Allison M.

A crossdresser's thoughts on life, fashion, fabulousness, and (oh yeah) dressing up


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Random personal stuff (6/9/2019 edition)

6-7-2019 738-31pmYep, that’s me taking that selfie.  This past Friday night, I dolled myself up, put on this brand new pride-themed shirt I found at Ragstock, and went to Mother Fools for their monthly poetry performance.  I hadn’t been there since doing some semi-freeform spoken-word stuff last December, and hadn’t been a part of their first-Friday-of-the-month poetry events in well over a year.  I hadn’t been there for various reasons, including my job search last summer, just feeling dog-tired from the work assignment I have right now (more on that in a moment), and lack of creative poetry juices.

This time around, though, I didn’t want to make excuses to myself or wait any longer.  So, after I finished my work day late Friday, I made a bee line straight home to get changed into Allison.  It would have been a little sooner than late Friday had I not had to stick around for a couple of things I had been meaning to do all day at work (again, more on work later).

Still, it was amazing how I turned out after applying my makeup.  I’d say it took under an hour for me to slather on the foundation, blush, eye shadow, and lipstick, not to mention straighten out my wig.  (Note to self: The hair goes over the glasses’ arms.)  Oh, it also took an extra hour to do some extra shaving of my face and find the maxi-skirt and shirt I wanted to wear (my closet is always unorganized *sigh*).

But how did I do at the mic, you ask?  Well, while I was a bit rusty, especially with my less-than-perfect poetry intros, I did all right.  And even with the light crowd indoors at Mother Fools on what was an incredibly beautiful Friday evening (perhaps most of the regular crowd was taking advantage of that weather), it was a nice, accepting, and appreciative atmosphere.

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A poem: “Stand”

Today (March 31) is the International Transgender Day of Visibility.  This is the tenth anniversary of this day, which is intended to highlight trans people of all stripes worldwide, as well as the accomplishments we’ve made and the difficulties we still face.

For sure, it’s good that in recent years the trans community has made so many positive advancements.  As well, it’s great to see positive representations of our community (the TV series Pose, for one).  These have helped foster a much-needed acceptance of us by those in the cis-gender community.

But for all our personal and collective gains, modest or otherwise, there have been equal amounts of disgust backlash toward us, especially from the extreme portions of the politically and culturally conservative corners.  Just one example is the “mission” of You Know Who and his cronies to prevent trans service members from serving openly in the United States Armed Forces.

It’s anti-trans attitudes like these that still makes the need for cis-gender allies all the more greater.  The activist Miss Major said it best in a Twitter video that went viral this week, stating that those who care for our community are “the people who need to become more visible.”  In other words, we need allies to stand up and tell the dismissive world that we’re not the pariahs the closed-minded think we are.

The following poem is inspired by TDOV; the anti-trans attitudes that sadly still linger; the need for cis-gender allies to come out from their closets, so to speak, and stand up for us; and to a lesser extent, the news this week that there will be no LGBT+ pride parade here in Madison this summer.  Again, we’re not evil or deviant.  It’s just that the rest of the world still needs to recognize that and stand to our defense.

Stand

I still need to take this stand
And remind you of who I am
I’m not what that certificate says I am
But I am still more than that

I can do so many things
Build buildings, fly planes
Or put out flames
Even run a mile in 10 minutes flat

I can be a pilot or a poet
For too long, I’ve been flat on my face
But I getting back into the race
With the help of allies who’ll be my friends

I can stand and deliver
I can serve and protect
I can fight to defend your freedoms
But Lord knows that I’m in need of them

We are one nation, indivisible
But I can’t be invisible
I’m human, can’t you see?
Why can’t you and others get get past my identity?

You only want an explanation
As to my gender identification
Why such the rush?
Does it matter to you where I flush?

I may be a guy or girl
Or somewhere in the middle
My identity shouldn’t be a riddle
Really, why can’t you see that?

I don’t blame the doctors who had to write down
That I was only one gender
The day into this world I entered
But since then, I know I don’t define as that

There’s no need for examination
I live my life not as a fabrication
I don’t need your interrogation
So put away your spotlight

Help me make this stand
Please take my hand
And let’s tell this land
That for trans rights, we must fight

Don’t wish us into a cornfield
Or put barricades before us
Be our allies, and forward let’s thrust
Across this great, yet still terrifying, land

Let’s have vision of persistence
Against those who still deny and resist us
Remind them that we’re not just trans, but also human
And always and forever part of our Maker’s plan

So, please take my hand
And together, you and I
We’ll make this stand


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A poem: “Saturday and Sunday”

It’s rather apropos that this poem is being presented on the weekend that the United States and Canada “spring ahead” and set their clocks forward one hour.  The good thing about daylight saving time is that it’s a heralding of warmer and brighter months.  The bad news is that you lose an hour of sleep… and as a result, you’re one hour closer to (*ugh!*) Monday and the start of another long, grueling work week (which I’ve known a lot of recently).

