Butch and Hank

Wearing ModCloth

Caty Ryan out and about shopping for unmentionables

Ballet

By Paula Gaikowski paula.gaikowski@gmail.com

It's a common question among transgender women: when did you realize you were transgender? For some, the answer is clear from a young age. For others, it's a more gradual realization. For me, like many others, there were clues throughout my childhood that I now recognize as signs of my gender identity.

One such memory came flooding back to me recently. My wife and I were walking past a dance studio, and she jokingly suggested that I should take some classes. "I'll go get dinner," she said. "And yes, you can wear tights."

This seemingly innocuous comment triggered a wave of nostalgia. I remembered elementary school, specifically the days when girls with ballet lessons would leave school early. They'd be wearing leotards and tights underneath their skirts. And I remember feeling a pang of envy, a desire to be among them.

The dance studio was next to my dentist's office, and I would sometimes linger outside, listening to the classes. I’d watch my classmates pirouette and leap across the dance studio floor, their tutus shimmering under the stage lights. As a 10-year-old boy, I yearned to be part of their world. I’d imagine myself slipping into a tutu and tights, dancing alongside them. The night of the grand performance I’d imagine myself stepping in for someone who was sick. No one would know the truth. I’d dance the night away, a secret ballerina. Maybe then, they’d see me as I truly was. It was a forbidden dream, a fantasy that I dared not share in the 1960s.

Like many, I pushed down those feelings, only to have them resurface. It's a common experience, a testament to the enduring nature of our true selves.

Looking back, I realize that my childhood fascination with dance was more than just a passing interest. It reflected my deep-seated desire to express my femininity. The dance studio, with its graceful movements and beautiful costumes, represented a world I longed to be a part of.

As I continue my journey as a transgender woman, I find solace in knowing that I am not alone. Countless others have shared similar experiences, and their stories offer both inspiration and validation. It's a reminder that our identities are complex and multifaceted, shaped by both our personal histories and the broader cultural context in which we live.

Today, as I reflect on this childhood memory, I see it as a glimpse into the transgender woman I was always meant to be. It's a reminder that my journey began long before I had the words or the courage to articulate it. And it's a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, our ability to overcome societal expectations and embrace our true selves.

Wearing Paige

Michelle out and about in an art museum

Got Self-Awareness?

Wearing Ann Taylor

Nancy Ng out and about at Lake Erie beach resort town Port Dover, Ontario

Writing Wrandomly

The blog’s new Casa Stana masthead is a big hit. Paula suggested it in passing (or in jest) and I pounced on the idea. (The name is in honor of Casa Susanna.)

Out and About

Keep sending in your photos of your out and about experiences. The blog’s readers love them and so do I.

Returns

Returning stuff to Amazon that doesn’t fit or you just plain don’t like is easy. Just print out the QR code or have it on your smart phone and take the ugly dress to a place like a UPS Store to return it. No more having to package up the dress, print out return documentation, print out and stick on a mailing label and then send it back via USPS or UPS.

I just discovered that easy returns are also available from other sellers. I bought a sweater dress from Venus and it was too big, so when I began the return process, I found that Venus offers a similar return service as Amazon. Just get the QR code and take the dress to a place like a UPS Store. And voila!

T-Week

This week is Transweek. Formerly known as Fantasia Fair, I had no idea that it was this week until JJ asked me and I looked it up.

I attended the “Fair” four times. Last time was 10 years ago. I always had a good time. Each visit was a unique and memorable experience. Read my book to read all about my four Fair trips.

The only negatives about the Fair was the weather and the civilians. 

The weather can be all over the place in late October in this neck of the woods and since the Fair has stuff going on all over Provincetown, you have to do a lot of hoofing to get around in whatever Mother Nature has to offer. (I’ll never forget running down Commercial Street wearing 4-inch stilettos in a thunderstorm!)

The local civilians are used to us and don’t give a damn, but the civilians tourists gawk and even point at us. But I found a surefire way to disarm them. One time, a group of my girl friends had reservations to dine at Lobster Pot. When we entered the dining room, some folks at a nearby table got all excited and began gawking and pointing. In response, I smiled and waved at them and that shut them down immediately.

