Hi. A while back, I was chronicling the life of a very confused individual. Gender, sexuality, and identity were all at war with each other for the control of two seemingly separate people sharing the same body. I couldn’t do it forever, and so the transition revealed itself. One by one, the walls fell - select coworkers, my poker game, my childhood friends, the hormone pills - I wasn’t two people and my gender was nothing to be ashamed of. People proved to be amazingly accepting and compassionate, until…

You’re too young.

It’s just a phase.

Are you doing this just to fit in?

I’d rather you have told me you’re gay.

Take anti-depressants instead.

You have a self-injury disorder.

You’re a freak.

You’ll never be a real woman.

You’re killing my son.

I can understand why a parent would be upset. Parents generally do want their kids to be healthy and “normal.” Parents generally don’t want their kids to be ostracized or at risk. Parents generally don’t want their kids to reject being the person they raised. But when a mother spews anger at her child, no one wins. There’s no enlightenment to be gained through hatred. I’m not second guessing my decision to go through transition, only my decision to be honest. Luckily, my father was much more sensitive. He said he felt a lot of anger, but reassured me that it was not me personally and just “the way things turned out.”

So now my parents know why I used to be so secretive. Did they really need to?

-Erin

Some three or so months ago, I began turning my gender-confused thoughts into gender-confused writing. I knew I liked being Erin more than being male, but was often very insecure and still frequently defaulted back to a male persona, mostly out of fear, for more mundane activities like helping a friend move or going to the pharmacy. I was in a relationship with a partner who ultimately had a hard time emotionally accepting that I had two separate identities. I knew that wasn’t true, but in my naïveté had allowed myself to fall into that trap. There’s a big difference between saying I’m Erin and acting, believing, or living that way, and I knew I had to change. My “adolescence” had really begun – less from “boy to girl” or “girl to woman” and more from “gender-confused to gender-enlightened.” I’m not there yet, but at least I know where I’m going.

Despite what some popular cults believe, going to a therapist has helped tremendously in helping me think more rationally about my gender and relationships. On my own accord, I changed my hair and makeup, and drastically changed my wardrobe and fashion sense. My feet and ankles thank me for wearing flats or lower heels most of the time now. The confidence boost helped get me over my fear of my own vocal cords, and now I’ve been called “ma’am” on the phone. It’s a work in progress like the rest of me, but it’s been the most dramatic, sudden change in me. With a new voice, look, and outlook, I didn’t have to fear conversations with strangers on the street anymore. I’ve struck up conversations over cute outfits with other shoppers and started going to (public) poker games at the local lesbian bar. Though I have a long way to go, I’ve started to feel like a whole person rather than a split personality or alter ego.

What’s next? My primary goals for the next year are to make my appearance fully “real.” Wigs and silicon bra inserts may help me pass better, but they sure as hell don’t make me feel better about my body. Finishing growing the hair on my head, removing the remaining hair from my face and body, and developing a feminine chest will enable me to move into an entirely new phase, one in which my body and its passability no longer have to be concern number one. I won’t have to hesitate when I say I’m a transgendered woman and a lesbian. Beyond that, just maybe I could finally start tying up some of my most tangled loose ends – my family life and professional life. Actually, let’s not think about that right now and just worry about next weekend’s women/trans/genderqueer BDSM party…

-Erin (Photo credit: Classically Absurd Photography)

Monogamy is really a sexist word, but it rolls off the tongue a bit easier than “monoandry,” so we’ll stick with it. It’s an ideal many of us aspire to, yet despite all the religious commandments and alimony payments dissuading us from having multiple sexual partners, yet we end up doing it anyway. Having multiple partners carries a stigma - you’re a slut, you’re a cheater, you’re dirty, and so on. Sure, there are some people who do not care whose emotions they screw with, and some who don’t care what diseases they spread. I’m not here to talk about them. They key word in any sexual activity is “consent.” It’s what separates love from violence, and cheating from enjoying an open relationship.

I’m not currently seeking monogamy. I’m 24 and have no plans on starting a family right now, so why limit myself? The past few people I’ve dated and my past couple relationships have all had either other partners or a desire for openness. Before entering into anything, we both have made sure we understand that our interest in each other is unaffected by any outside sexual encounters, and what (or who) we do when we’re not together has no effect on our interest in each other when we are together. With both of us consenting, it’s not cheating and it’s not hurtful. I want anyone I’m dating to enjoy their time, and not to worry whether I’d approve of it or not. Neither me nor my partners want to feel tied down, unless you mean that in a literal sense.

