dolari | Oct. 17th, 2011

Oct. 17th, 2011

Looks like I will be changing the "Growing Up Trans" stories, which were supposed to be about my growing up trans (duh), to a new format. "The Girl in the Mirror" will be a more trans-specific autobiography up to about 2000 or 2005. I'll keep writin' 'em if you keep readin' em.

You know...I don't hardly ever dress up nice anymore. But when I do, I always ALWAYS wear tights. Just a little something for the Growing Up Trans readers out there. ;)

Growing up Trans - Entering a Whole New World.

Growing Up Trans - High School, Year 4.

Growing Up Trans Chapters:
Preschool - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238402.html
Elementary School - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238626.html
The Nightmare of Fifth Grade (NSFW, and a bit TMI) - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238939.html
Middle School - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239155.html
High school - Year 1 & 2 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239578.html
High school - Year 3 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2240215.html
High school - Year 4 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2241302.html

I wanted to move out to begin The Plan as soon as I could. My parents were more interested in getting me into college. But we both agreed on one aspect of The Plan (even though I'd never told them what that plan was) - therapy.

I'd already seen a therapist once, who pinged that there were some kind of gender issues going on. But my own secrecy kept him from going any farther. Secrecy was no longer an issue, so I agreed with them to see a therapist. My dad sent me to a VA therapist (Dad being a Vietnam War veteran). Ho boy.

That second therapist had no idea what to do with me. Not a single thing. I gotta give him credit - he tried. He really tried. But he seemed seriously wierded out by the situation, and incredibly embarassed by it. After a few sessions, he said "You're probably a good candidate for all this...why don't you go to some of these support groups for more help?" That was the last time I saw him - but he'd given me a ton of gold: Other People Like Me.

Or, at least, close to what I was.

I called every single support group that next day. To be fair, the VA therapist gave me every support group he could find. Sadly, he didn't research them very well, and gave me contact info to some very ::cough:: uniquely specialized groups. But one of them looked promising: The Boulton and Park Society.

It was about this time I'd finally met Amy in real life - she wanted to keep our relationship on the phone, versus in real life. I'm not sure why, but considering how much we shared, I'd assume that it was easier to be as close as we were to a semi anonymous someone "out there." I know it helped me, as she was one of the first people I came out to.

Between Amy, Steph, Angie and JD: All four were giving me an education in what it was to be a girl, by simply being one around me. But there was more, as well. All four had different attitudes - Steph was a a bit of a punk, but in touch with her femininity. Amy was grunge, and an activist as well. Angie was a fashion plate and a southern belle. JD was practical, and a survivor. Between all four of them, and my own attitudes and geekiness, I was becoming a rather well rounded young woman. In education if not actual curves.

From Amy I learned it was okay for girls to be independent and bold, and be proud of it. From Steph, I learned that not every girl was a dainty princess having tea with the queen, but that it was okay to smell a rose every so often. From Angie, I learned that women were sensual creatures in ways men weren't. JD taught me that you did what you had to do, male or female, to survive because life won't always be on your side.

That education and self-identification would definitely come into play in the support group. Mainly because, as it turned out, most of the people in the support group, while helping me tremendously, weren't really the same flavor of transgender that I was.

I contacted most of the support groups weeks before I hit 18, making me a minor. Most didn't want a thing to do with me, because of that, and (as I found out later) because I could get them in serious trouble considering the subject matter of their support.

But one did get back to me, in a very very carefully worded letter (I'd given them my contact info) saying that they would love to help me, but couldn't as I was a minor. The were clear that this wasn't a rejection, but to contact them again when I was 18.
On my 18th birthday I was given two gifts.

The first gift was from Angie. My parents were both working that evening (my birthdays were always "time-shifted" to the nearest date we could all have days off of school and work, so don't feel bad - this was always normal to me). Steph had attempted to teach me how to do makeup, but there are subtleties and techniques that I still don't have any idea how to do. Eventually, makeup boiled down to "Is your perpetual five o clock shadow hidden? Great, put on some eye shadow and let's go!" Even now, when I wear make up, it's just to even my skin out - and I almost never wear make up anymore.

But Angie was a model. She knew makeup inside and out, she could manage my hair easily, and knew what stripes flatter and what patterns don't. For my birthday, she raided my sister's wardrobe (sorry, sis!) and put me into a stunning, and yet not girly-girl, outfit. She then took me into my room, where there were no mirrors, and proceeded to do my hair and makeup. I wasn't allowed to look this entire time - she wanted it to be a surprise.

