7:21 a.m. - Saturday, Jul. 13, 2002
Ms Leslie Learns to Take a Compliment
Goodsandwich threw me for a loop when she wrote in my guestbook:

�O Ms Leslie, you are the most fabulous woman ever�.

I can�t handle that. It throws me into a seizure of self-doubt and guilt. The self-doubt, comes perhaps from the sudden shift from a world where I struggle to accept and defend my own identity as a woman to a new world where some few others truly relate to me as such and couldn�t really imagine me as a male. This is happening here online, but also in the face to face reality of my everyday life. �Be careful what you wish for�, they say, �For you might just get it�. After all this time, I am getting what I�ve wished for, and it startles me. I�m programmed to believe I don�t deserve it. Something inside me has learned to need denial and rejection by others. More than that� it seems that I�m willing to save everyone the trouble by dealing out a full measure of denial and rejection to myself.

So when Goodsandwich calls me a fabulous woman.. indeed when she calls me a woman at all, then I automatically raise my defenses. How can she say I�m a woman? DO I really deserve to be accepted and thought of as a woman? Or am I at best, a deluded imposter; skimming the sweet cream of femininity from the top of an experience that�s overall a very difficult and sometimes degrading one?

How can I claim to be a woman when I�ve never had menstrual cramps? How can I relate to pregnancy and childbirth? Do I really have a female perspective when I live in a world where all the tools, care, counters, stairways, ladders, and indeed, all the hardware in life is designed to match the size and strength of a man? Will I ever be truly a woman before I�ve had to seek out a man and beg him to open a jar of stinking pickles, and then stand by while he makes a show of how easy it is?

Maybe.

I spent all day yesterday letting this run through my mind. I wrote a long entry for the day and then immediately deleted it. I needed to spend some time on this. Here�s my conclusion so far:

I can�t claim all the experiences of being a woman. I�ve missed out on so much. I�ll never be able to change my biology to be more than an external physical approximation of a woman. I know that. And I�ll never be able to change my history as a guy. I�ll never sit in my daddy�s lap, or have a slumber party. With luck, I�ll learn how to care for myself as a woman� but forty years late. As I commence my life as a woman, I�m at best a clumsy and ignorant one� and I�m vulnerable to all the Springer-esque taunts I hear from the audiences on TV. �You�re a MAN! You�re a MAN! You�re a MAN!�

But.. although I can�t claim the exact experiences that come from being a woman, I can claim parity. I can answer some who might say I�ve not paid my dues as a woman. I think I have.

I never had cramps, but I�m having electrolysis on my face. Here�s an experiment: Get a rubber band and stretch it tightly. Then snap it against your upper lip, just under your nostrils. Now repeat that once every six seconds for an hour and multiply by 150. That�s where I am now. Twice weekly I submit myself to an hour of pain in order to present a smooth face to you, the public. I�m claiming parity for that.

I�ve never experienced childbirth. What could I know about pain? Well, I think I can relate. I�ve felt my thigh shattered by a bullet. I�ll stack that up against childbirth. And I�ll compare my half year with my leg pinned in traction and another half year in a cast from my chest to my left toes with the nine months of misery that must accrue to carrying a child. These injuries of mine, you see, come as a result of my struggles to deny and hide my lack of masculine feelings. For my troubles, I got the pain, but was denied the joy, of bearing a child. I promise you, no woman can ever say to me with authority that as a man, I can�t understand pain. Parity baby.

And as for all the combined experiences that make a �true� woman, I can say that because of my stature and the (blush) size of my penis, I�ve always been at the lower margin of masculinity. Just a little too big and a little too strong to be seen as a woman, and a little too small and a little too weak to be a convincing man. Women, disadvantaged and uncomfortable in a man�s world, have at least had a refuge in the world of femininity. I�ve not been able to fit into either world. I was never fully accepted as a guy. I had to fight as hard as I could for recognition. And although women have always liked me, they never could completely trust me and accept me as a peer. I had a mustache, after all, and the disturbing possibility was always there that I might just want to cop a feel. Again� my world has been at least as difficult as that of a genetic woman. Not easier, not harder, just different.

And so, in the end, I can accept Goodsandwich�s flattery in the spirit it was given. Oh no� I�m not the MOST fabulous woman ever. That�s just hyperbole on her part. But I AM fabulous. I am a fabulous, special and unique woman. I�m not a woman by choice, but instead because I�ve chosen NOT to try to masquerade as a man any longer. It doesn�t take courage to be born female. All it takes a roll of the cosmic dice. But it does take courage to live a woman�s life. It takes courage and strength, intelligence and wisdom. Those qualities, to one degree or another, are passed from mother to daughter and from friend to friend. I take my place beside my sisters largely without benefit of those qualities or experiences, but I take it proudly nevertheless. I hope I can catch up. I hope I�m up to the task of living� and I�m trusting that the women in my life will help me.

The whole thing reminds me of what I say to the natural southerner who remarks on my yankee accent:

�Sure, I wasn�t born in the south, but I got here as quick as I could�

Be patient with me ladies�. I�m becoming myself as quickly as I can too.

PS�� by the way guys, please don�t think for a minute that I don�t recognize how incredibly difficult it is to be a guy. It�s one of the few blessings of being who I am. I get to see both sides. Being a guy takes tremendous strength and courage too. It�s an overwhelming thing. My hat�s off to you. We do need you, and we love you. You change the world.

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