Once I understood and accepted my propensity to cross-dress, I was determined to end the hypocrisy of hiding that part of myself from my loved ones. I had come out to my wife, sister and a few others with great success in early 1994. I wanted to tell my Mother, but she lived in a small Wisconsin town 1,700 miles away. It was crucial to do it in person and my chance came with a business conference in Chicago in June. I made arrangements to drive up to my Mom's house on Friday afternoon.
My Mom and I have had an excellent relationship for many years. Still, I was fearful of her response. I knew that I couldn't continue to live a lie any longer, yet I had heard enough stories to know that there was significant risk in telling. Much of the advice I had received from well-intentioned transvestites was to NEVER TELL ANYONE! Perhaps my greatest concern was her religious background. My Mom is an extraordinarily devout Catholic and attends Mass daily. I had never heard a sermon that preached tolerance towards cross-dressers so my anxiety level was high.
One thing I had learned in telling others is to take control of the situation rather than letting things happen by chance. So, after a great dinner of fresh lake perch I took advantage of a Wisconsin characteristic and my Mom's one small vice -- brandy. Most people think of Wisconsin as the beer-swilling capital but it's in the consumption of brandy where we are true professionals. In the evening Mom enjoys a brandy manhattan (2 parts brandy + 1 part sweet vermouth for the uninitiated) on the rocks.
My butterflies disappeared with the first drink and the beginnings of courage arrived with the second. Before the third arrived I thought I'd better start telling my story or risk losing the ability to speak rationally. "So Mom, I've got something I'd really like to tell you." I had developed a pattern of presenting a personalized letter to each person we were going to tell. It was designed to establish the desired context for the discussion. Here's a lightly edited version of the one I gave my Mom:
"Dear Mom,
"Over the years you have sent birthday and holiday cards that express the most wonderfully thoughtful sentiments. It makes me feel very good to know that you feel that way about me. I have always felt that we were very much alike with our softness and sensitivity. I like that part of me. Unfortunately, I was also insecure and uncertain and others often took advantage of me. So, far from being settled, life has been a long journey of exploring and finding out who I am and who I want to be.
"The big improvements started on Easter Sunday, 1980 when I first attended a new Church and with the help of many, began to discover my spiritual and emotional self. It was the beginning of a long journey to become all I am capable of being.
"Over the years I made great progress. Still, I continued to have difficulty with one area of my life. That one area is often viewed negatively by others so it was difficult for me to deal with it. Finally, on my 50th birthday, I determined that no matter how difficult the process might be, I was going to resolve it.
"My search turned out far better than I had ever envisioned. As a result I feel whole and complete for the first time in my life. My big questioning and searching is over. The best part is that I like the person I found inside myself.
"The attached poem is a way to tell my story in a simple way. What the poem says may surprise you, and it may take awhile to get used to, but it is all positive. I am glad to finally be able to share my feelings with you. We can talk about any parts that you are comfortable in doing.
"Mostly, I just want to say - I love you!
"Your son, Richard"
The poem that I shared with her is an outgrowth of trying to put my cross-dressing in perspective. Without the appropriate context it could appear to be the defining characteristic of my life. While I am a cross-dresser, I also have many other important aspects to my personality. Cross-dressing is just one aspect. I wrote the poem for myself but found it effective in communicating the whole me to others. Here's a copy of what I gave her.
Do you love me?
You know me as a person who has strong spiritual beliefs,
who loves his wife and is committed to his marriage,
who values family and friends, and
who feels that being a grandfather is one of the greatest
experiences of life.
You know me as a person who loves children and childlike
things,
who is sensitive, caring and compassionate,
who believes in personal responsibility, and
who is committed to working hard and doing a good job.
You know me as a person who enjoys good food and fine wines
(plus beer, pizza and ice cream),
who brings humor to the workplace and elsewhere,
who works at physical conditioning and enjoys long distance
running,
and who loves animals, especially cats.
You know me as a person who is discovering a love for
theater and the arts,
who is learning to express his enjoyment of decorating,
colors, fabrics and textures,
who wants to be accepted and loved just as he is,
so, do you love me?
What if I take a chance and become vulnerable and disclose
my story;
will you still love me?
What if society does not accept part of me, but I do;
will you still love me?
What if I need to expose the truth about me to be at peace
inside;
will you still love me?
What if I told you that I like to shave my legs and wear a
skirt;
will you still love me?
As I handed the poem to her, she started reading and I stopped breathing. At the end she put the paper down and said, "Of course I love you. I don't understand all this, but I love you." She asked a few questions and we talked for about a half hour. Finally she stopped and asked me to follow her into her bedroom. She opened her jewelry box and asked if there was anything I wanted for myself. I was thrilled with her response. I took a necklace plus a locket with my grandparents' pictures inside. Then she opened her closet and asked if I wanted any clothes. I laughed and said, "Mom, we're not anywhere close to the same size but THANK YOU!" We hugged and all was right in my world. No more manhattans were required.
That's my story.
What's the best way to start coming out of your closet?