When I was done, she led me into the bathroom with my eyes closed and told me to look in the mirror.

http://www.dolari.net/cs/5.htm is the comic version of that scene in my life. It wasn't as comedic, and I knew hairspray already burned your eyes, but those last two panels are almost word for word what happened that evening.

Steph had taken me out, but usually to isolated dark places because I was scared, like movies. Amy took me to dance clubs, or to dinner. But Angie took me out on the town that night - and no one was any the wiser, as long as I kept my mouth shut. It was exhilarating. I was a girl having a good time - and I was feeling like ME.

The second gift was an interview with Boulton and Park heads Tere Frederickson and Linda Phillips. True to their word, the minute I hit 18, they were ready to help. I was late, though, because I heard "Taco Bell" instead of "Taco Cabana." Yeah, the call made me nervous...

The meeting went well - and Tere and Linda were my first face-to-face encounters with other transgender people. For ten years, I'd wanted to meet other people like myself, and there they were. And while I was presenting male for the meeting (I was snooping under my mother's nose), they called me Jennifer, she and her the entire time. By the end, I was just kind of gushing euphoria.

The meeting was to make sure I wasn't some kind of crazy person, but I turned out to be just the kind of crazy person they accepted in their group. I had a handful of brochures, and the super secret meeting place they'd be meeting next week.

Again, we weren't as visible in the early 90s, as we are now, and support groups were few and far between. Not to mention, this was San Antonio, in south Texas. The deeply rooted Mexican culture frowned on jumping gender lines. Often violently. But there were national groups - and Boulton & Park were members of the Tri-Ess national support group.

I know some of you transfolk are groaning at hearing that they were affiliated with Tri-Ess, just bear with me here.

Tri-Ess, for those who don't know, are the Society for the Second Self, a group that helps crossdressers and transvestites by giving them a place where they can be themselves, as women. But they specialize specifically in crossdressers and transvestites. While I don't know what Tri-Ess is up to these days, at the time, they specifically discouraged sexual reassignment surgery in their (frankly fearmongering) brochures. I wasn't sure this was the place for me...

...however, affiliation doesn't mean strict adherence to the rules. There weren't very many people in San Antonio who were out, even privately, about being trans for fear of violence. That meant B&P couldn't get many members if they just catered to crossdressers and transvestites. So they opened it up to the whole transgender spectrum. This included transsexual folk like myself.

My first meeting, I noticed I was very different from the rest, and I quickly realized that opening it up to the full spectrum didn't mean there'd be many transsexuals there. Or...really...any. I was dressed in a some olive patterend jeans, sneakers a balck t-shirt and a black loose knitted sweater. One of the outfits Steph gave me. In a pile on the floor were a million sets of stiletto heels and people dressed to the nines. I began feeling a bit underdressed. I also noticed that same gender segregation - genetic women (I know some people hate that term, but for better or worse, this is where I got my transgender education) on one side, and the transgendered women on the other.

I wasn't sure what to think of this quite yet. So I kinda remained a wallflower for most of the first meeting, taking it all in. It took some time, but one of the others, a crossdresser named Sable, broke the ice by asking me about my sketch book, something that would become very important later.

As soon as we started talking more and more people came to me, and once Linda and Tere showed up, I began feeling like part of the group. I walked out of that meeting with a smile, and a confident feeling that this was something I could do.

And the gummi bear earrings Sable bought me helped, too.

They weren't "my people." But they were very close cousins, and more than willing to help out.

Which was great, because more and more, Mom was getting less and less pleased where this was all heading.

Thing I'm going to stop the Girl in the Mirror/Growing up Trans posts at 2007. Too many strong emotions attatched to anything newer. I'd like some distance and time so it can remain objectivish. I'll update it every few years...kinda like AWFW!

Rereading these posts. Lots of dangling threads and repeated information. Will need to comb through it and rewrite it. NaNoWriMo material?

