On Sale At Your Corner Drag Store...

Our History

K.J. Rawson sent me a heads-up about Digital Transgender Archive (DTA). Little did K.J. know that I had already been exploring DTA after receiving news about it via the mojo wire. So I thanked K.J. for the heads-up and said that I would pass along news about DTA here.

Overview

The purpose of the Digital Transgender Archive (DTA) is to increase the accessibility of transgender history by providing an online hub for digitized historical materials, born-digital materials, and information on archival holdings throughout the world. Based in Worcester, Massachusetts at the College of the Holy Cross, the DTA is an international collaboration among more than twenty colleges, universities, nonprofit organizations, and private collections. By digitally localizing a wide range of trans-related materials, the DTA expands access to trans history for academics and independent researchers alike in order to foster education and dialog concerning trans history.

The DTA uses the term transgender to refer to a broad and inclusive range of non-normative gender practices. We treat transgender as a practice rather than an identity category in order to bring together a trans-historical and trans-cultural collection of materials related to trans-ing gender. We collect materials from anywhere in the world with a focus on materials created before the year 2000.

My initial exploration of DTA was to find anything related to Fantasia Fair. My search turned up 182 items going as far back as 1974!

Since I am very interested in history (and herstory), I will revisiting DTA often. It is a great resource for anyone researching transgender history and will only get better as the archive continues to grow.

Wearing Chetta B.

Arthur Askey in the 1940 British film Charley's (Big-Hearted) Aunt.

Still At True Colors Conference

After my workshop, I hobnobbed with my peeps, ate a cup of yogurt (banking my calories for dinner) and people-watched.

Things change.

The first time I attended True Colors nine years ago, I did not notice any youths in attendance crossdressing. I wrote "notice" because maybe some passed so well that I did not detect them crossdressing.

This year, I saw countless youths crossdressing, both male-to-female and female-to-male, and they were not shy about it. They were living the dream and enjoying the authenticity of it. I was so happy for them and wished that I could have been there with them in my youth.

Mid-afternoon, I attended Diana's workshop about the history of transgender activism after World War II. It was SRO and very interesting. I knew a some of the history already, but Diana revealed some things that I did not know. You can access an Adobe Acrobat version of her Powerpoint presentation here.

After her workshop, we called it quits and I agreed to meet Diana at a restaurant to break bread.
As I exited the classroom building, one of my earrings fell to the ground and I stepped on it breaking the clasp in the process. Examining the earring, I don't see any way to repair it. The earrings were a pair of vintage retro clip-ons that I bought in an antique store in Stonington; they were my favorites and I will miss wearing them.

Everyone was getting out of Dodge at the same time and I figured that the two-lane to the Interstate would be slow-going. So I decided to use the back door route like I did when I attended UCONN back in the early 1970s. Since I had not used the back door route in over 40 years, I relied on my iPhone Maps app to assist me where my memory failed me.

It worked. Traffic was light and I arrived at the restaurant in 30 minutes. When Diana arrived, we went inside the restaurant and had an excellent dinner.

Diana knows that I need to feed the blog, so she asked me if I wanted her to take my photo. I accepted her offer and the result accompanies this post.

After dinner, we went our separate ways and I was home 35 minutes later.

It was a long and full day and my girdle was killing me by the time I arrived home, but  as usual, I had a wonderful day as a woman.

Wearing Marchesa Notte.

Berenice Strada

At True Colors Conference

After I arrived at UCONN, parked my car and began walking three blocks to the Student Union, I realized that I should have worn a heavier coat. The temperature was in the mid-40s, but the wind was blowing hard, so it felt a lot colder. As soon as I arrived at the Student Union, I repaired to a restroom to attend to my mussed-up hairdo and soon I was gorgeous again, although a little worn out from fighting the wind while walking in heels.

I said hello to my friends, Angie and Robin, who were staffing the information table and then I checked in at the presenter’s table to pick up my presenter’s package.

