Encounters of a Support-Group Kind

By Brittany J. Chambers

I have always been alone when it came to my femme adventures.

My spouse still doesn't know how to take it, and I don't want to burden her with something she doesn't understand: I don't understand. All I know is, I like passing as a pretty, slender lady, and feel more at ease in a nice dress and heels than I ever have in men's jeans and sneakers. There is something totally special about trying on a new shade of lipstick, browsing the ladies jewelry counter, or modeling a flirty dress in front of a mirror in the ladies department, without feeling out of place.

To any passerby, you are just another lady, shopping and doing the things society dictates, that you, as a woman, can and should, be doing (Wow, what a lot of commas!). That, in itself is truly wonderful. But, you are still alone. Having someone to share our new identity with gives it a much fuller meaning. Most of us don't have someone we can share our new experiences with. Which brings me to this month's story.

"It was six thirty pm on the last Saturday of the month. I had spent the last hour in the bathroom preparing to go out. I had shaved the stubble from my legs and underarms, and trimmed my brows into a nice, thin, feminine arch. A little eye shadow, liner, mascara, rouge and lipstick, and you couldn't tell, through my meek smile, I had ever been a man. I was feeling a little nervous as I adjusted the skirt of my navy blue suit. Everything had to be just right. I adjusted the sleeves of my blouse after pulling on my skirt's matching waist jacket. The tailored jacket, slim skirt, and sheer nylon-clad legs made me look frail.

Tonight I was going to a support group meeting of the Reynoldsburg, Ohio, Crystal Club, something I had never done before. I came across the Crystal Club's name in a list of support groups posted at Transgender Forum on the World Wide Web. After a few phone calls I reached LouAnne at the club. I have never spoken openly to anyone about my dressing, but her matter-of-fact air put me at ease. After a short, informal conversation, she informed me of the time and place of the club's next meeting. Unfortunately, I missed the meeting and had to call Lou Anne again for details about the next meeting.

Sure I had been out and dressed in public before. This was different. In public I could avoid physical contact and conversation. Speaking was always kept to a minimum. If things ever really got sticky, I could retreat to my mini-van and switch to my male persona within minutes. I always had a safety net. This time I wouldn't. If things went wrong I would be trapped... vulnerable... as a woman, with no place to go. I would have to handle it as a woman. A vision of being riddled with questions by strangers kept playing over in my mind like a scratched record. It terrified me, but I was determined to go through with it. After all, I had made a commitment to be there.

The night was cold and the wind gusted. Admiration for what women contend with crossed my mind. To be a woman and have your car break down along the interstate on a night like this, while wearing a skirt and three inch pumps, would not be cool. At least not in a nice respect. I found the hotel for the meeting without much ado. My heart pounded as I walked towards the designated conference room. The door was bolted. Twice I knocked without a response. The cold night wind lifted and tugged at my skirt, as if to say, "C'mon! Let's go. Now is your chance to cut and run." I walked back down the sidewalk, my heels clicking loudly in the night. As I passed a second conference room door, I remembered Lou Anne telling me how the club reserved three adjoining conference rooms.

I paused and knocked. The thought crossed my mind, "What if this is the wrong room? A girl could get raped this way!" The vision of a large, burley man pulling me helplessly into his darkened room, a sweaty hand covering my mouth to stifle my scream, flashed before my eyes. It sent a shiver down my spine. Then the door swung open. A bright light from within the room brought me back to my senses. The smile of a thirty-something lady met my gaze.

"Hi! I'm looking for the Crystal Club?" squeaked from my lips.

"And you're..." asked the lady.

"Brittany."

"I'm sorry?"

"Brittany," I repeated, "Brittany Chambers. I spoke to Lou Anne about..."

"Oh, that's right. Lou mentioned you might come." Stepping into the room, I glanced around. There were a dozen or so others gathered about in small social groups. A slim, graceful lady named Kori Linn greeted me with a big smile a moment later. She gave me a short orientation of the club and introduced me to a few others who were chatting close by. Other ladies introduced themselves, as the evening wore on. Everyone was quite friendly and cordial, creating a relaxed atmosphere. Later in the evening everyone gathered to commence club business.

Some of the girls planned to go out later in the evening and invited me to tag along, but I had to decline for other plans I had previously made. By the end of the evening I felt at ease. Most of my fears had been dispersed. It was reassuring to be socializing with others whom shared similar interests and were secure in their feminine roles. When it came time for me to leave, Kori showed me to the door. I explained how I would like to come again, but hadn't made up my mind to join the group, officially. She assured me that was not a problem and thanked me for coming.

Others wished me a nice evening as I stepped out into the cold night air. Again, admiration for ladies crossed my mind as stifling gust of wind tugged and threatened to lift the hem of my skirt, up around my waist. As I clicked my way across the dimly lit parking lot in the three inch heels, a thought occurred to me. I was glad I had mustered the courage to attend the meeting and a little disappointed the evening was over. Not only had I met new friends who were like me, but found I was looking forward to a time when I would share an evening out with them."

The moral of this story is, if you haven't gone to a support group meeting because you were frightened, don't be. If you have to go alone, hold your nose and jump in. You will not regret it.


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