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I know this is easier said than done...but to not go back could be exactly what some of them want. But I can surely understand not wanting to be where you're not wanted. I think you need to see if you and the other guy you mentioned in one of your posts (I think the one that doesn't attend those G/S Alliance meetings) can become good friends. At least you'd have each other to back each other. Maybe in time... others will seek you out. Intersex. Androgynous. Outlaws. Etc. They gotta be there, and if you all came together...it could be the beginning of a new and better group. Of course, some just might not want the exposure. One of the reasons is most likely exactly what you are experiencing right now. -Michael

"...the woman who said sir apologized for the mistake..." I hate that.

It's great that your parents are supportive. Try not to alienate that with those "fits of dysphoria." There are many [trans]people who would willingly give their eye teeth for the support and acceptance of their parent(s). It's especially cool that your dad is supportive. Being fairly young, a father will come in handy for learning all the things boys need to learn. Or at least help you unlearn all the things the females around you have tried to force-feed ya for the past 18 years. -Michael

Hi Caroline... good to hear from you, and glad you and your partner are doing well. Good luck on the business. Hope you will drop in more often. -Michael

Thanks mrpauljames, and welcome to TGG. Sorry to hear that so many of your family dropped out of your life. I'm not sure what will happen with my mum...but I'm fairly sure I don't have to worry about my brother. I really wish my mum had expressed her resistance to my true self from day one...I've always been of the belief that it's better to have someone who at first could not accept a person being trans, and then come around and have a change of heart, than it is the other way around like what happened with my mother. I guess I've spent several years trying to prepare myself for losing my mother to her inability to accept me as her son. Most likely, that has just caused me a loss of time...as I'm sure there is no way to ever fully be braced for losing the love, acceptance and/or support of a parent. As for her love...I'm sure I'll always have that. But what good is love without acceptance..... -Michael

I recently created a new thread, a "re-posting," if you will, of a commentary from advocate.com on air travel and being transgender. As usual, when I'm not sure what all has already been posted here, I did a search on the subject first. I knew we had a few threads on the topic...I didn't realize how many, though. And really, I think there are probably more than what I found, and there are probably a few brief discussions in threads that don't even have anything to do with air travel and the TSA. After I posted the it occurred to me that, while I've gotten a few questionable looks from TSA agents, and even a few looks that appeared to be out-and-out disapproval or disgust, I've suffered only one pat-down. That pat-down was a result of one of those random things carried out while standing in line waiting to go through the metal detectors and having your bags run through the x-ray machines. It was shortly after "9-11" and at that time - I was dressing somewhat androgynous-leaning-toward-male, but I bent over backwards to act female. The disconnect between body and soul made any unwanted attention very uncomfortable. Prior to more and more airports rolling out the body scanners and after I dispensed with all female attire, I used to go to the airport packing - I didn't want a TSA agent pulling my packy out of my carry-on for everyone to see, and in their usual disrepectful and insensative manner, manhandle it, and pass it back and forth, and discuss it, and then question me about it. At the time, I had no reason to be concerned about my binder. After hearing about body scanners being installed in more and more airports, I began to get concerned that if my packy was spotted in a scan, I'd get pulled outta line and questioned, and possibly even asked to show it to them. I definitely was not ready for that and began stowing Frankenstein in my checked luggage, neatly packaged and with an accompanying note asking that if he was found that he be handled with a little respect. My days of flying were dwindling - the thought of having to go through a body scanner was very distressing, and no doubt became the main reason for the anxiety attacks I would suffer the closer it came to time to fly. It got to the point that the fear of being herded through a scanner over-shadowed my great dislike for flying. Still, I had not given any thought to my binder. Finally, I ended up making a trip with my mother. I would have driven, but the woman tricked me and I ended up having to fly. On the return trip, I found myself having to go through a body scanner for the first time - I had dodged them up to now, but my luck had finally run out. I was not a happy camper, but I felt I had no choice but to go into that damn legal Peeping Tom. I knew if I refused, I'd have my Mother on my heels demanding to know why I couldn't just do like everyone else, and telling me to stop acting silly and go on. I knew between her yammering at me, and TSA possibly dragging me out of line, it would not have been a good scene. This, I knew, would only worsen my anxiety and bring more unwanted attention. So I stepped in, and unceremoniously spread my feet and raised my hands in the air (as if I were about to get felt up by a cop, and then cuffed) so I could be scanned. Meanwhile, I'm looking the agent doing the scanning dead in the eye. What happened to the agent can't see you and you can't see the agent?? After I got home, I realized that they could have pulled me out of line if they had wanted to. Personally, I don't know why they didn't. No, I wasn't packing - Frankie was in my checked bag. But I sew two panels into my binders that enable me to have even more control over my chest (to avoid the notorious "uniboob" experienced in some binders). I'm fairly sure that these squares of material could probably be seen even if as nothing more than shadows. So, once again, despite having finally been caught by a body scanner (sounds like a movie, eh? "Invasion of the Body Scanners"), Lady Luck was still with me. Maybe not right by my side...but she was there. Perhaps I should offer up some kinda blood sacrafice, or promise my 1st born to a monestary somewhere in the far east to guarantee she stays with me. That is...just in case I ever have to fly again.

I don't think you are alone in feeling that the "L" and "G" part of the community (and especially the "L" part) are fairly closed-minded when it comes to the "T" part of the community. It's difficult to understand their attitude. It's like they conveniently forget that there are those higher up the food chain that don't exactly accept them either. And it has always been my belief that the "T" was only added as a token gesture, as I'm sure it's helped them far less than it's helped us. We have been little more than stepping stones for their advancement. ___________________________________ "Bro Code Article #23." LOL... good code. I'd like to see it amended tho - "if a Bro skips past such programs, he should be "stoned" with any empty beer cans and chip bowls littering the room, and barred from future mancave gatherings for a minimum of 6 weeks.

