Why A Gender Shift Can Feel A Bit Like Doctor Who

Doctor Who?

Doctor Who being the science fantasy television program on BBC for the last 50 years. The main protagonist simply known as “The Doctor” to the viewers. He has many adventures with various companions while traveling through time and space. He appears human, and has a very strong affinity to nurturing and protecting the human race. However, he is not human. He is Gallifreyan-a Time Lord. Their biology causes them to regenerate after a number of years, typically spawned by a sustained injury.There has at least been speculation that these regenerations can involve a gender change, but usually is a completely different looking and acting(and dressing) character with most core parts of The Doctor’s characteristics. Some of his quirks really shift a lot more than you would think, but it keeps it all fresh in my opinion.
At times, I feel that I am not human..

So how does this entertain the idea that your “transition” is anything like that?
(I only know of my own experience and what few stories others have shared of their own journey.)

Myself-35 years as a boy/male (give or take), had many different careers/roles:
Soldier, teacher, husband, father, mechanic, carpenter, clerk, guitarist in metal band, singer, college student…these did have different expressions of hair, clothing, cars, houses, etc.
Granted I was petty repressed in avoiding being myself, but my core was pretty consistent. I am: a nurturer, teacher, lover, musician, caregiver, poet, artist-and will always beI’ll cleverly avoid a fight, but a true warrior knows when to fight!
I too, have had some pretty colorful companions not unlike the Doctor at times..family, lovers, friends, animals.

Transition-its not a destination. No matter what anyone suggests, because life itself is a journey and not a destination. (Get over it and embrace it.) So during the beginning of this phase there is of course the wigs in lieu of the hair in process of growing out. Wardrobe? Adolescent, edgy, vampish, sex bomb, blonde bombshell, college co-ed, the Audrey Hepburn, cyber-goth industrial girl, punk rocker, post-apocalypse dyke. For me, the biggest part of change was the hormones that let my brain that “always knew/felt that I was a girl” for this entire time, could at least not hate the body my mind was born into. That body quickly changed and perhaps parts of my mind as well…

My memories at times are something that are very clear and are relevant to my daily activities and problem solving. However, there are times that Who something happened to in my past feels very much like another person. Swiss cheese memory as referred to in science fiction…

Music? I was a bass player and keyboard player up until I started exploring my gender expression by going out dressed. Guitar soon came after this period.
Parenting? Some argue that you are always a parent, but the interaction with my own children was limited to only the time I expressed as a boy. I haven’t been a parent as a woman. Not even to a puppy at this writing.
Tattoos? Well, I got my first during my time “in-flux” of deciding whether going out on the weekends and hating who I was or wasn’t. My ink collection snowballed and really started with “my first girl tattoo” to my most current one.
Family? There is a lot less blood relatives around, much as the First Doctor saying goodbye to Susan, but my extended family is tremendous and still growing. They have a stronger bond with me than I could have ever imagined.
Other things I have picked up since transitioning: learning Italian, cello, guitar with a deeper focus, writing, oh and of course more allergies. I am sure that I have my share of quirks too.

I lost my singing voice for the price that I paid and I am looking to find it or whatever voice this body chooses to resonate.

The journey through time-and space, occasionally gives glimpses of times in your life where you were really proud of your accomplishments and who you were at that individual moment. I feel its important to reflect into those journeys for strength, knowledge, and wisdom. Who you were isn’t always Who you are at the moment. But we all seem to be a collective of all our incarnations (good/bad, boy/girl, love/hate).

If you do find yourself having problems with your collective, or even evolving… perhaps you should call the Doctor?


(Gender shift  = transition = life is a journey for everyone regardless of cis or transgender)


Sotto Voce-Better Than Security Blanket

Just recently I went to friend’s a baby shower. I had so much fun. My friend’s husband, family, and other friends were really cool to me.

I used a bit of forward ice breaking self-depreciating humor a bit to joke that warmly introduces the fact I haven’t always been me as I currently am. I’m no leggy waif with a body that can stop a truck, because I chose not to. It seems like jokingly addressing the possible 800lb. gorilla in the room is the best way to put people at ease and not get ruffled feathers. I am ok with “looking queer” as I was the one who picked all my beautiful tattoos and recently sheared off one side of my head.

In a previous life I was a parent with the white picket fence, etc.”

But something else happened. I didn’t realize it until I took a shower this evening with my face buried into the warm shower water and my eyes closed…a eureka moment of sorts about the baby shower the day before…. I didn’t squeak, or have my voice pitched higher until I felt comfortable. I felt exactly ZERO need to have my security blanket. I’m a queer girl in a world who doesn’t always treat kindly but I had no guard up. My matter-of-fact tone I jokingly call my Sotto Voce only came across as Dolce (sweet) in conversation.