Growing Up Trans Chapters:
Preschool - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238402.html
Elementary School - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238626.html
The Nightmare of Fifth Grade (NSFW, and a bit TMI) - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238939.html
Middle School - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239155.html
High school - Year 1 & 2 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239578.html
High school - Year 3 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2240215.html
High school - Year 4 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2241302.html
Opening up to a Whole New World -Growing Up Trans Chapters:

Mom was very unhappy about these support group meetings, and I used the pretense of visiting Steph to go to them. This wasn't totally unrtue...Steph was often coming with me. Occasionally Amy, as well. When netiher came, Steph allowed me to use her place as a way-station (as Angie and I had had a falling out at this point). This worked pretty well until mom caught on about a year later.

So for the next year or so, I was going to the Boulton and Park support group meetings, often bringing Steph or Amy with me. The support group kinda undid some of Steph and Amy's work though, as I tended to dress a little more (as Amy called it) "Frou-Frou." I'd also begun shopping for my own clothes as a "BeBe's Boutique" which specialized in big and tall women's clothing...if you know what I mean ::winkwink nudgenudge::

I also have zero fashion sense - something that still haunts me to this day - so I always erred on the side of frou-frou myself. I wasn't too hot at dressing myself, and there were times when I knew Amy and Steph wanted to strangle me and my fashion choices.

But I was learning so much from the group at the same time. How to interact with society without being too obvious, tips for trying to get under the radar of prying eyes, how to pass as best you could. Linda sold Mary Kay to a captive audience, they had seminars, and the Texas T Party, which was a giant trans convention, right in my hometown.

There was one piece of advice repeatedly told to me, though. "You need to move out of that house, if you're going to go anywhere." Something I didn't heed soon enough.

While I didn't take part it in it, one of the things they did, which I thought was freaking amazing, was that as part of the convention, the group would negotiate with clothing and accessories stores, and have them shut down for a day. Then, anyone who signed up had a whole tour of stores to themselves, without any fear of laughs or judging, to buy whatever they wanted in privacy. Pretty damned cool if you ask me.

And I began drawing comics for the group newsletter, a little series called "A Different Perspective." This wasn't really the first time I'd ever been published for an audience larger than 2, but also the very first appearances of the Closetspace incarnation of Carrie and Allison (As Allyson and Carrie). And Irving. Yes. Irving.

You can read the entire run of A Different Perspective here: http://www.dolari.net/html/adiffere.htm
Carrie and Allison's first appearance: http://www.dolari.net/html/adiffer4.htm

And then there's Irving.

Irving, and the comic he's in, takes some explaining.

One thing Boulton and Park did at midnight during their meetings was cook and serve up a gigantic three foot kiolbasa sausage. Really. It was really a lot of fun, tasty, and just a chance to cap off the night before we all went home. But some of the other support groups in the area were getting rumors and gossips that we were having some sort of symbolic invokation, or that this tasty ritual was more ritual than tasty.
''
So Tere and Linda asked me to make a comic explaining what we did. 'Cause sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Over the next four months of strips, I did everything BUT explain the sausage dinner with our new pal, Irving the Three Foot Talking Sausage.

Irving's first appearance: http://www.dolari.net/html/adiffer5.htm

And now you the somewhat-but-not-really humble origins of Closetspace.

I signed up to be an usher at the first T-Party that would have gone on during my year there, but things fell apart very quickly at the end of that first year.

DISCLAIMER: If there's anything I've learned from this retrospective, it's that people change. Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. The actions described here, including my own, are of people who lived in the early 90s. These are not the same people who exist twenty years later.

I didn't expect these posts to turn into an auto-biography, and had hoped to gloss over some of the things going on in my family at the time. We're currently all on very good, if physically distant, terms right now.

But, as much as I'd like to let sleeping dogs lie, the next few years were a very big tug-of-war between my mother and I. I'm going to try to keep it to just the major issues, keep it simple, objective, and try not to put a spin on it. It's all in the past, and there's no bearing on the present.

My last group meeting was a bit of a disaster. By this time Stephanie was married, and had a little girl. She would still cover for me when going to the therapy meetings, but this last time needed to be different. She and her husband wanted a night on their own. So they offered me their patio to change in, which I did, and sent me on my way.

While I was out, my mother called Steph, asking to speak with me. She covered with by saying I was out getting ice. And then Steph called Linda's house, where this meeting was taking place. Now this was before cellphones and instant internet. So I did what any save 18 year old with an stern mother would do.

I tore out of there like a bat out of hell.

That was my last B&P meeting. I called her from Steph's house, she told me she wanted to talk, and I ruined Steph and Walt's nice night, but using their shower to get out of my regalia and back into street clothes.