With a half hour to go before my presentation began, I decided to find the room where my presentation was to be, get settled in and fine-tune the outline of my presentation.

Every time I make a presentation at True Colors, the room assignment is different and this year, my room was a conference room with a huge marble table surrounded by 20 comfy chairs. Plus there was a stack of about 15 portable chairs in case we ran out of the comfy chairs surrounding the table.

I took a couple of selfies and then a volunteer came in to offer any assistance I needed. I was all set, but I asked her to take a few photos, which she was happy to do.

No one showed up at the appointed time! Ten minutes later, still no one showed up, so I went into the hall to see what was happening. Except for a couple of volunteers, the hall was deserted, so I asked the volunteers why. Turns out “my” appointed time was incorrect; my presentation was scheduled for 10:30, not 10 AM! (Old age plays mean tricks like that!)

So I went back in the room to cool my heels. Another old friend, Lee Ann, came by. She was a volunteer and we chatted until the real appointed time when the throng showed up. They filled every seat and it was standing room only (there were 40 attendees by my count).

Most of the attendees were middle school, high school and college aged. Also, there were two middle-aged women, who I found out later were from the state Department of Children and Families (DCF) and there was a grammar school aged trans-girl, dropped off by her mother who was attending a workshop a few rooms away. When the mother asked if her daughter could attend my workshop, she asked if it was PG-rated. When I assured her it was, the mother was happy because her daughter “loved makeup!”

After everyone settled in, I distributed my handout, which was an outline of my own makeup routine, and we went through it from beginning to end.

There was a lot of give and take, which I encouraged and from the reactions of the attendees, it seemed that most were having a good time. This was confirmed when I read the written comments that the attendees left after my presentation. (There was some criticism in the comments, too, and I will use that to improve my presentation.)

After the workshop, the two women from DCF hung back to wait for the mother of  the grammar school trans-girl. The girl said she enjoyed my workshop and she even volunteered to take a few more snapshots of me, one of which you can see above.

While we waited, one of the woman remarked how much she liked how I did my eyebrows. I always thought that I could do a lot better with my eyebrows, so I was surprised by the compliment.

Then both women complimented my hairdo. I confessed that I was wearing a wig and they were very surprised ― they thought my hair was real! So that confirms what I say about wigs ― don't go cheap because a cheap wig looks like a wig. Invest in a good wig and your hair will look authentic.

Wearing Gucci.

Michael Hurst  in  televisions Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1998).

Going to True Colors Conference

At True Colors Conference

Friday, I attended the True Colors Conference at my alma mater UCONN. My main purpose in attending was to do a workshop ("Makeup Basics for Trans Females"), attend other workshops of interest and hobnob with my peeps.

I was up at 5 AM, fed the menagerie and began transitioning about 30 minutes later. I Veeted my body the night before, so body-hair-wise I was good to go. Just had to do my makeup and get dressed.

I revised my makeup routine based on a suggestion I found on the Internet. Instead of doing the base of my face first, I did it after I did my eyes. (Doing my base includes applying foundation, doing contours, applying blush and undereye concealer and topping it all with loose translucent powder.)

In the past, when I did my eyes after doing my base, I almost always ruined my perfectly-applied base with eye makeup crumbs. By reversing the process, the eye makeup crumbs were not a problem. I could just sweep the crumbs away before I did my base.

This change did wonders and I will stick with it until something better comes along.

I broke out some new eyeliners for Friday: gel eyeliner pencils from Urban Decay — one in black for the top lid and one in a dark gray for the bottom lid. After applying eyeliner to the top lid, I wanted to sharpen the point, but the eyeliner was so soft that the tip crumbled in the pencil sharpener rather than coming to a point.

I Googled and found a solution: put the eyeliners in the freezer for 15 minutes or more and then sharpen them. I tried it and it worked, but that does not do much good if you need a point in the middle of applying a warm eyeliner.