Open relationships are nice, but you’re probably thinking I want to have my cake and eat it too. There are downsides. None of these relationships have been the kind where I could live with my partner or see her every day. I’m not yet sure I could be that close to someone and still be able to leave the relationship open. It’s hard to get real close to someone under these arrangements, and that wears on me at times. Jealously occasionally makes an appearance. The other day, a partner (who has a husband and a girlfriend of her own) seemed a little surprised to hear that I had other sexual encounters (we talked about it for a minute and are fine). But, one relationship ended very abruptly when my girlfriend’s boyfriend became worried that I was the fun one. I was cut off without even a goodbye from her.

But, since I’m not about to settle down and buy a house with a white picket fence, the alternative would be dating nobody and waiting around for “the one.” I think this way is just a little more fun!

My sexuality is part of the reason I express my gender the way I do, yet I keep glossing over the topic every time it sneaks into my entries. Yes, I still like girls, so I’m trans and lesbian if you want some labels. Just as important as the gender of my partners is what we’re into - BDSM, which might be more commonly referred to as S&M. Here’s the short explanation of what this is: The term “BDSM” is an amalgam of Bondage/Discipline (tying people up), Dominance/Submission (power exchange), and Sadism/Masochism (pain or other unusual sensations). There’s plenty of definitions and Wikipedia entries out there, but those are so impersonal! My primary kink is bondage, but there’s a lot more under the BDSM umbrella that I enjoy.

Ever since I was a small child, I had a strange fascination with being tied up. I can thank numerous cartoon villains and their damsels in distress for this, but why it turned into a fetish is a bit more mysterious. Anyway, if there’s one thing I have a fetish (defined here as “something not innately sexual that turns you on”) for, it’s bondage, specifically rope bondage. I’m a switch, so I enjoy both the top and bottom. I like tying up my partner and being tied up, and seek partners that are just as into bondage as I am. While you’d think that’d really shrink my dating pool, it actually gives me another niche. There aren’t very many people out there that are actually good at tying someone up, and even fewer that so readily switch roles.

I don’t see bondage as something sadistic, though I’m guessing the average person probably wouldn’t enjoy being tied up and unable to move or escape. On the contrary, I see it as something very sensual - I’ve even had partners tell me they feel safe when I tie them up. It’s not so outlandish - giving complete physical control to a partner you trust can be quite comforting. With my partner in my control, I can give her any sensation I wish, from the pleasure of a vibrator to the sting of a riding crop to something exotic like electricity or ice. When you enjoy being tied up, all these sensations are heightened by your inability to move or avoid them. Of course, before a bondage scene, we both will have discussed what’s consensual and what’s not - the last thing I want to do to a bound partner is something she really doesn’t want done to her. As far as consensual sadism goes, the meanest thing I’ve ever done to someone doesn’t hurt at all. Tease your partner sexually, maybe with a vibrator, then take it away just as she’s really starting to enjoy it. Oh, she’ll be mad alright, but that’s why you tie her up first!

Long ago, I recognized how ridiculous it was to try so hard to become someone’s definition of the “perfect man.” Why then, do I currently have such a hard time telling myself that I’ll never be the perfect woman either? I’ve agonized over passing on here before, but the past few weeks, I’ve started to agonize less and simply pass more. Lately, I’ve developed a feminine voice, and no longer get called “sir” when I talk to people. My hair and boobs aren’t real (yet), but aren’t noticed without scrutiny, and I’m not that important to most people. It’s reached the point where passing isn’t enough, and I feel like I need to be a “real” woman, with all the right body parts and hormones and everything.

Why? I can’t answer that logically. Any reason I’m currently called a “man” now (height, shape of features) would still be present even if I took hormones and got sexual reassignment surgery. I don’t hate my body, and in the rather harsh words of a friend, “better to be a functioning boy than a defective girl.” Many people have told me that being both male and female, between genders, or however you want to say it is part of what’s appealing about me - it makes me “exotic.” One friend said she loves looking at women but needs the body of a man. Another (female) friend said that “a girl with a cock is the best kind.” If I moved out of the middle and became just a girl, I’d lose that appeal. I’d be just a girl, and one that some people acerbically consider “defective” at that.

