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Me with Jack Norris (Voyager flight around the world); I teased Darth Vader, and he reacted; playing bagpipes with an air can at Caltech…

Please Don’t Validate Me
Socializing Kindly with Me
Four Ways to Talk About Changing Sex
“Transsexual” as a Noun
What I Am

Ideas evolve through trans people over time, particularly if not invested in promoting the latest trans social movement. Longer-term can mean less denial and so may be in contrast to newer people in transition. I switched in 1981.

As well, being transsexual (needing to be the other binary) carries different goals, ideation, and sexuality from transgenderism (change gender role but not wanting to change sex). Regardless of T for all Ts as “transgender” in the LGBTQ+ social movement, If you bring T sex issues out of the closet, it’s clear these are two different phenomena.

These are the views I share because I’m a long-term transsexual.

Please Don’t Validate Me

I don’t make binary claims, and I don’t seek validation from others. I don’t try to validate myself. I need to be, but I don’t claim I am.

Even people who know me for years are surprised to realize that I do not generally refer to myself as a “woman” or “female.” They just don’t seem to notice, or listen if I say. If I do claim one of those, it sounds pretentious; when someone else does it, it feels patronizing—however, with the hell I’ve been through just living yet needing so desperately to just be the female sex, binary, being unable to because of the limits of science…referring to me as “male” or “man” is just mean. Let me repeat: mean, even hostile. So, given a choice, I will reluctantly take the patronizing.

It’s very uncomfortable for me to be confronted by someone who doesn’t understand what I just said, who thinks I’m supposed to be like soundbites on TV and claim “I’m a woman…” or “I’m female…”

Let me clarify: My need to just be female is just as strong as ever. But after decades, comparing myself to cisnatal women and females, through study and living life, I just think I don’t meet the parameters for the label. It’s heart-breaking, but I just know I can never be, in this life, what I need to be.

Plus, an old lesson from stealth transsexualism, which was my forté for a long time, is that mentioning a thing brings attention to it, and, in a case such as mine, tends to bring opposition that might have lain dormant long enough to at least get a sense of me.

If I’m in public, I will attend the ladies’ room, not the men’s. If I’m to fill out a form, I’ll check “female.” But I don’t like to say it—not because I don’t need it, but because it reminds me of what I cannot be, is pretentious, and brings backlash.

Denial has not been a companion of mine for far too long, a bandage that would sometimes bring relief.

This is overall view is sometimes a characteristic of someone like me who has been in role for several decades.

Socializing Kindly with Me

Most people feel that socializing pleasantly with me is tacit validation of my life or of my role as the other sex or gender, or even of a life that is “sinful,” or means that you’d need to tell people I’m not really female or you’re duping them. That is their insecurity in social interactions that they’re shifting to me. The result is that people, who might otherwise be a friend, keep their distance, a loss for all.

I’m not saying, “Lets all engage in group denial.” We all know we all know. But I’m suggesting NEITHER promote nor deny my need, my transsexuality, as either makes an issue of it that interferes with people getting to know me.

There was a person I once knew, someone who said she was a friend, another flight instructor (CFI), who used to introduce me to others (who knew I was/am transsexual) as “…my girlfriend.”

I cringed every time she said that, and she never noticed. I knew she wouldn’t take it well, but eventually I had to try to let her know that that assertion was ineffective, even counterproductive, and embarrassing, that what would be better is just to mention me as a friend and leave it at that. I’m not pretending to be cisnatal; I know that people already know. Everyone knows.

I finally shared this with her after about a year, and she promptly disappeared. I think she was trying to convince herself she was accepting, but only of her thesis, without wanting to know the truth. Many people do things like that, wanting to validate their beliefs, not wanting to learn what’s really happening.

With neither promote nor deny, sometimes it must be said, where not saying it becomes an issue.

Golfing is a sexed game with forward tees for ladies and rearward tees for men. Typically, gentlemen will allow ladies to tee off first and forward, then the men follow after and rearward. This is not just chivalry; it’s because of an attempt at fairness as men can usually drive farther due to musculature and skeletal frames.

I find that using the forward tees will soon leave the men feeling gamed, when they realize I’m transsexual (as to most of them “not a real lady”) and when they see that I actually can drive clearly in the farther distance range for men.

I was born male, and while I was a nerd, never muscle-bound, my musculoskeletal system was male. It’s why I’ve never had a figure and don’t wear dresses.

But for athletics, with the male frame and remnant musculature (some of which remains even after 40 years), I can leverage movement and strength in a way that cisnatal females can’t. It’s just not fair for me to compete as a lady where such things apply.

So what about my habit of neither promoting nor denying my transsexualism? What do I do when the guys tell me to take the ladies’ advantage?

Typically, people pick up on me after a while and then distance—a problem for all of us if we’re grouped together for the game.

I find it may be best that if guys want me to take the ladies’ advantage in golf, I say, “No thanks, guys. I’m transsexual, and my frame is leftover male, so I’ll play back here. I don’t keep score, anyway…” That way, I’m neither promoting nor denying, am just responding to a situation where it matters, and being up front with them.

So, instead of later disliking me and also feeling gamed at the same time, they can at least take the positive of honesty and not feel gamed. It isn’t much better, but there are times when it matters.

Regardless, I do not interpret socialization as validation. I’m just thankful if I’m treated as kindly as who I am. If curious, please ask. I will tell you I am not your TV, and I don’t even like you to make claims for me.

Four Ways to Talk About Changing Sex

  • Legally: I am not a lawyer, but it appears to me people can change legal sex if the law in their jurisdiction says so. Sometimes this is in conflict with other areas of government that disagree.
  • Socially: If people in groups/society accept you as the other sex.
  • Anatomically: Genital form and function.
  • Biologically: Biologic sex cannot yet be changed. I wish it could.

