Category: Our Stories

Originally appeared in Transgender Tapestry #105, Spring 2004.

by Kathleen L. Farrell, Ph.D.


It has been more than two months since I experienced one of my most embarrassing moments as a therapist, and the memory still stings. In group therapy, I made the mistake of using the wrong pronoun. Strangely, I didn?t hear myself do it, but I noticed her retreat. Since it was her first time in the group, after trying unsuccessfully to pull her into the discussion, I decided it was related to a low comfort level and let it go.

After the meeting, she asked to speak to me. She seemed angry. I was tired after a long day, but I tried to listen. Despite years of experience in dealing with every kind of emotion aimed at me, including anger and disappointment, I felt myself become defensive. At first I couldn?t believe I had used ?him? instead of ?her.? I was in denial. I said, ?Are you sure that was what you heard? I am extremely sensitive to this issue. I don?t think of you as male. I think of you as female.?

Originally appeared in Transgender Tapestry #103, Fall 2003.

by Deborah Greenway

It surprises many of my friends now, but I once lived in the dream of being a Baptist minister. This was in a younger, more idealistic time, before I knew the political landscape, and before I reached my current level of self-knowledge and acceptance. I?m so comfortable now with my femme self, Deborah, that I will go anywhere, any time, and not give it a second thought. Recently, the day came to return to a place preserved in memory, to meet it as it exists in reality today?as my current self?and to proclaim peace. Traveling east through Kansas, the driving is fast, and daydreaming is easy for someone who spent a good portion of life in the area. It?s that time of year when the trees are budding, and you know it?s spring. A spotty, light rain is falling. When we reach Missouri, the terrain gets more interesting?there are hills and a plethora of billboard signs, apparently sponsored by local churches?Christians Obey!!!! this or that selected Bible verse, hopeful attempts at 60-mph roadside conversions, or perhaps an effort to keep the unruly masses in line. The billboards continue, and so does the rain.

Originally appeared in Transgender Tapestry #102, Summer 2003.

by Michelle Dixon

When I called myself a crossdresser, I would have dressed in fancy clothes if I had the money; however, I?ve been on an limited income for years. In the late 80s, the internal pressure to dress in public was intense. I adopted a mode of dress I called walking the line. I wore simple, solid tunic tops that could go either way. A few skirts, and I had a femme wardrobe.

I wore inexpensive gold-tone or silver neck chains bought at flea markets. It was a simple task to cut neck chains down to fit my wrists. This was all part of my walking the line wardrobe.

Originally appeared in Transgender Tapestry #98, Summer 2002.

by Carla Fong
? 2001 by Carla Fong. All Rights Reserved.

Ever since I was very small, I?ve been fascinated with women?s clothing. I?m a crossdresser?but you already knew that. I?ve been in the closet since my early teens, and finally, about five years ago, got the gumption to go out in public.
After conquering the heebie-jeebies and the willies, going out in public dressed as a woman was and is a lot of fun! The only problem? The more I did it, the more I wanted to do it. It was a vicious circle indeed?but oh, what fun!

Originally appeared in Transgender Tapestry #096, Winter 2001.
by Stefani Moore

n 1997, my then 11-year-old son Zachary walked into the bathroom to catch me coming out of the shower. At that point I?d been on hormones for a little over a year. He looked at me and said, ?Wow Dad, you?re growing udders.?

A familiar dilemma gripped me. When should I tell my son? When should I sit him down and have that heart-to-heart discussion I?d been dreading? What words would I use? Daddy is really another Mommy? Nothing sounded right in my head. Eleven is so young. Nor was I ready. So I reacted as I always do when I?m uncomfortable: I made a joke out of the whole thing by mooing like a cow.