I’ve always thought that Saturday morning is the best part of any weekend.  It’s a time to sleep in, of course, but also a time where you think to yourself two things:  Thank goodness that work week is over and Oh, boy!  I’ve got the next two days to do what I want!  Gee, and to think that once upon a time, all Saturday morning was known for was watching cartoons on TV.

As suggested in the first paragraph, my least favorite part of the weekend is Sunday.  No, it doesn’t have to do with religious connotations.  Rather, it’s the realization that, oh my gosh, this weekend is already half over, and Monday is tomorrow.  Yeah, knowing that a new work week is ahead can dampen one’s enthusiasm for their desired Sunday activities.

“Saturday and Sunday”

Saturday morning
Sleep right in
Only to be awakened
By the bright light of dawn
And with that you arise
Take a deep, happy breath in
And realize the week is done
And it’s a day to relax
To be yourself
And have some fun

Saturday afternoon
All dressed up
Or dressed down, if you want to
You get to do the things you like to do
And all the things you couldn’t do
During that work week now through
So shop or play
Or at home you can stay
Either way, it’s your day
To be yourself
And have some fun

Saturday night
Dressed to the nines
Or not, if you don’t want to
This is your evening
To enjoy yourself as you’ve been meaning
Well, really, desiring
So however you want
It’s your night to rock
Dine in first class
Dance to a beat that’s hot
See a show that’s sterling
Or… maybe just stay home
On your couch a curling
And watch a movie again
Which is fine
Because it’s your way
To be yourself
And have some fun

Sunday morning
Sleep right in
Only to be awakened
By the oh-too-early light of dawn
And with that you arise
Take a deep breath in
And realize something that’s not fun:
Your weekend is half done
You better go ahead
And do those things that need to be done
Take that time to still have some fun
Better hurry, though
For Monday’s about to come
Which starts another five days
That are not all to yourself
Yeah, that’s so not fun

It seems to me
I really must say
As if there are too few Saturdays
And too many Sundays


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A poem: “Drive”

Many, many, many moons ago, when WordPress was still keeping active their site of daily writing prompts, I came across one of their one-words prompts:  Drive.”  That’s all it was, just the word “drive.”

I started to write a poem as a response to that one word.  Emphasis on the word “started,” as I had a hard time finishing it.  I wanted it to be longer and more direct than what you’ll read below.  But at least the theme is still what I originally had in mind — the fact that the word “drive” has more than one meaning, and isn’t just about taking your car somewhere.

Drive

Okay, so you have a car
It can get you from “Point A” to “Point B”
From this old town you’ve been in forever
To somewhere where you’ve never been before

Why are you in your car?
Why are you going from “Point A” to “Point B”?
Are you sure you need a car to get there?
Perhaps your life is in need of repair?

Maybe you need some gas in your tank
No, not the tank in your car
But the one in your soul
Or at least a better map
That doesn’t show the road
You’ve driven into a deep, deep groove

Yeah, keep going from “Point A” to “Point B”
But don’t forget the other routes
That may take you to “Point C”


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A poem: “Character”

One word that kept running through my mind when writing my last post was the thought of one’s character.  Three definitions of the word “character” stood out to me:

  • The total features or traits that form an individual’s being
  • One’s integrity or moral & ethical quality
  • One’s reputation

In this era where those who want to wish the LGBT+ community out of existence, or at least push us back into a dark corner, we need to construct our positive character to the world.  In other words, put on display the good things that make us who we are and form our well being, and that will make a positive impression on the rest of the world.  But that shouldn’t stop there, for we still need to call out those whose own dark character forms the broad brush that paints us in unflattering colors.

To borrow a line from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., “Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that.”  I’m embarrassed that I don’t always heed those words, sometimes going as dark and spiteful as those who hate our community.  But when I take a stand against those who disdain us with scorn, it feels empowering.

Character

Character
Definition:
Who I am everyday
I am someone normally button down
Ending workdays with a tired frown
Every now and again, I step right in
A garment and gender I’m not normally seen in
Yet they feel like a brand new skin
And brings out a new attitude from within

Character
Definition:
Why I do the things I do
Well, for one, I love to work
And with it, the earned financial perks
That keep me fed and sheltered
And, yes, clothed
But why two sets of clothes?
Well, to have you know
Dressing up, I feel an empowered aesthetic
Dressing up lets me become empathetic
And forms in me a positive ethic
That helps build a better world
That’s why I’m a guy… who’s also a girl

Character
Definition:
Well… who are you everyday?
I don’t need to ask it
Rather, I can see it:
You have your own jobs you go to
And your own homes to come to
There, you’re lord and master
Of your own personal castle
In a kingdom you want to expand
To points beyond everything you can see

Character
Definition:
Why do you do the things you do?
I don’t need to ask
For I can accurately guess:
The world doesn’t fit your narrow definition
Of the world sharing your morality
You’re mad that that number’s less than a plurality
And for that… you retaliate against all humanity?!