And so it goes!

Wearing ModCloth

Dining with Prometheus; yours truly out and about in NYC

Still?

 

Wearing Black Halo

Chris out and about for lunch

Stuff: Do You March?

By J.J. Atwell

Pride Parades

Today I’m wondering how many of our Femulate readers participate in LGBTQ+ pride events. Typically. June is Pride Month and there are pride parades in many communities. Oddly enough though, some southern states hold pride parades in October when it’s a bit cooler.

These pride parades (as I’ll refer to them hence forth while including the ancillary events as well) often get a lot of press attention. You can pretty much count on seeing a report about them in local newspapers and television news stations. The coverage isn’t always flattering, but I believe the trend is more towards acceptance than when these parades started in the early 70’s. 

Origin of Pride Parades

So, how did pride parades start? A Google search about the origin of pride parades generally focuses on the one-year anniversary of the 1969 Stonewall Riots. Those riots occurred in New York City on June 28, 1969, when police conducted one of their then routine raids on the Stonewall gay nightclub. But this time the patrons were fed up with what they saw as police harassment and resisted. 

I’ve only recently become aware that some of the instigators of the rebellion were the drag queens in attendance. While I don’t consider myself a drag queen, as a CD, I do have something in common with them – the wearing women’s clothing and a desire for the freedom to do so. I’ll leave the reader to their own Google search about the details of the pride parade origins.

Should We Participate?

Huge question. One that I’m not sure I can adequately answer. Let me be upfront– I have not participated in a pride parade. But as I think about it, I think we owe it to the entire CD community to show ourselves. By showing ourselves to the public, we can help others escape from the closet. Yes, that is a scary proposition.

As I’ve noted, I haven’t marched myself, so I’m in no position to preach. But I hope bringing up this subject gives you, dear reader, cause to consider the situation when the next pride parade rolls around. I know I’ll be giving it serious consideration myself. 

A few thoughts for those going to an event, be it as part of the march or as a supporting spectator. Wear sunscreen as you’ll likely be out in the sun for quite some time. Sensible shoes are important for these events. Even if you are just a spectator, you’ll be on your feet for quite a while. Four-inch heels are probably best left at home for this outing unless you are riding on a float. Hold your head high. It is a pride event so go out and be proud rather than hiding in the shadows. 

While you are out, make new friends and expand your comfort zone. That tight group of friends is nice, but an even bigger group is better. Support the vendors you’ll find at these events. They are sticking their necks out, too. Above all, be you... unapologetically.

I’ll Be Back

In addition to pondering pride parade participation, I’ll be finding more Stuff to write about. I welcome comments and suggestions here on Stana’s page or by email at Jenn6nov at-sign gmail dot com.

Wearing Yumi Kim

Bernardo Letro

Perfect Size 12

Wearing Venus

New Zealand's John Hunter entertained the troops during World War II

Femulating the Femulators (Part 2)

By Norah Blucher

When we parted last, I had just stepped out into the world, the new and improved Norah, ready to fully embrace all that I am and engage in social interaction with civilians for the first time…

Dining

I had a restaurant picked out already courtesy of Stana, who recommended a place she has frequented before. This was reassuring and I was also glad to be going to a local place for a “real” experience as I know the big chains have all sorts of training on how to be friendly and what not. I did not tarry in the car too long, grabbed my purse and headed in.

The place was half restaurant, and half deli, so I strolled over to the restaurant side and said “Just one please;” my first use of my months-long practiced femme voice! To someone other than a telemarketer,or the house plants anyway, LOL. There was a genuine look of surprise on the staff’s faces. I don’t know why. I know I was not “passing” in looks, but maybe they were expecting a deeper voice? Maybe I just sounded weird or fake. Whatever the case, the waitress told me to follow her as I tried to be conversational and told her I had never been here, but this place was highly recommended by a friend.

What happened next was a little confusing. One side of the place had a lot of full tables, the other was empty and the hostess was taking me to the empty section. I was a little miffed and thought they were just trying to hide the femulator from public view. To be honest, I was also relieved as well. I was completely terrified, and sitting secluded would not have been unwelcome.

