Saturday, July 25, 2015
Friday, July 24, 2015
TGIF (Thank Goddess, It's Femulate!)
When I need a break from the action, I often visit the Internet for a distraction. One website I find very distracting is DeviantArt, which according to Wikipedia, is an online community showcasing various forms of user-made artwork.
There are a lot of trans-related works on DeviantArt and you can find them by using the usual collection of search words (crossdresser, transvestite, transgender, drag, etc.). However, I recently came across a DeviantArtist who has collected a lot of the best DeviantArt trans works all in one place in her Favourites folder. She is known as MariaSki on DeviantArt and you can find her Favourites here stored in the various Collections folders stacked on the left side of her Favourites webpage.
And by the way, Maria's Favorite Photo (of Maria!) appeared here in January, so I assume she is a Femulate reader, as well as a DeviantArtist.
.
There are a lot of trans-related works on DeviantArt and you can find them by using the usual collection of search words (crossdresser, transvestite, transgender, drag, etc.). However, I recently came across a DeviantArtist who has collected a lot of the best DeviantArt trans works all in one place in her Favourites folder. She is known as MariaSki on DeviantArt and you can find her Favourites here stored in the various Collections folders stacked on the left side of her Favourites webpage.
And by the way, Maria's Favorite Photo (of Maria!) appeared here in January, so I assume she is a Femulate reader, as well as a DeviantArtist.
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| Honest Children by pseudocide335 from DeviantArt |
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| Wearing M Missoni. |
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| Femulating: a popular pastime for 21st Century American males. |
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Limbo
This story from Tech Times is representative:
Claims that gender dysphoria is the result of some sort of imbalance in sex hormone levels have long plagued transgender people looking for acceptance of who they are by suggesting that being transgender is an ailment that can be fixed, rather simply an intrinsic part of one's identity.
Scientific support for such claims has always been lacking, and now, a new study provides solid evidence that hormonal imbalances are not what the transgender experience is about. The study, published in the Journal of Adolescent Health, examined the sex hormone levels of 101 transyouth patients at Children's Hospital Los Angeles and found that they did not differ significantly from those typical for the gender they were assigned at birth.But what if you do have a hormonal imbalance? What if your hormonal imbalance weighs so heavily on the female side that you have female physical and psychological characteristics? And as a result, you live as a woman because it is a better fit for who you are.
Are you not transgender, too? If not transgender, than what are you?
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| Wearing Ralph Lauren. |
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| Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon femulating for the 1959 film Some Like It Hot. |
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Happy Birthday, John Leguizamo
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| Wearing Boston Proper. |
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| Actors femulating on stage in Gilligan's Fire Island (2015). |
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Where to Find Shoes Over Size 10
It’s one thing to covet a killer pair of heels only to discover they’re sold out. It’s an entirely different thing when said pair isn’t even made in your size. Thus is the plight of ladies who wear shoes above a size 10 (two PureWow editors included). Luckily, there are a number of brands that cater to larger sizes without sacrificing style. Here, 13 of our favorites.
Read more: Where to Find Shoes Over Size 10 | PureWow National
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| Wearing St. Johns Boutiques. |
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| Lori Voice, professional femulator circa 1970 |
Monday, July 20, 2015
Done
Don't know if you can find a more testosterone-laden atmosphere than you will find at ESPN ― I'm sure it's near the top of the list. Yet this male-centric operation honored transwoman du jour, Caitlyn Jenner, with an ESPY award!
The times have changed, to say the least, so what more can I say?
I think my work is done here.
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| Wearing Boston Proper. |
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| Actor Jerreme Rodriguez femulating on stage in I Like to Be Here: Jackson Heights Revisited or This Is a Mango (2014). |
Saturday, July 18, 2015
Meg's Favorite Photo (of Meg!)
I know I'm late to the party, but picking a favorite photo is like picking a favorite child. And no matter how much I love each (photo) there's always an "I wish" to go along with it: I wish I smiled better. I wish I looked up. I wish I stood straighter. I wish my hair was neater. I wish I didn't look so LUMPY.
So I'm going with a picture that symbolizes the next, best phase of my life: my recent wedding. Drab or drag, I'm a different, better, happier person. And after six short months I only see things getting better.
Thank you, Stana, for the opportunity to share.