Character
Definition:
What makes us, us… and not like you
Yes, I know this will add to your petulance
But the whole world doesn’t share your stance
We admire others, near and far
And let them live freely
No matter who they love or what they are
We treat people with respect
And not try to mold them into an object
That came from an assembly line

Character
Definition:
What makes us all human beings
We’re born, we’ll die
And in between
We’ll live and breathe
And do our own things
If it’s not the same as your life
It doesn’t give you any right
To mold us into something you desire us to be

So don’t shun us, harm us, or taunt us
And with whitewash, don’t paint us
Your principles don’t make you our principal
So please let us live free
Because we’re all independent
Living with good intent
And if you take time to know us
You’ll recognize something in us
We are not strange and peculiar
Our character is what build our character
It’s not just who we are
It’s also how we live to be


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A poem: “Big Sale”

This poem is inspired by the topic I addressed in my previous post, which talked up the closing of a couple of anchor stores at West Towne Mall here in Madison.  As I mentioned in that post, the eventual closing of the Boston Store chain, including its West Towne location, first made news back in April (it’s slated to close for good this week).  Sometime after that, this poem started percolating in my mind.  And in all truth, I finished it pretty quick, or at least quick enough to perform it in an open mic performance the last day of June at Mother Fool’s.  (Yes, it was a few days after I lost my job.  Yes, performing helped take my mind off my job search a little bit.)

In prefacing this poem at that performance, I asked a show of hands from the audience of about 20 or so, inquiring as to how many of them had the chance to check out the Boston Store closing sale at that point.  The response wasn’t 100 percent, but more than a few (60 percent was my guess) put their hands up in the affirmative.  The rest of the audience?  Well, I think they spend too much time on their computers.  (Dang you, Amazon!)

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A poem: “Come On In”

This is the Sunday morning of the OutReach Pride Parade/Rally here in Madison.  Later this afternoon, members of the LGBT+ community will march proudly down State Street and celebrate our hard-fought freedom to live as our true selves.

But as you may have guessed from my previous two posts, this pride weekend in Madison isn’t quite the lovey dovey moment it should be.  This year’s OutReach Pride theme is “Stand up!  Speak out!  Fight back!”  However, it’s been an inward fight rather than an outward one against those who shun our community.  And it’s clearly more than an issue of whether the cops can march in the parade or whether said cops are willing to listen.  At the risk of airing out private conversations, there’s been a bit of resentment within the trans/CD support group I’m a part of.  Well, at least there is an issue within the private Facebook page our group utilizes.  The same people who raised valid issues about the police presence in the parade and how said police treat trans and queer persons of color are also challenging us to embrace that very same TQPOC community.  And while it’s not like a civil war in our group, the boisterous comments in our Facebook page over the past week-plus — heck, within the past 24 hours — sure make it feel like one.

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A poem: “Warmer”

The problems I encountered last winter with the heat in my apartment, which I recounted in this post, inspired me to write the following poem.  Enjoy!

“Warmth”

It’s getting hot in here
But I didn’t turn up the thermostat
Oh, I see why it is:
Smoothed-out legs
Fancy blouse
Lovely skirt
Awesome hair and makeup
A great look at myself in the mirror
I never realized how hot I can be
Or make this room feel like a summer beach

It’s suddenly cold around me
But there’s no thermostat
Oh, I see why it is:
Leering glances
Icy stares
Prejudice
Intolerance
Narrow-mindedness
Misogny and bigotry
From those who disdain me
And who don’t want me to show my face
I never realized how, with such a haunting pace
Hate can make the world a more chilly place

But it’s warming up again
Not a heat wave, far from it
For it’s much more comfortable than that
And I can see why it is:
A pat on the shoulder
A hug or two
Words of “Welcome”
And “I support you”
And “I accept you…
“for the beautiful person you are”
From people who are just like me
And others who support me
And the community in which I’m proud to be
I’m glad I can see
Well, to be reminded of it really
How a little friendship can go a long way
Toward making it a better day
There’s still hate’s winter around the corner
But I’m glad I now feel much warmer


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A poem: “Wonder and Worry”

Here’s another poem I had previously been working on and let sit idle.  Luckily, I have finished it and am able to present it to you.  I should preface this by saying I have no plans to come out as a crossdresser to my immediate family; it’s the fear of being shunned with rejection that prevents me from doing so.  But that’s not to say I’ve never played out the possibility of doing so in my mind.  The thoughts and concerns I’ve had about coming out are the basis of this poem.  Perhaps one day I’ll have the gumption to come out and say, “Yeah, I have a female side.”  But until then, I have to…

“Wonder and Worry”

I can’t help but wonder
If I came out today
As a crossdresser and transgender?
What would the people around me say?

