my begining

[Juanita]

My parents would go to the grocery store every Saturday morning, so when they would leave I would go into my mothers dresser and put on her panties and stockings. My parents would be gone about an hour so I knew how long they would be gone, well this particular Saturday they were not gone as long as they should have, well I got caught, what a horrifying felling, after I was caught my father made me stay in my mother clothes, and he made me go outside and walk around out apartment house so all could see me, after I did this I went back inside the house and that is when my father said that I was sick in the head and real men don't wear dresses. i am still feeling the after affects of his comment. I was about 12 yrs old.

[KimberlyS]

The affects of a man dominate society on a male can push them to say things they may not normally say if they would think about it in a different light. And it is often not a good place for us CDers, MTF or FTM. Especially not the best place when males masculinity is questioned or they are in groups of two or more people that know them. There becomes this "me male" grunt grunt, thing that males seem to do. Like they are trying to show their dominance like many animal males must do to gain a mate. But human males seem to have a great need to do it all the time. I think a big part of that is driven by society.

[CherryLynn]

Yes, Fathers tend to freak out when they find their sons acting less than manly. "No Son of mine is going to dress up as a girl!" Guess they see it as a reflection of their Manhood. After all Dad is supposed to be the role model for the boys. My Father was a Cop, so you guess canhow he reacted when he saw me in a dress- won't repeat all the names he called me, I was 12 at the time," Sissy" ranked at the top. The folks even sent me"Donnie" to a shrink to see if I could be cured.

It didn't help my feminine feelings never went away but I did stop being femmy til I left home.
Hugs

[Erin L]

My father caught me when I was 14 under somewhat similar circumstances. He tried to be really patient and understanding, and explained very carefully some things that didn't even sound credible to a 14 year-old, let alone now (like, "transvestites tend to develop schizophrenia because they develop two distinct personalities, male and female"). But in the end, he assured me that if I promised never to do it again, all would be forgotten.

Of course, I promised. Of course, I didn't stop for long. Of course, I got caught again a couple of months later. This time he blew up, humiliating me in front of my mother, calling me all sorts of names ("little queer" stands out in my memory) and threatening to pull me out of parochial high school so that they could send me to a shrink to "cure" me.

No, they didn't do that. Good thing, too, because the mental health establishment in 1968 certainly didn't view gender issues the way they do now. And, as it happens, a year after that blow-up, my father had passed, and my all-boys parochial high school was it as far as male influences were concerned.

[EmilyN]

some sad commentary here......i feel sad that you had the experience that you did. when i look back at my upbringing i try to remember how little information my folks were working with. i can't ignore the idea that often they were motivated by fear - fear that my best interests wouldn't be met. i suspect (after the great depression and world war II, and the ongoing cold war) they saw the world as an unforgiving place in many respects. i guess this is just my way of suggesting forgiveness.

[Absaroka]

Emily that is a very good perspective to keep in mind. Thank you.


Absaroka

[Erin L]

Emily, I forgave my father long ago. In truth, he and I had much to forgive in each other. When I look back over my childhood, there is much to resent in it, and yet I don't. Being completely honest, I loved dressing, and was able to do it and remain undetected for several years. It allowed me to continue to develop as I have. I have never regretted dressing, only being caught.

My father found it almost impossible to express tender emotion. The warmest expression of affection he ever showed me was a handshake. I wish it had been otherwise, because at the time in his life when I now believe he most desperately needed to be shown affection - the last time I saw him alive, in a mental hospital, struggling with addiction - I couldn't show it to him.

When my son was born, I swore I would never do to him what my father had done. From the first moment I held him (about 20 minutes after he was born), I showed him every ounce of affection I could muster. I've often thought that I love him with a mother's love. Maybe I do.