My feelings changed however, when the hostess realized this section had not been prepared to seat people and she looked back at the crowded section and then looked back at me. She had a hesitant look on her face and shyly asked if I minded sitting over there. I realized later she was just very perceptive and likely knew how terrified I was,and was trying to do me a favor. I just smiled, feigned a confused look and said, “Of course not, dear,” as though I did this everyday. Fake it ’til you make it at its finest! So back we went and I was seated right in the middle of the room, the next occupied table just two feet away. I was DYING inside!

It was not until I went to take a sip of water that I realized my hands were shaking a bit. I really was showing how nervous I was. Dining alone in a restaurant is a daily thing for me and it is always a bit awkward to some degree, but I just ordered my meal and took my phone out to text some friends like I normally would. Inspired by all the cute photos Stana takes while dining, I also tried to nonchalantly take one of myself as well.

It did nothing to boost my confidence to say the least. I looked right dreadful. I’m bloated and starting to break out. My nervousness shows. I was not in best form. In my defense, I had been up early, driven for six hours, did two meetings along the way and was utterly tired to start with before getting en femme, and I was also very hungry. The lighting was horrid, and I was also not about to start cocking my head to strike a pretty pose. I’m sort of embarrassed to show it, but for the sake of the blog here, this is it…

I just reminded myself that I am who I am, and even a GG has long hard days when she does not look her best. Perhaps a Saturday afternoon off would have been best to try this, but I was here now determined to make the best of it. I slowly began to feel more at ease though, ate my meal and chatted with the waitstaff when they did come by.

I had to go back to the deli to pay when they brought my check, and I needed change to leave a tip. I could have asked the cashier to give it to the waitress, but I walked back into the restaurant, found my waitress and handed it to her myself! I tipped her well and thanked her for a great meal.

I went out to my car, took a deep breath and was quite proud of myself. I had done it! I had survived, had a good experience actually and knew that next time would be easier. You’d better believe that there will be a next time! To be honest, a year ago, this would have been taxing on me en homme. Not nearly this much and I was not always that way, but I had gotten that part of my life over the hump and now I was getting the other part over it. I felt rather good about the whole thing.

Shopping!

I was feeling good and did not want the night to end, so I decided to do some shopping. The mall was soon closing, so I just planned to go to Target, when I spied out of the corner of my eye a Home Goods and T.J. Maxx. Bingo! I wasted no time and headed in. Not wanting to be the cliché crossdresser buying clothes I headed to Home Goods first.

I looked around awhile and my confidence was starting to rise. No one followed me or gawked. As I walked down an aisle of mirrors I suddenly noticed myself and thought I did not look that bad! I spun around and yes, being more relaxed had actually improved my look. Looking back, I wish I had done an out and about photo then.

Not finding anything in Home Goods, I walked over to T.J. Maxx. I actually needed a new wallet as my current one is a bit ragged, but I did not find what I wanted and checked out purses. I was having an absolute ball trying different ones, when suddenly nature called, so off to the bathrooms I went. I half expected the generic family bathroom I see more and more at big stores and have used in the past, but this place had only a men’s and ladies’ room, so into the ladies’ side it was!

I’ve actually used the ladies’ room many times. A few times when the men’s room was closed, and a few times, inadvertently, when I was just half asleep, but I have never actually used a proper ladies’ room en femme, so this was another first I guess. No one was in there, though I did remain seated for the duration of the ride, just in case. I did my thing and took a few minutes to fix my hair before I left. As I exited, no one awaited me with torches and pitchforks. 

With nowhere left to go, it was onto clothes... This was sort of anticlimactic for me in a way as I have done this before, but en homme and it has always felt a bit awkward. It never stopped me, but awkward best describes it. 

It felt different tonight. Like it just felt right, as though I belonged there. There were a few other GGs among the racks and I did not avoid them as  I would have done previously. Nor did they avoid me. No warm smiles either, no one complemented my outfit or jewelry, but they did not seem to be doing that for each other as well. So we were all just doing our thing and going about our lives.

I did not take notice at the restaurant, but I suddenly felt tall! At 5’7” I’m not tall at all, even for a girl, so maybe it was just short ladies out shopping that evening? Anyway, I found a sweater I liked and went to pay for it. I tried being conversational with the cashier, but she did not seem impressed and I doubt she would have been impressed by anyone else either, so it wasn’t me.

