Wrote this in response to a discussion elsewhere, and once again I liked it so much I had to share it here. The discussion was about crossdressers who do not consider themselves sissies.
There is such a wide range of motivations for crossdressers, and the way we view ourselves. What exactly makes one a “sissy”? Some would say simply wanting to wear anything but (men’s) pants and (men’s) shirts is enough to brand you as a sissy. To others, “sissy” is a loaded word that carries the weight of a large chunk of the fetish community — if I wear a tasteful velvet evening gown, conservative pantyhose, natural looking makeup, etc. I’m no sissy but if I wear childish puffy dresses and bloomers and Mary Janes then I am. To others it may be a difference in personality — what you wear doesn’t make you a sissy, even if it’s the poofy petticoats etc., but if you *act* childish and submissive, you’re a sissy. Still others would say you’re only a sissy if you want to engage in physical intimacy with a man while you are dressed as a woman.
Me, I don’t consider myself at all female. I don’t do the bras, breast forms, makeup, wig, or even shoes; I don’t use a female name when I’m dressed and I sure as anything don’t want so much as a warm smile from a man. I don’t get into the Lolita outfit thing (*sigh* once again, “not that there’s anything wrong with that”) or use baby talk or want to be ordered around by a domineering woman.
And yet… I cry at romantic comedies. I *do* prefer the soft touch of satin on my skin instead of the rough scrape of cotton and denim. I love sappy Hollywood musicals and I know far too many show tunes which I sing with gusto. I’m physically weak, no good at all at any sports, and I love roleplay and costuming more than pretty much all of my male friends combined. I’m nurturing and conciliatory and back away (run away) from fights. I often cross my legs the “girly” way when I sit.
And yet… I’m embarrassingly hypercompetitive with games that I play well. I have little patience for people who become immobile just because of a little pain. Cowboy up and get back in the game! I love violent first-person-shooter games. I’m prone to crude jokes, I scratch myself in public, pick my nose when I think nobody’s looking, and laugh along with my son at mindless action adventure movies with lots of explosions. I rarely shave, don’t brush my teeth nearly often enough, and almost never comb my shaggy hair. Even if it were socially acceptable to wear dresses in public I probably wouldn’t because I have no sense of style at all. I dress for my own comfort, and as a result I lurch around the house in ill-fitting satins that are baggy in some places and stretched hopelessly tight in others. Even if I were a woman, I’d be the main feature on the “People of Wal-Mart” picture site because of the horribly sloppy way I dress.
Most of the folks here would probably not consider me a sissy. The rest of the world? I was doomed to sissyhood the first time I ducked from fear of a softball flying towards my face.