I wore my favorite dress du jour: the black Calvin Klein sheath with the cute gold front zipper.  I accessorized with nude thigh-highs, nude pumps, my favorite gold clip-ons, gold watch and an animal print scarf.

I also took along a huge beige bag called a “territory bag" that I just acquired from Avon. It is perfect for attending an event like True Colors. It has plenty of room for the printed handouts I had for the presentation as well as room for all the papers and other goodies I was likely to acquire at the conference. And there was still enough room for my backup flats!

I was out the door at 7:45 and took a roundabout route to Storrs to avoid the commuter traffic heading into Hartford. That strategy worked out fine putting me on the UCONN campus at 8:50.

Wearing Jonathan Simkhai.

Advertisement for the 1968 film The Queen.

A Major Award

Going out to dinner during the 2010 Hamvention

This is huge! I just won the ham radio equivalent of an Oscar!

Frank Beafore, chairman for the 2016 Hamvention® awards has announced winners for the annual Hamvention awards convocation.

...

Special Achievement Award: Stan Horzepa, WA1LOU

The Special Achievement Award recognizes WA1LOU as an advocate for cutting edge technologies that are now commonly used in amateur radio. Stan authored five books and wrote over 1,200 pieces for the ARRL and TAPR while evangelizing the use of home computers, packet radio, APRS, Digital Signal Processing (DSP) and Software Defined Radio (SDR) in amateur radio. Licensed in 1969 as WN1LOU, Stan has sampled almost every entrée on the ham radio menu and served in a slew of roles including Section Manager of Connecticut. Presently, Stan is a director and secretary for TAPR and serves as editor of TAPR’s newsletter (PSR). “LOU” has driven the 735 miles to Hamvention most years since 1978 and looks forward to doing so forever. “My fondest memories of ham radio are rubbing elbows and making friends with the makers and shakers of our hobby who show up at Hamvention every year.”

I received a phone call two weeks ago informing me that I won the award, but I was asked to keep it to myself until an official announcement was made, which occurred on Friday.

When I took the call, I was floored. The award was totally unexpected and is a very big thing. I follow in the footsteps of astronauts, scientists, broadcasters and a U.S Senator who have won Hamvention awards in the past. I was so excited that I was physically shaking hours after receiving the news.

I informed the fellow who phoned me that I was trans, have been attending Hamvention as a woman since 2010 and would there be a problem? He was surprised, but did not think it would be a problem. However, he said he would pass that information along to the awards committee.

I waited for the other shoe to drop, but the only thing that happened was that the awards chairman asked me for a photo and a short biography to use on the Hamvention website and in 25,000 copies of the printed Hamvention program book.

I don't know all that winning the award entails. I hope free parking, but I do know that I will attend an awards dinner during Hamvention and that I will be presented with the award at the end of the event in an arena full of all the attendees who are still around. (There is usually a good crowd because the awards ceremony is followed by the prize drawing.)

My only concern now is what to wear to the awards dinner!

Wearing Boston Proper.

Allied Prisoners of World War II at Stalag 383

Marie's Day Out in NYC

Helen and Scarlett sent me the Alan Cumming's day out as a woman article from Marie Claire (August 2001). Here is the text and a few of the pix.

Are Men Treated Better Than Women???

By Alan Cumming

Have you ever wished that men could know - even for a day - what it's like to be a woman? We dared Alan Cumming, of this summer's film The Anniversary Party, to brave New York dressed as a woman and compare how differently he was treated in a bar, lingerie shop, car dealership and on the streets.

Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that I love a challenge. I especially love a challenge that challenges others, and this is what excited me so much about this assignment for Marie Claire - trying to experience the difference between how a man and a woman might feel in exactly the same situations.