Should I come out to my mother
Who loves her only son?
She already has two daughters
But would she accept a third?
And would our family bond come undone?

How about my two sisters?
Would they approve?
I think the younger wouldn’t mind
But with the other, well…
I’m hesitant to make a move

Would my four nieces comprehend
About what their proud uncle would say?
I’d hope they’d all love and accept me
No matter what gender I would display
They are of a younger generation
One that’s more accepting of LGBT people such as I
But I fear their parents have molded them
To have conservative, disapproving minds

Or how about my stepfather
With whom I don’t see one-on-one?
Being the stern man that he is
Would my presenting as a woman
Be something he’d never condone?

What about those I work with?
Our company culture wouldn’t mind
But they have one major concern
Around it my whole world turns:
Whether my job wold be on the top of my mind

At least there are those like me
Those who saw another gender in the mirror
Together, we show each other support
And share our joys, hopes, and fears

I’m glad my trans sisters and brothers are there for me
But they haven’t known me as long
As the sisters, parents, nieces, aunts, and uncles
In the family I come from

I know, I can’t please everyone
I’ve got to please myself first
But if I came out
That fear of no familial support
Would leave me sad and hurt

It’s why I wonder and worry
About coming out and its repercussions
Would it bring me the joy of being myself?
Or would it leave me nothing but compunction?

Perhaps I’ll wait and see
If the coast will be clear
And then
Just maybe then
I’ll tell the world about both sides of me
And the world will hopefully be supportive
Especially the ones who I hold dear


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A poem: “High Flyer”

I’ve already confessed this on here once or twice and I’ll confess again:  I am not the greatest of public speakers.  I am also not one who’s capable of thinking on the fly.  Case in point, last Saturday night, when I took part in a “freeform” open mic performance show at Mother Fools coffee house.  Rather than read a typed-out poem as I have done in prior performances, instead I took the “freeform” part to heart and do a part-monologue, part stand-up performance.  Yes, I typed out some notes in my phone, and I rehearsed some of what I wanted to say in my head beforehand.

But when I stepped up to the microphone, however… uh, yeah, it wasn’t pretty.  I stammered and hemmed and hawed quite a bit, forgetting what I had written down and rehearsed.  For some reason, I also didn’t look at the notes on my phone very much.  Needless to say, I didn’t rehearse as much as I should have before last Saturday’s performance, nor did I do a lot of memorizing.  I received a polite, appreciative applause from the audience when I left the stage, but to me that polite applause felt more like a participation medal than a rousing reaction.

That less-than-rousing performance inspired me to write the poem you’re about to read.  You’ll notice it has quite of flying allusions, as well as some self-criticism.  I am my own worst critic at times, and I feel that need to bring myself back down to Earth and avoid being too confident in my less-than-stellar performance abilities.  Well, at least when it comes to performing without a script.  And a script is what I’ll be sticking to in the foreseeable future.  Yes, I do look forward to performing again in the future, perhaps as soon as the end of this month, when another open mic event at Mother Fools is scheduled.  But I’m definitely going to stay grounded with a prepared script… and quite a bit of practice beforehand.

“High Flyer”

So, you want to be a high flyer
Reach heights you’ve never attained
Be in spots where you’ve never been
And do things you’ve rarely done

And you want to do all that right away?
Like, right now?
At this moment?
With the whole world watching?

But… are you sure you know where you’re going?
And how to get there?
I ask because, judging from how everyone’s squirming
You sure don’t know where you’re going

Yeah, you sure didn’t plan out this flight you’re piloting
You’re tilting from one wing to another
And you’re about to crash land
Oh, don’t worry; everyone will survive
But there will be two casualties:
Your confidence
And your pride

Yes, you really want to fly
But you don’t know how to fly
Not yet, anyway
Before you grab that joystick again
(No, not that one)
How about reading the flight manual first?
Log some hours in the flight simulator
Maybe take a training run or two
Draw out that flight plan a little better

I know, all that pre-planning won’t be fun
But if you do all that first
You’ll gain lots of confidence
Your propellers will be ready to turn
Then, you can put aside that training manual
Because you’ll know by heart
What you’ve been wanting… nay, desiring
To tell the world what’s in your heart

And then, the world will see how strong you are
Not to mention your big, beautiful heart
And they’ll happily get on board with you
To heights you never imagined

Oh, they didn’t mind flying with you before
But they’ll really love flying with you
If you practice, practice, practice
At being a high flyer