Do you ever feel an odd temporal tug, not only as if you were somehow mis or cisgendered (oh I am getting better at vocabulary, I think), but mistimed?
Think on it for a second. Several hundred years ago, we would have all been the power elite with our wigs, makeup, stockings, heels, and elaborate or subdued costume, and perfectly, consciously male to boot. Not an ounce of conflict.
Does this observation inform or obfuscate? I'm curious as to your opinions.
With best regards always,
Belle