Back to the Hotel

I walked back to my car and was truly floating on cloud nine. I made the short drive back to the hotel, humming with Laura Wilde all the way. I had accomplished everything I set out to do and more importantly, the new and improved Norah was out! I know it sounds a bit silly, nothing exciting happened, but that is all I really wanted. Just a moment of being myself, and being treated like anyone else.

I managed to find a spot in the crowded parking lot right in front of the hotel and as I walked in the main door, I gave the clerk a little smile and wave and made my way up the elevator to my room. I did encounter another guest as I was fumbling in my purse for the door card and he paid me no attention to me. I doubt he suspected anything strange about me with my head down anyway, though I did not shy away intentionally. 

Confidence is Key

We say that all the time here on the blog, but pushing myself way into the deep end, truly showed me how much it matters. If you don’t believe me, take note of me in the restaurant. (or maybe not and just forget you ever saw that wretched picture). At that particular moment, I was just trying to survive. By the end of the night, despite it being the end of a tiring 16-hour day, I felt great and had regained some of the happy glow I feel en femme. I’m a bit disheveled, but I’ll also let you see what I wore and see the rest of me for a change, and not just my hair.

I know this was a rather short and mundane outing and it took me longer to write this than the actual event, so I hope you did not find it altogether boring. I know I’m not all that and a tin of biscuits and right now, I don’t even think I come close to passing. But that is precisely my point. I’m nervous in new surroundings, I never feel my makeup is good enough and I can think of scores of other things I should improve upon, but if I waited to correct them all, I probably never would and I’d never get out. So I just went ahead anyway. I was not perfect, but felt I represented our tribe well and that is what matters.

In the end, I realized I set out to femulate a Stana- and Paula-style adventure and found something else; a Norah Blucher one instead! We are all at different places in our journeys and we are all unique, but hopefully we can use our own experiences to inspire others to get out there and have their own experiences.  

Stana started this blog with the intention of getting more girls like us to take a leap and get out into the world. After all these years, it is still serving that purpose and if my little story and all the others can get one more girl out into the wild, who would not have otherwise, it continues on.

So there it is, loves. Questions and comments are always welcome below or e-mail me at nblucher at-sign proton dot me. I’d very much like to hear about your own out and about adventures. I promise you though, I will be having many more and hope to see you out in the world!

Wearing ModCloth

Stana out and about at Tonkin’s Wigs

Femulating the Femulators (Part 1)

By Norah Blucher

No, no name change here. I’m still just Norah Blucher, but I did recently have an out and about adventure that I deemed inspired by Stana and Paula G., as I took a recent business trip to Hartford, Connecticut, and went out en femme in Stana’s Nutmeg State stomping grounds. Mine was certainly not the most exciting outing in the wide world of femulation, but was a huge milestone for me and included many “firsts.”

Just for background, I was always primarily adomestic femulator. Leaving the house was rare and the goal was to avoid social interaction. As in zero! Try not to be seen at all and if so, just blend into the background or move away. 

But I decided to change all that. Following the dissolution of a rather unhealthy relationship, I realized many things and perhaps more significantly, chose to end a long career whose benefit package included depression, anxiety, gas lighting and trust issues. I was in a bad place and closer to a breakdown than I realized. I did not femulate, even in the confines of my home, for over a year. I didn’t do much of anything for over a year really.

As I pieced together a new life though, I realized I had been handed a gift few ever get: the chance to start completely over, no strings attached and with more building blocks than I started with. With much trepidation, I took a new career that was totally out of my element in many ways and though it was difficult, whatever was thrown my way, I just went with it and I began to explore the world again as a new person almost. I felt I had missed out on so much of life for quite a while.

And I started femulating again. I guess I could not break that little thread; the urge was just there and was just part of me I had to accept. If I was to start life over though, Norah was to become an integral part of it and something I would not just accept, but embrace! 

Here’s the naughty little problem though: if you want to get out in the world, but you are a very closeted femulator, you are always pulled in two directions. One part of you is always missing out. I looked in the mirror one day and told myself, “Girl, you get dolled up every chance you get and sit home or hide from view. You are not living to your full potential. This is not good, dear.” 

