Skip to main content

the girls at cafe depot...

A while back I started to frequent a little downtown mall cafe where most of the workers are from Mexico. One day I started conversing in Spanish with the manager and we started getting to get to know more and more about each other over time. They know me there as Juanita and as far as they'e concerned I am a genetic woman as witnessed by our little chit chats at the counter as I'm paying. They ask about my vacation, my kids, my esposo (husband) and my femaleness is validated when I go there. So it's great coffee and excellent service with a dose of affirmation on the side.

I never used to believe that I could actually convince anyone that I was a woman . I recall starting off at a little place downtown where I would go early on the odd Saturday morning. The girl there would call me sir the first few times. After a while we both got comfortable with each other and as I blossomed into a more confident woman she admitted that she could never imagine me as a man. It all went from there and as I developed a passable voice it became even easier to blend in.

It really sunk in for me when I went to my old wig place and the woman mistook me for a gg looking for a wig. She was amazed when I told her who I was. And so it goes....


Popular posts from this blog

my last post

This will be my last post.

When I wrote recently that this blog had another seven years of life in it I was trying to convince myself that it was true. It was in fact a little bit of self delusion.

With almost 3,000 posts to date I have accomplished what I set out to do which was to heal myself and in the process share some of the struggle I had been through with others on the chance they might find some value in my words. After seven years of writing, my life still isn't perfect; no one's is. But I have discovered a path forward completely free of the trappings which society would have had me adopt so I could fit in.

Over the last 25 years of my life I have turned over every stone I could find while exploring this topic and in the process realized that we haven't even begun to scratch the surface of this deeply complex subject. What I have ultimately learned is that my instincts have more value than what someone who isn't gender dysphoric writes about me. We are very …


While this blog is most definitely over, I wanted to explain that part of the reason is that it was getting in the way of writing my next book called "Notes, Essays and Short Stories from the North" which will combine philosophy, trans issues, my observations on life, some short fiction and things that have happened to me over my life and continue to (both trans related and not).

When it is complete I will post the news here and will be happy to send you a free copy upon request in either PDF or eBook format. All I ask is that you provide me with some feedback once you're done reading it.

I'm only in the early stages so it will be a while.

Be well all of you....

sample pages...

No, I don't mind

When Halle and I last got together the woman serving us said:

"I can't wait to get home and take off my bra you know what I mean ladies?"

Arguably the statement wasn't the most elegant thing to say to perfect strangers but it made me reflect.

The thing is I don't mind wearing a bra because it is one more reminder that I am trans. Feeling my breast forms pressed up against my skin and cupped within the confines of my bra makes me comfortable and is another piece which contributes towards soothing my gender dysphoria.

There are days when the combination of the feel of my bra and forms, the pull of my dangly earrings and the feel of my feet in heels is a powerful combination which feeds my soul. I used to think this was me fooling myself until I finally admitted that my identity is being affirmed through these accoutrements. They are like badges that allow me to be addressed and treated in the manner I want; like a woman.

The gender identity of cis people is fed in …