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| Why in 1997, with all the pain and loss caused by everything from physical and emotional abuse to chronic illness, have I chosen to write about transvestitism? Isn't this just a "dirty little secret" kept by strange perverted men who are all mixed up about their sexual identity? Aren't men who wear women's clothes just gay men trying to attract straight men? Aren't crossdressers turned on by a fetish because "normal" turn-ons have lost their effect? Any attempt to seriously discuss the lives of male to female cross dressers might evoke comments such as these. Unfortunately, in an America that has become either more permissive or more understanding about many alternate lifestyles, crossdressing continues to be misrepresented. I have been crossdressing, in some fashion, since adolescence. More than thirty-five years with this secret have brought me remarkable frustration, guilt, fear and embarrassment. Only in the last five years have I begun to accept this part of myself and to share it with someone I love. And in sharing, I have learned to understand the fear and pain of woman who loves a crossdresser. If I am successful in telling my story, honestly, candidly and directly, maybe I can help those who share this secret find some contentment. I will try not to manipulate the reader by telling a story that defends either my position or the compulsion. I believe that for the vast majority of male to female crossdressers, the desire to crossdress is simply a compulsion, nothing more, and nothing less. I do not believe it is a compulsion that harms anyone. I do, however, understand how confusing and hurtful it can be for woman who must share it with a man whom she loved before she knew. In my first draft of this essay, I wrote that fear or the judgment and discrimination in exposure causes the greatest anxiety for the crossdresser. I now believe that this is not accurate. My most current experience is that misunderstanding and/or lack of acceptance by those he loves cause the greatest anxiety in the crossdressers life. I do not agree with those who present crossdressing as something deep or spiritual or an expression of one's feminine side. However, it may be all or any of these things. I know simply that I enjoy wearing women's clothes in the same way that I enjoy a good book, an interesting movie or a satisfying round of golf. It is less specific and overt than the taste of good food, the comfort of a warm bath or the deep physical tingle of an orgasm. But, because dressing in clothing has no reasonable explanation or practical application, those who do not find it satisfying cannot see the comparison to traditionally accepted forms of recreation. Hunting was a means to provide food before it became a sport. Today, however, there is no need to hunt in most parts of the world. Stalking and killing wildlife is a sport. Sports such as golf find their satisfaction in the improvement of skills, competition, fresh air and companionship. I know of no one who can readily explain why some people like golf and some don't. Many people refuse to do it for years and later become golf addicts. Some believe than anyone who can achieve the basic elements of golf will eventually be drawn to it. I wonder how many men might enjoy crossdressing if they found that their bodies were such that they could "achieve the basic elements." Preface My feelings related to things feminine go back beyond adolescence. Although I have read a lot about why boys and men develop interests like mine, I can offer no explanation from my experience. Nevertheless, I can recall many situations that would support theories on why boys or men are drawn to women's clothing. I remember clearly when I was about nine years old; my aunt was separated from her husband and spent several months living with us. She was several years younger than her sister, my mother, and had never had children. She had always worked in women's clothing and was a very successful saleswoman. Consistent with this she dressed fashionably in expensive and very feminine clothing. One of the things that remain strong in my memory was her collection of belts. It was the mid-fifties and women of the day (including June Cleaver) wore dresses with belted wastes. The belts were often matching or contrasting in fabric like the dress or in leather. The belts were often wider than the average man's belt and had elaborate and creative ways of fastening. Sometimes they would fasten in the back and were often worn quite tight to emphasize a slender waste above amble hips. As I edit this for publication (March 2002), women's fashions have brought the return to wider and more fashionable belts. Belts worn on the hips rather than the waste and chain belts are also more prevalent now than in the last several years. I remember looking in my aunt's closet and trying on her belts during the time she lived with us. It was too early for me to feel arousal but I found examining and trying on these belts as satisfying as playing baseball or sitting in and pretending to drive the cars in the Ford showroom near our home. Cars are another interest with which I have found lifelong fascination. The other feminine item that interested me, but not to the same degree then, were women's shoes (a relatively common fetish among men, crossdresser or not). But my interest in those early years seemed mostly with belts. Another edit note: In 2002, I find high-heeled shoes one of the most important components of my crossdressing. Some of them are so comfortable and easy to walk in that I could wear them all day. During the fifties, the gang look was more like Marlon Brando in the "Wild One." Kids would where engineer boots and jeans rolled up at the bottom. I was never really interested in the engineer boots, but I was very interested in the look of the wide garrison leather belts that were worn with the buckle on the side. None of the belts that I had looked quite the same, although I experimented with the buckle on the side look, in front of the mirror. In the fourth grade, I met a kid who lived with his father and stepmother above a nearby restaurant. Dick wore jeans with a brown garrison belt with the buckle on the left side. One day, Dick gave me a western belt that was almost as wide as the garrison with a big cowboy buckle. I tried it buckled on the side and felt the same kind of exhilaration that I'd felt wearing my aunt's belts. Strangely enough, though, I was uncomfortable wearing this belt anywhere that I might see someone I knew, particularly my parents. It somehow felt illicit. So, I hid the belt in my room and wore it only under loose shirts or when I was sure I wouldn't see anyone I knew. Edit note: Since I have slimmed down (in the last three years), I have gone back to wearing wider belts buckled on the side with my jeans. It may seem like I've kind of moved off track with belts, but to understand my thing with women's clothing, I have to look back to my preoccupation with clothing that was different than what I was taught to wear. Maybe at the root of the whole compulsion is a desire to break out and be different - at a time when young men and women are looking for some kind of identity and getting to know their bodies. |
| BELTS, BRAS, HEELS AND HOSE Falecia's Story |
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