So how do I stay in the middle, yet live in a binary world? Sure, I can call myself “genderqueer” and disown the terms “man” and “woman” or mix gender cues in my appearance. Due the human need for labels, that’s a little bit comforting. I can always cross-dress as a traditional male at work. I’m growing my hair long enough that I don’t need fake hair. My body and facial hair is already being lasered off. There are different drugs that mildly affect your hormones, and therefore could help me with my body image, without destroying sexual functionality. I seem to have a plan this, but have I just fallen into the trap of trying to become the “perfect androgyne?”

-Erin

As I last left off in this sequence, I had ventured out into the bdsm scene, cross-dressed for the first time, just started to question my identity. It was still probably more of a male identity then, since that’s what I was “supposed to be.” As a little aside, the only way I feel like I’m cross-dressing now is if I wear a polo, khakis, short hair, and go by a boy’s name. Anyway, back to questioning my identity. I had spent 22 years being the person I was supposed to be, and being in a new scene in a new place was my chance to start becoming the person I wanted to be.

My new identity needed a new name. I wanted something obscurely androgynous, and recalled how confused I was when my ex-girlfriend conflated the names “Erin” and “Aaron.” So, Erin it was! Apparently, there are men named Erin, including a linebacker for the University of Maryland’s football team. The “Houdini” part was just thrown at me after escaping various dominants’ attempts to tie me up. Erin Houdini will always be a pseudonym, as I’d never legally change my name to that, but I’d probably keep the Erin part.

At that point, a few weeks after coming out as a BDSM player, I basically had a separate identity for my sex life. I’m not terribly interested in separating my sexuality from the rest of myself, and that gradually began to tear at me. What also tore at me was my progressively more feminine demeanor and social role scraping against my rather masculine appearance. It wasn’t so much that I desperately wanted to be female, but more that it bothered me to be considered male. Call me a woman, call me a tranny, call me an androgyne, but I’ve just never felt like a “man.” I’ve long known that venturing away from masculinity would be good for me, but is the answer really to become a woman?

I had originally introduced myself to my neighbor as a male, and recently ended up re-introducing myself to her as a female. She was a little disappointed because she thought I was attractive as a male, but neither of us were uncomfortable or anything, and conversation went back to normal. However, she was a bit confused about why I’m going through so much trouble to become a girl if I have no interest in attracting boys. I don’t dress butch at all, and wearing a skirt out to a party is bound to attract a lot more male attention than female attention. Well, I at one point tried to take advantage of this.

I had a bi-curious phase where I played around with guys and even dated a guy for about a month. Once the novelty of it wore off, it hit a wall. The BDSM play was fun, but I wasn’t simply interested in physical or sexual intimacy with him. The logical conclusion was that I’m only into girls, with birth gender not making a difference. I will say that very few MtFs are physically attractive and feminine enough to interest me.

So, I’m left going out dressed femme and in search of a femme pseudo-lesbian partner. I guess it’s a niche, because there are counterparts out there for me. I met a wonderful girl the other night who described it to me along these lines. “The genders in the middle are the best ones. I enjoy looking at women and enjoy the company of a feminine lover, but something in me still really wants a male body.” I like being one of the genders in the middle, even if much of the world doesn’t want me to be there. I just wonder, that if I did “finish” my transition, if I’d lose my place in that little gender-bending niche and end up just another girl, much like I used to be just another boy.

-Erin

A while ago, I wrote about a childhood of repression and fetishism, my subsequent foray into vanilla manhood, and the failure of it all that sent my searching for myself in New York City. I was sidetracked by more current issues, but figured that tonight’s a good night to revisit my life story.

Upon moving to NYC, I had one last vanilla relationship that went nowhere before my curiosity with the BDSM scene returned. It was the summer of 2006 and I had nothing to lose, so I showed up alone at a small, now-defunct Brooklyn BDSM club. The direction of my life was moved irreversibly. It was the last night I would present myself as male (only), my first serious bondage scene, and my first experience with a male partner. As easy as it was to strip naked and let some guy I never met tie me up, it was strangely difficult to tell my new friends that I wanted to dress as a girl next time. Well, we all start somewhere.