Sometimes, such as filling out forms or going to the restroom, I have to rely on one or more of those first three. I admit biological sex cannot be changed, but it’s a painful subject.

At times I reference myself from another’s point of view as, “Maybe he doesn’t think women are veterans…” or “He doesn’t think women can fly?”

“Transsexual” as a Noun

Of course it can be used as a noun.

“Trans[variation]” has been used a few million times in degradation, and I realize a lot of trans people, hurt with that, assert passionately that “transsexual,” “transgender,” or similar should not be used as a noun but an adjective, such as: “I am transsexual,” not “I am a transsexual.”

Putting us down is transphobic, and cooperating with that is also transphobic.

I have lived too long being put down by others to help them do it, to accept that a noun reference to me is actually derogatory. “Transsexual” is a fact. It is not “pervert,” “faggot,” “freak,” or “weirdo.” It is simply the truth, not a bad thing—same for all T variations.

If I can be a scholar, a pilot, an instructor, a Jew, a wife, a widow, a veteran, a human, I can also be a transsexual. I’m as worthy of the same recognition as my husband, in my opinion one of the greatest people who has ever lived and a Christian, a genius, a pilot, an engineer, a humanitarian, an Elder in the church, a philanthropist, a husband, and a conservative icon—all nouns.

Am I less?

What I Am

I think of myself as a primary, post-op, Phase 3 transsexual:

  • Primary, meaning my reason for sex reassignment surgery (SRS) was from my need to be female, not for a secondary reason (sometimes such as validation in role, vaguely defined “authenticity,” bathroom rights, or from other issues such as denial). Contrast my life-or-death need with Caitlyn Jenner’s statements that SRS is not really important, doesn’t make her more of a woman. She says she’s transgender, usually talks about gender, not physical sex or genitalia, says she’s had an extra surgery… I’m going to take her at her word that she’s a transgender with an extra surgery, where I am transsexual. The difference is salient issue. If Cait is transsexual, it would help if she’d say so.
  • Post-op with SRS; modification of primary sex characteristic, in my case genital form and function as female; by “post-op” I do not mean other body modification of secondary sex characteristics such as breast augmentation, facial feminization, body contouring liposuction, which are included in euphemisms such as GRS, GCS, GAS… and which confirm or connote gender (masculinity and femininity or gender role) and do not denote physical sex.
  • Phase 3, see description, scroll down. The phases I see are marked by such things as gender swings and presence or absence of denial.
  • Transsexual, with salient issue of needing to be the other physical sex, as opposed to transgender or other non-binary variations—the need and doing all possible to actually be the other biological sex. Other identifications such as non-binary, “enby,” transgender, agender, neutrois, fluid…are certainly valued; I’m just asserting my own phenomenon in self-description. One could be a primary transgender without being a primary transsexual.


Intersex organizations have distanced from trans people—like most others in society—by defining intersex as something that is not trans, with characteristics common to both sexes from birth or developed naturally. In some cases I agree with them, but not in all cases. If the brain is part of the body—and I think it is—intersex should not be defined to exclude conditions such as mine. CAIS, for example, was always intersex even when we could not detect chromosomes.

I wonder about diethylstilbestrol (“DES”), a female hormone given to mothers in pregnancy, 1938-1971, to help prevent miscarriage. I was born in 1957. I don’t know, and I cannot find out if my mother was ever given it, small town in Kansas. But something caused this phenomenon in me—and focusing on gender issues won’t get there, because regardless of that political view, this is primarily a sex-related issue: sex identity, genitalia, sexual response as female. It’s about needing to be biologically female, though as yet impossible.

When the brain is no longer part of the body, I’ll stop thinking I’m intersex.


In my arisaid, traditional Scottish garment/dress, with “Ancient Weir” tartan, our family tartan. 2016. Joe and I got this in Inverness, and as his widow, the clan chief’s widow, I wear the broach on the left shoulder. To me, this is not a costume; it’s respect for my family history.

I was not into cross-dressing, though it was integral at transition. I note it’s very important in prior living for most trans people from Jenny Boylan to Caitlyn Jenner, but it wasn’t me. To me, the clothing simply is not an area of interest. At transition, at the age of 23 and thereabouts, I was skinnier than I am now, and that helped. I found some dresses that looked okay. But as I aged, my body filled out in ways I don’t prefer, so I don’t wear them any more, except my arisaid, perhaps, at a Renaissance Faire. It is bulky and hides my bad figure. I miss—not being able to be genuine, real, authentic to myself, falling short of my need to be biologically female, but my heart does not pine for dressing.

When I met Joe in 1989, he amazed me. I’ve always enjoyed flight, was already a pilot, in the 99s, and Joe’s life absorbed me. It was about taking aircraft to air shows, boating, learning how to fix the water heater whether I liked it or not, trying to survive hate crimes, going to doctors as he aged…and the more feminine fineries were never enculturated. You can see that in my book. As a result, I tend to dress “down”, without intent that it be down, per se, just not masculine where I can help it: a blouse, jeans, nothing fancy. I nearly always wear sneakers with orthotic inserts and a brace, because of my Ehlers-Danlos, hypermobility, which, unhappily, also make me about 1/2 inch taller. The Ehlers-Danlos also complicates my appearance, as I have an “ape index” of 1.6:1—long arms—greater than Michael Phelps, the Olympic swimmer, at his ape index of 1.5 per Scientific American. (I am also an outstanding swimmer, though I’m no athlete.) However bad my appearance may be, I do my best to overcome this as well as other natal male features of stature.

FWIW, I think I’m missing something, not into fineries, but if I consider them I disregard them yet again because I don’t have the figure for it. As a result, I’m usually just in jeans and some blouse. This view may also relate to my decades in transition, since 1981, how issues evolve through us over time.