There was a long talk about my future that night. About how this crossdressing thing needed to stop, and I needed to stop wasting time and get into college. There were....words. Many words. I started with "Jobs" and "My own Place." Hers were "College" and "Stop Dressing." One of which was another "T" word - therapy.

The Plan had called for me to move as soon as possible, that needed a job. But mom was insistent that I stay under her roof, and go to college. I felt she was also trying to keep me under her watch, somethign I was feeling more and more of ever since my secret was revealed.

So, with the last help of Boulton and Park, I got in touch with another psychotherapist, this one who specialized in gender issues, and was appearantly covered under my mother's insurance.

While he specialized in gender issues, I got the distinct impression he was going to be hostile. His attitude was "If I determine you're good for this, I will be your pharmacist, and I will be your surgery-letter-writer. If I don't, you will not get it." Most of the sessions weren't pleasant, but aggressive without actually being angering. After about six months of this, he said "You know. You're a good candidate for hormones. But because of the current political climate, I'm moving to another state where the practice is better." I was crushed, and never saw him again.

I'd gotten a job at a comic store right after I'd graduated school, in hopes I could move out as part of the plan, but I'd lost it about a year later. So, I dutifully enrolled in college. And who was already there, but Amy. We spent a lot of time together, which I enjoyed as (between the ever watchful eyes, and Steph raising her new family) my dressing time all but shriveled up.

At least I had my friends, but the tensions of not being a woman were starting to grate. I needed an outlet. And I got a very very good one. And a very very bad one.

Growing Up Trans Chapters:
Preschool - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238402.html
Elementary School - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238626.html
The Nightmare of Fifth Grade (NSFW, and a bit TMI) - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238939.html
Middle School - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239155.html
High school - Year 1 & 2 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239578.html
High school - Year 3 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2240215.html
High school - Year 4 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2241302.html
Opening up to a Whole New World - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2242118.html
The Boulton and Park Society - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2243005.html

The following segment may contain some material people find disturbing. Not gross disturbing, or scary disturbing, but emotionally wrenching. I'd suggest reading this when you're mentally prepared for a not so happy ending. It's a point in my life where the path I was going down irrevocably changed.

So strap in, it's gonna be a bumpy ride

I'd decided to try and halve my time between work and school. I'd already done some work at the comics store before I was let go. What better time to take a semester of college. Once done with that, I'd take another half year of work, then back to college. Working towards The Plan, while still appeasing my parents who were pushing hard for college.

Don't get me wrong, college is a good thing, I'm all for college. But I wanted to get my self down the path towards having my hormones as surgery - college could come later. But as long as I was living in that house, I was going to go to college. And I couldn't get out of the house till I did. The only way out is through.

My first semester was pretty standard with the exception of one class - the lowest level of algebra I could take. I don't math. I can write a five page term paper ten minutes before it's due. Try to solve 1+2=X, and you'll get 12. In short - I did very well that year, but failed alegbra. I was put on academic probation.

And that was the end of that semester's college classes. That was it. It was easy, except for math, and I sailed through. No biggie.

What was really going on was behind the scenes. Being a college student, meant having access to the colleges computer lab. And this not-so-brand-new, but not yet popularized, invention - the Internet. The web wasn't exactly invented yet, but was available at my college shortly after I started. Suddenly, I had access instant access to the world.

And none of them knew who the person on the keyboard was.

The other major point in my life involved a little something called Street Fighter II.

Steph's sisters were beginning to graduate from college, and they were brought in on me being a woman. They took right to it as well, and we all became very close. Hattie lent me a Super NES game to try, Street Fighter II. I don't think I saw the sun for several weeks after that. I bravely guided beautiful interpol agent Chun Li on a deadly quest for revenge against the evil M. Bison.

Over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

And Street Fighter was the gateway drug. Cause there was Mortal Kombat's Sonya Blade. She managed to escape Shang Tsung's island repeatedly. Then came not just Kitana, but Mileena in Mortal Kombat 2. And Orchid in Killer Instinct. And Yuri Sakazaki and Mai Shiranui of King of Fighters. I couldn't be a woman at home, but I could be one on the Super Nintendo.

And I could be one on the internet. I had a sign on - I could name it whatever I wanted. But what?