Here's how it worked. One day I got dressed in a nice suit and wandered around as me, Alan, a man. I stopped off at a bra shop, a Mercedes-Benz dealership, the changing room of a clothing store and a bar. A few weeks later, I went to exactly the same places, also in a suit, but this time as a woman called Marie, as I quickly named my feminine counterpart - for obvious reasons.

So now I had the opportunity to experience something few men have ever had the chance to. I was going to feel the joy, the laughter and the tears of being a great big beautiful girl. I would be transformed. I would have my arms and legs shaved. I would become a woman.

In the past, I have often played with the public's perceptions of my gender and sexuality. In several films and plays, and countless photo shoots, I have been asked to look feminine or androgynous, but in them all, I was still very definitely a man.

That, in a way, is what made it work. Yes, I did look good in eyeliner and a dress, but we all knew that I was playing, provoking, saying, 'Look at me. ' At the end of the day, there was no question as to what was inside my pants (or panties). So, going the whole hog and spending an entire day trying to pass as a real woman in the real world would seem right up my street, wouldn't it? Wrong. It turns out I am not a very nice-looking girl.

Becoming Marie was a major eye-opener. First of all, hello, who said looking good had to be so painful? Even getting your nails done hurts. And that's right at the bottom of the pain spectrum, after eyebrow-shaping, nose-hair plucking and, worst of all, arm and leg hair removal. I had no idea that women had so much hair in the first place. I thought it was just a bloke thing. But I guess the real guy thing is wanting our women to be smooth and hairless - in other words, to be nothing like us.

Well, screens please, Dr Freud, I think there are some major issues uncovered there. In the weeks leading up to my 'Marie day', I solicited advice from women about the image I wanted to project through my clothes, hair and make-up. And the biggest topic of debate? Surprise, surprise, it was hair removal. Every woman seemed to have a different opinion, and each was as vehement about it as the last. Marie Claire's beauty director told me that waxing was the best choice. But then, other women frightened me with tales of the ugly problem of post-waxing, ingrowing hairs and, of course, the massive amounts of pain attached to such an exercise. There was also the depilatory cream contingent. Who knew there was a product that could dissolve your hair away to nothing? Finally, when the day arrived, I decided on a combination of clipping and close shaving.

That's how I found myself, fully made up and bewigged, with one leg up in the air and resting on the sink, straining to get rid of those last pesky hairs behind my knees. I was feeling like a very vulnerable - although impeccably groomed - frozen chicken when my mobile rang. It was my mother calling. Now, she has heard some weird stories from me in her time, believe me, but this one, I am sure, took the biscuit - nay, the entire bakery.

I think I knew my outlook on the world was changing when, before we had even left the studio where my transformation was taking place, I heard myself saying, 'Oh, no, I would never have a clutch bag like that. That's far too slutty. Can't I just have a little black Prada bag?' The stylist looked slightly startled. But even she had to see that Marie, the embodiment - at least for a day - of all you Marie Claire women out there, had spoken her mind.

Marie, I discovered, was a mass of contradictions, just as I imagine you are, dear reader. Marie wanted to look sexy and elegant, but was I worried that the combination of a shiny pink clutch bag and fishnet stockings might give the wrong signal to the gentlemen who would so blatantly eye her up on the streets of New York. Marie realized that the higher the heel, the better her legs looked - but by the end of the day, she would be removing her 4-in stilettos at every opportunity, cursing the fact that she had refused a more sensible pair due to blatant vanity. Marie wanted her make-up to be natural and light, so that it could be reapplied easily and without fuss, but heavy enough to cover her beard. (Hopefully, Marie is alone with this particular dilemma.)

Marie is intelligent. She feels angry at the way Western culture has made a generation of women insecure about their weight, body shape and age. She is a woman who feels that she and the media in which she works have a duty to change perceptions of what is beautiful. But when some padding was removed from her bra - a 38D, thank you very much - she felt disappointed, realizing that bigger breasts made her feel more confident. Such were the thoughts I grappled with as I set out from the comfort of the studio into the big bad world, on my own, as Marie.