(Above) Its just a snapshot but it covered the feel for the day. I didn’t feel like a stranger to anyone, and was made to feel like family at times.

I decided to blog this because as a trans/queer/pick a label-person, growth of this nature is really good and sometimes doesn’t happen the way we would like it to.

Its a great joy that my pal is my friend.
She’ll be an awesome mom and she has a great husband in her journey too!
They have a way to make things feel safe-no shields up captain!


1 year ago today, 20 years ago

One year ago today, I was on the porch of a friend’s house in the rain, slightly early with to a Holiday party wearing a short dress, with a busted phone and no number to reach them. I could not tell if the doorbell was even working on the second floor. I mention the broken phone: you can’t call out but you can cycle through texts. I select the text of a girl I just made friends with. She was diagnosed with cancer on Christmas the year before.

I had to get a new phone the very next day. I didn’t have a computer and even a way to talk/text people makes such a difference when you try to hang out or talk to new and old friends.
Especially around the holidays..

I got to visit with someone I went to high school with. I hadn’t seen her in more than 20 years. Her and I briefly worked together. She had brought her mom on this mini-vacation west too. She too had joined the Army, and left the shitty little town we both were in. It was a real treat for me, and I was happy to see people who knew me before “the change” in my life. I am happy that I got to see someone whose life had moved away from the negative ills that can really culminate in a small town. I’m so grateful to have had this moment.

But for now,I will just enjoy the time off of work until the next festival outing.



My Year Has Come Full Circle

Its October 31! My new year will start soon. In case I hadn’t mentioned it before, I am a witch. I don’t ride my broom. Samhain does not interfere with my day of birth which is yet another reason why this new year festival makes perfect sense.

My year in review? Its sort of like that.

Health. I had a few benign extractions without a hitch. My health and culture took a major blow from an allergy to Gluten-no more typical bread, beer, pasta, or pizza. Its hard to get a higher protein carbohydrate in my diet now. Gluten-free flour really sucks to use as it has no glue-like properties to stick things together. No stretching of rising dough neither!

Death. I lost a really awesome friend less than a week prior to this post, whom I am still mourning. She and I were making weekend lunch plans up until her untimely death. I can only assume it was health related as her photos show an increase of weight in a short time. She had just married her fiance 2 weeks prior to her death. Maybe she knew. I’ll always love my friend Claire.

Music. My muse and artist are in one body and mind. My hands erupt with obsession on the fretboard of my guitar. My love for musical expression has returned, like never before. I felt that my “musical heart” was broken while my first guitar was missing-in-action. It wasn’t until I was told (put into storage with a friend for 3 years) that it was actually gone 3 year ago.

Solitary-a witch without a coven. I guess I am a bit of a “bad witch”-bad being lazy. I really observe the big Sabbats but tend to be lacking with ritual between those times. I’d like to be doing more, but there seems to be some spiritual blockage or something.

Family. It was officially 5 years since last I spoke to the bad blood family and the good blood family. The good blood family has stayed relatively supportive and I have good communications with them. No apologizes coming from the bad blood anytime soon.My extended family of friends do get less time from me due to my domestic nature. Sorry folks, its not personal.

Enjoy this Samhain, or Halloween safely!


The Dividing Line of Feminism and Expression

I’m conscious, no doubt. Most of the world’s ration and reason anymore hurt my brain.

This doesn’t “interfere” with my daily existence as much as it enhances it. Its problematic at times because the world, and my world have many layers. I did live the first 35 years fooling others to believe I was a man (but never fooled myself).


“Looking like I did, I always thought I was smart and not good looking. I had never felt this outside looked like my inner self-she stayed hidden for 8 more years after this photo.”

Picket fence, college, military…I had some typical as well as high-risk career choices that were considerably masculine. I spent time convincing myself more than other people and thus: being a male in all outward appearances and social roles- WERE simply a stage I went through before embracing my true self. But transitioning back east meant I was surrounded by an automobile to-and-from work, school, home. You don’t socially interact with anyone in a car, basically.


“People would kill to have a body like mine, or just kill me?”
Statistically, trans people survive suicide and are faced with a higher homicide rate-rarely killed by women.

Expressing my female self isn’t without daily scrutiny from men and women alike: a man can be butt-ugly but as long as he is powerful/rich/physically strong he is pedestalled and embraced for doing what success was defined to mean; for the woman it means you are judged based on your hair/makeup/clothing/fashion sense and not other accolades.

Women rarely get left alone when it comes to the leering and judging eyes of the world. Sure, age sometimes brings relief, but then you are seen as someone’s “mother” rather than a successful mature woman. Shit, this goes to show that transitioning from male to female is not a CHOICE!! One might argue that transitioning from female to male would be a choice based on no longer being scrutinized on a daily basis of ones looks, but that is not the case. Transgender is not a choice for anyone.