Meg
Got selfies? My open invitation to post your favorite photo along with the story behind it and the reason it is your favorite photo still stands, so don't be shy, send me your fave foto. ― Stana
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| Wearing Boston Proper. |
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| Actors Jamie Morris, Chad Peterson, Ashton McKay Shawver and Michael B. Moore on stage in Re-Designing Women (2015). |
Friday, July 17, 2015
The Road Not Taken
By Paula Gaikowski
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both ― Robert Frost
In 49 B.C., Caesar was confronted with a major decision. Should he surrender or should he march southward and engage Pompey? A crucial geographical point figured in his decision. A stream marked the boundary between Gaul and Italy, the Rubicon. To cross it with an army was a breach of Roman law—an act of open rebellion. Once he crossed, there would be no turning back. It became an irrevocable decision.
Caesar approached the stream; after some hesitation, he issued the command, “Advance!” When on the southern side, he shouted, “The die is now cast.” Those words have echoed across more than 20 centuries; they have become an adage for a decision that once made cannot be overturned without serious consequence and in some cases, not at all.
Dr D’s office is pleasant and welcoming; a comfortable chair awaits his client, and a window looks out over the streets of Boston. It is bright and cheery and reflects how I felt that morning. It was a cool spring morning.
I was dressed in a new Talbot’s tweed skirt and LL Bean black cotton sweater. Like any girl I love wearing a new outfit and as I shuffled thru the streets of Boston among the crowd of commuters, I was just another woman on her way to an appointment. Being able to do just that had always been a dream of mine before I came to see Dr D.
I have been seeing Dr D for about four years and as I look back, I am amazed at how far I have come. In 2009, I was emerging from the darkness of yet another crossdressing purge. But as any transgender person knows, purging doesn’t work. My need for feminine expression had returned with a vengeance. I had tried to solve the problem by myself for 50 years. I tried reading all the books and websites, wrote countless emails to peers and posted on all the forums.
Finding an objective and informed person you can discuss, share and solve your issues with was a key ingredient in my journey. In my case, this was Dr D. I’ve grown a lot over the last four years. I no longer see being transgender as a problem to be solved. I am not doing anything wrong. I’ve cast off society’s condemnation of being transgender and realized that I am a good person and that part of my personality and character involves being transgender. Attributes I see missing in many men, such as nurturing, kindness, compassion and cooperation are parts of my personality that I believe come from my feminine side.
I had reached a plateau of sorts. In the last four years I had moved forward in haphazard intervals. I lost weight, had laser hair removal, shaved my legs, shaped my brows and built a wardrobe. I made friends as a woman and traveled as Paula when on business. I ate in restaurants, went to concerts, had makeovers and shopped for evening gowns.
That morning, as I poured out my feelings to Dr D seeking validation for the incessant belief that I am in fact deep down a woman, that this relentless desire to be female and the need be perceived as a feminine being is not some type of self-delusional parody, he reassured and comforted me and perhaps sensing my angst, suggested, “Maybe it’s time you considered hormone therapy.”
Wow, the room fell silent, the heating vent hummed gently and traffic rumbled by out the on the street.
What unnerved me was how fast I nodded affirmatively and mouthed the word, “Yes!”
Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT) is one of the watersheds of the transgender journey. I started asking myself how had I arrived at this point? It was hard to believe that the 10-year-old boy who didn’t play baseball after school, but instead ran home to raid his sister’s closet was now at that point.
This was something that other people did, you know, the real transsexuals. Didn’t I say just a few years ago that I was just a crossdresser? Was I deceiving myself back then or was I fooling myself now?
It was a record-breaking winter for Boston, cold and over six feet of snow. And to use a metaphor, it would also be a stormy one for me. I wasted no time calling the endocrinologist. It took a while getting things coordinated between my therapist and his staff, but I finally received a call at work one day from his office. I quickly found refuge in a conference room and a young woman asked, “Why exactly do you need to see Dr S?”
“Oh, gosh,” I thought, “I hope these walls at work are sound proof.”
Carefully and slowly the words came out “I am transgender.” There it was three simple words. It was cathartic, liberating and invigorating to say and hear.
She responded nonchalantly and professionally, “Oh, of course, I see you are being referred by Dr D.”
Her voice hesitated slightly as she inquired, “You are male-to-female?”
Her question took me by surprise and the words just kind of hung out there. I took a deep breath, swallowed and it felt astonishing as the words rolled off my tongue, “Yes male-to-female, female.” I said female twice just to hear it again. I then I repeated to myself I am “to female, going to female.”
The Berlin Wall just fell.
I would have two appointments with Dr S over the course of two months. The Boston weather would reschedule them more than once.