Overwhelmed by Underwear

My first stop was La Perla, an upmarket underwear boutique which had hitherto never entered my consciousness. As a man, looking around was pretty embarrassing. There is something slightly shady about leafing through racks of lacy knickers, but the shop assistants were very helpful – they were obviously used to the demure mumblings of men in suits. Wary of my journalistic duties, I found out that if you want to try any of these items on, you are given a little pair of paper knickers to ensure that you and the item you are trying on never actually make contact. The fact that these are presented to you in a paper bag with the word 'toss' written on it was a source of great merriment to me.

Marie, of course, did not find this funny, but she felt, or actually I felt, that trying anything on would be pushing this experiment a little too far. After all, it had been hard enough getting these clothes on in the first place and arranging my manliness to avoid unsightly skirt bulges, so I felt it was best not to try to dislodge anything this early on. A simple browse, a dainty 'No, thank you' when assistance was offered, and she was out of La Perla and onto the city streets.

This is where, I have to say, the experience of being Marie was most potent. The combination of experiencing the way men look at women, the way both men and women look at a woman they think might be a man, and the way anyone looks at someone they think they might recognize as an actor but wonder why he is in drag, made for an intense series of emotions as a girl. Strolling down the street in fishnets and high heels, I felt like I had a huge sign above my head flashing, 'She's a guy, everybody!' And, what's even stranger, I really quite enjoyed it.

Car Talk and Girl Talk

As I approached my next port of call, the Mercedes-Benz showroom, I immediately drew the eye of a group of mechanics standing outside. The attention I received was very complimentary and, I have to admit, nice. After all, it's always a boost to your ego to be appreciated, isn't it?

By a stroke of luck, the salesman who helped Marie was the same one who had helped Alan a couple of weeks earlier. The difference in his patter was by turns extraordinary, hilarious and disturbing. When it was a purely guy thing, he talked about horsepower, the way 'she' handled and other butch stuff like that. With Marie, the first things the salesman pointed out to me about the car - and I kid you not - were how to adjust the mirrors and seats. What happened to equality? I didn't feel it was a coincidence when Marie was told that the car she was sitting in wasn't an automatic.

Next stop was a bit of eavesdropping in the communal changing rooms of a department store. Oh, how much nicer it was with the girls! Women talk to each other. They smile. They tell each other that they look nice, that whatever they are trying on suits them. Men don't. In fact, they don't talk at all and they barely make eye contact. I think that's possibly because making eye contact in the same place as undressing could be misinterpreted, but once again, I'll leave it to Dr Freud to explain the ramifications of that one.

I Enjoy Being A Girl

By the time Marie arrived at the bar, she and I were both in need of a Martini. Her feet were killing me and my head was spinning. As the night stretched on, with me chatting up a group of overly friendly Italian gentlemen at the bar, I began to wonder who is weirder - men or the women who put up with them. My bra was itchy. It was nearly impossible to use my mobile with long nails (and even harder to carry out a normal, male, toilet-type activity). I wanted to give in to the desire to scratch myself and to be able to open my legs when I got out of a car. It was time to say goodbye to Marie.

It seems a strange thing to say, but I felt more conscious of being male the day I was Marie than I can ever remember feeling as a man. To me, maleness and masculinity are associated with a lot of negative things - anger, violence and often a complete bypass of sensitivity, vulnerability and irony - and so I think I have always tried to disassociate myself from that hackneyed interpretation of my gender. And, perhaps because of that, I've cultivated my own man- child persona as a smokescreen. But by transforming myself into a woman, I realized what it actually means to be a man. I felt a new respect and awe for women and all the pain they go through just to look like they do (and even more respect and awe for drag queens, because they actually choose to go through all that pain).

I took off the wig and looked at my reflection in the window of the bar. My hair had been bleached blonde a couple of days before, and the combination of that, the make-up and Mane's ample bosom and flawless style made me think that I actually was quite a nice- looking chick. Then again, it might have been the Martinis talking.