A few years earlier, I'd pushed my way through the Adventure of Link. When it started, it wanted a name to put in. Zelda and Link seemed just kinda obvious. I wanted something that matched the feel of the game, something elfy sounding, but cool. And I remembered a character in an episode of Doctor Who - a woman who was actually a savage, genetically altered to become a gentile high class woman. That was kinda me. So I took her name - Dolari. Punched it into the Legend of Link game. Eventually It turned into my logins for everything electronic. Right up to today's www.dolari.net .

Jenn was becoming my de facto name with all my friends. I was still torn - Jenn was always the ideal woman I wanted to be. Marlene was who I really was. I still waffled over the names in my head. But I'd come out to everyone as Jenn in highschool , and went by Jenn at this point.

My new internet name? Jenn Dolari. Pleestameetcha.

Thing is - I was way wrong about that name. That character from Dr. Who wasn't Dolari. It was Dastari. And Dastari wasn't the genteel woman, but a mad scientist in the same episode. The woman's name was actually Chessene. So I could have been Jenn Dastari. Or Jenn Chessene. Or even Marlene Dolari/Dastari/Chessene.

Glad I went with Dolari.

So, on the internet, I became Jenn Dolari. With the web not being popular just yet, our main news sources were Usenet newsgroups. So now I had a place where I could be a woman, and no one would know I wasn't, talking about games where I could play as a woman. And talk about this as a woman. It was shangrila.

And the beginnings of a big big problem.

With the semester over, I skeetered around for a semester looking for work - I didn't find any, sadly, and spent most of time driving Amy to and from school so we could spend time together. And so I could crib her computer time she wasn't using when she was in class. As I wasn't able to be a woman at home anymore, the internet and games became my only outlet, and eventually more important than anything else.

Even before my semester vacation ended, it was leading to embarassing situations. Losing, added to my horrible temper, and not being able to keep playing as a woman led to me becoming unbalanced. I'd horribly embarassed Steph in one in front of her friends, which I still feel terrible about to this day. I threw things. I pounded walls. It wasn't pretty.

Allison's video game addiction in Closetspace is an echo of these years. While I wasn't as obsessed with one specific game as she was, I was reaching out and trying anything and everything to get a quick taste of being a woman, one way or another. I became prolific on alt.games.mk and alt.games.sf2 - more posts meant more people responded meant more people knew me as a woman.

But it wasn't enough. The internet was good and all, games were good and all, but with Steph having a family and not being able to take me in to be female, or go out as much, and my family constantly around me not wanting me to be female. I began to get unbalanced and severely depressed.

More games, more internet. That was the obvious solution. It also didn't help that the local arcade chain, Diversions, opened a branch within walking distance of the house.

I started a part time job as well, trying to make up for cash I didn't get in my semester off. The boss I had was one of the most abusive manipulative con men I've ever encountered in my life. His whole business model was "Buy Crap, Sell Cheap, Sell Lots. Rip retailers off." His abuse hurt. Especially as I was already hurting from lack of time to be a woman, I began a downward spiral.

More games, more internet. Again, the obvious solution. I can be a woman here.

I signed up for my second semester of college - I was under academic probation due to the failed alegbra class. I re-signed up for it again, to hope I could just get this one credit over with and on with my academic career. I went to a few classes, then found out there was an SF2 machine in the University Lounge. Suddenly, I couldn't go to class, cause I was on the Sagat Stage and there was only one more to beat M Bison. I began to miss classes and assignments. My grades were plummeting.

More games, more internet. Again, the obvious solution. I can be a woman here.

I stopped going to classes period - the parking was too far away from the building, Diversions was just a few blocks away, I couldn't understand the algebra teacher anyways, my boss wanted me to work early.

More games, more internet. Again, the obvious solution. I can be a woman here.

Haven't seen Steph, where's Amy, boss yelling at me again, cant get away from home.

More games, more internet. Again, the obvious solution. I can be a woman here.

Amy mad at me, boss making me pour toxic chemicals in a storm drain, failing all my classes.

More games, more internet. Again, the obvious solution. I can be a woman here.

( Jan 9th, 1995, possibly triggering )

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Jenn Dolari

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Page Summary

Growing Up Trans - High School, Year 4.
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Growing up Trans - Opening Up To a Whole New World
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Growing up Trans - The Boulton and Park Society.
Growing Up Trans - The Birth of Jenn Dolari

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