Of Labels and Identities and Orientation

I have been a bloke who wears dresses almost longer than I can remember. For a half a century I went through countless periods of self-discovery and self-identification to try to put a name on who I am, but our language was woefully inadequate.

Crossdresser just didn’t fit right. Technically it is indeed what I do, but it carries with it the implication that I am trying to appear female. While I have no quarrel with those who do, I stopped even trying before I left university. I didn’t want to look like a girl; I only wanted to dress like one.

Transgender is also a miss (no pun intended). When I read of early pioneers like Christine Jorgenson and Renée Richards, I wondered if my compulsion was fueled by being “a woman trapped in a man’s body”. But again, after puzzling over the idea for a while, a sexually active girlfriend convinced me that I never wanted to stop having or using the dangly bits.

Gay (we had less polite terms when I was at university) was right out, for the same reasons that I did not want to become a woman: the old hormones got quite frisky in the arms of a lovely lady, and the young man who tried to get me to join his team only convinced me further that wasn’t the life for me.

Genderfluid, non-binary, and bigender (which I have been repeatedly told to stop pronouncing as “big-ender” and the like got me much closer to understanding that I did not fit nicely into the square hole of “female” nor the round hole of “male”… but again, terms like that convey a suggestion that I am not anchored to a specific gender identity. As I said, by this time I knew for certain I very much enjoy being a bloke and never want to change that. More power to the wonderful people who do take that path, but it’s still not for me.

Gender Non-Conforming – huzzah, finally a word that fits me from every direction. Whilst I am perfectly content being a bloke, I rebel against all the rules and restrictions that go with membership in that club. Ralph, we told you you can’t wear dresses. Ralph, if you’re going to cry at a romantic film at least have the decency not to do it in public. Ralph, man up and learn to kick a football. One more violation and we’ll take away your man card.

Well, fine. They may take away my man card, but they cannot take away my FREEEEEEEDOM!

About Ralph

Male. Straight. Married.
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