Wearing Cushnie Et Ochs.

Stana's Day Out in NYC

Transgender Tweets: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

Wearing Black Halo.

Peter Butterworth in the 1966 British film Carry On Screaming.

Talking with the "Other Half"

By Michelle Bowles

I was interested in reading your heads-up on the Alan Cumming's out en femme feature from Marie Claire. I hope the article can be tracked down and reproduced via the Femulate website.

On following the link to the photos and the accompanying comments, I recognized some experiences I have when out en femme.

Firstly, the supportive way that women openly talk to other women they don't know. Cumming noticed this in changing rooms – where I've also received women's complimentary comments. These can be rather disconcerting at first because at that point, I want to be "invisible" and not draw attention to myself.

If someone says something in a men's changing room (I'm not sure that's ever happened, by the way), it is likely to be because you have dropped something or committed some other mistake. In other words, you have drawn attention to yourself. Men, as far as I know, would never compliment you on the clothes you are trying; if they did, many would automatically assume they were gay and trying to "pick you up."

So when someone talks to me in a ladies' changing room, I immediately expect I have done something wrong and I'm on the defensive. Half expecting "you're in the wrong changing room – I'm calling a member of staff" with the ensuing embarrassment and discussions with the store detective. But no, it's always been "that looks nice" or some other compliment – the trick then for me is for me to regather my composure and respond (hopefully, with a smile).

It's a wonderful feeling and I feel so good when I return to the cubicle. It is also a great compliment; because either she's read you, but is comfortable with how you look and is keen to make you feel comfortable, too, which is a nice thing to do. Or she hasn't, which is even better. Incidentally, the last woman who said the dress I was trying really suited me, didn't persuade me to buy it – a decision I've ever since regretted as I can't now find it on the Marks and Spencer website. Hmmph!

En femme I've been regularly approached by women (and occasionally men) for directions – something that rarely happens when I'm in male mode. I guess woman are not going to think you're an idiot for not knowing your way (why can't men ask for directions, etc.). Also for women, you are not a threat.

I regularly go to a pub where there is music and dancing. More often than not, women talk to and want to dance with me (one up on my male self!). Even nicer is when they talk to you in order to "take the mickey" out of their boyfriend (or perhaps someone who's trying to chat them up). It's "girls together against the boys" – absolutely lovely. Also I've been asked when going to the ladies' at the same pub if another's makeup looks okay or could I do up a button.

The picture I've provided of myself is another nice bonus of going out en femme. Here I am out with my friend Irene at a pub for lunch. I was really happy, probably because the waitress had just said, "What can I get for you, ladies?"

I'm still rather wary of people talking to me and I need to work on a quick and friendly response, but I'm getting better. And I get such a nice feeling from being accepted by others as a woman which is surely the best part about the whole femulation thing.

Wearing Veronica Beard jacket, Alexander Wang dress and Jimmy Choo shoes.

Womanless fashion show model

Alan's Day Out

I don't know how this one slipped under my radar, but Lynn gave me a heads-up about a femulation article that appeared in the August 2001 issue of Marie Claire. In that article, actor Alan Cumming, who has a history of femulating in various roles on television and stage, femulated among civilians for a day to see how it felt to do a series of every day things as a woman as compared to doing the same things as a man.

Been there, done that, if you know what I mean. I found it interesting, but not surprising that Alan's experience as a woman in public were similar to mine.

Lynn sent me a link to seven photos from the article [file names Marie Claire 6/01 (1) to (7)], but not the text of the article. I searched high and low for the text, but could not find it. If anyone has it or knows where it is, I'd love to see it and share it.

And may all your days out be wonderful!

Wearing English Factory (top), Preen By Thorton Bregazzi
(skirt and sunglasses) and Bionda Castana (shoes).

Alan Cumming in British television's The Runaway (2011).