A few days ago, a crossdresser posted to the Betty boards about how she was two years into her goal of a career in stand-up comedy—as a comedian who crossdresses on stage. Part of her post was a reflection on how being out to audiences and fellow comedians had freed a part of her soul that had been trapped for years, as well as how she felt that we don’t give the straight community enough credit sometimes. It ought to been a joyous occasion—seeing someone achieving peace and self-acceptance with herself.

And yet it left, at best, a bittersweet taste in my mouth.

Why? There was a distinct dearth of kudos from the board’s many transition-tracked people (whether pre-, post- or pondering). A reminder again about how so often crossdressers and their experiences don’t seem to rate in the trans communities.

From the public shunning. For example Susan Stanton’s statement* that she was trying to make herself available to the press because “For most people, a transgender person is not something you see every day. It’s important for them to see that I’m not a freak, I’m not a pervert, I’m not a crossdresser. I’m just me.” Et tu Susan? Now in fairness I realize what Stanton was probably trying to say: this is who I am, it’s not an act. But dammit, the sort of thing hurts—like a salt-encrusted cutlass to the guts—when said by someone who’s having CNN follow her around for a year to help educate the public about trans issues. (In my own public outreach appearances I’ve started saying crossdressers are both the dark matter and the Rodney Dangerfields of the trans communities. But no, I’m not bitter…)

To the little stuff, like the lack to response to the comedian’s post. Write about how you’ve started hormones, or you’re telling your boss you’re transitioning or you’re headed off to the Thailand for surgery and (at least in the MTF world) and you’ll be met by a multitude of responses, from outright cheerleading—“You go girl!”—to congratulations that things are going well, to at least a cautious: “I hope this bring the peace of mind you’re seeking.” Many of those comments come from those of us not on the transition track. Because supportive comments like those aren’t hard to do and often mean a lot to the recipient. And at least in my world being part of community means one ought to give as well as receive. Granted the post wasn’t as obvious a “support situation” compared to the many sturm-und-angst posts I’ve seen from folks in transition, some of whom post on almost a daily basis. But it’s one of the things that makes it hard for us non-transitioning folks: there’s no public validation when one decides to accept being “just a crossdresser.”

I suppose that’s in part because there can be comparatively few milestones. Sure for those of us who go out in public, there’s the terror and exhilaration of stepping out the house for the first time—like I did a little over two years ago. Likewise, for those who do so, the act of coming out for the first time—like I did a year ago. (And in fairness, posts about these sorts of things do get supportive responses.) But truly meanful milestones are often passed without notice. It wasn’t until I recently also started performing as a drag queen and told co-workers about an upcoming performance that I realized I’d embraced being a crossdresser as part of who I am, and that I’m comfortable with others knowing about that part of me. (OK, maybe not everyone—for me it’s still a “don’t advertise, don’t deny” situation—but the key thing for me is that if everyone did know, I could live with it.)

But you realize this only in retrospect and there’s no clear before-and-after that way there often is with transition-track milestones. There’s nothing to say you’ve “arrived.” As Helen once said, it’s the sound of the other shoe not dropping. (Which is one of the sources of anxiety for partners. All they’ve got is one’s word that you’re happy where you are on the trans spectrum.)

Which is why I was thrilled when Helen talked about how Reid’s new book tried to reframe “transition” to express the moment when someone trans stops taking gender for granted and starts to deal with their gender variance, in one way or another. Because Reid rightly points out that changing one’s gender presentation and/or surgery aren’t the sole kinds of “transitions” that one can have in life. It was because I had such high hopes that I was quite disappointed when I read Reid’s book and found it was still very much about the context of those considering physical transformations (even if some of those folks decided they don’t need that). Don’t get me wrong, I think “Transition and Beyond” is an excellent and much-needed book, and there’s much that crossdressers like myself can extrapolate to help them in their efforts to come to terms with and even embrace their crossdressing. In fairness to Reid, the vast majority of his clients are trans people considering social and/or surgical transitions – folks like me just aren’t that likely to seek out a gender therapist—so it’s hard for him to talk to our situations. Which is a shame, because there’s so many crossdressers who could use help getting to self-acceptance and so little literature for therapists that’s focused on our situations.

Such as how to mark – and celebrate – our own “transitions.” As Margaret Cho said, where’s my parade? Maybe we need to throw ourselves a “coming out” party, much like the (at least mythical) “singlehood celebrations” thrown by happy singletons. After all, most crossdressers would love a chance to wear an elegant party dress.

  • Update: I’m now told that reportedly Stanton was misquoted (although there’s no word on what she actually said). But regardless of what Stanton did/didn’t say, I’ve heard too many other trans folks publicly throw crossdressers under the proverbial train.

(Cross-posted from Trans Group Blog.)