January 27, 2012 § 9 Comments
The other side to the issue of compliments is giving, of course. I realized today that when cross-dressed I am much less likely to give a woman I don’t know a compliment. I become hyper self-aware and worry that a comment about someone’s amazing heels might lose its value when given by a transvestite.
This is a big issue, and one I think worth consideration.
Comparisons with transvestites are often used as insults to women. When their performance of femininity is judged to be a bit over the top, they are compared to those for whom femininity is not innate.
Of course, gender-warriors* such as myself often really dig women who rock an unnatural look. False eyelashes and towering heels are the stock look for girls on the town at the moment, and I am convinced it’s a look that has come from the tranny scene, via gay stylists. “Girlfriend, you look fierce” is not a heteronormative phrase.
So when today on my travels I saw a beautiful pair of spikey knee-high boots, I held back from expressing my admiration on case she then wrote them off as the sort of thing a tranny would admire.
Which is a shame, I think.
June 1, 2011 § 2 Comments
Here’s a telly thing I just did. I talk about cross-dressing a bit.
I also finished the article I was asked to write about ‘Why I Cross Dress’ for the Edinburgh Evening Mail. I think it came out pretty well. Here it is:
Right. Let’s get some stuff out the way. I’m not a drag act. I am a stand-up comic and a metalhead and am much more likely to sing Hammer Smashed Face by Cannibal Corpse than I Am What I Am (by whoever the hell wrote that).
I am not gay. Nothing against that sort of thing, I just don’t fancy men, which makes being gay really difficult. I’d be rubbish at it. I’d just let people down.
So why the cross-dressing? Well, it feels right, it’s a lot more fun than restricting myself to the boundaries of gender outlined by society, women dig it, homophobic men hate it, and I get to play with make-up.
There may well be complex psychological reasons behind my drive to dress in a feminine way. Upbringing, the influence of the girls I played with as a young child, an undue impact of the video for I Want To Break Free by Queen.
Whatever the underlying reasons, I’ve never been fond of rules, and the rules governing what’s appropriate clothing for my gender are my least favourite. For me it’s not a big deal. It only becomes one when other people make it a big deal.
Appropriately enough, in the Land Of The Kilt I actually get considerably less grief for wearing a skirt than I do in strictly-betrousered England. My kilt is actually the least feminine item of clothing I own. And I’ve got three Slayer shirts.
I don’t try to pass for female, because I can’t. I have an adam’s apple that makes it look like I’m trying to swallow a crow. I cause confusion when asking for toilets (a flustered security guy in a bar once stammered “Er… Gents is that way, ladies is that way!”) but ultimately I think I manage to pull it off, look pretty hot on a good day and I get to enjoy shopping in a way that most straight men never will.
Brilliant. I got through all of that without mentioning Eddie Izzard once…