![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolariGrowing 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.
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.
