I enjoyed reading two thoughtful threads this morning about the "Pink Fog" and "No Female Identity". This is not quite in response but was inspired by them.
I hate to post this as we are so diverse in who and what we are and why we do the thing we do. I do not intent to offend anyone but let me know -
I write this for the girls who dress when they can and are fulfilled by their dressing. We do wonder about ourselves, don't we?
If you are transgender I can love you and support you and affirm your needs and desires and I admire your courage and wish you nothing but good and godspeed. I didn't write this for you as my journey is quite different.
I wonder how our perception of a woman's way in the world is formed by our individual experiences with the women in our lives, and how our little hobby* portrays those experiences and our reaction to them.
(*SO's term not meant dismissively- I choose to take it as loving and supportive and not meant to be offensive.)
What do we become when we shelve our masculinity for a moment or two? There's no such thing as 'every woman' - we become something very specific to ourselves. The mannerisms, the behavior, the target of our efforts to adorn ourselves in feminine fashion - how is it connected to our experiences with our mothers, aunts, grandmothers; our spouses, girlfriends, female co-workers and is it not unique unto ourselves for that reason?
I feel a certain relief when I'm dressing as if I've dropped a burden in exchange for the ability to fly. I realize that the very thing that engenders lightness in me might be a burden or at least a duty to a woman faced with dressing for one more day of work and responsibility. I can enjoy my experience knowing that when it's time I can take the nail polish off, wash my face and change clothes, sighing as I grab that heavy suitcase as I go.
That beautiful, feminine female person - does she resent my intrusion into her world? Would she understand if I tried to explain how my visit makes me feel? I'd confess that I know I'm just visiting, just playing at what is her reality.
Would she understand my utter fascination with everything that makes her - her?
Would she respect me more if I wanted with all my heart and mind to live where she lives, to go there with full commitment and permanence? Would she think I was crazy to desire her life?
Does she think I'm crazy to desire her life even for an afternoon or an evening at a time?