It’s the question I’ve been both anticipating and dreading for a long time.
I had my weekly Pilates workout this morning, where I usually banter with my instructor, C., during the session. We’ve talked about a lot things—her frequently changing nail color, her psycho puppy—and last fall she saw photos of my “Halloween costume.” More recently she was a bit amused when I got my toenails painted during a pedicure, but said I if wanted to paint my nails I shouldn’t worry about what other people thought about it. Today, I was wearing gym pants instead of the usual loose-fitting tights, and during some of the exercises the pant legs slid down exposing my legs with a bit of razor stubble.
So when I mentioned that I’d gone out to a drag show with a friend last weekend, I guess C. put two and two together. “I bet you like to do drag pretty regularly,” she said.
Gulp. Pause.
There are others who know “the real me” and know that I’m crossdresser—store clerks who seen my male name on the credit card, a few people I’ve met through crossdressing circles. But C. would be the first person from my “ordinary” life to know.
“Yes, yes I do,” I said, trying my best to sound nonchalant about it. “Except that I’m not really a drag queen, I’m what’s called a crossdresser.” From there it was the expected questions—what was the difference between the two, what was my sexual orientation, did my family know, and of course: why? I told her that we crossdressers had spent a lot of time trying to figure that out ourselves and that no one was sure, but gave her a quick summary of my thoughts about it.
I mentioned how the vast majority of us cower in the closet and C.’s reaction was “What are they afraid of, why shouldn’t they be themselves?” It turns out C. once worked with a butch lesbian who transitioned. We talked about why female-to-male crossdressers are pretty rare, and how crossdressing relates to the (unfortunately) still unequal social status between men and women.
The session ended with Karen saying she wanted to talk more about it next time and also that she wanted to see more of my photos. (Yes, C. does know the way to a crossdressers’s heart.)
All-in-all, it was weirdly anti-climatic. Mainly I was just thinking how nice it was to no longer need to compartmentalize my life when talking to C. Anyway, it’ll be interesting to see what our next talk is like.
