Devil is in the Details

I did not go into details  yesterday in my post about going to Mass en femme. So, here they are.

Actually, it was the second time I went to Mass en femme. The first time was at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City, but I was very anonymous there. At my parish church on Sunday, I was much less anonymous. Although I have not been involved in my parish for many years, it was likely that there were parishioners in attendance who knew me from way back when. There was also a chance that neighbors might be in attendance. And then there was the Pastor of the church who I have known most of my life.

I saw no neighbors and no parishioners I knew personally, although I did recognize some faces. And I did have a face-to-face encounter with the Pastor. I don't think he recognized me, but perhaps he did and did not want to embarrass me.

When I entered the church before Mass, the congregation was facing the front of the church, so I could not see any reactions as I walked down the aisle.

During the "sign of peace" portion of the Mass, everyone around me, both male and female of various ages, offered to shake my hand and say, "Peace be with you" without batting an eye.

As the congregation filed out at the end of the Mass, I noticed a few people looking at me and three different women, a 20-something, a 40-something, and a senior woman my own age smiled at me and said, "Hello." The male companion (I assume husband) of the senior woman also smiled and said, "Hello."

No one I noticed reacted negatively and so it goes.

 

Actors femulating in the 1970 film The Phynx. Warner Brothers Studios thought
the film was so bad that they decided at the last minute not to release it!

 

 

 

Wearing Dolores Promesas.

Mass

I went to Mass en femme yesterday. I have not gone to Mass in years, but I had an overwhelming urge to go on Sunday.

In my youth, people dressed up to go to church. Men wore ties with suits or sports jackets; women wore dresses, heels and hats.

Today, anything goes.

Being a senior citizen, I dressed somewhere in between anything goes mode and the dress, heels and hat mode. I wore black slacks, pink jacket, white camisole, and black booties.

I was in a rush and the photos I took look it. So instead of burdening you with a blurry photo from yesterday, I offer an old photo of me basically wearing the same outfit. The only difference was I wore my pageboy hairdo, a different cami and bag.

I went solo because the other agnostics in the house had no interest in going or they did not want to be seen in public with a tranny (take your pick).

I went to the church I usually attended when I was more religious about attending. I have known the Pastor since high school and over the years, became acquainted with some of the parishioners to one degree or another.

The 10:30 AM Mass is usually packed and yesterday was no exception; the parking lot was full and when I entered the church I had to search for a seat. I found a seat in an empty row about two-thirds down the aisle and laid claim to it.

I recognized a few Parishioners, but no one I knew by name. The Mass was uneventful and over an hour later, we filed out of the church.

The Pastor always stands at the exit to say goodbye to his flock and as I filed by, he said, “Welcome to our church.”

“Thank you, Father,” I replied.

“I hope we will see you again,” he added.

I smiled and said, “Maybe.”

 

Akihiro Miwa, Japanese singer, actor, director, composer and author
being chauffeured on a Tokyo nightclub tour.

 

Wearing Alice + Olivia.

Never on a Sunday

Anita asked, "Do you dress en femme when you go to church?"

My answer is a mash-up of two past blog posts: June 16, 2009 and January 21, 2010.

In June 2008, when I spent a long weekend in New York City en femme, I visited Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.
This was a big deal for me. I was raised a Roman Catholic and my religion was the source of much needless guilt about crossdressing throughout my life. I overcame the guilt years ago and now I was entering the church for the first time en femme.

I thought that my visit would be like spitting in the eye of the Church of Rome. "Take that for all the pain and suffering you brought down upon me for so long."

Instead of feeling vengeful, I felt wonderful. Your prodigal son has returned, but your son is now your daughter!

I decided to attend the Mass. I remembered and recited all the prayers and when it was time for the Sign of Peace, I exchange handshakes and "peace be with you's" with all the folks around me, or so I thought.

From behind me came an anxious voice, "Peace be with you, Ma'am. Peace be with you, Ma'am."

I realized I missed someone, so I turned around and exchanged another handshake and "peace be with you" with a fellow two rows behind me.

During the Mass, I noticed a reproduction of the famous painting, the Black Madonna of Częstochowa in one of the side altars of the cathedral.

Being a Pole, I checked it out and discovered that that side altar was dedicated to the saints of Poland. It included biographies, paintings, and sculptures of all the saints. After saying a prayer for all my deceased relatives at the side altar, I exited the cathedral.

I stopped attending church about ten years ago. I began doubting the existence of a God about that time and about a year ago, switched from being an agnostic to an atheist.

“You’re too scientific,” my daughter said upon hearing that news.

I don’t know about being “too” scientific, but I do hold science in a much higher regard than religion.

So, why did I feel “wonderful” when I attended Mass en femme at Saint Pat’s?

Do I have some doubts about atheism like I do about religion?

Did I feel spiritual because I was in such a spiritual place?

Was it nostalgia for something that had previously been part of my weekly routine?

Was it simply the thrill of being out en femme in a new venue?

Anita also asked, "Do you know what other girls do?

I don't know about all the other girls, but Barbara, one of the girls I have known for over 20 years, has been attending a local Episcopal church en femme for quite awhile. The church community has accepted her feminine persona wholeheartedly and she not only attends services, but is very active in other church activities.

When Transwomen Go To Church

Aundaray Guess has an interesting post on The Huffington Post about Tyler Perry's film character Madea and the faith communities.

"It's no secret that in the black church there is a great divide over LGBT issues. Although Madea is not transgender, there are aspects of the character that raise questions about acceptance of black transgender women. Many gay men can blend in without being marked as gay, but for many women who are transgender, it is more difficult to blend in and avoid ignorance or rejection from faith communities. Whether transgender or gay, to be accepted in the church one has to 'butch' oneself up, but even then one wouldn't be fully accepted but relegated to the fringe instead. Or one could just join the choir, where there's a sort of unofficial don't ask, don't tell' policy."

Read the rest of the post here.

My Two Cents

Although, Mr. Guess restricts his discussion to the black church, I believe that transgender women and men run into similar walls of rejection in other faith communities.

For example, I attended Mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral en femme without incident (mainly because I was under the radar). However, I doubt if my presence in the Catholic Church would be accepted with open arms if it was known that I was a transgender woman.

What Would Jesus Do?

I am aware that there are other churches that do accept transwomen with open arms, but not the one I attended the first three-quarters of my life.

I truly believe that Jesus would accept me; it’s too bad that many of his followers would except me.

ex-Catholic in a dress

Last June, when I spent a long weekend in New York City en femme, I visited Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.

This was a big deal for me. I was raised a Roman Catholic and my religion was the source of much needless guilt about crossdressing throughout my life. I overcame the guilt years ago and now I was entering the church for the first time en femme.

I thought that my visit would be like spitting in the eye of the Church of Rome. "Take that for all the pain and suffering you brought down upon me for so long." Instead of feeling vengeful, I felt wonderful. Your prodigal son has returned, but your son is now your daughter!

I stopped attending church about ten years ago. I began doubting the existence of a God about that time and about a year ago, switched from being an agnostic to an atheist.

“You’re too scientific,” my daughter said upon hearing that news.

I don’t know about being “too” scientific, but I do hold science in a much higher regard than religion.

So, why did I feel “wonderful” when I attended Mass en femme at Saint Pat’s last June?

Do I have some doubts about atheism like I do about religion?

Did I feel spiritual because I was in such a spiritual place?

Was it nostalgia for something that had previously been part of my weekly routine?

Was it simply the thrill of being out en femme in a new venue?