Of all the emotions, perhaps hope is one of the most powerful.
Especially, these days when the world seems to be coming after the entire transgender community, hope seems to be a precious commodity. In my case, I learned slivers of hope came in the form of brief gender euphoria, when I glimpsed the girl looking back at me from the mirror. She gave me hope I could keep trying to live my dream.
Then I was forced back into my mundane drab male life I never really wanted and my hope disappeared. Often for long periods of time before I could cross dress again. I was in despair until I could glimpse my feminine image again in the mirror. Perhaps the worst part was I did not know exactly what I was looking for. More preciously, I did not understand the predictability of my urge to be a girl my age. If I was able to document it at all, it seemed every week at least once I wanted to cross dress and be feminine. Why did the euphoria of dressing not last? It wasn’t until much later I would realize my answer was I was more of a transgender woman than anything else.
In the meantime, I was busy watching the teen aged girls I so wanted to be like. Without being creepy, I noticed how they moved and what they wore. When I did, it gave me hope I could someday live my dream of being a woman. Even though I was a student of the female gender, life kept me stuck where I…