So I joined a blog called Femulate.org looking to gain some pointers on getting out more and was floored reading about Stana’s journey, then again hearing how Paula G. would go on trips and go out en femme, as well as the exciting stories and information shared by everyone here. I did not know how just yet, but I was determined to femulate these accomplished femulators that inspired me. Not only did these people get out and about, they were living life, as much as possible as their femme selves! I learned so much, and met so many amazing and inspiring sisters and surprisingly found I had something to offer as well. I also read older posts and the one that hit me the most was an old one called “Don’t Let This Happen To You.”

And that was it. Emboldened by the trail blazed by others, it had come time for Norah to enter society. Not as a house sitter or a mute and nameless shadow that quickly vanished. An actual person that people saw and spoke to and interacted with. Not full-time by any means, but out and about when possible in a meaningful way. I did not feel ready in a lot of regards, but if I waited until I felt ready, I would wait forever. I waited anxiously for an opportunity to present its self.and when I arranged my trip to Hartford, I decided now was the time.

Hartford Get Ready!

I had hoped to go to a museum, dine, and do some shopping. It was raining much of the way, and traffic was slow, so I got to Hartford later than intended. The museum was also closed that day anyway, so it looked like get ready and go straight to dinner.

This was still ambitious to say the least. Navigating a store en femme is one thing, as you can move around, avoid people and even pay at a kiosk at times. You can interact with others if you want or just become part of the faceless matrix. You have options.

Dining at a restaurant is different. You have to talk to waitstaff if you want to eat. You can be surrounded by people who may stare and you are stuck there. Keep in mind I have never been to a support group, crossdressing event or even a therapist for trans issues. This was a rather bold step for me and I was skipping the warm up of wandering the museum alone.

Packing was done thoughtfully and I only brought what I needed to avoid any last minute indecision. I hope I do not disappoint anyone here, but I did not choose a nice dress or skirt. I had too much on my mind to worry about a run in my hose or my skirt riding up at the dinner table. I went with jeans, a nice top and lower heel Mary Janes. This is not out of place for me anyway as I’ve always worn a variety of styles. I’m just sort of easy breezy with a touch of glam and eccentricity. My goal was to interact with civilians, but not stand out too much.

It took three hours to get ready! An hour longer than usual. Partly because I wanted every detail to be perfect and mostly because of plain old procrastination. I also further delayed things by making the mistake of trying fake nails for the fist time and putting them on too soon. A note to the wise: put your nails on last! And don’t try something new the day you are going out. Fake nails are a hobbling experience until you adjust to them.

Yes, I made a wreck of the bathroom….. but I did clean it all up after.

My first “manicure”

Finally ready and dressed, I procrastinated some more as I stalled and thoughts raced through my head:

“Oh God Norah, you’re sweating. Not a good look, dear. Let’s add more perfume. Yes, better to smell like a tarte than a locker room.”

“Okay, let's practice the walk again… No you bloody bimbo, you’ve practiced for years, you’re just stalling! Get on with it already!”

“Alright, this is it. Deep breath Norah. One… two… three…”

And out the door I went. I heard the latch click behind me and paused for a second. The stairs and side exit were right across the hall flirting with me, calling like a Siren to take the easy way out. It was tempting. But no. No, no, hell no! I’ve been beaten down and treated like a piece of trash too long. This girl was going out the main lobby like anyone else! So, with my head held high, down the elevator it was, through the lobby and out the front door, as I drive off into the waning sunlight...

Does She Make It?

That’s enough for now I think. Questions and comments are always welcome below or e-mail me at nblucher at-sign proton dot me. Just don’t ask me the ending! You can read the rest next time and when that will be is up to Stana. I guess you’ll just have to read the blog daily to see when that is!

Wearing Boston Proper

April Jones stopped at Victoria’s Secret on the way home from the office and encountered a live-stream of the Victoria’s Secret fashion show from NYC and the staff at Vickie’s snapped April’s photo..

A Good Night Out

Wearing Bebe

Jeanine Williams out and about last New Year’s Eve