4  WI.   2  WV.   2

WY.   1

Total 163

For you temporal thinkers

:

Of those I have records of, we’ve the following ages

one attendee under 20

4 between 20 and 30

12 between 30 and 40

14 between 40 and 50

CONGRATULATIONS TO ALL OUR 163 MEMBERS FOR HELPING TO CREATE A SAFE HAVEN OF SUPPORT FOR EVERYONE CONCERNED WITH GENDER ISSUES!!!

GENDER ROOM MEETING

Don’t forget to attend the Gender Room Meeting on the America Online BBS in the Gay/Lesbian area  in the Community Room at 9pm ET every Sunday evening.  For specific information, directions, or to order  back logs of the chats, Email Marsha J, the Gender Room secretary.

If you have a particular topic of interest and/or would like to host (or hostess) a Gender Room meeting specifically addressed to that topic, please send pertinent information and we will publish an announcement in the Gender News of the upcoming talk.

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AFTERGLOW

This month I am turning over the final thoughts to a long-time friend of mine.  I met her as the wife of my film partner at USC when I was still Dave.  From the first moment of my transition she supported and befriended me, and since that time we have become the closest of friends.

As many of you know, the past two years of my career have been spent in developing a new psychology called Mental Relativity.  It is the basis for a revolutionary new theory of story called Dramatica that is to be released as a computer program by Screenplay Systems in the first part of next year.  But story is only a small part of the applications Mental Relativity can be employed for.

Primarily, the theory describes the relationships between the processes of the mind.  As such, it clearly delineates the intrinsic biologic differences between male and female thinking.  This does not indicate that one is better than the other, rather that they are equal but different.

Beyond gender, however, Mental Relativity provides the tools to make objective decisions about subjective problems.  In this regard, my friend Juni M (AOL) has written the following article about how she employed the theory in a practical situation of everyday life.

MENTAL RELATIVITY MADE PRACTICAL

(Number 1)

by Juni M

How do you know if two people make good business partners?  This is what I was trying to figure out so that I could decide if I should join their company.  Using the four elements Purpose, Evaluation, Methodology, and Motivation to compare the partners, I found an answer.

First, I compared their Purposes for starting the business.  One, let’s call him “A”, saw the business as ego gratification, something to control, explore, and ultimately become very rich and important.  The other, “B”, also wanted to become rich, but had a little less ego involved.  “B” would be satisfied to just support his family in a comfortable manner.  Both parties seemed to be in some kind of agreement.

Next, was Evaluation.  What criteria were they using to judge the business success or failure?  “A” thought the business was successful as long as he was contacting more and more people.  Even if their projects were way off in the future, the greater his network, the more successful he felt the business would be.  While “B” judged success by steady cash flow and repeat business.  So, while one liked a constant flow of new clients, the other would have been happy servicing the same old ones again and again.  Not much of a consensus here.

In terms of Methodology or day-to-day procedures, “B” was very linear and methodical.  He could focus and get a job done very efficiently, while “A” liked to spread himself thin and have many “irons in the fire”.

In fact, their Motivations (as mentioned earlier under Purpose) were very different.  Since “A” had ego involved in most of the processes and liked to think of himself as a visionary, this was in disagreement with “B” who really only wanted independence and a stable income.

It would appear that they were only vaguely in agreement on wanting to make money, and even then, not in agreement as to how much.  Perhaps if they had agreed in 2 areas, their differences would lend a balanced dynamism to the company and propel it forward.  But disagreement on 3 out of 4 areas could lead to nothing but bickering.

I decided to wait and see what would happen to these two before making any commitments.  Chances could be that they break up before they add new members to their company, and then the remaining partner will set the tone and direction for the company.

Meanwhile, I could still get along with them both if I only confine my conversation to the one area they seem to be in agreement on: making money.

Juni M

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EDITOR’S NOTE: It is my desire to make this publication available free to all who wish to read it.  However, due to copyright laws, any overall license would allow unscrupulous individuals to excerpt portions and use it for their own personal gain.  Therefore, should you wish to upload this publication on your BBS or simply generate hardcopies for support groups and friends, please write me about a free license for your specific purpose.

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“May you never find occasion to say, ‘If only…..'”

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THE SUBVERSIVE

Number 5

November 1992

                                                (Copyright 1992 Melanie Anne Phillips)