For practical reasons, I would go to both appointments in androgynous boy mode, wearing ladies jeans and top, I wanted to send a message.
At the first appointment, I met a young woman, who was a medical student. Dr S who teaches at Boston University Medical School, is leading a movement to include transgender health in medical school curriculums. It was enjoyable to share my narrative with this future doctor, knowing I was helping my transgender sisters down the road.
Dr S came and asked me a few questions about why I wanted to start HRT. He then outlined the results I could expect from HRT and the risks involved with it. His words on what to expect, “Murphy’s Law!” he began, “My 19-year-old patients looking for breast development are impatient and get little growth or redistribution of body fat.”
“My older married patients, who want to minimize the physical effects of HRT are sometimes surprised by their breast development.”
Most if not all of his patients, he added, are happy to be on HRT once they start. He outlined the dangers of increased cancer risks and the need to stop HRT when I get into my mid to late 60s because of the increased risk of stroke.
He asked that I participate in a study of transgender persons and that if my medical information could be used in that study. I was happy to comply knowing I was helping my sisters.
He wrote up orders for blood work at the lab on my way out.
I closed by showing him some photo’s of Paula, “Wow,” he said, “I think HRT would work well work you!”
The second time I met with Dr S, I also met another group of medical students. They too were inquiring and enthusiastic. I offered to answer any questions they had for a transgender person.
One young woman asked, “Why do you want to use feminizing hormones?”
I thought for a moment and while doing so, looked down at my arm which was waxed smooth and hairless and remembered how disgusted I felt when look at my hairy arms or body.
“How would you feel if one morning you woke up and your arms had male hair?”
She looked down at her arms for a second and then cringed, “I see what you mean.”
My blood work came back very good. Dr S cleared me for take-off and recommended a starting dosage of 1mg of Estradiol and 100mg of Spironolactone. The ball was over the net and in my court. It hit me right between the eyes!
I didn’t want to go into HRT without bringing my wife in on this decision. She typically wants to know very little about my transgender issues and keeps an out-of-sight, out-of-mind philosophy about it all.
I presented it this way: that both my doctors felt a low dosage HRT would benefit my anxiety and overall well-being. She was surprisingly accepting. Her only concern was me developing large breasts. She also added that if I decided to become a woman, she couldn’t and wouldn’t stay married to me. She would always love me, but this was something she could not deal with.
I had a woman who loved me so much, a family, friends, and a career. It was clear what I had. Where would this lead me? What would be the ramifications? It took me only a day to make my decision.
I decided not to pursue HRT. I felt guilty as if I let the woman in me down. Going on a low-dose regimen of HRT was not for me. I’d rather continue expressing my femininity without HRT because a low-dose regimen did not get me what I want in womanhood and puts so much of what I value at risk. But I realized that all women make difficult decisions. Putting one’s self behind the needs of your family is perhaps one of the most feminine acts I could make.
Dr S has left the opportunity open for me to pursue HRT if and when I want. I am glad I went through the process of getting approved for HRT. Having the approval of the medical community has validated and corroborated what I have felt since childhood. Having that option readily available has given me a certain peace and satisfaction.
Rivers start as a trickle and grow as they move through the landscape. Rivers provide life to people, agriculture, drinking water, transportation and energy. My river has grown deep and wide; to change its course now would be complicated; people have become dependent on it.
Oh, if I were at the trickle stage now, living in a post-Caitlyn Jenner world. If I were 20-years-old, there would be a transgender flag in my dorm room and I would set a different course.
However, everybody has that turning point ― a flash or a second, when you know you are about to make a choice that will chart the course for your life’s journey. Choose wrong and there may not be anything left to choose. That’s the conundrum, perhaps, what appears to be the incorrect decision may in actuality be the only way you can complete the journey with self-respect and the confidence of knowing you made the right choice.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both ― Robert Frost
In 49 B.C., Caesar was confronted with a major decision. Should he surrender or should he march southward and engage Pompey? A crucial geographical point figured in his decision. A stream marked the boundary between Gaul and Italy, the Rubicon. To cross it with an army was a breach of Roman law—an act of open rebellion. Once he crossed, there would be no turning back. It became an irrevocable decision.
Caesar approached the stream; after some hesitation, he issued the command, “Advance!” When on the southern side, he shouted, “The die is now cast.” Those words have echoed across more than 20 centuries; they have become an adage for a decision that once made cannot be overturned without serious consequence and in some cases, not at all.