Before I knew it, I had shaved my body for the first time and was being taken out shopping for women’s clothes. Extremely self-conscious and paranoid about my newfound lack of body hair and the fact that I was a boy shopping in the girl’s section, I managed to survive and bring home some fishnets and a miniskirt. Later on that week, I came out to a vanilla friend and she took me out to finish the outfit with a spaghetti strap top and stiletto heels. Looking back, I really didn’t do too bad, as I’ll still wear a similar outfit to fetish clubs when I’m not feeling like squeezing into a corset.

At that point, I was still just a cross-dressing boy with a kinky submissive side, but I had already started floating across the gender spectrum (and top/bottom spectrum for that matter). I knew I was somewhere in the middle of it all, and figuring it out wouldn’t be easy. Regardless of what would come next, I knew I needed a new identity…

Dating as a girl has been much better than it was for me as any other gender. I’m able to grab attention with my looks as well as my personality and talents, my appearance actually expresses my personality and interests, and nobody expects me to be a “man” anymore. I’ve had many great experiences - even sexual fantasies fullfilled - that I can attribute to switching to a more natural gender and expression of myself. However, things get predictably confusing at points.

Like many girls, I’m finding it somewhat difficult to build friendships with guys. Kindness and good intentions quickly turn into unwanted sexual advances. I’m a pseudo-lesbian, an anatomically atypical girl who likes other girls. In my male adolescence many years ago, I always found it completely baffling that girls couldn’t just say “no, I don’t want to go out with you.” Now in my female “adolescence,” I’m starting to understand the other side. It’s hard to reject people! I’m not mean, and it’s not easy telling someone who thinks I’m great that I essentially don’t want anything to do with them. I do it, since I neither have sexual interest in men nor dishonesty, but I always feel so bad doing it. It’s another thing to get used to, just like how I have to get used to being in male-dominated social spaces and not feeling like a lamb in the middle of a wolfpack.

While many people enjoy the idea of having sex with a trans girl, establishing relationships has proven much more difficult. Even very open-minded individuals tend towards mostly traditional, mostly monogamous, heterosexual (or homosexual) relationships. Where would I fit in? Would I be a girlfriend or boyfriend? What partner can really deal with the fact that I’ve only begun transition, haven’t started taking hormones, and work my day job as a male? I have no interest in a “heterosexual” relationship, yet my state of gender purgatory seems to preclude me from entering lesbian relationships. I hope it’s possible to find a niche here, lest I be prematurely be forced to pick a gender and stick to it. I’m not unhappy with my male half and somewhat like being a mixed-gender person, but can I fight the pressure to pick one or the other forever?

-Erin

Lots of girls like to go out feeling and looking sexy. I’m no different, so when I’m in the mood I’ll throw on a little blouse, knee-length skirt, and walkable heels. Of course, it’s silly to do this all the time. This is a mistake that many MtF’s make early on, myself included. It’s actually taken me a while to be secure in my femininity enough to go out dressed casually, but I’ve already found out that I pass a bit better wearing a knit top and jeans versus a more formal look. I look like a thousand other cute girls on the street, I’m not dressed up more than the person I’m going out with, and I don’t get all the extra attention that comes with dressing dressy. That extra attention, particularly male sexual attention, leads to scrutiny, which makes a few more people realize I’m not a biological female. It’s no wonder so many MtF’s dress down so much, or why many lesbian women dress down or dress androgynously.

A friend of mine claimed that skirts draw far more attention than cleavage, lipstick, or any other attention-seeking accessory. While I reminded her that her wearing black miniskirt pretty much announces to the world that she wants to get laid, she stood by her point. So, I decided to do my own little personal sociology experiment. I haven’t been going out as female that long and am still way too self conscious, so I’m always looking at the way people look at me. How would the looks differ between me wearing a skirt and me wearing jeans? Not only did I get far less looks wearing jeans, but by following people’s eyes, they definitely did little more than glance my way as if I was anybody on the street. Same in the pharmacy or supermarket. Wearing a skirt, I get checked out a lot more, even hit on, and it didn’t matter whether my skirt fell below my knees or above. This is probably incredibly obvious to everyone who’s lived a significant amount of time as female, but as someone going through gender transition, the difference was shocking. No matter how feminine I feel, I lose a lot of insight by being raised as a traditional male. I’m just happy my female friends have been so supportive through this.