I have recently discovered a term I didn’t have in my vocabulary until I started reading and commenting on other blogs penned by those who express themselves as gender variant, whether M2F or F2M transgender or simply cross dressing and the term is cis-gendered or cisgendered. It is the complimentary term to transgendered and means that the gender identity of an individual coincides with rather than opposes the gender which they were assigned at birth based on their external genitalia.
What this brings to mind is an issue that has been brought to my attention more than I care to count since my coming out, the issue that as a “new woman”, as one former work associate called me recently, I do not have the history of growing up female. It is an issue that has pained me whenever I watch a TV show or film and try to put myself in the shoes of a female character by watching their myriad ways in which they can express themselves as cisgendered females. Although the TV to which I had access broke down recently and I have signed onto sites like Netflicks, Hulu and others, I still have found myself watching less and less and spending more and more time actively interacting online with blogs and other forms of entertaining activities.
I feel it in my bones that as I get more comfortable and expressive in my new identity that this pain will lessen and hopefully disappear altogether but I still can’t help feeling the pain of the fact that I missed out on such things as being taken nervously to a store by an older female to buy my first bra or that I will never be able to go through that right of passage into womanhood getting dressed and ready for my senior prom, or that I will miss out waiting for my date to nervously kiss me at the door when I return home.
I also won’t have a monthly period or worry about getting pregnant, although I hope someday to have the experience of having a man’s penis inside me. And as I once spoke about how I would only experience total sexual satisfaction in my mind’s eye by imagining a penis inside me, I have no doubt that the real sensation of that experience will be such that I could die in the next instant a woman in her fullest glory. Its ironic that the French words for orgasm is “le petit mort”, the little death.
Over the course of the last three months since my coming out, I have been dwelling on these things that I have missed not growing up female which has placed a barrier of separation between myself and all other women I see on the screen or in real life. As a former professional passenger driver, I know it makes no sense at all to try and drive a vehicle by looking in the rear-view mirror but yet that is precisely what I have been doing.
Its time to look through the windshield now as I drive forward into my future as the woman I have always wanted to be. There is no reason in this vehicle of my life as it is in the present to look backward now, for my history as a man instead of a woman can never catch up or overtake me. My history is what it was. It was the history of me. As a former amateur historian and tour guide, I also know that history is always written by the last man standing. By choosing the authentic me now over the historic me then, I know that I have already become the last woman standing.