Dr D’s office is pleasant and welcoming; a comfortable chair awaits his client, and a window looks out over the streets of Boston. It is bright and cheery and reflects how I felt that morning. It was a cool spring morning.
I was dressed in a new Talbot’s tweed skirt and LL Bean black cotton sweater. Like any girl I love wearing a new outfit and as I shuffled thru the streets of Boston among the crowd of commuters, I was just another woman on her way to an appointment. Being able to do just that had always been a dream of mine before I came to see Dr D.
I have been seeing Dr D for about four years and as I look back, I am amazed at how far I have come. In 2009, I was emerging from the darkness of yet another crossdressing purge. But as any transgender person knows, purging doesn’t work. My need for feminine expression had returned with a vengeance. I had tried to solve the problem by myself for 50 years. I tried reading all the books and websites, wrote countless emails to peers and posted on all the forums.
Finding an objective and informed person you can discuss, share and solve your issues with was a key ingredient in my journey. In my case, this was Dr D. I’ve grown a lot over the last four years. I no longer see being transgender as a problem to be solved. I am not doing anything wrong. I’ve cast off society’s condemnation of being transgender and realized that I am a good person and that part of my personality and character involves being transgender. Attributes I see missing in many men, such as nurturing, kindness, compassion and cooperation are parts of my personality that I believe come from my feminine side.
I had reached a plateau of sorts. In the last four years I had moved forward in haphazard intervals. I lost weight, had laser hair removal, shaved my legs, shaped my brows and built a wardrobe. I made friends as a woman and traveled as Paula when on business. I ate in restaurants, went to concerts, had makeovers and shopped for evening gowns.
That morning, as I poured out my feelings to Dr D seeking validation for the incessant belief that I am in fact deep down a woman, that this relentless desire to be female and the need be perceived as a feminine being is not some type of self-delusional parody, he reassured and comforted me and perhaps sensing my angst, suggested, “Maybe it’s time you considered hormone therapy.”
Wow, the room fell silent, the heating vent hummed gently and traffic rumbled by out the on the street.
What unnerved me was how fast I nodded affirmatively and mouthed the word, “Yes!”
Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT) is one of the watersheds of the transgender journey. I started asking myself how had I arrived at this point? It was hard to believe that the 10-year-old boy who didn’t play baseball after school, but instead ran home to raid his sister’s closet was now at that point.
This was something that other people did, you know, the real transsexuals. Didn’t I say just a few years ago that I was just a crossdresser? Was I deceiving myself back then or was I fooling myself now?
It was a record-breaking winter for Boston, cold and over six feet of snow. And to use a metaphor, it would also be a stormy one for me. I wasted no time calling the endocrinologist. It took a while getting things coordinated between my therapist and his staff, but I finally received a call at work one day from his office. I quickly found refuge in a conference room and a young woman asked, “Why exactly do you need to see Dr S?”
“Oh, gosh,” I thought, “I hope these walls at work are sound proof.”
Carefully and slowly the words came out “I am transgender.” There it was three simple words. It was cathartic, liberating and invigorating to say and hear.
She responded nonchalantly and professionally, “Oh, of course, I see you are being referred by Dr D.”
Her voice hesitated slightly as she inquired, “You are male-to-female?”
Her question took me by surprise and the words just kind of hung out there. I took a deep breath, swallowed and it felt astonishing as the words rolled off my tongue, “Yes male-to-female, female.” I said female twice just to hear it again. I then I repeated to myself I am “to female, going to female.”
The Berlin Wall just fell.
I would have two appointments with Dr S over the course of two months. The Boston weather would reschedule them more than once.
For practical reasons, I would go to both appointments in androgynous boy mode, wearing ladies jeans and top, I wanted to send a message.
At the first appointment, I met a young woman, who was a medical student. Dr S who teaches at Boston University Medical School, is leading a movement to include transgender health in medical school curriculums. It was enjoyable to share my narrative with this future doctor, knowing I was helping my transgender sisters down the road.
Dr S came and asked me a few questions about why I wanted to start HRT. He then outlined the results I could expect from HRT and the risks involved with it. His words on what to expect, “Murphy’s Law!” he began, “My 19-year-old patients looking for breast development are impatient and get little growth or redistribution of body fat.”
“My older married patients, who want to minimize the physical effects of HRT are sometimes surprised by their breast development.”
Most if not all of his patients, he added, are happy to be on HRT once they start. He outlined the dangers of increased cancer risks and the need to stop HRT when I get into my mid to late 60s because of the increased risk of stroke.
