A Box of His/Her Treasures

By Paula Gaikowski

The old Maine farmhouse stood silent in its corner of the world. Its hidden treasure lay dormant, tucked away from the prying eyes of the world, forgotten by those who had once cherished it, the box, a piece of personal history lost to memory.

Years turned into decades and the farmhouse continued to guard its secret. Perhaps it was stashed away in a dusty attic concealed in the darkness of an abandoned room or relegated to the depths of a basement corner. As the seasons changed and generations passed, the box's significance faded into obscurity, its story locked away waiting for the right moment to resurface.

Then one fateful day, the farmhouse's secret was revealed. The box, once cherished and hidden, found itself amidst the bustle of a church yard sale. Tossed aside as just another forgotten box of stuff, it waited patiently for someone to recognize its value beyond its worn exterior. And that someone, a person who understood the emotions and struggles behind the box, would breathe life back into this long-lost treasure, ensuring that the story it held within would be told once more.

In a small Maine town, I was volunteering at out Labor Day yard sale. This annual event draws donations from across the community and it was here that I discovered an unusual vestige of the past, tucked away amongst the numerous boxes of items on display.

Among the treasures and memorabilia, my eyes were drawn to an old wooden box, its weathered exterior hinting at years of stories held within. The box had once been secured with a padlock, a safeguard for its precious contents. As I opened it, an assortment of women’s clothing, large sized high heels, foundation garments, stockings, old lipstick, makeup brushes, and most notably, a wig, greeted my eyes. 

As femulators, many of us have had creative hiding places for our clothes and feminine accessories. To coin a phrase, it takes one to know one. Other persons, my fellow volunteers, just saw an old box of clothing. But to me, it was a guarded collection that seemed to whisper secrets of a life lived in shadows, far from the prying eyes of the world.

The clothing, perfectly preserved from the 1960s, was a heartbreaking testament to the struggles and the identity of its previous owner. As a transgender person, I couldn’t help but feel an immediate connection, a sense of camaraderie with the individual who had cherished these possessions. It was as if their silent history resonated with my own journey of self-discovery and acceptance.

The 1960s in Maine, like much of America, was a time of established social conservatism. For transgender individuals, it meant navigating a world filled with secrecy, guilt and fear. Each time this mysterious figure slipped into these clothes, applied makeup and donned that wig, it must have been a courageous act of self-expression, a defiance of the norms of their era.

What went unsaid within that wooden box was the incredible courage it took to maintain this hidden collection. I pictured this person in the solitude of a cold and dark Maine winter night  seeking solace and identity in the sanctuary of her secret world.

Though separated by decades, I felt an undeniable connection to the owner of these belongings. I longed to reach back in time and offer a message of understanding, support and acceptance. Regrettably, all I could do was silently pledge to remember to honor and ensure that the memory of this mysterious figure endured.

In a world that has made substantial progress in embracing diversity and inclusion, this discovery served as a poignant reminder of how far we have come. It also underscored the importance of continuing to advocate for the rights and dignity of transgender individuals today.

As I reflect on this noteworthy encounter, I am reminded that history often speaks to us in whispers. Sometimes it takes something as simple as an old box of clothes to bridge the gap between generations, kindle empathy and ensure that the struggles and triumphs of those who paved the way are not forgotten.

In this silent connection, I find hope and a solemn promise that our collective journey toward understanding, acceptance and love for all will persist, leaving no one behind and preserving the memories of those who, against all odds, dared to be themselves.

Wearing Rue La La

Sam Brown and Darren Trumeter femulating on a 2007 episode of television’s The Whitest Kids U'Know.