"I have been called Sir and Maam all in the same day. Like they have to call me something. And rather then not assign me a label, they pick one." Yeah...annoying. I'm sure that people in any business dealing with the public address people as "sir" or "ma'am" to be polite and show respect. But sometimes it seems like some go too far. I say that because there have been a few times when it just felt like the individual was going to use "ma'am" as if by constantly saying it (and occasionally emphasizing it) that they could convince me that I am one, and it is their job to remind me of it. <_<

Hello Forest...and Welcome. It's been a long time since I was a teen...but I remember how I felt. Especially when puberty hit. But no one knew about it. It was my secret that I was sure I could never tell anyone. Things are slowly improving though, and people are coming out at younger ages than people did just 20 or 30 years ago. If you haven't run across it already, you might wanna check out the pinned post "Being a Teen..." I guess I better check it out too - it's been quite a while since I wrote that. I need to check the links in that post...make sure everything is up-to-date. -Michael

I know this is nothing to laugh about, but I really get a kick out of it. I just hope my luck doesn't ever run out, and some woman (or girl) goes screaming to someone that there's a man in the women's bathroom. Despite the occasional amusement, though, I try to avoid public rest rooms - especially when they are divided by the sexes. The aversion began a few years ago after I retired, when several factors all came into play in a short amount of time. When I was still working, I didn't pay it too much attention. Though I was dressed just like my co-workers (all male), I dismissed the occasional "mis"identification by girls and women in the bathrooms. It would make me inwardly grin that I scared the crap outta some girl thinking she had walked into the wrong bathroom, or startled a woman thinking a man had just walked into the women's room. But I knew that if anyone ever made a fuss...everything could and would be easily settled. But by the time I retired, I had pretty much weaned off everything that came out of the women's department - men's attire was no longer just something I wore for work. I began binding daily - even outside of the house. So by then, even though I wasn't wearing a ballcap everyday, the flat chest and men's clothing was enough for many to dismiss me as male. I also began packing regularly - even outside of the house. But that was for my own comfort. I don't wear my shirts tucked in, so no one sees the package. I'm sure that would definitely get me in trouble. Anyway, today...I had to go to the bathroom. This cold has me blowing my nose every so often, and I don't like blowing my nose sitting at a table in a restaurant. So, reluctantly, I headed to the restroom. When I walked through the door, there was a woman who was just finishing drying her hands. She looked at me and smiled. But then I could see it in her eyes, and that sudden, almost imperceptible tensing of her body. Nearly simultaneously, her eyes darted up to the symbol on the door before I let it go. Was she trying to telepathically tell me, "you're in the wrong bathroom." Or had she been suddenly beset with a fear that it was she who was in the wrong bathroom? I stepped into one of the stalls to blow my nose. While in there, I heard a couple of women come in. One went in a stall, the other was obviously just the tag-along. They were chattering about some kind of eye make-up. I came out of the stall and went to reach for some paper towels. The tag-along smiled and spoke, I spoke, and then said, "excuse me," as she was standing in front of the towel dispenser. The smile disappeared, and in that short space of time, the tag-along's demeanor seemed to change. I tucked the towels under my chin, got a squirt of soap, flicked the faucet on and began to wash my hands. The woman in the stall came out and over to the sink. The tag-along took that opportunity to cross to the other side of the counter and she said something to the other woman. The woman glanced first at the mirror, not at herself, but at me. And then she quickly turned her head to look directly at me, but only for a second. I never looked at her, however, I could tell I seemed to be the subject of whatever was going on, or rather, whatever had been said. I left the bathroom rather pleased with myself for having freaked out three women in the space of five minutes. But the funny thing is...they had no clue that I was perhaps more freaked out than they were, for the simple reason that I had to even be in that room to begin with.

Congrats on surgery, Caroline. And I'm glad to hear that you are again employed. I we will see you here on the forums again. Happy New Year -Mike

I surely hope he's paying for it. And you are very lucky. You probably would have been better off without him even if he hadn't shot you. He surely couldn't have loved you if he was going to kill you rather than just leave. Perhaps you should have left him during those four long "hard years." Stay safe.

Earlier I spotted one of those little dots that indicates there is something new on a post. I got here, but there was nothing new. Then I noticed I was the last one to post to this particular blog...and could't remember why... Anyway... now that I'm here, something else occurred to me concerning the woman who officiated at Clair's and Jim's wedding -- Remember, I had expressed how much it torqued me that the woman officiating, looked at Clair and said, "I now pronounce you husband," then looked at Jim and continued, "and wife." I indicated that I wondered how often something like that happens whether the couple is trans or not. What occurred to me today was that...this could possibly happen on occasion, but I find it difficult to believe that it does because if I'm not mistaken, brides and grooms stand in the same place all the time - the bride to the priest's right, the groom to the priest's left. Or, to make it simple, the bride is always on the grooms left. So that would make me think that simply out of habit, whoever is officiating would look to his/her right and name the bride, and look to his/her left and name the groom. Some of ya's probably don't like when a person continues to beat a dead horse, but after this came to mind...it just sorta convinced me that the woman who officiated at Clair's and Jim's wedding really wasn't all that tolerant or accepting. I could almost accpet the "error" had Clair been unlucky enough to not look so very feminine, or if Jim just looked like a lesbian in a tux...but that wasn't the case. Okay... I'm done. -Mikey

Here are a few links to discussions that may be of interest to you - if you haven't already seen them: ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... -Michael