Some feel that being born as I was and being attracted to women, wearing pants, etc. are considered appropriate.

So how much breasts/cleavage do you show to express what you feel you want to, and how much is caving to “what a woman should behave as?”

The pitfall of someone balancing expression: “I don’t feel like wearing makeup nor shaving my legs.” negatively traverses my female expression. You could say that I am hypersensitive to the expressions of gender, having lived/worked/dated/stared/objectified as both. 

Did I mention that I know what runs through a man’s brain? No? Well I didn’t. I will say that I know what CAN run through a man’s brain. I was also raised around the most misogynistic/pro rape men on the planet. I knew pretty early that I was neither “them” nor “a man.”

I will admit that I cling to a few things out of comfort due to the basic fact that I wasn’t born without a vagina, nor plentiful mammary glands (breasts).

Maybe I don’t want to go to a place further outside my own comfort zone.
Maybe I don’t want to leave the impression on you of what I look like without makeup because maybe you won’t invest getting to know me or you are the type of person who doesn’t get past anything.
Maybe I like some to show some sexy legs because I literally have bled for my transition. I shouldn’t have to justify anything in what I choose to express, but in living my life, I am just.

I think you can be a femme pro feminist, and even a transsexual feminist. I also think that it really shouldn’t matter what someone’s outsides look as quoted by me:

Associated Press November 2010

Associated Press November 2010

“This girl in front of me, whether she is wearing pants or a dress, shouldn’t make a difference.” Associated Press November 2010


Re-inventing The Wheel

So I am 40 (something). Grumbles answer under breath

I want to be taken serious in my career and my appearance. I took all my piercings out recently except one-my “I made it to 40” nose piercing.

The others were collected like this: “I just broke up with fill-in-a-name and I feel like a piercing to just feel better…” I could look at my body and see the trail of broken hearts, blood & entrails and destruction by merely counting the facial/ear piercings.

Accepting help from others in this goal hasn’t always been easy: My look/way of life was something I had to fight for/collect on my own. I was proud of my accomplishments in my “design.” So I was hard pressed to release control when approached by my partner about this manner. After some calming down and approaching with different method, a dialog was open for us about this sensitive subject.

My hair color has been corrected, and I am no longer blonde. After deconstructing and removing (or inhabiting my proper) gender markers, I am comfortable with pants, shorter hair, etc.

The biggest thing that holds me and surely others back is fear. Not completely paralyzing but a direct force of influence, like drag is to flight.

Fear of flying?
Fear of dying?
Fear of dying while trying?

Who me?


My role model? I don’t have any that come to mind that were blood relatives. The girls in the fashion magazines are like a decade (COUGH) or so younger than me. Heck, they aren’t even creative with their expression. Lesbian, queer, etc.

I had a great manager from a store I worked with that is a little younger than me. She has tattoos and a great fashion sense.

Imitate greatness?
Fake it until you make it?
Copy until you’re original?

Pretty much.

I figure all my blazers can stay. Pants can stay. Its indecent to go around without wearing any pants. HAHAHAHA!

Seriously, What kind of tops say “I’m not so flat chested but womanly?”  (Without comments/replies these become dank, dark, rhetorical questions)

I can keep a few mod/mini dresses that are above the knee. I ‘d love to find skirts for work that are just hitting the kneecap and ones just lower than mid-calf for casual wear.

Just don’t get me started on shoes! I swear my mother accidentally was impregnated by a duck based on my foot width. Sure the industrial exotic dancer shoes fit my arch, but they are hardly practical.

So (crickets chirping), What do you suggest for Ideas?


Leaving the Box of Blonde Behind

It’s been scheduled, my appointment for color.
Bye-Bye Blonde.

But was it ever truly mine?

I was born a poor brunette child

I found my womanhood upon my 35th year of my natal birth. 2 years later, and after landing in The City, my first box of blonde was applied. Its results were redish-brassy. Sure, I had worked in a salon for 3 years, but that was a different life it seemed. The knowledge of the ages sometimes escapes me.

Red. Ginger-esque, Strawberry Blonde was what I called it.

Next came the services of a student in hair school. I was transformed to lavender-platinum blonde very quickly. It’s the famous shot from my Associated Press article capturing her talent. Her talent moved to apprenticeship after I helped her pass the state certification process. We fell out of communication and such.
So I went Back to the box!

So for about 3 years now, I have been very much blonde-in-waiting.
Waiting for what? Eh, who knows…

So after being blonde on the outside, I was socialized as a brunette and so I was never a true blonde, in the sense of always being the fair hair color and interacting the world in that manner.

This new decision, it seems, to be embracing my maturity. I have a partner now. Someone supporting your actions, enforcing your positive attributes, and being someone who depends on you-influence through love. She does the polish to my diamond exterior that had been marred and dulled by life.

I’ll follow-up once the task is complete.