He asked that I participate in a study of transgender persons and that if my medical information could be used in that study. I was happy to comply knowing I was helping my sisters.
He wrote up orders for blood work at the lab on my way out.
I closed by showing him some photo’s of Paula, “Wow,” he said, “I think HRT would work well work you!”
The second time I met with Dr S, I also met another group of medical students. They too were inquiring and enthusiastic. I offered to answer any questions they had for a transgender person.
One young woman asked, “Why do you want to use feminizing hormones?”
I thought for a moment and while doing so, looked down at my arm which was waxed smooth and hairless and remembered how disgusted I felt when look at my hairy arms or body.
“How would you feel if one morning you woke up and your arms had male hair?”
She looked down at her arms for a second and then cringed, “I see what you mean.”
My blood work came back very good. Dr S cleared me for take-off and recommended a starting dosage of 1mg of Estradiol and 100mg of Spironolactone. The ball was over the net and in my court. It hit me right between the eyes!
I didn’t want to go into HRT without bringing my wife in on this decision. She typically wants to know very little about my transgender issues and keeps an out-of-sight, out-of-mind philosophy about it all.
I presented it this way: that both my doctors felt a low dosage HRT would benefit my anxiety and overall well-being. She was surprisingly accepting. Her only concern was me developing large breasts. She also added that if I decided to become a woman, she couldn’t and wouldn’t stay married to me. She would always love me, but this was something she could not deal with.
I had a woman who loved me so much, a family, friends, and a career. It was clear what I had. Where would this lead me? What would be the ramifications? It took me only a day to make my decision.
I decided not to pursue HRT. I felt guilty as if I let the woman in me down. Going on a low-dose regimen of HRT was not for me. I’d rather continue expressing my femininity without HRT because a low-dose regimen did not get me what I want in womanhood and puts so much of what I value at risk. But I realized that all women make difficult decisions. Putting one’s self behind the needs of your family is perhaps one of the most feminine acts I could make.
Dr S has left the opportunity open for me to pursue HRT if and when I want. I am glad I went through the process of getting approved for HRT. Having the approval of the medical community has validated and corroborated what I have felt since childhood. Having that option readily available has given me a certain peace and satisfaction.
Rivers start as a trickle and grow as they move through the landscape. Rivers provide life to people, agriculture, drinking water, transportation and energy. My river has grown deep and wide; to change its course now would be complicated; people have become dependent on it.
Oh, if I were at the trickle stage now, living in a post-Caitlyn Jenner world. If I were 20-years-old, there would be a transgender flag in my dorm room and I would set a different course.
However, everybody has that turning point ― a flash or a second, when you know you are about to make a choice that will chart the course for your life’s journey. Choose wrong and there may not be anything left to choose. That’s the conundrum, perhaps, what appears to be the incorrect decision may in actuality be the only way you can complete the journey with self-respect and the confidence of knowing you made the right choice.
 |
| Wearing Nick by Nicholas |
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| Halloween in Provincetown, circa 1960 |
Thursday, July 16, 2015
The Great Escape
I love movies. One of my favorites is The Great Escape, a 1963 film about Allied prisoners of war planning and executing an escape from a German POW camp during World War II. Whereas other POW films like The Bridge on the River Kwai and La Grande Illusion include scenes in which the POWs crossdress to entertain their fellow POWs, The Great Escape does not.
Turns out that a photo I posted here years ago (see above) actually shows POWs crossdressing at the very camp depicted in The Great Escape.
An e-mail from Ben van Drogenbroek, author of The Camera Became My Passport Home: Stalag Luft 3, the Great Escape, the Forced March and the Liberation at Moosburg : The Memoirs of Charles Boyd Woehrle, tells all:
Hello Stana,
Sorry to catch you from out of the blue. I was googling "prisoner of war" when I came across your website.
The photo with the caption "American prisoners of war femulate in a German prison camp during World War II." was actually taken at the South Compound of Stalag Luft 3.
Stalag Luft 3 was a German prisoner of war camp solely for Allied Air Force officers. Stalag Luft 3 became well-known for two famous escapes, "The Wooden Horse Escape" and "The Great Escape."
The name of the play slipped my mind, but I can look it up.
I must say; your website is well worth visiting; well done!
All the best from the other side of the ocean.
Ben van Drogenbroek
Here are two additional photos from the same POW camp.
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| World War I POWs femulating in the 1937 French film La Grande Illusion. |
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